By Donald J. Boudreaux
We’ve all seen old photos and
film clips of people trying to fly like birds. Each of these aspiring aviators
has wing-like things strapped to his arms. But no amount of flapping, however
furious, ever gets him airborne like the birds he’s trying to imitate.
The man dressed in wings
observes a flying bird and then analogizes his own limbs and muscle movements
to what he supposes, from his observations, are those of the bird. But the
human is misled into thinking that because he’s intelligent and has some body
parts that are more or less analogous to a bird’s body parts, he can easily
enough mimic the bird’s body and movements and thereby achieve flight.
Of course this man is deeply
mistaken. Despite our smarts, we humans can observe only a tiny fraction of the
details that enable birds to fly. We can with our naked eyes observe only the
most obvious, large, “macro” details (“bird flaps limbs that extend from bird’s
upper torso”; “bird’s flapping limbs are made of lightweight, flexible,
overlapping things that we call ‘feathers’ ”). But the amount of detail that we
don’t—that we cannot—observe through simple observation is overwhelming. The
bird’s musculature; its cardiovascular system; the weight, positioning, and
minuscule maneuverings of its tail—these and countless other relevant details
aren’t observed.
We see only an animal extending
itself horizontally, flapping its limbs, and then, voila!, it is safely and
gracefully airborne!
Modern science and technology,
of course, have taught us why we cannot simply strap on wings and fly like
birds. We now understand just how numerous, and unobservable to the naked eye,
are the details that enable birds to soar. The exact positioning and strength
of a bird’s wing and tail muscles; the bird’s blood pressure; its sensory
receptors that alert it to changes in wind direction—science reveals to us
(some of) these myriad details and teaches us that they are indispensable to
that bird’s ability to fly.
And science makes clear just
how essential nearly all of these details are. Alter a detail here and the
bird’s flight becomes less graceful; alter a detail there and the bird is no
more able to fly than is a goat.
Awe and Admiration
The common reaction to scientific
revelations of the enormous complexity of the flight of a seemingly simple
sparrow is to admire nature’s handiwork. Such fine-tuned intricacies—yet all
the creation of natural selection!
And our admiration properly
prevents us from supposing that that our newfound scientific knowledge of birds
gives us power to fly by flapping our wing-dressed arms. (To fly we rely on
quite different principles, most commonly fixed-wing aviation.) Awe-struck by
nature’s handiwork, we correctly realize that even some really smart Leonardo
or Einstein could not possibly match, and much less outperform, “mindless”
natural selection at creating a real flying bird.
Unfortunately, the same wisdom
that guides our understanding of biology all too often abandons us when we
contemplate the economy.
Attempts to centrally plan
economies, or even to intervene in major ways into market economies, are very
much like humans’ attempts to fly by dressing like birds and flapping fake
wings: utterly futile, and potentially calamitous, because the most that can be
observed of any successful economy are a handful of large details (assembly
lines, retail outlets, money). Consciously calling into existence steel
factories, wheat farms, supermarkets, currency, and other apparently obvious keys
to economic success, and then trying to get these things all to work together
to achieve economic takeoff, is akin to a man strapping sheets of fake feathers
to his arms and legs and trying to fly. The effort simply won’t work, even if
it appears to the untrained eye as if it should.
This reality isn’t altered by
modern science.
Indescribable Complexity
A market economy is
indescribably vast and complex—its success depends on so many intricate,
changing details all somehow being made to work smoothly together that the
“facts” that are essential to its thriving cannot be catalogued with anywhere
near the completeness that can be achieved by a 21st-century scientist studying
and cataloging the “facts” that enable sparrows to fly. A sparrow is complex
compared, say, to a limestone rock. Compared to the modern market economy,
however, a sparrow is extremely simple.
A surge in the supply of steel
in Detroit for the month of October 2012—an uptick in consumer demand for a
specific color of car and a downtick in demand for another color—the
possibility of using a new financial instrument to spread investment risks more
widely—unexpected difficulties in hiring workers who possess a certain set of
skills—an innovation that lowers the costs of advertising—an electrical failure
that threatens to shut down for several days a section of a factory—a trucking
company that discovers it underestimated the fuel costs of delivering 1,000 new
automobiles to dealerships throughout New England. . . . Dealing with details
such as these—details that Hayek called “the particular circumstances of
time and place”—is not incidental to the success of a modern economy; it is of
the essence.
Awareness of these facts, and
of knowledge of workable options of how to respond to them, are key to the
growth and continued success of any market economy. These facts are dealt with
successfully only in market economies and only to the extent that individuals
on the spot are free to respond to these facts as they, individually, see fit.
Yet no observer or planner or
regulator can see and catalog all these highly specific facts. The facts—each
of which must be dealt with—are far too numerous at any moment for an observing
scientist to catalog even if that moment were to be frozen for decades.
Greatly intensifying this complexity is the reality that these facts are
forever changing. A moment from now many of these facts will be different from
what they are at this moment.
Nevertheless, too many people,
including politicians, continue to believe that because they can observe a
handful of bulky facts about the economy, they can thereby know enough to
intervene into that economy in ways that will improve its operation. That
belief, though, is hubris. It’s very much like believing that you’ll fly if you
simply strap on a pair of wings and commence to flapping madly.
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