Field experiments for everyday life

Book Review

List, J., & Gneezy, U. (2014). The why axis: Hidden motives and the undiscovered economics of everyday life. Random House UK, 2013; pp. 288, Rs.331.

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Many social scientists will agree that the best way to get to the heart of a social phenomenon is to observe it as it happens, much like a fly on the wall. This assertion, comes with a number of qualifying statements, the most pertinent of all relating to the scale of the social phenomenon (i.e., local, national, or global). Of course, a social scientist may not be able to capture the entire process, but will often want to address questions related to the source of such phenomena (“Why do women earn less than men in most labour markets?”) or understand its impact on human life and the social environment (“What happens when schools incentivize students to learn with money?”). Ideally, a scientist would like to address the problem of causality, well beyond merely establishing interesting associations. In ‘The Why Axis’, John List and Uri Gneezy argue that the best way to get to the heart of the matter is by using field experiments.

Apart from psychologists, many social scientists have abandoned the use of experimentation in academic research, according to the authors. Their introductory note cites this, as well as the clarity that experiments can provide on the problem of causality, as one of their main reasons for taking up this methodology. The authors draw on their extensive work in gender differences, education, charitable giving, and consumer pricing using field experiments to highlight how a little experimentation can go a long way. Given that these are a broad spectrum of issues that are common ground for economists now (Levitt and List, 2009), the authors are able to clearly highlight the methodological benefits of using field experiments to infer causal links.

Going  into extensive details of how they ran their experiments, the authors are able to maintain academic rigor in their exposition, while also avoiding any heavy jargon. While the authors do not explicitly explain how to run an experiment (which might have been useful), they offer a wide range of their own professional experiences to learn from. In choosing to disentangle racial and prejudice-based discrimination from “economic” discrimination, the authors explore an area that is relatively new to economics – whether incentives are the reason behind discrimination. They throw in a mix of surprising (and sometimes counterintuitive) results – from finding that incentivizing one actor in a school system of teachers, parents, and students is enough to improving test scores, to greater evidence of economic discrimination against homosexuals by those are most likely to be discriminated against themselves.

The Why Axis also draws on List and Gneezy’s large scale public schools field experiment in Chicago, which cost nearly $15,000 per student to implement. Given that they are still running a majority of the studies related to schooling, some results cited were preliminary, but offer significant glimpses into policy implications for improving public schools in America’s poorest areas. They also cite interface with public officials (such as Ron Huberman, credited with turning around the Chicago Public Schools system), offering important insights into how to get such large-scale field experiments funded and executed.

However, there continues to remain scepticism about the external validity of the results of such large scale field experiments, as well as the replicability (given the costs associated with running an experiment; but see Ehmke and Shogren, 2010). While List and Gneezy address these issues only briefly at the start and end of the book, it does little to convince a business manager or young researcher to weigh the value of conducting such experiments. If anything, in arguing that “it would be too costly to not experiment” (emphasis added), The Why Axis leaves the perennial question of making such experiments cost-effective unanswered. Perhaps a useful companion to the book may be along the lines of previous books with similar themes (Nudge by Thaler and Sunstein has a Nudge blog and guidelines on how to implement successful nudges in everyday lives, Freakonomics authors Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner started a blog as well).

The Why Axis is an optimal compilation of field experiments in economics, and a good introduction to recent evidence from using such a methodology in economics (in addition to Banerjee and Duflo’s Poor Economics, 2011). The authors provide interesting insights into human behaviour by harnessing the powerful causal inference offered by field experiments, while also suggesting future directions for where experimentation can lead the social sciences. Ultimately, understanding the black box that is the human mind has now become important to economic science.

                                                                                                                                                        Anirudh Tagat

Neuroscience’s evil twin: The Neuromyth

“Effective teaching might be the hardest job there is”

– William Glasser

With the advent of neuroeducation, an offspring of neuroscience and psychology that informs educational policy, educators are being bombarded with various new findings- all promising magical results and startling discoveries. It is glorious to think of scientists in lab coats using brain activations to tell layman what happens when they learn or remember, but herein lays its very danger. Much like the game of Chinese Whispers, things begin resembling the truth lesser and lesser with each passing minute. And just like that, neuroeducation switches to its ugly alter ego of neuromyths.

A neuromyth is “a misconception generated by a misunderstanding, a misreading, or a misquoting of facts scientifically established (by brain research) to make a case for use of brain research in education and other contexts”. Neuromyths are becoming a hindrance to the education system worldwide, and the ways in which they arise are numerous (Pasquinelli, 2012).

Scientific facts, when distorted, turn into neuromyths. For example, a popular myth states that children learn better when they are taught by their preferred learning style (which can be visual, auditory or kinaesthetic); and this myth is based on the finding that these modalities are based in different parts of the brain. This however, ignores the fact that these regions are highly interconnected and that children do not actually process information better when they depend only on one modality. Therefore, scientific facts can be oversimplified and then misinterpreted.

Neuromyths can also be the result of actual scientific facts that have later been disproven. A prime example would be that of the Mozart Effect- that listening to classical music boosted one’s IQ points. This was quickly debunked, as studies failed to replicate it.

Finally, and most commonly, neuromyths can be because of the misinterpretation of scientific results. A good look at the idea of ‘critical periods’ of learning (that certain types of learning only occurs during certain times in life, especially childhood) exemplifies this. However, it is now seen that although there are prime ages for learning (eg. Acquisition of words, distinguishing between visual stimuli), this is hardly set in stone.

Teachers, or educators are more likely to fall susceptible to neuromyths possibly because of the sheer amount of information they encounter about the brain, both correct and incorrect. It could also be a backfiring effect, as teachers who are more eager to implement these neuroscientific findings out of sheer goodwill often come across neuromyths because they look for quicker solutions. What darkens the picture is the fact that neuroscience novices are no better than laypeople at distinguishing fact from reality, it is only the experts who are able to do so!

Resolving the issue of the perpetuation of neuromyths (and the horrors of products like the Brain Gym that still exist despite having no scientific backing) would be a two-way street involving increased communication from both parties: educators as well as neuroscientists. Neuroscientists need to make sure that translations of their work in the media are not miscontrued, and developers of educational products need to hire educational consultants who have credentials in the field of neuroscience. On the other hand, initial teacher training for educators should necessitate looking at findings with a critical eye, and not judging any article with brain images as more scientific (as people are found to!).  

It’s quite often that one hears of the common saying of half-baked knowledge being a dangerous thing. This, however, is much more frightening when put in regard to people who are expected to dispense knowledge- our teachers. Being consumers of knowledge, a critical appraisal of the product we consume is therefore essential.

Sneha Mani

APJ Abdul Kalam - Made in India: A Student Tribute

There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via.

- Seneca

One of my generation’s teachers just died. Or did he? He probably still lives a little in each of us. A little in every ISRO launch, in every Indian research paper, in every science textbook, on every blackboard. A little in every Indian nuclear missile too.

Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam is still alive. Our generation will pass on a little of APJ Abdul Kalam to the next, and they to the next, and it will go on. Don't worry Dr Kalam, if you’ve taught us right, you are close to immortal. Who said you can’t live forever? As long as a generation remembers your message, the idea of you is alive and smiling.

And what a message it was. Unlike many, his own life was his message. A message that valued inspiration with intellect, purpose with process, humility with hunger.

He was always from the future. When,as kids, most of us were living in the year 2000, he was already living in 2020. He was a regular Prometheus for many kids, travelling into the future and bringing back ideas, projects, goals and a coherent positive vision for the country and its citizens.

And he was a master at defining his target audience. He knew the right age to make an imprint into minds and plant the much needed values of  my generation. He knew it was no use motivating people closer to his age, he knew how people are set in their ways after a certain age. He therefore focused all his energy towards the seeds, and not the trees.

Like inception, I'd like to think he basically hacked our minds and implanted some very basic but powerful ideas that unfortunately no one else bothered to do. On his death, I now understand how much he has affected our value system, which was unknown to many of us while he was alive.

As an adult, I now know that he was an accomplished scientist and project manager who changed the geopolitical context of our country.

I now know that he led the project to develop India's first indigenous Satellite Launch Vehicle, an integral part of India's space program today that allows us to launch our own and third party communication and defence satellites into space.

That he led India's ballistic missile program, persuaded the Government to classify and not reveal to the public the true nature and funds allotted to these projects, for the sake of national security.

That he was instrumental in the development of the Agni and Prithvi missiles.

That he was the chief coordinator of the Pokhran II nuclear tests. That he wore army uniforms during these test days to maintain secrecy of the impending nuclear test yields and their geopolitical implications, even concealing the same from the Indian army until a public announcement from the Indian government.

That he was a passionate low cost inventor, codeveloping rural low cost laptops and coronary stents.

Even that many of his projects overran costs and time, and a few outright failed their goals. But that many of India's critical Prithvi and Agni nuclear missile projects owe their success to those early failures.

India's defence technology ambitions in the seventies and eighties owe him a great debt. Without him, we would simply not have had the confidence and audacity to simultaneously take strides in indigenous development of so many variants of defence programs hitherto unheard of in the country.

I knew none of that as a boy, and I still found much of what he said, made sense to my little mind. That was the beauty and simplicity of his communication. He was definitely a deeply structured thinker, probably a profound technical mind, probably an astute defence project manager, and yet his communication never betrayed the seriousness and utter criticality of his pursuits. He spoke to kids, like a kid. Like being an actual rocket scientist was not rocket science at all. Like it was simple, fun, like playing in a park. Like it was so easy, that anyone, even we, could do it.

Interestingly, after my school years, I felt I had outgrown Dr. Kalam and his message. Over the years, and after he completed his Presidential term, I kept less track of what he was upto, and what he was pursuing.

I now realise he probably wanted it that way. He had already moved on to inspiring the next generation of kids, knowing that what he had taught kids like me would emerge, and trigger in us responses, at the right times in our lives.

When I heard of his death, the memories of him as President and so many others were accompanied by many memories of my own childhood. I was reminded of the science exhibitions, the quiz competitions, even my board exams. I realised I used to study really hard partly because he had taught us kids that it was important, that it was a way for us to build our minds, careers and eventually our country.

Over the years, we forget why we did what we did as kids, why we chose the subjects we chose to study well or what motivated us to choose the life paths we chose. His death has reminded me that he was always somewhere in the background in those years, sometimes on TV, sometimes on the radio, sometimes in the news, egging on young directionless kids like me to be good, to be better.

They say in space, genius is not inventing and writing with a gravity-defying ink pen. Genius is writing with a pencil. He was that pencil. Simple, to the point and direct to the point of being disarming.

Indian kids who were born after 2000 are just 15 or younger today, and most will easily live to 2070 or more. In other words, this unassuming man with a distinctly funny hairstyle has knowingly embedded his values into the minds of millions of young Indians who will live well into the next 50 years. If there’s an example of future proofing your message, this is one of the best.

He taught us that power and peace can coexist, that weakness was not a matter of pride, but a status quo to be challenged and overcome.

That the Indian mind was no less than the American or Australian or European one, that dignity came not with destitution, but with a defence policy and with nuclear deterrence.

That to earn the right to build missiles that protect your country with nuclear warheads that can strike deep into enemy territory, you do not have to be rich or have influence in the right places or be born in Mumbai or Delhi or Bangalore. You can be born in a village in Tamil Nadu, sell newspapers as a kid to support your education, and still grow up to have your thumb on the country's nuclear button.

That all you need is hard work, determination, and the spirit to dream beyond your immediate reality. He was not a top down motivator who simply spoke about these things without having direct experience of them. At each stage of his life, he had to think beyond his immediate reality and have the audacity to overcome his immediate situation.

Since he was used to doing it so many times for himself, he eventually realised he could do that for his country's and citizens' ambitions too.

For Indian kids in a generation which had no real living role models in the sciences, in research, in innovation and definitely not in nuclear technology and defence, he filled a very important gap. He was arguably the most publicly known Indian scientist of my generation, nuclear or otherwise.

Ironically, we enjoy largely peaceful borders because we are a coherent nuclear power. He truly believed in the maxim that India should 'talk softly and carry a big stick'.

He was, and always will be, one of the most iconic products to be Made in India.

And everything made after him, owes a little to this tiny genius from Rameswaram, who taught us that Taking is good, but Making is better.

He looked up to Vikram Sarabhai, and now an entire generation looks up to him. Years later, when we narrate how we were the lucky generation to be kids when someone named Sachin Tendulkar batted for India, I am sure we will mention Dr Kalam in the same sentence. When we were kids, Dr Kalam built nuclear missiles for India. We will be proud to say that Dr Kalam was our President when we were in school and college. I am now as much the Kalam Generation as the Sachin one.

On behalf of many in my generation, if you're listening, I'd just like to say that, take a much needed break, sir. Your students will take it from here.

Good night.

Samridh Kapoor

Kalam Batch of 2000-2015