The 3-ladder system of social class in the U.S.

Typical depictions of social class in the United States posit a linear, ordered hierarchy. I’ve actually come to the conclusion that there are 3 distinct ladders, with approximately four social classes on each. Additionally, there is an underclass of people not connected to any of the ladders, creating an unlucky 13th social class. I’ll attempt to explain how this three-ladder system works, what it means, and also why it is a source of conflict. The ladders I will assign the names Labor, Gentry, and Elite. My specific percentage estimates of each category are not derived from anything other than estimation based on what I’ve seen, and my limited understanding of the macroeconomics of income in the United States, so don’t take them for more than an approximation. I’ll assess the social role of each of these classes in order, from bottom to top.

This is, one should note, an exposition of social class rather than income. Therefore, in many cases, precise income criteria cannot be defined, because there’s so much more involved. Class is more sociological in nature than wealth or income, and much harder to change. People can improve their incomes dramatically, but it’s rare for a person to move more than one or two rungs in a lifetime. Social class determines how a person is perceived, that person’s access to information, and what opportunities will be available to a person.

Underclass (10%). The underclass are not just poor, because there are poor people on the Labor ladder and a few (usually transiently or voluntarily) on the Gentry ladder who are poor. In fact, most poor Americans are not members of the Underclass. People in the Underclass are generationally poor. Some have never held jobs. Some are third-generation jobless, even. Each of these ladders (Labor, Gentry, Elite) can be seen as an infrastructure based, in part, on social connections. There are some people who are not connected to any of these infrastructures, and they are the underclass.

The Labor Ladder (65%). This represents “blue-collar” work and is often associated with “working class”, but some people in this distinction earn solidly “middle-class” incomes over $100,000 per year. What defines the Labor ladder is that the work is seen as a commodity, and that there’s rarely a focus on long-term career management. People are assessed based on how hard they work because, in this world, the way to become richer is to work more (not necessarily more efficiently or “smarter”). The Labor ladder is organized almost completely based on income; the more you make (age-adjusted) the higher your position is, and the more likely it is that your work is respected.

Secondary Labor (L4, 30%) is what we call the “working poor”. These are people who earn 1 to 3 times the minimum wage and often have no health benefits. Many work two “part time” jobs at 35 hours per week (so their firms don’t have to provide benefits) with irregular hours. They have few skills and no leverage, so they tend to end up in the worst jobs, and those jobs enervate them so much that it becomes impossible for them to get the skills that would help them advance. The reason for the name Secondary in this class is that they are trapped in the “secondary” labor market: jobs originally intended for teenagers and well-off retirees that were never intended to pay a living wage. Wages for this category are usually quoted hourly and between $5 and $15 per hour.

Primary Labor (L3, 20%) is what we tend to associate with “blue-collar” America. If by “average” we mean median, this is the average social class of Americans, although most people would call it working class, not middle. It usually means having enough money to afford an occasional vacation and a couple restaurant meals per month. People in the L3 class aren’t worried about having food to eat, but they aren’t very comfortable either, and an ill-timed layoff can be catastrophic. If the market for their skills collapses, they can end up falling down a rung into L4. When you’re in the Labor category, market forces can propel you up or down, and the market value of “commodity” labor has been going down for a long time. Typical L3 compensation is $20,000 to $60,000 per year.

In the supposed “golden age” of the United States (the 1950s) a lot of people were earning L2 compensation for L3 work. In a time when well-paid but monotonous labor was not considered such a bad thing (to people coming off the Great Depression and World War II, stable but boring jobs were a godsend) this was seen as desirable, but we can’t go back to that, and most people wouldn’t want to. Most Millennials would be bored shitless by the jobs available in that era that our society occasionally mourns losing.

High-skill Labor (L2, 14%) entails having enough income and job security to be legitimately “middle class”. People in this range can attend college courses, travel internationally (but not very often) and send their children to good schools. Plumbers, airline pilots, and electricians are in this category, and some of these people make over $100,000 per year. For them, there must be some barrier to entry into their line of work, or some force keeping pay high (such as unionization). Within the culture of the Labor ladder, these people are regarded highly.

Labor Leadership (L1, 1%) is the top of the Labor ladder, and it’s what blue-collar America tends to associate with success. (The reason they fail to hate “the 1%” is that they think of L1 small business owners, rather than blue-blooded parasites, as “rich people”.) These are people who, often through years of very hard work and by displaying leadership capability, have ascended to an upper-middle-class income. They aren’t usually “managers” (store managers are L2) but small business owners and landlords, while they’re often seen doing the grunt work of their businesses (such as by running the register when all the cashiers call in sick). They can generate passive income from endeavors like restaurant franchises and earn a solidly upper-middle income standing, but culturally they are still part of Labor. This suits them well, because where they excel is at leading people who are in the Labor category.

The Gentry Ladder (23.5%). England had a landed gentry for a while. We have an educated one. Labor defines status based on the market value of one’s commodity work. The Gentry rebels against commoditization with a focus on qualities that might be, from an extensional perspective, irrelevant. They dislike conflict diamonds, like fair-trade coffee, and drive cultural trends. In the 1950s, they were all about suburbia. In 2012, they had the same enthusiasm for returning to the cities. They value themselves not based on their incomes but, much more so, on access to respected institutions: elite universities, leading technology companies, museums and artistic endeavors. Labor aspires to occupational success and organizational leadership, while the Gentry aspires to education and cultural leadership.

Before going further, it’s worth noting that the typical socioeconomic ordering would have each Gentry level two levels above the corresponding Labor level in social standing. Thus, G1 > G2 > (G3 ~= L1) > (G4 ~= L2) > L3 > L4.

Transitional Gentry (G4, 5%) is the lowest rung of the Gentry ladder. Typically, I think of community colleges when trying to explain G4. It’s the class of people who are coming into the Gentry, usually from L2, and most people in it are looking to attain G3 (and many do). Since the Gentry is defined by education, culture, and cultural influence, earning a four-year degree (which about 20% of American adults have) will usually put a person solidly into G3.

Mobility between G4 and L2 is common, and G4 is a “young people” class, because people who don’t keep abreast of politics, current events, and at least the ”upper-middle-brow” culture of shows like Mad Men [0] tend to return to L2 (which is not an inferior class, but an approximately-equal one with different values). Those who keep up tend to progress to G3.

[0] A couple of people have emailed me to ask why I “knocked” Mad Men. That wasn’t my intention. It’s an excellent show. “Upper-middle-brow” is not panning. I’m lower-middle-brow on a good day.

Primary Gentry (G3, 16%) is what Americans think of as the cultural “upper-middle class”. They have four-year college degrees and typically have professional jobs of middling autonomy and above-average income, but usually not leadership positions. Incomes in this class vary widely (in part, because the Gentry is not defined by income) but generally fall between $30,000 and $200,000 per year. People in this class tend to be viewed as taste-setters by Labor but are viewed as gauche by the higher-ranking G1 and G2 classes.

High Gentry (G2, 2.45%) tend to come from elite colleges and traditionally gravitated toward “junior executive” roles in medium-sized companies, innovative startups, management consultancies, and possibly investment banking (which facilitates the G2-E4 transition). But G2′s wouldn’t be caught dead in jobs that seem perfectly fine to G3′s, which they view (often rightly) to be dead ends. Having interesting, respected work is important to G2′s. To a G2, being a college professor, scientist, entrepreneur, or writer are desirable jobs. Creative control of work is important to G2′s, although not all are able to get it (because creative jobs are so rare). David Brooks’s Bobos in Paradise captured well the culture of G2′s in that time. Members of this social class aggressively manage their careers to get the most out (in terms of intellectual and financial reward) of their careers, but what they really want is enough success and money to do what they really value, which is to influence culture.

G2 is my native social class, and probably that of most of my readers.

Cultural Influencers (G1, 0.05%) are the pinnacle of the Gentry. Jon Stewart is a classic example. He probably makes a “merely” upper-middle-class income working for the notoriously cheap Comedy Central, but he has the most well-regarded members of the intelligentsia on his show every night. For G1, I’m not talking about “celebrities”. Celebrities are a bizarre and tiny category that mixes all three ladders (I’d argue that they’re the upper tier of L1; most lack the power of Elites and the refinement of the Gentry). Rather, I’m talking about people who are widely recognized as smart, knowledgeable, creative, and above all, interesting. They tend also to have access to other interesting people. G1′s are not “famous” in the celebrity sense, and most of them aren’t that rich. I’d guess that their incomes vary mostly from $100,000 to $1 million per year, which is low for a social class that is so difficult to enter (much harder than E4, and possibly E3, to get into).

It’s quite likely that G1 is expanding, and it was probably much smaller in the past. The internet is allowing more people to become well-known and have some degree of cultural influence. Many bloggers have entered G1 without relying on established institutions such as publishers or universities (which used to be the only way). That said, G1 requires reliability in attention; people having their 15 minutes don’t count.

The Elite Ladder (1.5%). This is an infrastructure “at the top of society”, but many of the people it includes are in many ways nowhere near the top. People complain about “the 1 percent”, but the reality is that most of that top 1.0% are nowhere near controlling positions within society.

Not all of the Elite are in the top 1% for income, but most will have the opportunity to be. The Elite includes everyone from billionaires to out-of-college investment banking analysts (who earn a middle-class income in one of the most expensive cities on the planet). What they have in common is that they are exerting themselves toward ownershipLabor provides the work and values effort and loyalty. The Gentry provides culture and it values education and creativity. The Elite owns things and values control and establishment.

As with the Gentry and Labor, when comparing these ladders, one should consider an Elite rung to be two levels above the corresponding Gentry rung, so in terms of social standing, E1 > E2 > (E3 ~= G1) > (E4 ~= G2) > G3 > G4.

The Strivers (E4, 0.5%) are another transitional class that is generally for young people only. They aren’t actually Elite, but they might, if lucky, move into E3. Junior investment bankers, law firm associates, and young startup entrepreneurs are in this category. They’re trying to “break in” to something rich and successful. If they get in, they’ll become solid E3. If they fail in doing so, they usually return to G2: upper-middle-class professionals not strongly bound to the Elite infrastructure. G2 is usually a happier place than E4, but E3′s and E4′s tend to deride this transition. In startups, a business move favoring this step (toward G1-2 upper-middle-class stability) is derided as a “lifestyle business”.

Elite Servants (E3, 0.8%) are the law-firm partners and senior investment bankers and corporate executives that might be called the “working rich” and they comprise what was once called the “white-shoe” culture. They’re quite well-off, as far as servants go, often earning incomes from $200,000 to $5 million per year, but their social standing is conditional. They serve the rich, and the rich have to keep finding them useful for them to maintain their place. It’s not an enviable place to be, because the social expectations associated with maintaining E3 status require high spending, and even the extremely well-compensated ($1 million per year and up) E3′s rarely have the savings to survive more than a year or two without a job, because of the need to maintain connections. E3′s tend to have as many money problems as people in the lower social classes. E3′s also suffer because they live in a “small world” society driven by reputation, long-standing grudges and often petty contempt. E3′s still get fired– a lot, because the pretense that justifies E3-level status (of a large-company “executive”) requires leadership and many don’t have it– and when it happens to them, they can face years during which they can’t find appropriate employment.

People tend to think of face leaders (politicians and CEOs) as belonging to a higher social class, but most are E3. If they were higher, they wouldn’t have to work so hard to be rich. Examining our most recent presidents, Barack Obama is G1, the George Bushes were E2, Bill Clinton was E3, and Reagan was in the celebrity category that is a hybrid of E3 and L1. John Kennedy was E2, while Lyndon Johnson was L1. Most CEOs, however, are strictly E3, because CEOs are “rubber gloves” that are used for dirty work and thrown aside if they get too filthy. There’s too much reputation risk involved in being a corporate CEO for an E2 to want the job under most circumstances.

National Elite (E2, 0.19%) are what most Americans think of as “upper class” or “old money”. They have Roman Numerals in their names, live in the Hamptons (although they’ve probably stopped using “summer” as a verb now that “the poors” know about it) and their families have attended Ivy League colleges for generations. They’re socially very well connected and have the choice not to work, or the choice to work in a wide array of well-compensated and highly-regarded jobs. Rarely do they work full time under traditional employment terms– never as subordinates, sometimes as executives in an apprentice role, often in board positions or “advisory” roles. It’s uncommon that an E2 will put a full-time effort into anything, because their objective with work is to associate their names with successful institutions, but not to get too involved.

To maintain E2 status, being wealthy is required. It takes about $500,000 per year, after tax, in income at a minimum. However, it’s not hard for a person with E2 status and connections to acquire this, even if the family money is lost. The jobs that E3′s regard as the pinnacle of professional achievement (the idea that such a notion as “professional achievement” exists is laughable to them; paid full-time work is dishonorable from an E2 perspective) are their safety careers.

Global Elite (E1, ~60,000 people worldwide, about 30% of those in the U.S.) are a global social class, and extremely powerful in a trans-national way. These are the very rich, powerful, and deeply uncultured barbarians from all over the world who start wars in the Middle East for sport, make asses of themselves in American casinos, rape ski bunnies at Davos, and run the world. Like the Persian army in 300, they come from all over the place; they’re the ugliest and most broken of each nation. They’re the corporate billionaires and drug kingpins and third-world despots and real estate magnates. They’re not into the genteel, reserved “WASP culture” of E2′s, the corporate earnestness and “white shoe” professionalism of E3′s, or the hypertrophic intellectualism and creativity of G1′s and G2′s. They are all about control, and on a global scale. To channel Heisenberg, they’re in the empire business. They aren’t mere management or even “executives”. They’re owners. They don’t care what they own, or what direction the world takes, as long as they’re on top. They almost never take official executive positions within large companies, but they make a lot of the decisions behind the scenes.

Unlike the National Elite, who tend toward a cultural conservatism and a desire to preserve certain traits that they consider necessary to national integrity, the Global Elite doesn’t give a shit about any particular country. They’re fully multinational and view all the world’s political nations as entities to be exploited (like everything else). They foster corruption and crime if it serves their interests, and those interests are often ugly. Like Kefka from Final Fantasy VI, their reason for living is to create monuments to nonexistence.

For the other social classes, there’s no uniform moral assumption that can apply. G1′s are likable and often deserving cultural leaders, but sometimes foolish, overrated, incompetent, infuriatingly petty, and too prone to groupthink to deserve their disproportionate clout. G2′s tend to have the best (or at least most robust) taste, because they don’t fall into G1 self-referentiality, but can be just as snooty and cliquish. As “pro-Gentry” as I may seem, it’s a massive simplification to treat that set as entirely virtuous. Likewise, the lower elite ranks (E2, E3, E4) also have their mix of good and bad people. There are E2′s who want to live well and decently, E3′s trying to provide for their families, and E4′s trying to get in because they were brought up to climb the ladder. On the other hand, E1 is pretty much objectively evil, without exceptions. There are decent people who are billionaires, so there’s no income or wealth level at which 100% objective evil becomes the norm. But if you climb the social ladder, you get to a level at which it’s all cancer, all the way up. That’s E1. Why is it this way? Because the top end of the world’s elite is a social elite, not an economic one, and you don’t get deep into an elevated social elite unless you are very simliar to the center of that cluster, and for the past 10,000 years the center of humanity’s top-of-the-top cluster has always been deep, featureless evil: people who burn peasants’ faces off because it amuses them. Whether you’re talking about a real person like Hitler, Stalin, Erik Prince, Osama bin Laden, or Kissinger, or a fictional example like The Joker, Kefka, Walter White, or Randall Flagg; when you get to the top of society, it’s always the same guy. Call it The Devil, but what’s scary is that it needs (and has) no supernatural powers; it’s human, and while one its representatives might get knocked off, another one will step up.

Ladder conflict. What does all this mean? How do these ladders interrelate? Do these three separate social class structures often find themselves at odds and fight? Can people be part of more than one?

What I’ve called the Labor, Gentry, and Elite “ladders” can more easily be described as “infrastructures”. For Labor, this infrastructure is largely physical and the relevant connection is knowing how to use that physical device or space, and getting people to trust a person to competently use (without owning, because that’s out of the question for most) these resources. For the Gentry, it’s an “invisible graph” of knowledge and education and “interestingness”, comprised largely of ideas. For the Elite, it’s a tight, exclusive network centered on social connections, power, and dominance. People can be connected to more than one of these infrastructures, but people usually bind more tightly to the one of higher status, except when at the transitional ranks (G4 and E4) which tend to punt people who don’t ascend after some time. The overwhelmingly high likelihood is that a person is aligned most strongly to one and only one of these structures. The values are too conflicting for a person not to pick one horse or the other.

I’ve argued that the ladders connect at a two-rung difference, with L2 ~ G4, L1 ~ G3, G2 ~ E4, and G1 ~ E3. These are “social equivalencies” that don’t involve a change in social status, so they’re the easiest to transitions to make (in both directions). They represent a transfer from one form of capital to another. A skilled laborer (L2) who begins taking night courses (G4) is using time to get an education rather than more money. Likewise, one who moves from the high gentry (G2) to a 90-hour-per-week job in private wealth management (E4) is applying her refined intellectual skills and knowledge to serving the rich, in the hope of making the connections to become one of them.

That said, these ladders often come into conflict. The most relevant one to most of my readers will be the conflict between the Gentry and the Elite. The Gentry tends to be left-libertarian and values creativity, individual autonomy, and free expression. The Elite tends toward center-right authoritarianism and corporate conformity, and it views creativity as dangerous (except when applied to hiding financial risks or justifying illegal wars). The Gentry believes that it is the deserving elite and the face of the future, and that it can use culture to engineer a future in which its values are elite; while the upper tier of the Elite finds the Gentry pretentious, repugnant, self-indulgent, and subversive. The relationship between the Gentry and Elite is incredibly contentious. It’s a cosmic, ubiquitous war between the past and the future.

Between the Gentry and Labor, there is an attitude of distrust. The Elite has been running a divide-and-conquer strategy between these two categories for decades. This works because the Elite understands (and can ape) the culture of the Gentry, but has something in common with Labor that sets the categories apart from the Gentry: a conception of work as a theater for masculine dominance. This is something that the Elite and Labor both believe in– the visceral strength and importance of the alpha-male in high-stakes gambling settings such as most modern work– but that the Gentry would rather deny. Gender is a major part of the Elite’s strategy in turning Labor against the Gentry: make the Gentry look effeminate. That’s why “feminist” is practically a racial slur, despite the world desperately needing attention to women’s political equality, health and well-being (that is, feminism).

The Elite also uses the Underclass in a different process: the Elite wants Labor think the Gentry intends to conspire with the Underclass to dismantle Labor values and elevate these “obviously undeserving” people to, at least, the status of Labor if not promoted above them. They exploit fear in Labor. One might invoke racism and the “Southern strategy” in politics as an example of this, but the racial part is incidental. The Elite don’t care whether it’s blacks or Latinos or “illigals” or red-haired people or homosexuals (most of whom are not part of the Underclass) that are being used to frighten Labor into opposing and disliking the Gentry; they just know that the device works and that it has pretty much always worked.

The relationship between the Gentry and Elite is one of open rivalry, and that between the Gentry and Labor is one of distrust. What about Labor and the Elite? That one is not symmetric. The Elite exploit and despise Labor as a class comprised mostly of “useful idiots”. How does Labor see the Elite? They don’t. The Elite has managed to convince Labor that the Gentry (who are open about their cultural elitism, while the Elite hides its social and economic elitism) is the actual “liberal elite” responsible for Labor’s misery over the past 30 years. In effect, the Elite has constructed an “infinity pool” where the Elite appears to be a hyper-successful extension of Labor, lumping these two disparate ladders into an “us” and placing the Gentry and Underclass into “them”.

Analysis of current conflict.

Despite its upper ranks being filled by people who are effectively thugs, the Elite isn’t entirely evil. By population, most of them are merely E3 and E4 stewards with minimal decision-making power, and a lot of those come from (and return to) the Gentry and maintain those values. On the other hand, Elite values tend to be undesirable, because at that structure’s pinnacle are the E1 crime bosses. There are good people within the Elite, even though the Elite itself is not good.

For virtue, the Gentry does better. I don’t want to fall into the American fallacy of conflating “middle class” with virtue, and there are some awful and good people in all social classes, but I think that the Gentry is a more inclusive and reflective elite– one of ideas and values, not based on exclusivity.

One Gentry stronghold for a long time has been high technology, a meritocracy where skill, know-how, and drive enabled a person to rise to technical leadership of increasing scope and eventually business leadership and entrepreneurship. This created the engineering culture of Hewlett-Packard (before Fiorina) and the “Don’t Be Evil” mantra of Google. This is Gentry culture asserting itself. Be ethical, seek positive-sum outcomes, and win by being great rather than by harming, robbing, or intimidating others. It’s not how business is practiced in most of the world– zero-sum thuggery is a lot more common– but it’s how great businesses are made. This weird world in which self-made success was regarded higher than entrenchment, symbolized in Silicon Valley, enabled people from the Gentry to become very rich and Gentry ideas to establish lasting success in business.

What has made America great, especially from 1933 until now, has been the self-assertion of the Gentry following the defeat of the Elite. The first half of the American Era (1933 to 1973) utterly emasculated the Elite. Their rapacious greed and world-fucking parasitism was repaid with 90-percent tax rates, and they told to consider themselves lucky that it wasn’t full-on socialism (or a violent revolution in which they all died, Paris-1793-style). The so-called “WASP culture” of the E2 class derives many of its norms from the paranoia of that period (when the global elite was very small, and they were the “robber baron” elite). For example, the demand that a house not be visible from the road comes from a time in which that was physically dangerous. This four-decade curtailment of the American Elite, and the more resounding destruction of the European ones, was one of the best things that ever happened to the world. It made the golden age of Silicon Valley possible.

There are a lot of reasons why this “golden age” of a disempowered Elite was able to occur, but World War II was the biggest of all of them. Future historians will probably regard the two World Wars as one monstrous conflict, with a period of crippling, worldwide economic depression between them. Few disagree with the claim, for example, that the resolution of the First World War led inexorably to the evils of totalitarianism and the Second of these wars. This giant and largely senseless conflict’s causes seem complex– historians are still debating World War I’s inception– but the short version is that the world’s Elites did that. There was a 30-year period of war, famine, poverty, racial pogroms, and misery that existed largely because a network of high-level obligations and horrendous ideas (especially the racism used to justify colonialism, which benefitted the rich of these societies enormously, but sent the poor to die in unjust wars, contract awful diseases for which they had no immunity, and commit atrocities) set the conditions up. After about a hundred million deaths and thirty tears of war, societies finally decided, “No More”. They dismantled their Elites vigorously, North American and European nations included. This became the “golden age” of the educated Gentry. In the U.S. (for which the 1950s were a decade of prosperity; in Europe, it was a period of rebuilding and not very prosperous) it was also the “golden age of the middle class”.

However, the Elite has brought itself back to life. This Gilded Age isn’t as bad as the last one, but it’s heading that way. It started in the late 1970s when the U.S. fell in love again with elitism: Studio 54, cocaine– a drug that captures the personality of that cultural change well, because its effect is to flood the brain with dopamine, causing extreme arrogance– and “trickle-down economics”.

Assessing the present state of conflict requires attention to what each party wants. What does the Gentry want? The Gentry has a strange, love-hate relationship with capitalism. Corporations are detested (even more than they deserve) by this class and most people in the Gentry want the U.S. to look more like Europe: universal healthcare, decent vacation allotments, and cheap, ecologically sound high-speed trains. This might give the impression of a socialist bent, and that impression’s not wrong. Yet their favorite places are New York (the center of capitalism) and Silicon Valley (also fiercely capitalistic). Although left-leaning, the Gentry are strong champions for non-corporate capitalism. There is no contradiction here. European social democracies have also managed to create hybrid systems that combine the safety and infrastructure of socialism with the innovation and individual liberty of capitalism: the best of both worlds.

For a contrast, what the Elite has been pushing for is the worst of both worlds, at least for average people. The truth of corporate “capitalism” is that it provides the best of both systems (socialism and capitalism) for the Elite and the worst of both for everyone else. It’s a welfare state in which only very well-connected people are citizens, it favors command economies (which are what most corporations are, internally) and it stifles the positive-sum innovation that is capitalism’s saving grace. The upper tier of society wants social stability for themselves (to stay in and keep others out) but they favor extreme economic variability (also known as “inequality”) because it gives them more opportunities to exploit their social status for economic gain (read: private-sector corruption).

Air travel in the contemporary U.S. is an illustrative example of this “worst of both worlds” scenario: the pricing is erratic, unreasonable, and even a bit mean-spirited, which shows the volatility of capitalism, while the low quality of service and the abysmal morale of the industry feel like direct transplants from the Soviet Union.

The future.

A major battle is coming, with all three of these categories (Labor, Gentry, and Elite) involved. The Gentry and the Elite are at fundamental opposites on the type of society they want to see and, for decades, the Elite has been winning, but their victories are becoming harder to win as technology opens up the world. Labor might seem like a nonparticipant in the ideological battles, but they comprise most of the casualties, and they’ve seen shells land in their backyard (especially if they live in Detroit). Not only are they losing their jobs and social status, but their communities have been demolished.

Something else is happening, which is relevant both in a macrohistorical sense and to the U.S. in 2012. One way to divide human history is into three eras: pre-Malthusian, trans-Malthusian, and post-Malthusian. I refer, of course, to the prediction of Thomas Malthus, early in the Industrial Revolution, that population growth in contemporary societies would lead to a catastrophe because population grew exponentially, while economic growth was linear. He was wrong. Economic growth has always been exponential, but for most of human history it has had a very slow (under 1% per year) exponential curve– slower than population growth, and slow enough to look linear. His mathematical model was wrong, but his conclusion– that population grows until it is checked (i.e. people die) by disease, famine, and war– was true in nature and of almost every human society from the dawn of time to about 1800. He was wrong that it would afflict England and the richer European countries in the mid-19th century– because the Industrial Revolution accelerated economic growth enough to prevent a global Malthusian crunch. On the other hand, there were local Malthusian catastrophes. Ireland endured severe poverty and oppression, colonialism was deeply horrible and did, in fact, represent many of the vices Malthus warned about.

The world was pre-Malthusian when societies were doomed to grow faster in population than in their ability to support it. This led, over the millennia, to certain assumptions about society that can be categorized as “zero-sum”. For one tribe to take care of its young, another tribe must lose wealth or be destroyed. For English to be rich, Irish must starve. For Southern whites to live well, blacks must be slaves. For capital to be profitable, labor must be exploited. If Catholic Spain has one colony, Protestant England must have more. For the German people to have “lebensraum”, Central European countries must be invaded and their inhabitants killed. “Medieval” horrors were an artifact of the Malthusian reality of that time, but such atrocities continued even as the long-standing Malthusian inequality (population growth being greater than economic growth) reversed itself.

We are now in a trans-Malthusian state, and have been for about two hundred years. Global economic growth is now over 4% per year, which is the fastest it has ever been, and there’s no sign of it slowing down. The world has a lot of problems, and there are pockets of severe decay, corruption, and poverty; but on the whole, it’s becoming a better place, and at an accelerating (hyper-exponential) rate. The world is no longer intrinsically Malthusian, but pre-Malthusian attitudes still dominate, especially at the pinnacles of our most successful societies. This shouldn’t be shocking, because the very traits (especially, low empathy and greed) that would be required to succeed in a zero-sum world are still strong in our upper classes. This legacy won’t go away overnight. The people haven’t changed very much. Pre-Malthusian fearmongering is also very effective on less intelligent people, who haven’t figured out that the world has changed in the past two hundred years. They still believe in the zero-sum world wherein, if “illigal” immigrants “take all the jobs”, middle-class white people will starve.

The trans-Malthusian state is, I believe, intrinsically more volatile than a pre-Malthusian one. Technology is causing the job market to change faster, but this paradoxically makes individual spells of unemployment longer. Another thing is that we’re seeing something that pre-Malthusian economies didn’t have to worry about: economic depressions. This is not to romanticize pre-Malthusian life or societies. They would experience famines, wars, and disease epidemics that would kill far more people than any economic depression, but those had natural or historical causes that were not intrinsic and desirable. We’ve been able to eliminate most of these evils from life without losing anything in the process. These depressions, in my view, come from economic progress itself (and moreover, our inability to manage growth in a way that distributes prosperity, rather than displacing people). The first quarter of the 20th century saw unprecedented advancement in food production– a good thing, undeniably– which caused agricultural commodities to drop in price. This caused small farmers (who could not partake in these advances to the same extent) to fall into poverty. Without the small farmers, towns supported by them weren’t doing well either. Poverty isn’t a “moral medicine” that clears out the bad in society. It doesn’t make people better or harder working. It ruins people. It’s a cancer. It spreads. And it did. Rural poverty was severe in the United States by 1925, before the Depression officially began. Urban sophisticates and elites were OK in 1925, hence this era is remembered as being prosperous. In 1933? Not so much. The cancer had grown. Throughout the 1930s, the rich were terrified of an American communist revolution.

We don’t want another Great Depression, and what’s scary in 2012 is that it seems like what happened to agricultural products in the 1920s is now happening to almost all human labor. We’re outsourcing, automating, and “streamlining”, and all of these changes are fundamentally good, but if we don’t take steps to prevent the collapse of the middle class, we could lose our country. This will almost certainly require innovations that the right wing will decry as “socialism”, but it will also involve techniques (such as crowd-funding and microloans for small businesses) that are far more capitalistic than anything the corporates have come up with.

We are trans- (not post-) Malthusian because we live in a world where scarcity is still in force (although often artificial) and zero-sum mentalities dominate (even though they’re inappropriate to a technological world). If Mexican immigrants “take the jobs”, formerly middle-class white people will be without healthcare. What’s required is to step away from the zero-sum attitude (expressed often in racism) and recognize that no one of any ethnicity, jobless or employed, should be without healthcare. Ever. Technology is great at helping us generate more resources and make more with what we have, and we have to accept that it will “unemploy” people on a regular basis, but the bounty should be distributed fairly, and not hogged by the fortunate while those it renders transiently jobless are allowed to fall into poverty. “Collateral damage” is not acceptable and, if the 1920s and ’30s are illustrative, it can’t be contained. The damage will spread.

What does this have to do with the ladders and their conflict? Labor is a trans-Malthusian social category because it lives in a world that values fair play (a positive-sum, post-Malthusian value) but that is constrained by artificial scarcity. The Elite is pre-Malthusian; they are obsessed with the zero-sum game of social status and the need to keep themselves elevated and others out. The Gentry, although not without its faults, is properly post-Malthusian. Their values (political liberalism, individual freedom, enough socialism to ensure a just society, positive-sum outlook, and a positive view of technology) represent what it will take to evolve toward a post-Malthusian state.

Creativity and the nautilus

Creativity is one of those undeniably positive words that is reflexively associated with virtue, leadership, intelligence and industry (even though I’ve known some creative people who lack those traits). Yet, 28 years of experience has taught me that people don’t have much patience for creative people. We are like the nautilus, a strange-looking and, some would say, unattractive creature that leaves behind a beautiful shell. Most people are happy to have what we create, but would prefer never to see the marine animal that once lived inside the art. All they want to do is pick it up once left on the shore.

Creativity isn’t in-born and immutable. It’s an attribute of which most people end up using (and, in the long-term, retaining) less than 1 percent of their natural potential. It grows over time as a result of behaviors that most people find strange and potentially unpleasant. Creative people are curious, which means that they often seek information that others consider it inappropriate for them to have. They’re passionate, which means they have strong opinions and will voice them. Neither of these is well-received in the typical conservative corporate environment. Worse yet, creative people are deeply anti-authoritarian, because it’s simply not possible to become and stay creative by just following orders, not when those orders impose compromise over a substantial fraction of one’s waking time. It never has been, and it never will be.

This doesn’t mean that creativity is only about free expression and flouting convention. Creativity has divergent and convergent components. An apprentice painter’s more abstract work may seem like “paint splatter”, but there’s a divergent value in this: she’s getting a sense of what randomness and play “look like”. She might do that in January. In February, she might do a still life, or an imitation of an existing classical piece. (Despite negative connotations of the word, imitation was an essential part of an artist’s education for hundreds of years.) It’s in March that she produces art of the highest value: something original, new, and playful (divergence) that leverages truth and value discovered by her predecessors, trimmed using rules (convergence) they teach. Computationally, one can think of the divergent component as free expansion and the convergent aspect as pruning. The convergent aspect of creativity requires a lot of discipline and work. Novelists refer to this process as “killing your darlings”, because it involves removing from a narrative all of the characters or themes that an artist inserts for personal (often emotional) reasons but that add little merit to the completed work. For technology, Steve Jobs summarized it in three words: “Real artists ship”. It’s intellectually taxing, and many people can’t do it.

Convergent creativity is what our culture’s archetype of “the artist”, for the most part, misses. Youthful “experience chasing”, social climbing, extremes either of fame and wealth or of miserable, impoverished obscurity, all have some divergent value. On the other hand, that type of stock-character artist (or real Williamsburg hipster) has almost no hope of producing anything of artistic value. Divergence alone leads to mutation and insanity, not creation. This also explains why the highest-priced “modern art” is so terrible. We have a culture that worships power, money, and social access for their own sake and so the “brand-name artists” whose connections enable them to be paid for divergence (and divergence only) are treated as high priests by our supposed cultural leaders. The result of this is that terrible art sells for astronomical sums, while real artists often work in obscurity.

Most people, when they think of creative workers, whether we’re talking about writers or game designers or computer programmers, only seem to understand the divergent part. That gives them the impression that we’re a coddled bunch with easy jobs. We “get paid to have fun”. To quote Mad Men from the perspective of an “account man”, we’re “creative crybabies”. Bullshit. Creativity is rewarding and it can be a lot of fun, but it also requires an incredible amount of work, often at inconvenient hours and requiring very high levels of sustained effort. Wake up at 5:00 am with a great idea? Get to work, now. If that idea comes at 10:30 pm instead, stay up. Most of us work a thousand times harder than “executives”, the private-sector bureaucrats whose real jobs are white-collar social climbing.

As with the adiabatic cooling of an expanding gas, and the heating of a compressed one, divergence has a cooling effect while convergence is hot. For the first, free writing tends to calm the nerves and diminish anger. Improvisational art is deeply anxiolytic and invigorating. But if it is taken too far without its counterpart, divergence leads to softness and ennui. A metaphor that programmers will understand is the concept of writing a 100,000-line program on paper, or in a featureless text editor (e.g. NotePad) without an appropriate compiler or interpreter. In the absence of the exacting, brutal convergence imposed by the compiler (which rejects programs that don’t make sense) the programmer is deprived of the rapid and engaging divergence/convergence cycle on which programmers depend. Over time, the hand-written program will accumulate shortcuts and errors, as the programmer loses touch with the substrate on which the program will run. Related to divergence’s cooling effect is convergence’s heating effect. It’s very taxing to hack branches off of one’s “search tree”. It’s painful. As humans, we’re collectors and we don’t like setting things we’ve found out of view, much less discarding them. About two to three hours of this work, per day, is more than most people can reliably perform. Although extremely important, the convergent aspect of creativity is exhausting and leads to frayed nerves and difficult personalities.

Business executives’ jobs are social climbing, internal and external. Their jobs are intentionally made extremely easy to minimize the probability of social hiccups, for which tolerance is often zero. They’re paid five times as much as any person could possibly need, to eliminate the possibility of financial worry and allow them to purchase ample domestic services. They’re given personal assistants to remove pollution and stress from their communication channels. This makes sense in the context of what companies need from their executives. He only needs to have average intelligence and social skill, but he needs to sustain this level reliably, 24/7, under a wide range of unpredictable circumstances. Rare moments (“outlier events”) are where creative people earn their keep, but where executives set themselves on fire. To be an executive, one needs to be reliable. Executives may have the authority to set working hours, but they have to be on time, all the time, every day.

For a contrast, the creative person often “needs a walk” at 3:00 in the afternoon and has no qualms about leaving work for an hour to enjoy an autumn day. After all, he does his best work at 7:00 am (or 11:30 pm) anyway. Creative people earn their keep in their best hours, and are wasting time in the mediocre ones. From an executive perspective, however, this behavior is undesirable. Why’d he up-and-leave at 3:00? There could have been a crisis! What risk! By definition, creative people are full of risk, socially gauche on account of their tendency to mentally exhaust themselves in their desire to produce something great, and therefore not reliable. Clearly “not executive material”, right? I disagree, because I think the discrepancy is more of role than of constitution. Most creative people could become tight-laced executives if they needed to do so. Creatively inclined entrepreneurs often do find themselves in this role, and many play it well. There is, however, an either/or dynamic going on. It’s necessary to choose one role and play it well, rather than attempting both and being very likely to fail. Someone who is exhausted on a daily basis by the demands of high-level creativity (and I don’t mean to say that creative work isn’t rewarding; it is, but it’s hard) can’t be a reliable people-pleaser in the same week, any more than a clay jar that just came out of a 1000-degree oven shouldn’t be used, until it cools, to store ice cream.

For this reason, business executives tend to look at their most creative underlings and see them as “not executive material”. Well, I agree this far: not now. That perception alone wouldn’t be such a problem, except for the fact that people tend to judge others’ merit on a “just like me” basis, especially as they acquire power (ego confirmation). They tend to be blind to the possibility that people very different from them can be just as valuable. Executives tend, for example, to favor mediocre programmers who don’t exert themselves at work, and who therefore retain enough mental energy for social polish. The technical mediocrity that sets in over most software companies is the long-term result of this. It’s not that companies go out of their way to “promote idiots”; it’s that they are designed to favor reliable career politicians over “risky” hard workers whose average performance is much higher, but whose lows are lower.

Would a creative person make a good business executive? I believe so, but with a specific variety of mentoring. Creative people given management positions generally find themselves still wanting to do the non-managerial work they did before the promotion. The problem here is that the manager can easily end up hogging the “fun work” and giving the slag to his subordinates. This will make him despised by those below him, and his team will be ineffective. That’s the major obstacle. Creative people tapped for management need to be given a specific ultimatum: you can go back to [software programming | game design | writing] full-time in 6 months and keep the pay increase and job title, but for now your only job is leadership and the success of your team. Good managers often find themselves taking on the least desired work in order to keep the underlings engaged in their work. It’s unpleasant, but leadership isn’t always fun.

I’ll go further and say that creative discipline is good practice for business leadership. Business leaders can’t afford to be creative at the fringe like artists or computer programmers, because the always-on, reliable social acumen they require precludes this kind of intellectual exhaustion, but the processes they need to manage are like an externalized version of the self-management that creative people need to develop in order to succeed. They must to encourage their subordinates to grow and test new ideas (divergence) but they also need to direct efforts toward useful deliverables (convergence). Many managers who fail do so because they only understand one half of this cycle. Those who focus only on convergence become the micromanagers who complain that their subordinates “can never do anything right” and who rule by intimidation. They fail because the only people who stay with them are those who actually can’t do anything right. The too-nice bosses who focus solely on divergence will either (a) fail to deliver, and be moved aside, or (b) are unprepared when young-wolf conflicts tear apart their organization. So, although the creative personality appears unsuited for managerial roles in large organizations, I’d argue that creative experience and discipline are highly valuable, so long as the manager is prepared to temporarily sacrifice the creative lifestyle hor professional purposes.

The results of creativity are highly valued, although sometimes only after an exhausting campaign of persuasion. The creative process is deeply misunderstood, creative roles are targets of misplaced envy because of their perceived “easiness”, and the people who have the most creativity (the top 0.1%) are rarely well-liked. People want our ideas, but not us and our “attitudes”. The shells, not the gnarly creatures. I invoke Paul Graham’s explanation for why “nerds” are rarely popular in high school. His explanation is that most high schoolers make a full-time job of being popular, while the nerds are too busy learning how to do hard things, such as programming computers or playing musical instruments. We see the same thing (the high-school social dynamic) in the slow-motion cultural and moral terrorist attack that we call “Corporate America”. People can invest themselves into working really hard in pursuit of the chance (and it’s far from a certainty) of producing something truly great. Or they can throw themselves wholesale into office politics and grab the gold. The world is run by those who chose the latter, and the cultural, artistic and moral impoverishment of our society is a direct result of that.

Lottery design: how I’d do it.

Here are some thoughts I’ve had on how I would design a lottery if it were my job. I find computer programming and real game design to be more fulfilling than the design of these sorts of mind-hacking gambling games, which is why I would consort with a cactus before I’d ever work for Zynga. That said, someone has to do that job. Here’s how I’d do it if it were mine.

A toy example is the mathematically interesting, but impractical, “no-balls lottery” driven by “strategic luck” (to use a game-design term). It works like this: at each drawing, players choose a number between 1 and N (say N = 60). It costs $1 to play, and the payout for choosing the winning number is $N. Where’s the house edge? The winning number is not chosen at random; it’s the one chosen by the fewest number of people (with ties either split or resolved randomly). What’s cool about this lottery is that it has the appearance of being “fair” (zero expectancy, no house edge) but it produces risk-free profit for the house no matter what, because the winning choice will always be chosen by less than 1/N of the players. The more uneven the distribution of choices is, the better the house does. Game theory (Nash equilibrium) predicts that we’d see a uniform distribution of choices over time; I have no idea how it would actually play out. The house edge would unlikely be enough to cover administrative costs, but it’d be an interesting social experiment.

At any rate, the press loves lotteries. Not the small, reliable, boring kind, but the big ones. The $640 million jackpot for the MegaMillions has been a major news item of late– it’s the largest U.S. jackpot lottery in history. I even chose to play, mainly for epistemological reasons related to recent and extremely unusual events in my life that lead me to suspect supernatural trolling. Let me explain. There’s somewhere above a 99.999% chance (call this “prior” p) that the universe acts the way we think it does, and that there’s no correlation between balls drawn at a lottery and personal events in my life. It’s actually very likely that the correct value of p is much higher than 99.999%. I can’t put a true probability on it for the same reason I can’t put one on religious questions: probability enables us to reason about uncertainty of known structure, and this is about uncertainty of unknown structure. That said, there’s a 1 – p chance that the universe is deeply weird, that it has the tendency to troll the fuck out of people, and that playing the lottery right now (only right now, because this is a singular moment) might lead to profit. I don’t know what this “1 - p” is, but I’m willing to pretend, for the moment, that it’s high enough to buy a few lottery tickets.

(Technically speaking, the MegaMillions already has positive expectancy. This is practically irrelevant, as it is for the notorious St. Petersburg lottery. Almost all of that positive expectancy is concentrated in the extremely-low-probability jackpot and, between taxes, split jackpots, discount rates applied because lottery payouts occur over time and, far more importantly, the extreme concavity of the utility curve for money, I don’t know that it has a meaningful expectancy. I’m buying because, despite my scientific training, weird events cause lapses into superstition.)

A lot of people think the way I do, and the vast majority of them never win lotteries. People are very bad at managing low-probability events. Cognitive biases dominate. What actually ruined my interest in the lottery, as a child– my dad played about once a year, and let me pick numbers– was realizing that a Super-7 outcome of {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7}, which “would obviously never happen” was precisely as likely as for me to pick winning numbers. (Actually, {1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7} is a bad play because of split jackpots. Dates are common fodder, so pick numbers 32 and higher if you want to minimize that risk.) Moreover, this type of magical thinking tends to surround the largest lottery jackpots, which appear “historic”. Of course, I know how silly it is to think this way, because large jackpots are nothing more than an artifact of Poisson processes and very long odds: it would be possible to build up a $5 billion jackpot (assuming people would play) just by designing the lottery so that the odds of winning are very small.

So if I were designing a lottery, how would I do it? Let me say that I’m ignoring the ethical question of whether I think gambling and the lottery are good things. I’m assuming the position of a person who thinks lottery gambling provides a social value. (My actual position is more uneasy.) I would not be happy to design some small scratch-off game. I’d want to build the lottery responsible for the first billion-dollar jackpot.

First, 7 balls is too many; the ideal number seems to be 5 or 6 (short-term memory). Two-digit ball ranges are also desirable, with 50 to 60 being typical. Numbers in the 50s seem moderate on account of the “inverse Benford effect”, whereby numbers with leading digits of 5 and 6 seem “moderate”. (Falsified financial figures tend to lead with ’5′ and ’6′ digits, although log-normally distributed real-world variables should lead with ’1′ over 30 percent of the time.) A typical 6-ball lottery, with 50 balls, gives odds of 15.9 million to 1. That’s clearly not enough. It might produce a piddling $30 or $40 million jackpot on occasion. Congratulations: you’ve earned ten months’ salary for an upper-echelon corporate scumbag (and by waiting in line for 3 minutes for that ticket, you’ve had to do more work than that well-connected blue-blooded shit has done in his whole life). Since it’s long odds that produce large jackpots, how do we push those odds into the billions?

The idea’s already there. Consider the 6-ball lottery that I described. The odds can be made 720 times longer by distinguishing or ordering the 6 balls. This is how the Powerball and MegaMillions work. One ball is distinguished as “special”. This makes the lottery more “fun”/engaging, and it makes the odds of choosing a perfect ticket longer. My target, in designing this lottery, is going to be to aim for odds in the 1- to 2-billion-to-1 range.

First, I think we’re ready for two distinguished balls, one red and one green. In fact, we’ll need that to get the kinds of long odds we want. The range for each is going to be 1 to 31. Why 31? Because, from a design perspective, it fits. One of the most common sources of lottery numbers is dates, so why are we cluttering up the card with these higher, less useful, ungainly numbers? For the other four balls, however, we need a wider range: 1 to 80. Yes, 80 puts us afoul of the “inverse Benford effect”, but we’re selling a premium product, so 80 is appropriate.  How many possible tickets are there? 80!/76!*4! * 31 * 31 = 1,519,898,380. With 80% of ticket revenues going into the non-discounted dollar amount jackpot (which means we’re actually only putting about 50% in, because we’re paying an annuity over about 25 years) we’ll be seeing billion-dollar jackpots on a regular basis. Not only that, but we’ll be seeing $1-billion non-split pots on a regular basis. For the first time ever, we’ll be minting billionaires from a lottery.

Of course, it’s the jackpots that bring ticket-buyers in, but it’s the small prizes that keep them coming back. The prize is a free ticket if you hit either the red or green ball (16:1), $100 if you hit them both (961:1). (A $100 payout on 1 in 1000 tickets, for jackpot lotteries, is unheard-of.) We’re paying 16 cents on each ticket there, but I think it’s worth it to keep continued engagement. We also want to make the second-to-top small prize large: $1 million for a ticket that matches the 4 white balls and one of the colored balls. The odds of that are 25 million to one, so we’re paying 4 cents per ticket there. We can shave expectancy on the middling prizes, which will be low compared to the odds against them. No one really looks at those, anyway. It’s the frequently-won small prizes, the second-best prize, and the jackpot, that actually matter.

Here’s why I think we should do this. Here’s the real ideology behind what I’m suggesting. I don’t care much either way about lotteries. Nor do I have a need to make that kind of money off people who, in general, need it more than I do. I do think Instant Games are a bit unethical (pathological gambling, and the fact that winnings almost always go into buying more scratch-off tickets, often on the same day) but also I think that, compared to alcohol, tobacco, and trans fats, lottery tickets are one of the less harmful things sold in most convenience stores. This said, the lottery I described is a starter in giga-lotteries: 1.5-billion-to-1 odds, three-digit millionaires and billionaires being made out of random people on a regular basis. Sure, the odds are very long, but most lottery players don’t give a damn about the odds: they’ll play as soon as they see $500-million jackpots, for the novelty. I do it, just to see the huge numbers. It’s gossip. But to paraphrase Justin Timberlake, a billion dollars isn’t cool (or won’t be, after it becomes commonplace). You know what’s cool? A trillion dollars. Or, at least, $85 billion or so. U.S. lottery revenues are about half that, but I think we can do more. Way more, once we establish a lottery where billion-dollar jackpots are the norm.

I don’t care here, as I said, about revenues. My goal isn’t to make money off of peoples’ cognitive biases with regard to low probabilities. It’s not to get rich. (Since I can’t legally implement this idea– only governments can– I never would.) Making money isn’t the goal. We should shove as much of our ticket revenue into the jackpot as possible. Rather, the goal is to make huge fucking jackpots. Two distinguished balls (one red, one green) is just the start. For the real act, we can have six different colors (white, red, gold, blue, green, and silver). This colorful lottery will be so engaging and so well-hyped (once $10-billion jackpots are old hat) that we can charge $5 per ticket. The ranges on each ball will be 1 to 84. We’ll need a lot of high-profile small prizes, and a two- or even three-tier jackpot system will be in order, as the odds of a perfect ticket will be 351 billion to 1. Top-tier jackpots will swell and swell and swell, building for months and growing exponentially. We might have to make this a world lottery to get a winner a couple times per year or so. But at some point, however, someone out there will win a huge amount of money. It will take a long time to get there, but a trillion-dollar jackpot will, at some point, happen.

What’s the redeeming social value of a trillion-dollar jackpot? Complete and total humiliation of the world upper class. Mockery of the world’s most destructive dick-measuring contest. A person, chosen completely-the-fuck at random, being catapulted to the top of the Forbes 500 for no fucking reason whatsoever. So fucking awesome. I would buy $1000 of these fucking lottery tickets every month and hand them out to the most undeserving randoms, solely in the quixotic, long-shot pursuit of the noble goal of humiliating every single private-equity asshole on Park Avenue at once by having a lottery player out-win all of them by orders of magnitude.

Is this evil? I’m not sure. I don’t actually want to see this experiment happen. I fully support humiliation of the existing upper class, but this sort of extreme lottery would just create a new upper class. The only difference is that this would be an elite made for no reason, as opposed to our current elite, which exists for mostly bad reasons. Moreover, I just don’t think it’s the best use of my time and talent to encourage mathematically naive people to pump trillions of dollars into a process of no social value.

The objection I have to it, again, isn’t gambling: we gamble all the time. Every blog post I write has an effect on my career– mostly positive, in that I can establish myself as knowledgeable about technology, progressive management, mathematics, software engineering, and computer science– but potentially negative, as well. This post, in which I describe the application of game design talent to an extremely perverted social project, is probably riskier to me than buying a few hundred lottery tickets. And this blog post, unlike the MegaMillions, has no chance of ever earning me $640 million.

There is another problem with this trillion-dollar lottery (TeraTrillions, and I am fucking trademarking that name). I am afraid that someone would fucking Occupy that shit.

Radical Transparency #1: who gets fired, how, and why.

Personal note: I wrote the bulk of this material in February 2011. I recently left a job (from which I was not fired) and admit the timing is less than perfect. There’s no connection between this essay and my personal situation, although its insights are derived from dozens of observations over the past 6 years.

I’m writing this post for a political purpose, not a personal one. Namely, I wish to provoke an epic showdown between the cognitive “1 percent” and the socioeconomic “1 percent”– a pleasant euphemism in the latter case, since it’s really 0.1% of Americans who are in access to make major decisions. I wish to force this conflict as fast as I can I believe technological trends are in our favor and we will win. It is not enough to defeat the socioeconomic “(0.)1 percent” as a class or as individuals. It is far more important that we dismantle the ugly world that they have created. If we destroy them personally but not the execrable processes they’ve set in motion, others will step up to replace each one we remove from power. We need to change the processes, which involves changing the discussion. Radical transparency is the first step toward doing this. 

I’m going to shed some light on the processes by which people are separated from companies. Involuntary termination. Layoffs. Getting fired. Shit-canned. Pink-slipped. There’s obviously a lot of nastiness surrounding this function, despite its absolute necessity to the health of an organization. I don’t intend to say that firing people is mean, or wrong, or unethical. Far from it, it’s something that all organizations will need to do from time to time. Some people are frankly toxic or unethical, and others are just not able to perform well within the organization, and must be let go.

In fact, I’d argue that the results of what happens when incompetent people are rarely fired can be seen in U.S. politics, where we face one of the most disastrously ineffective legislatures in human history because voters are so bad at firing idiots. Political officials are subjected to periodic elections (360-degree performance reviews) which are supposed to be intensely competitive. Yet the incumbent-victory rate is astonishingly high: over 95 percent in American political elections. The job-loss rate of political officials is less than 2 percent per year, despite their poor performance. In finance and technology, even people who are extremely good at their jobs have higher risk of involuntary termination than that. That contrast, I consider illustrative. For reasons like this, I will never say it is wrong to fire people, although it’s important to be decent about it. More on that later.

Two years ago, one of my friends was served with a Performance Improvement Plan (PIP) issued to him from a large company. If there is a TPS Report Museum, there must be an entire wing dedicated to PIPs. I’ll say one thing about these: they should never be used, and they don’t work. The first way in which PIPs fail is that they don’t work at improving performance. A manager who genuinely wishes to improve an employee’s performance will address the matter, one-on-one, with the employee in a verbal meeting (or series of meetings) where the intention is discovering the cause (“blocker”) of low performance, and decide either (a) to resolve this problem, if it can be done, (b) to accept transient low performance if the cause is a temporary one such as a health problem, or (c) to determine that the problem is irresolvable and terminate the employee (preferably in a decent way). On the other hand, written negative communication about performance (formalized most finally in a PIP) is universally interpreted as an aggressive move and will lead to distrust of the manager, if not outright contempt toward him. As soon as a manager is “documenting” negative performance, the relationship between him and his report has failed and he should progress immediately to a decent termination. Never PIP. Fire, but do it right.

What’s a decent termination? It’s one in which the employee is allowed to resign, provided with a positive reference (both in writing, to guarantee it, and verbally when needed) and a severance package equal to between 1 and 1.5 times the average duration of a typical search for jobs of that kind (between 2 and 3 months for junior-level positions, and 6 to 9 months for executives, and with an additional multiplier to 1.5-2 granted to those who are “overexperienced”) to compensate the employee for the unexpected job search. Of course, companies have no legal obligation to any of this, but it’s the right way of doing things. In fact, because financial pressures can result in a suboptimal job search, I’d argue that severance (when the cause issue is fit or performance rather than unethical behavior) is an ethical obligation.

Speaking of this, a lot of extremely unethical things happen in American workplaces, and that is a result not of “bad people”, but the bulk of this behavior comes from morally-average people who are scared. One of the things people fear most at work is a sudden, unjust, badly-structured termination that leads to a long-term career problem. This fear motivates a lot of the bad activities that occur in workplaces that lead to unsafe products and defrauded customers. The best thing a company can do for its culture, and for its macroscopically visible good citizenship, is to establish a policy of managing terminations in a proper way– to say that, yes, we’ll fire people whose poor performance constitutes an unacceptable cost to us, but we’ll always do so in a way that ensures that good-faith low performers (i.e. decent people who are a bad fit for their role) move on to more appropriate jobs.

How does a PIP actually affect performance? First, it destroys the relationship between the manager and the employee, who now feels “sold out”. If claims in the PIP suggest that others contributed to it, it may destroy the working relationship between the employee and his colleagues, causing isolation. PIPs usually carry a biased or even inaccurate summary of the employee’s work as the motivation for the Plan. Second, PIPs often generate a lot of additional work for the employee, making it harder to perform. A PIP usually contains deadlines equivalent to a 40-hour per week work schedule. This seems reasonable, except for the fact that many work demands are unplanned. An employee who faces responsibility for an emergent production crisis during a PIP will be forced to choose between the PIP work or the emergent crisis. A PIP’d employee ends up actually ends up with four conflicting jobs. The first is the work outlined in the PIP, which is already a 40-hour obligation. The second is any emergent work that occurs during the PIP period (which is usually unspecified in the PIP, but claimed to be covered by a vague “catch-all” clause). The third is the legalistic fighting of the PIP– the employee must contest false claims about his performance or the company will represent him as having agreed with them, which damages his position if he ends up in severance negotation. The fourth is the job search process, which must be commenced right away because the PIP usually ends in termination without severance.

This brings us to the real purpose of PIPs, which is to legally justify cold-firing employees. The PIP is the severance package. Defenders of PIPs represent it as cheaper (and it’s not, because of contagious morale effects) to keep a burned-out, miserable employee in the office for a month or two than to fire him and pay a 3-month severance package. Employees who are terminated under a PIP are usually granted no severance, because their termination is “for cause”. There’s a lot of intimidation that usually goes on here. Because the PIP is confidential, employees are usually told they will be breaking the law if they show the PIP to anyone, even an attorney. (Not true.) They’re also told that they can be terminated “for cause” (read: without severance) and that it will damage their ability to get a reference if they don’t sign the PIP, damaging their ability to contest it later. This one is true (employment is at will, and severance is not a legal obligation) but a company that gives a bad reference, especially for retaliatory reasons, will not fare well in court.

I was once privy to managerial statistics at a large company. Over a 12-month window during a time of average job fluidity, 82 out of 100 of PIP’d employees left their jobs within the duration (30-60 days) of the PIP. These might be judged to be “success” cases (they left) but if this was the desired outcome, it could have been suggested in an in-person discussion without involving nasty paperwork. In another 10 cases, the employee fails the PIP and is usually fired. In 6 more cases, the PIP is ruled “inconclusive” because of factual inaccuracies, or because the PIP’d employee is able to garner support from elsewhere in the organization, and transfer to a more sympathetic manager, who kills the PIP. Only 2 actually “pass” the PIP. Also, a PIP’d employee is likely to face another PIP within six months if he stays with the same manager, while most managers don’t want to take a chance on someone who faced a PIP (even successfully) because, statistically speaking, an unblemished new hire is a better bet.

My advice to PIP’d employees is as follows. As I said, you’ve got 4 jobs now: (a) the PIP work, (b) emergent work, (c) legalistic fighting, and (d) finding another job in the event of failing the PIP. Regarding the first, don’t blow off the PIP work entirely, or at least not openly. It may seem like it’s pointless to do this work (and it is, because your future at that company has ended) but one needs to show a good-faith effort in any case. PIPs are not guarantees of employment during the specified duration; they can be “closed” early if it is judged as obvious that the employee will not meet the PIP’s deadlines. However, in the rare case that the PIP is actually fairly structured and you can complete it in time, do not use the “surplus” to move forward on the PIP work. Instead, use this time to learn new technologies (for the job search) and contribute to open-source projects (only on your own resources). Even if you pass the PIP, your days are numbered. Regarding the second, request in writing that the manager place any emergent responsibilities on the PIP calendar. Now is the time to document everything and be a pain in the ass. If he ignores these requests, you can make a case to HR to rule the PIP inconclusive, buying you time until the manager’s next opportunity to be PIP (usually a quarter or two later) you comes along. You should have a new job before that happens. On the third of your four jobs– the legalistic wrangling– document everything, but keep communication terse, objective, and professional. Don’t spend more than an hour per day on it, but if you can waste your manager’s time with HR paperwork in the hope of getting the PIP ruled inconclusive, do it. The fourth of these– the job search– is where one’s highest priority should be focused. Represent interviews (in email; again, document everything) as doctors’ appointments. This is also a great opportunity to disclose health issues, which reduces the probability of being fired without severance.

My advice for companies or managers considering the use of PIPs. Don’t. Sure, you’ve got version control and backups, but do you really want an essentially fired employee in the office for a month? It’s amazing to me that companies have security escort employees out of the building when they are officially terminated (at which point the shock has passed and emotions are likely to be resolved) but keep them in the office for months on PIPs, when they are effectively fired. PIP’d walking dead are far more damaging to morale than terminations.

Finally, my advice for employees who actually get fired is simple. Don’t be a dick. Disparaging firm-wide emails will ruin your reputation, and property damage is illegal and fucked-up and wrong, and therefore not in your interest at all. Depart cordially. On references, there are two kinds: unofficial (which can be a peer you select) and official (manager or HR). Usually official references say very little, but have your reference from that company checked by a professional service and get an attorney involved if anything negative is being said about you. Cultivate positive relationships with colleagues after your exit. Most importantly, move on quickly. When asked about the previous job, stay professional and represent the termination as one that you initiated. If your ex-employer ever contradicts you and says you were fired, then congratulations: you get a huge settlement for a negative reference.

Also, don’t let it hurt your self-esteem. There are two rites of passage in the modern corporate world. The first is getting fired. The second is learning that getting fired is not usually a reflection on the employee (more on this later, on who gets fired). Your self-esteem will benefit if you experience the second before the first.

Ok, so that’s a bit about the process. It’s important for people to know this stuff, so they know how to box if the fight comes to them. Now, I’d like to shed some light on who gets fired. Low performers, right? Well, not always. Companies initiating impersonal layoffs for financial reasons will usually drop low-performing teams and businesses, but not all those people are individually low performers. Personal firings are a different story. These don’t occur because “companies” choose to fire these people; people do. So what are some of the motivations that lead to this? First, let me say that political (non-necessary) firings usually occur in the middle-bottom and middle-top of an organization’s performance spectrum. The bottom 10% are usually so used to lifelong, serial incompetence that they’ve mastered office politics as a survival skill. The top 10% are objective, visible high-performers who tend to have political clout on account of the value they add to the organization. The middle 60 percent rarely stick out enough to get into trouble. This leaves two deciles– the 2nd and the 9th– that are most exposed to personal terminations.

Second-decile firings tend to be “trophy firings”, initiated by managers who wish to impress upon higher-ups that they “take action” on low performers. They aren’t the worst people in the organization, and whether it’s of economic benefit to retain them is not strongly resolved either way, but they’re weak enough that if they leave the organization, they won’t be missed.

Ninth-decile firings are “shot-from-the-bridge” firings, initiated against a high performer by a jealous peer before she develops the credibility and capability to become a threat (i.e. graduate into the objectively and visibly high-performing 10th decile). These people are usually fired because they’re creative, passionate, and opinionated. Now, managers don’t initiate ninth-decile firings, at least not willingly. Managers want more people to be more like their 9th- and 10th-decile reports. Rather, those firings to be initiated by “young wolves”, who are typically same-rank co-workers, but sometimes insecure middle managers, who sabotage the target’s ability to perform. The textbook young wolf is Pete Campbell in the early seasons of Mad Men, the slimy and machiavellian junior account executive who lies and threatens his way to the top. (Disclaimer: I wish the term for such people wasn’t young wolves. I like wolves. I like them better than most people.)

A direct confrontation with a manager about a 9th-decile report is not a politically wise idea, because managers know that 9th-decile employees are highly valuable. So young wolves focus on giving the target some disadvantage in project allocation. Most technical teams have a “people manager” (who is savvy to political machinations) and a technical lead (who is not usually politically savvy, but has authority to allocate projects, make technical decisions that affect the team, and delegate work). Tech leadership is a hard role because (a) it involves a lot of responsibility with minimal glory, and often no additional compensation, and (b) tech leads are responsible as individual contributors in addition to their leadership role. Thus, the tech lead is usually overburdened, and young wolves usually cozy up to him, with the intention of “helping out” on work allocation. Then they start delegating impossible, discouraging, or unsupported work to the target, the 9th-decile employee they want to shoot from the bridge before they become 10th-decile. When the target’s performance drops (transiently) to about the 7th or 8th decile, they begin to speak about how she “does good work, but isn’t as good as we thought she’d be”. As she sees leadership opportunities and the most interesting projects receding from view, her motivation declines further. By the time she’s at the 5th or 6th decile (because she’s now beginning to look for other opportunities, and prioritizing work that benefits her external career) the party line is that she’s “not giving her best”, which is, by this point, entirely true and equally irrelevant to whether it’s economically beneficial to employer to retain her. Social rejection of her is encouraged through gossip about her being “not a team player” and whispered suspicions that she’s looking for employment elsewhere. When she enters the 3rd or 4th decile, the young wolves engage her manager and– if the manager is unaware of what’s happened (a young-wolf situation)– she receives the first official warning signs, such as negative feedback delivered over email instead of in spoken form. This is an aggressive move that confirms this now-declining employee’s suspicions that her future there is over. If she’s still working there (unlikely, in a decent economy) by the time she falls into the 2nd decile, she’s now a trophy-fire.

This process of targeted, intentional demotivation, prosecuted not by managers (whose interests are aligned with the success of the whole team) but by young wolves, can occur over years or over days, but it’s a discernable pattern that I’ve seen play out dozens of times. The problem is that “flat” managerial arrangements don’t work. I don’t like the alternative (official hierarchy) much, so I wish they did work, but they almost always fail. A “flat” organization means “we’re large enough that we need hierarchy but we’re too socially inept to have hard conversations”. In most cases, I actually think that large companies (for post-industrial knowledge work) are inherently broken, because neither the hierarchical model nor the flat model results in good products. Why is “flat” so bad? It means that a manager has a ridiculous number of reports (sometimes over 50) and that it’s impossible for him to be on the lookout for young-wolf behavior, which is immensely damaging to the company because it tends to drive out the most creative individuals. Young wolves thrive in environments of managerial inattention.

How does one combat a young wolf within an organization? As with any progressive, but curable, parasitic infection, early detection is the key. A decent manager who identifies a young wolf will send it to the pound and have it put down, but effective young wolves evade managerial detection for a long time. Defining the term helps, but there’s a danger here. If “young wolf” enters the business lexicon, it will just become a term of disparagement that young wolves use for their targets. The most effective young wolves, instead of declaring their targets “not a team player”, will instead attempt to paint their targets as young wolves. So here, I don’t have the answer, but I have a thought.

I’ve been coding for five years, and I’ve made a serious mistake. At this point, I have no open source contributions. Two and a half years I put into a failed startup that should have allowed me to open-source my work (30,000 lines of Clojure code to build a custom graph-based database, and some of the best technical work of my life) but because the CEO of that failed startup is a vindictive asshole who wishes to punish me for “leaving him”, so that work is gone. For this entire five years, I was a “company man”, pumping 50 to 60 hours per week of software effort into companies with which I no longer have a relationship. I have a “great resume”, but nothing in the open-source world to show that I can actually code. I’ll be just fine, and I’m going to take some time to write some open-source work, but that’s a serious regret I have over how I’ve spent the last half-decade. Why’s open-source software so important? Radical transparency. It provides a socially beneficial mechanisms for programmers to demonstrate, objectively, high levels of skill. It provides sufficient job security to the best programmers that they can fearlessly avoid most office politics and focus on work, which generally makes the quality of that work a lot higher.

I think radical transparency should apply within large workplaces as well. Many middle managers discourage line (i.e. non-managerial) employees from taking initiatives that would make them visible to other departments, for the fear that it would make them a “flight risk”. Managers of undesirable projects are aware that external visibility for their reports will lead to transfers, and managers of average projects are often insecure that their projects might be undesirable. Moreover, many companies discourage unmetered work, such as education, career development and extra-hierarchical collaboration (i.e. helping out other teams) which further isolates line employees. The result of this is that, for many employees, the manager is literally the only person who knows what the employee is doing. This gives the manager free rein to represent his opinion of that employee (which, if the manager has 25 reports, is very probably unreliable) as objective fact. Human Resources (HR) is supposed to ameliorate conflicts that occur when this leverage is abused, but the truth about HR representatives involved in manager-employee disputes (and terminations) is that they work for the company’s lawyers (and that’s why they think PIPs are a good idea) and no one else. At any rate, this pattern of dysfunction and outsized managerial power is sometimes called “manager-as-SPOF”, where SPOF is a technical abbreviation for “single point of failure” (the weak point of a system).

Manager-as-SPOF, isolation, and a lack of transparency about who is doing what allow socially manipulative twerps (young wolves) to succeed. In this kind of environment, 9th- and 8th- and 7th-decile performers get almost no visibility and are defenseless against a political campaign against them. The solution is to make the contributions of these employees visible. It’s to make everyone’s contributions visible and to foster an environment that makes many of the worst manifestations of office politics untenable. It’s to encourage employees to share their contributions with the whole company, and to work on things that benefit all of their colleagues– not just their managers.

A future RT post will focus on this: how to construct a radically transparent workplace, and what it would look like.