Paul Collier: The Bottom Billion & "Englightened Self-Interest"

Right now, I’m reading The Bottom Billion, by Paul Collier, a professor and former research director at the World Bank.  The book focuses on four “poverty traps” that countries have fallen into and ways for these countries to escape them.

To get a flavor for Collier’s arguments about the bottom billion, I recommend watching at least a few minutes of his TED Talk. Towards the beginning of it, he introduces a wise maxim for policymakers as well as for individuals: “What I’m going to offer you is a recipe – or combination – of the two forces that change the world for good, which is the alliance of compassion and enlightened self-interest.”

This raises the point that even aid – something we think of as altruistic – is partially self-interested.  Collier pointed to the Marshall Plan as an example of this.  (The Marshall Plan was certainly an act of compassion by the United States for Europe, but it also was designed to help the United States economy.)

Collier handles this seeming contradiction by inserting the idea of enlightened self-interest...  But what does that mean?

If self-interest can be enlightened, then it immediately follows that it was “dark” to begin with.  So then, can self-interest really be enlightened, or does it become something else?  It seems simply to suggest a kind of self-interest that doesn't harm anyone.

But why wouldn’t it be better if aid policy was far more altruistic than self-interested?  He argues that both compassion and enlightened self-interest serve valuable, distinct functions. Collier says we need “compassion to get ourselves started” but we need “enlightened self-interest to get ourselves serious” about dealing with poverty.

Even if the primary goal of aid is altruistic, it need not harm the donor.  Rather, striking a balance between true, selfless altruism and absolute greed is likely to produce the best results.

Museums & Their "Sordid Commercial Interests"

I recently discovered that there is an entire subculture of museum workers. An academic circle of writing, debating museum curators actually exists.  What’s less clear is whether or not they actually really have much of a following outside of their own little group.  Kinda weird...

But over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had an opportunity to look in on this world of museums in one of my classes.  I’d like to consider myself one of the curious, privileged few.  Or you can just call me a little obsessive; that works, too.

One eminent topic in “museum literature” is the idea of the business of museums.  In museums, or any private educational institution, for that matter, there is a conflict between trying to make money and trying to educate the public. 

Mary Miley Theobald in her book Museum Store Management writes (link) about the ethical problem of museum gift shops.  She writes, “If the shop’s only reason for being is money, then the museum is operating a gift shop rather than a museum store and it has little justification for existence.”

Aside from gift shops, museums raise revenue by charging for admission, so museums have a huge financial incentive get people in the door.  In order to accomplish this, curators may feel pressure to give the masses what they are looking for rather than creating the most accurate or educationally valuable exhibits.  But then again, as one classmate put it, isn’t an “EPCOT” understanding of the world better than nothing at all?

Other museum-oriented writers are a little more philosophical and focused on language, like Stephen Weil who writes (link) about metaphors we use to think about museums.  He argues that the temple, in its sacredness, describes the museum, and asks do we not imagine museum objects as being “in constant danger of pollution . . . by . . . the spiritual pollution of sordid commercial interests?”

Do the ends justify the means?  Without money, museums would not be able to stay open, and thus, they would be unable to fulfill their purpose of educating the public. But more fundamentally, do museum gift shops actually corrupt the very essence of the museum?  Do they really destroy its educational value? 

Several of these academics who write about museums tend to speak normatively, in imperatives. ("We must...")  I find that a lot of these arguments--Weil’s in particular--tend to come off as somewhat melodramatic.  

The museum is both a business and an educational institution.  It is a great example of self-interest and altruism functioning simultaneously.

(Image from: voices.suntimes.com.)