Modeling population and technology: Why haven’t you starved to death?
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By Navin Kumar
Article ID: 1338
Of all the interesting, insightful models produced in the last two or three hundred years of economics existence (I’m not including the models of financial markets: those are neither interesting nor insightful) few have achieved more long-range influence than the population model of Thomas Malthus.
The model (and the idea behind it) is so simple that it can be taught to school children. Human population – says the model – increases exponentially. Assuming every couple has three children, the growth in a population with 200 people grows like this: 200, 300, 450, 675. On the other hand, growth in the field of agricultural output is arithmetic and goes like this: 200, 300, 400, 500. At this rate, the growth in population will soon outstrip growth in food.
Malthus’ two-century-old prediction says that any increase in prosperity would soon be “consumed” by an increase in population. This is one reason why economics is labeled as ‘the dismal science’. This idea, though – that humanity’s increasing consumption of natural resources will outstrip our ability to raise those resources – is the driving idea behind modern concepts like sustainable development. This idea is also called a “Malthusian famine”.
Yet, in the 200 years of the theory’s existence, a famine caused by failure of food production has never occurred. Famines are typically caused by things like drought or flood, followed by a failure to deliver food to affected areas. For one thing, production has more than kept up with population growth. “Between 1820 and 1992,” writes Ronald Bailey in Earth Report 2000, “world population quintupled even as the world’s economies grew 40-fold.”
It’s worth asking where these predictions went wrong or – to put it in geeky terms – what systemic error in thinking lead to such incorrect conclusions? The short answer is that technological innovation is faster than population growth. But this is a hard idea to wrap one’s mind around, so an explanatory model is worth looking at.
Imagine a tiny little 14th century French village. The village has a population of 101 people: 100 wheat farmers (who own an acre of land each) and one guy who fancies himself as an alchemist but invents and sells fertilizer to pay the bills. Over the period of his life, he will increase the productivity of each acre of land by a bushel of wheat. Where the land was previously producing 10 bushels, it is now producing 11. Thus, where 100 farmers were producing 1000 bushels of wheat, they are now growing 1100 bushels. The change: +100 bushels.
Now imagine a village of 1010 people: 1000 wheat farmers and 10 inventors – the same ratio as the small village. Each of the inventors is just as productive as the alchemist was – that is, they all produce innovations which increase the productivity of each farmer by +1 bushels. But there are now ten alchemists. So the total increase in the productivity of each farmer is +10. And there are now a thousand farmers. So the total change: 1,000×10 = +10,000 bushels.
Notice the population grew tenfold but the change in production was a hundredfold. The reason: more innovators, whose productivity-enhancing techniques can be applied to everyone.
Note also that this model doesn’t factor in a whole bunch of stuff that might cause production to grow even faster. For example, the original alchemist sells to 100 people – but a person who goes into research in the larger village has a market of 1000. This increases the incentives to invest in research and more people will become fertilizer inventors. So instead of 1 inventor for every 100 farmers, you might get 3. Furthermore, collaboration is now possible. While a single inventor, by himself, might produce +1 bushels, two working together might manage +3 bushels, further increasing the rate of innovation.
To summarize: the larger a population is, the more innovators there are, the more incentive there is to invest in research (as the result of a larger market) or to become a researcher and to collaborate.
Of course, this over-simplification of reality (which is what all models essentially are) is loaded with flaws. For starters, I’ve completely ignored the question of whether or not the land has a ‘carrying capacity’: for example, if there’s a limit to which it can grow more wheat. I’ve ignored the question of whether there is a limit to how much we can extract from nature. I’ve ignored the possibility of patent wars between increasingly competitive innovators that would hinder innovation. I’ve ignored how a population must invest heavily in education to continue producing scientists (which is not happening in populous places like India). There’s even a possibility that there is a “limit to science”: that at some point in the future anything that can be invented, will be. If you can think of any more problems with the model, please let me know in the comment section.
All these are important, but I’m not going to deal with them right now. The value of a model lies in its’ ability to explain an idea – not to prove it. (The people who claim that they use a model to predict the outcomes of complicated social, financial or technological events are self-deluding frauds.) The point of this thought experiment was to explain how some researchers can get so far off the mark: they didn’t see innovation as a result of population. People solve problems. Problems are limited – but the number of people available to throw at problems increases constantly.
Other articles related to this topic:
- Global warming and climate change: Why they’re so hard to get right
- Can safety regulations kill you? How safe are seatbelts and seatbelt laws?
- The Veil of Ignorance: Don’t confuse tools with the buildings they create
- Ice cubes, cornflakes, inflation and what caused the sub-prime lending crisis: Why theories are so hard to get right
- Macro-evolution observed in the laboratory
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