30 Jan Redundancy as Insurance (NASSIM NICHOLAS TALEB) | Part A’
First, Mother Nature likes redundancies, three different types of redundancies. The first, the simplest to understand, is defensive redundancy, the insurance type of redundancy that allows you to survive under adversity, thanks to the availability of spare parts.
Look at the human body. We have two eyes, two lungs, two kidneys, even two brains (with the possible exception of corporate executives)—and each has more capacity than needed in ordinary circumstances. So redundancy equals insurance, and the apparent inefficiencies are associated with the costs of maintaining these spare parts and the energy needed to keep them around in spite of their idleness.
The exact opposite of redundancy is naïve optimization. I tell everyone to avoid attending (orthodox) economics classes and say that economics will fail us and blow us up (and, as we will see, we have proofs that it failed us; but, as I kept saying in the original text, we did not need them; all we needed was to look at the lack of scientific rigor—and of ethics). The reason is the following: It is largely based on notions of naïve optimization, mathematized (poorly) by Paul Samuelson—and this mathematics contributed massively to the construction of an error-prone society. An economist would find it inefficient to maintain two lungs and two kidneys: consider the costs involved in transporting these heavy items across the savannah.
Such optimization would, eventually, kill you, after the first accident, the first “outlier.” Also, consider that if we gave Mother Nature to economists, it would dispense with individual kidneys: since we do not need them all the time, it would be more “efficient” if we sold ours and used a central kidney on a time-share basis. You could also lend your eyes at night since you do not need them to dream.
Almost every major idea in conventional economics (though a lesser number of minor ones) fails under the modification of some assumption, or what is called “perturbation,” when you change one parameter, or take a parameter heretofore assumed by the theory to be fixed and stable, and make it random. We call this “randomization” in the jargon. This is called the study of model error and examination of the consequences of such changes (my official academic specialty is now model error or “model risk”).
For instance, if a model used for risk assumes that the type of randomness under consideration is from Mediocristan, it will ignore large deviations and encourage the building of a lot of risk that ignores large deviations; accordingly, risk management will be faulty. Hence the metaphor of “sitting on a barrel of dynamite” I used concerning Fannie Mae (now bust).
For another example of egregious model error, take the notion of comparative advantage supposedly discovered by Ricardo and behind the wheels of globalization. The idea is that countries should focus, as a consultant would say, on “what they do best” (more exactly, on where they are missing the smallest number of opportunities); so one country should specialize in wine and the other in clothes, although one of them might be better at both. But do some perturbations and alternative scenarios: consider what would happen to the country specializing in wine if the price of wine fluctuated. Just a simple perturbation around this assumption (say, considering that the price of wine is random, and can experience Extremistanstyle variations) makes one reach a conclusion the opposite of Ricardo’s. Mother Nature does not like overspecialization, as it limits evolution and weakens the animals.
This also explains why I found current ideas on globalization (such as those promoted by the journalist Thomas Friedman) one step too naïve, and too dangerous for society—unless one takes into account side effects.
Globalization might give the appearance of efficiency, but the operating leverage and the degrees of interaction between parts will cause small cracks in one spot to percolate through the entire system. The result would be like a brain experiencing an epileptic seizure from too many cells firing at the same time. Consider that our brain, a well-functioning complex system, is not “globalized,” or, at least, not naïvely “globalized.”
The same idea applies to debt—it makes you fragile, very fragile under perturbations, particularly when we switch from the assumption of Mediocristan to that of Extremistan. We currently learn in business schools to engage in borrowing (by the same professors who teach the Gaussian bell curve, that Great Intellectual Fraud, among other pseudosciences), against all historical traditions.
Part b’ follows
The Black Swan
NASSIM NICHOLAS TALEB