AI Family Values

Theories of economic growth do not deal well with demographic decline. How can an economy with ever fewer consumers and producers still grow? Artificial intelligence, looked at a certain way, is an attempt to answer that question. Worries about AI taking jobs are somewhat misplaced. The opposite would probably be worse: shrinking, ageing societies unable to replace lost labor.

AI anxiety usually flourishes in wealthier, industrialized societies. So, for a change, consider Saudi Arabia. It intends to invest $40 billion in AI, which would make it a world leader. Amazon has announced $5.3 billion in AI and data center investments in the Kingdom. Nearby, Microsoft is putting $1.5 billion into a joint venture with Abu Dhabi firm G42, which would also involve the use of Microsoft’s Azure data-center platform. Why such levels of investment?

Yes, there is a geopolitical aspect. Chinese companies dominated the mobile-infrastructure wave of investment in the region in the early part of this century. China’s security-related firms, often banned by the U.S., thrived in the Middle East. Chinese firms used these ties to move into data-center construction. When, sometime late in the Obama administration, the U.S. realized that a great deal of digital real estate was being settled by a hostile power — and that a great deal of American tech capacity was being exiled along globalization’s supply chains — a reaction set in. But even that, by itself, was not enough to get U.S. tech giants investing in the pokey market of data centers in less-developed countries. AI is what made the difference, because AI, in its current configurations, depends on massive, non-latent computing power. The Internet temporarily freed data from physical constraints. AI is helping bring it back to Earth. This happens to coincide with governments’ unquenchable desire to control citizens’ information, in every sense.

But more important is what may be called the gender aspect. To an often underappreciated degree, women are driving technological change. While female workforce-participation rates vary greatly among countries, they have generally been going up for decades, while fertility has gone down. Birth-control technology has been absolutely critical to this change, but its availability and use are social phenomena, driven by choices. The Gulf Arab countries have seen steadily declining fertility rates for years now, along with an easing of prohibitions on the education of women and their participation in the workplace.

In many countries, female workforce participation — greatly enabled by birth control as well as home labor-saving technologies — made productivity and consumer-demand gains possible when male workforce numbers stagnated. In Western countries in particular, there was a sort of internal labor migration from the home to the wage-based workplace. The economic benefits can top out, however — and waged productivity’s gain is fertility’s loss.

Internet-enabled globalization made a second renewal of growth possible. Much like the movement of women into the workforce, globalization put developed-world capital in a position to increase productivity by bringing new labor into the workforce, especially Chinese labor. But this was done at a distance, with laborers outside the home markets of the highly developed economies. Globalization had enormous benefits for even the poorest rich-world consumers, but it did not necessarily make the poor more productive.

AI has the potential to restore bounded, domestic productivity. That makes it intensely attractive to a wide variety of societies, all of which are facing demographic slowdowns or  reverses but have the domestic capital to invest in technological solutions to what is, in the end, a question of power and social cohesion. This is emphatically not about human capital. The Gulf Arab states, despite their wealth, do not have high levels of citizen education such as you find in East Asia or Europe. Saudi Arabia imports human capital, whether laborers or surgeons. About 40% of its population is foreign. Saudi Arabia is a de facto nation of immigrants, but it is not understood as such because it does not expect that 40% of its population to become Saudis. The Saudi state is certainly not worried about AI taking jobs from Saudis. What the Saudi state aims at is achieving the domestic productivity mix that will make it possible for Saudi Arabia to be Saudi, in whatever way the Saudis themselves might define it. Globalization was not especially good for that. Female workforce participation is, as long as it doesn’t undermine “being Saudi.” AI might be even better: in effect, a set of tools for enhancing the productivity of domestic human capital and thereby providing growth without undermining the Saudiness of Saudi, the Japaneseness of Japan, or the Chineseness of China.

AI, then, can be seen as compatible with de-globalization, or more precisely with a decentralization of capital productivity, very much including human capital. It could, in short, enable an increase in domestic production despite a decrease in reproduction.

Green Protectionism

Geopolitical competition seems to be leading away from the greening of global production. Major players like China, the European Union, and the United States are all trying to spur green industries like electric-vehicle production in their own territories and with their own companies. Taken as a whole, this has the effect of stimulating production and innovation, which should be beneficial for the planet. But it also raises prices by directing capital to redundant production, and it establishes a kind of green protectionism that seems certain to have unforeseen consequences. Successful investing in an industry whose major players include several antagonistic and powerful state entities is difficult at best.

The most interesting recent development has been the US decision to pressure Mexico not to welcome Chinese investment in electric-vehicle production. Mexico has, of course, benefitted from US-China competition in that companies like Tesla, Samsung, and Nissan have shifted production away from China to Mexico as part of global de-risking. Note that Samsung and Nissan are not US companies. The great appeal of Mexico apart from its workforce is proximity to US consumer demand. By pressuring Mexico to keep Chinese EV companies like BYD, Chery, and SAIC at arm’s length, the US is using the size of its consumer market as a political weapon in foreign policy. The policy goal is to deprive Chinese companies, private or not, of markets. (BYD is private, Chery and SAIC state-owned.)

The European Union has been doing something similar, having become alarmed last year at the growth of European demand for Chinese EVs and the barriers erected by the Biden administration to European companies prospering in the US market. Europe’s car manufacturers don’t want to lose their future domestic market to Chinese competitors. Biden moves to protect US domestic EV production deprived the Europeans of a crucial export market at the same time that Chinese manufacturers were selling high-quality EVs to European drivers at a 30% discount to European prices. These political-economic factors have combined on the Continent with a growing distrust of Chinese tech companies and China — rather, the Chinese Communist Party — more generally. The EU raid this week on Nuctech, a Poland-based Chinese scanner manufacturer long held in suspicion by Western China analysts, was made on economic grounds but has a strong security aspect as well.

Many Chinese argue that the root of these EV conflicts is that Chinese companies are simply better. Europeans and Americans counter that Chinese EV companies are state-backed, which is certainly true, such that the competition is unfair. None of this is wrong exactly but it misses the macro point: the major Western economies embraced extended global manufacturing supply chains and China did not, with the result that China now has innovative vertically integrated large-scale manufacturing companies that can compete globally. Because so many of those supply chains ran through China, the US and the EU are playing catch-up, and they are weaponizing their own consumer populations as well as alliances (as with Mexico) to do so.

One result is likely to be chronic high prices for North American and European electric vehicles, which means (in the absence of Chinese imports) a slowdown in EV adoption — which is already occurring. That in turn means a slowdown in carbon reduction. China’s aggressive, state-led pursuit of green industries was driven, to a great extent, by a desire to innovate out of a global climate crisis that has hit China quite hard. China’s pre-eminence in solar panels was initiallya responseto German rules on energy efficiency that could not be addressed with European products. But US-China competition has now transformed an environmental policy into something that has anti-environmental results. One can hope that all this duplicative effort will result, over the long term, in electric-vehicle and other green industries that will be able to expand around the globe and save the planet. But picking winners in such a roiling political environment is very hard, as Tesla’s investors will have been reflecting this week.

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Networks of Confrontation

When political scientists and policy wonks wrestled with the prospect of a world war that was not, in any conventional sense, winnable — that is, a nuclear war of comprehensive destructiveness — they turned hopefully to “escalation dynamics.” They tried to find a set of reversible steps between chronic conflict and mutual obliteration. It was a way to imagine how to manage the unmanageable. Today, with widespread access to drones and ubiquitous access to the Internet, it is difficult even to define “escalation.” The means for crossing borders, whether in the air or online, have proliferated to such a degree that actors engaged in conflict seem to lose sight of the de-escalation part of the old “escalation ladder.” Having escalated online, they can next escalate with drones, or by activating proxies of one kind or another, or by directing industrial policies toward harming the enemy at one remove. The jumpy, somewhat hysterical, mode of constant irritation of the status quo — constant escalation — was once the signature style of North Korea alone. Now it is worryingly common. 

 There is an argument that the United States was the first mover in this trend toward border-jumping provocation. The U.S., having done far more than any other state to advance the Internet, did tend to treat it as a network for espionage overseas, if not often for conflict. Having pioneered drone technology, which was greatly telecommunications technology, the U.S. made frequent use of it in others’ sovereign territories. With an economy uniquely globalized because of the nearly universal use of the dollar as an exchange currency, the U.S. had another planetary network it could use against its enemies, for example through financial sanctions. And having driven a globalized trading and manufacturing economy, to its own great benefit, the U.S. is now exploiting the resulting global network dependencies by weaponizing industrial and trade policies.

In each of these networks of confrontation, all of which have developed immensely since the end of the Cold War, the U.S. has moved first.

Now so many others are in the game of what the Oxford scholar Lucas Kello, optimistically limiting himself to cyberspace, once labeled “unpeace.” There is so much signaling of malign intent, expressed over cross-border networks, that the foreign-affairs signaling becomes more like noise. Russia’s appetite for information operations directed at undermining U.S. power around the world seems possibly insatiable. One reliable analyst sees Russia’s government as behind a recent infrastructure attack — all executed remotely — on Texas water systems. China increasingly looks to its diaspora as a population physically outside its own borders that is nonetheless expected to show loyalty to the mainland government. Overseas Chinese are monitored and influenced both physically (through embassy and consular staffs) and online. Iran launches an enormous drone attack against Israel and now awaits retaliation, confident that it will not be in the old, pre-1990 form of actual war but in some new “escalatory” move. But escalation without some logic to it is just random warfare. It is unpeace. A lot of aggressive noise without much clear signaling.

For investors, and for everyone else, the challenge is to identify sources and patterns of stability as well as to identify threats. It is not easy. China and Russia are trying to stabilize themselves through a striking combination of patriotism and ethnicity, rallying the tribe of consumers and producers to defend against the external enemy — a method of stabilization that runs quickly into each country’s dependence on external markets for survival. Autarky only feels stable.

The U.S. has the advantage of corporate and entrepreneurial cultures, as well as multinationals, that accept government direction only when they must. Of course the U.S. has many other advantages, and its lack of supervisory power over business has not always been a good thing. But in the present circumstances, when globalized and globalizing networks are both necessary for growth and increasingly dangerous and unpredictable as platforms for political confrontation, the U.S.’s, or perhaps more accurately North America’s, ability as an economy to resist government direction seems to be a distinctive strength. It creates a resilience in unpeace that, one hopes, can survive changes in government. An economy that can thrive under Obama, Trump, and Biden alike is a resilient economy.

Headlines for the IMF annual meeting this week emphasized American economic strength, with growth far outstripping that in the other Group of 7 members. At the same time, the U.S. was at bottom in a poll looking at G7 public confidence in institutions like the military and courts. Politics must dwell on the latter and strive for improvement. But stability comes mainly from the economic side.

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Dealing with Corruption: Part Four of Four

By Dee Smith

In the first 3 parts of this post, I discussed the nature and history of corruption in non-Western cultures and in the modern West.

Whatever we in the West tell ourselves about the “objectivity” of our institutions, a great deal of life still operates in terms of familial and friendship connections, affinity with like persons, membership in groups (from criminal gangs to professional and religious organizations), and reciprocal obligations. This is the result of human evolution. As we evolved in small societies of like individuals based on trust, outsiders were seen as untrustworthy at best and often presumed to be enemies unless proven otherwise. In many cultures, they still are. Group belonging and identity in all its forms is one of the constants across cultures and time.

There have been many concerted efforts to change these embedded practices. For example, “legacy” admissions of students at universities in the US have recently come under attack as being unfair (which they are). Sweeping efforts are being made to eliminate them, but it is likely they will change only in form, not in substance.

Corruption in Africa, the Middle East, South and East Asia, and Latin America has been profoundly influenced by European conquest and colonization. As an example (and to vastly oversimplify): Latin America was mostly colonized by the imperial powers of Spain and Portugal, and their fundamental goal was to extract wealth and send it back to the regent. The British colonization of India, in contrast, was for centuries managed by a private enterprise, the East India Company, and the goal was to enrich shareholders back in the homeland.

Enriching shareholders in the homeland was also sometimes the goal in North America, for example with the Hudson Bay Company. In many cases, however, North America was settled by individuals and small groups (who were not state-sanctioned), often from the lower rungs of society, fleeing religious and other persecution, and seeking to create a new life in a “new world”—essentially by seizing it from its inhabitants. The goal of these colonists was to produce material prosperity for themselves, in their new homes, not to send it back to the motherland. The legacy of those very different goals informs social realities in Latin America and North America, respectively, to the present day.

Corruption, as we have seen, is a complex issue, and trying to understand it is a monumental task. Generally, it is over-simplified to the point that the descriptions correspond little with the actuality. And all too often, it is simply a blame game where “I’m right and you are wrong.”

From a practical standpoint, what is a Western businessperson to do when confronted with corruption in Africa, Latin America, or anywhere? Lecturing people from other cultures about “their” corruption is very bad form and therefore often bad for business. Furthermore, as we have seen, corruption is equally present in the West—it just works in a different direction—and much of the pronounced culture of corruption that exists in such countries is a legacy of the colonial and commercial goals of the Western powers that colonized these countries and extracted their wealth.

On a practical basis, for many reasons—legal, ethical, moral, or financial—a businessperson from the U.S., the U.K., or many other Western countries simply cannot engage in activities that their own jurisdiction defines as illegal corruption, however endemic it may be in a country in which they are working.

My advice is threefold: first, do your homework and make sure before you initiate talks with a potential partner that they do not represent an individual, family, company, or other party known for egregious corruption. Stay away from those.

Second, be very well informed in advance of what specifically is defined as corruption in the laws of your country, of the country where you are operating, and of the countries in which your investors or other partners are based. All are crucially important.

Third, if and when you are confronted by corruption, the best procedure is legalistic. Something like the following is a good approach: “I simply cannot do that or anything associated with it. It is against the law in my country. If I did it, it would threaten my ability to continue to do business, and quite possibly threaten my personal freedom.”

In that way, you are not “calling out” anyone, you are not making a value judgement of right or wrong, and you are not on a high horse criticizing anybody’s culture. You are simply drawing a bright-line around what you can and cannot do—a bright-line required by the legal regime of your country.

And then, if you have to, you need to be willing simply to walk away.

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Dealing With Corruption: Part Three of Four

By Dee Smith, CEO

The 18th century European Enlightenment made the West quite distinct in terms of intellectual, social, economic forms, even WEIRD:  Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic, as the phrase goes.  In parts one and two of this series, I looked at how corruption in many non-Western societies has been structured by “social pyramids” that link the high and low of a specific social group in mutual obligations, including cooperation in securing political power in order to succeed economically. This structure I contrasted to that of the post-Enlightenment West, where corruption uses money to get political power. I then argued that Western rules-based social orders, which made it possible to separate corruption from the social pyramids, are breaking down. One way to look at the rise of identity politics in the West is as the re-emergence of kinship- and identity-based structures similar to those of societies structured by social pyramids. The implications of this for society and for the evolution of corruption will be substantial.

Nineteenth-century European and North American societies, as they industrialized and previously rural people were forced to compete for survival in fast-growing cities, came to depend on science, technology, and eventually modern education. These societies developed distinctive hierarchies to manage their growing complexity, increase productivity, and compete with rival societies. Complex hierarchical structures were very different from the old social-pyramid hierarchies, although the two long existed side-by-side and in some ways still do. One difference was that they required social mobility and the possibility of advancement by merit. Dynamic merit-based hierarchies gradually replaced the social-pyramid hierarchies and developed merit-based elites.

“Merit” was and is a social relation, changing over time according to social demand. Imperial China’s merit-based examination system for civil servants rewarded expertise in classics of Chinese literature, rather as Britain’s elite educations emphasized classical Greek and Latin. When social demand for very different kinds of merit strengthened, these systems had to adapt or die, particularly as societies like Japan and the newly unified Germany quickened their pace of industrialization, militarization and social engineering.

Merit-based modern societies create a particular kind of private anxiety in that the creation of open opportunities for personal advancement puts the burden of failure, as well as success, on the individual. The protectiveness  of social pyramids, as well as of mass participation in collective religious rituals and a shared spiritual life, could not survive the rise of merit-based hierarchical societies. The old social pyramids had cared for the people within their structures through a sense and practice of reciprocal responsibility. Modern societies deracinated this—each person is on his or her own. Official, bureaucratic systems now “care” for those who, because of nature, nurture, or accident, cannot care for themselves. Everyone else is homo economicus.

“Economic man” and societies based on competition and maximal efficiency dominated the 20th century to such a degree that almost everything was seen to operate in terms of economic “laws.” Yet markets are human constructs, and we forget that at our peril. The disruptions and anger we see in societies today may be connected to this in more ways than one.

Market-based maximal efficiency undermines social structures in part because it directs capital to technologies that themselves lead, unpredictably, to social transformation. More than 80 percent of unemployment in manufacturing in the US in the last 2 decades is due to automation, not to offshoring (whatever politicians may say). With the rise of generative AI, we face a tsunami of unemployment, coming now for white-collar employees. As Yuval Noah Hariri has noted, we are living for the first time in history without any real idea at all of what jobs will look like in 10 years! What’s a young person—or anyone—to do? People feel profound uncertainty about change that does not seem to have an identifiable logic or purpose but is nonetheless pushed forward relentlessly by developments in technology, from dependence on cyber systems and their vulnerabilities, to bio-error and bio-terror, to generative AI and the possibilities of Artificial General Intelligence.

In such an environment, people long for connection to something meaningful and concrete. They long for stability.  “I don’t even recognize my own country any more” is a phrase I have heard all over the world, in societies very distinct from one another. People thus seek kinship, identity, and affinity with others who share their culture, concerns, maladies, and even bloodlines. And if they do not have a community offline they will find one online, with results that, over the past decade, seem to have been more negative than positive.

It is possible that these changes represent not partial revolutions, as in 1848, nor even the kinds of anti-capitalist revolutions seen in the first half of the 20th century, which were also built around homo economicus. The changes to come may represent a more profound transmutation, into a system (or systems—the outcomes may be very different from place to place) whose nature we cannot, at present, see. If large numbers of people decide their future looks worse than their present—which many perceive as already worse than their past—they may decide that the systems and rule sets and leaders they have been living under are no longer serving their needs. That they are no longer fit for purpose.

And then what? Will we see the rise of a revised form of social pyramids with internal obligations, because people do not feel they can rely on government promises and systems, and do not like the isolation and radical uncertainty that modern life forces upon them? Will the nature of corruption in the West begin (again) to resemble that of the non-Western world? Or will we see something entirely new?