Ranking lists are great publicity for both the rankers and the ranked — but they usually involve bad analysis and mislead the audience.

This intentionally inflammatory statement comes in response to the inaugural “Top 100 Best NGOs” list from the Global Journal. The list includes both relatively new players like Ushahidi (#10), and some established juggernauts like Oxfam (#3). GJ’s editors took a broad definition of “NGO” – a wise move, in my opinion, given the blurred lines between NGOs, nonprofits, and social enterprises – but they restricted their list to those organizations that are “operational or advocacy focused.” This led to some interesting choices. For example, I don’t think of TED (#71) as being an NGO. The list excluded the Gates Foundation (because it focuses on grant-making rather than running programs), yet the Open Society Foundations (#46) were included.

But my disagreement with GJ is not over which organizations got a chance to be included, or even the final results. Most of these NGOs are, to the best of my knowledge, quite good. My big disagreement is with GJ‘s ranking methodology. And the fact that they created this list at all. Let’s start with the methodology.

How did they decide the rankings? Good question!

I’m not really sure what the methodology was. They briefly describe their use of “qualitatively measured metrics” such as: innovation, effectiveness, impact, efficiency, transparency/accountability, sustainability, strategic/financial management, and peer review. They emphasize that “there is no science in measuring” and rhetorically ask the following:

How indeed. I contacted the editors for more information. Alexis Kalagas was kind enough to describe their process. The data sources for the rankings included organizational websites, annual reports, external evaluations, and conversations with practitioners and donors. No word on who they talked to, how many people, how they were selected, or how the conversations were structured.

Kalagas also shared more detail on which of the “metrics” were most important to the decisions: innovation, impact and effectiveness were given most consideration. Furthermore, the editors limited their scope to the past five years. On GJ‘s Facebook page, they replied to one comment to say that the ranking: “did not take into account longer-term impacts.” Just mull over that one for a moment.

Ultimately, it sounds like the methodology was: we browsed the web, talked to a couple people, then sat around the conference table arguing among ourselves. Here’s the result.

Sorry, guys, but that just doesn’t cut it. That’s not a methodology.

Would a more “rigorous” and “quantitative” ranking of NGOs be better? (Hint: No.)

The obvious alternative to this process would be something more transparent and rooted in metrics. Sadly, many people still think that the overhead ratio is an appropriate way to judge NGOs. (It’s not.) You could try a more balanced approach though, with multiple measures in a weighted formula.

This might look something like the U.S. News rankings of American colleges and universities. They have a weighted formula that uses a long list of metrics ranging from acceptance rates to academic reputation. It all creates the impression of being rigorous and data driven. But there’s nothing scientific about the rankings. Schools argue furiously over whether the metrics are appropriate and the formula makes sense. Some schools have even chosen not to participate.

In a weird way, it’s actually to U.S. News’ credit that the rankings are so disputed. We should be able to argue over methodology. The GJ ranking, on the other hand, came out of a black box. It provides no set of data that can be reanalyzed by others who want to tweak the weightings. It’s just a list of opinions.

So could we apply that metric/formula approach to NGOs? I don’t think so. As GJ points out, there’s no easy way to compare impacts across social sectors. At least universities are all doing basically the same thing (they educate students, conduct research, run athletic programs, etc.) and are structured in basically the same ways. But Wikimedia Foundation, Ashoka, TED, Search for Common Ground, and MSF? I could not think of a more diverse group of organizations in terms of missions, methods, or structures. How would you ever craft a set of metrics that would apply to all of these, let alone a formula that spits out a number to fairly rank them?

Even if a more methodologically sound ranking were created, it would suffer from the problem of false precision. A further analogy to the U.S. News rankings: What does it really mean that a school sits one spot higher than another? Harvard (#1) might be better than Podunk State — but is it really better than Yale (#3) this year, or even Brown (#15)? I would suggest taking any such rankings with at least a plus-or-minus 20. So why create the impression that the individual placements mean something more?

So I think these rankings suck. But why do I care?

I am two things: a development professional, and a blogger. As a development professional, I want to see a more efficient market for funding social causes. That’s an economics-y way of saying that I want funds to flow to those NGOs that can best convert them into positive social impact. As a blogger, I’m especially interested in how imperfect information distorts those funding flows. That’s not the only problem with funding markets, but it’s a big one, and it’s the one that I can (maybe?) influence as a blogger.

Regardless of the methodology, this kind of ranking represents an enormous chunk of imperfect information being thrown out into the market. Several organizations on this list have already started touting their ranking. I don’t blame them, of course. They do it for the same reason that universities advertise their rankings: it’s good for recruitment, fundraising, and more. Meanwhile, the Global Journal gets a lot of new hits on their website.

Most people consuming these rankings will not take the time to critically analyse them. They’ll assume that someone else has already done that. They may not use these rankings to explicitly make decisions, but hearing about an NGO’s rank will undoubtedly influence a donor’s opinion.

My suggestion for next year’s list: Don’t do it.

Seriously. If you want to highlight good work and inspire readers, go with case studies of individual NGOs. Or, pick a sub-sector (say, reproductive health, or peacebuidling, or human rights) and write features on how the major players differ in their approaches. That would be interesting, it would inspire, and it would stimulate debate. And most importantly: it would give you the space to actually explore what makes a great organization great.

Given the elections this year (or maybe early next year), the ICC trials are certain to have political ramifications. Apparently Kenya’s new constitution is unclear on whether Kenyatta and Ruto are legally allowed to run for president. Both have reiterated that they plan to stand as candidates. If they survive the legal hurdles, coalition politics may lead to one or both dropping out anyway.

Ken Opalo’s piece on African Arguments provides the best political analysis I have seen of this so far. One excerpt:

Although the ICC trials will have their most noticeable impact on the presidential elections, Keith Somerville discusses (also on African Arguments) the charges against radio broadcaster Joshua arap Sang. The use of radio in Kenya’s post-election violence was not as direct it was in Rwanda’s genocide, but there are still concerns about whether broadcasters incited violence in 2007/2008 or have been a threat to peace more recently. As Somerville points out, it’s especially hard to assign accountability for inciting violence when a media actor uses metaphorical language of disputed meaning (e.g. “the people of the milk should clear the weeds from the grass”). Sang’s trial will have ramifications for radio and other media going forward.

For more commentary on the political implications of the ICC trials, see Kenya’s The Nation newspaper. And for a thorough history of the 2007-2008 post-election violence and its political fallout, I recommend the International Crisis Group’s recent report.

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Related posts:

• ICC, Rift Valley, media, land, politics, economics — and peace
• Watching history happen in Kenya: looks just like politics

In related news, it seems the World Bank is developing something called “Program-for-Results“. I’m not clear on the details, but it seems to be similar to COD aid. It would be interesting to see a chart that compared COD aid, the WB’s Program-for-Results, and the EC’s MDG contracts (and any similar proposals?) along relevant elements. Anyone care to pour over the documents for each and whip something up? Could be an good paper topic for some grad student with time to spare and an interest in guest blogging…

Meanwhile, Lant Pritchett has lobbed a few grenades at another of the development industry’s favorite cash incentive programs: conditional cash transfers (CCTs). We shouldn’t make too much of the parallels — COD targets governments and CCTs target individuals. Those are, you know, different things. Still, anytime money is being tied to a particular social outcome, we should worry about incentivizing the wrong actions, undermining intrinsic motivations, or overriding other accountability mechanisms. Maybe there are lessons here.

With a blog post titled ”Holding the poor accountable for bad schools,” Pritchett is blunt in his characterization of CCTs. He asks you to imagine a child who is considering dropping out of school after years of bad or absentee teachers. He writes:

That was on the World Bank’s Development Impact Blog (which you should be reading). Pritchett makes similar points with a softer tone in a post on CGD’s Views from the Center (which you should also be reading).

In his CGD post, Pritchett distinguishes the political logic of CCTs (namely, that conditions make cash transfers more palatable, and insulate them from clientelistic manipulation) from their economic logic (that fulfilling conditions, such as attending school, improves household/recipient welfare) — and argues that the two logics can come into conflict. The benefit of the conditions come entirely on the political side. He cites a J-PAL study that shows CCTs to be a cost-ineffective way to get children in school. Then he goes on to write:

From the two posts, I have three takeaways about CCTs:

1. Attaching conditions to cash transfers will lead to the fulfillment of those conditions. (Okay, no surprises there…)
2. But that’s probably not the most cost efficient way to fulfill those conditions.
3. Yet it is the most politically expedient way to make the cash transfers.

I like Pritchett’s argument because it forces us to look at CCTs from a different angle. It doesn’t mean that they’re a bad idea, just that they’re something different from what we thought. And we should be honest with ourselves about that if we want to use them well. Here’s one reason why: if the effect is primarily political rather than economic, then the external validity (aka generalizability) of a CCT impact evaluation depends on understanding the political context as well as the welfare impacts.

So given my caveats above, are there lessons to translate to COD aid? Pritchett argues that CCTs are not actually about encouraging recipients to fulfill conditions, as much as they are about ensuring political support for the cash transfer itself. A similar statement could be made about COD aid: it’s not actually about ensuring that recipient governments show results, as much as it’s about generating support for aid among donor governments that are increasingly concerned with “value for money”. And again, the politics on both the donor and recipient level matter a great deal.

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Related posts:

• Articulating my discomfort with Cash on Delivery (COD) aid (Dave Algoso)
• Seeing a child like a state: Holding the poor accountable for bad schools (Lant Pritchett)
• Impact Evaluation and Political Economy: What Does the “Conditional” in “Conditional Cash Transfers” Accomplish? (Lant Pritchett)
• Schools is Good: A Reply to Lant Pritchett (Berk Özler)

Before I get to that, here are two obstacles that are important, but that I think could be overcome in due time:

• The technical feasibility worries me, but not too much. Selection of outcome measures, data collection processes, verification, and more pose surmountable challenges. I’m happy to see how much thought has been put into the details of implementation.
• The hurdle to political acceptance can be overcome as well. A recipient country government would surely be concerned that COD aid might cut into their other aid streams. CGD conducted feasibility studies in a few countries (Malawi, Ethiopia, Liberia), revealing some interest among officials. But recipient governments have little incentive to agree to a pilot COD contract unless the funds were purely bonus, and so a contract could only be signed if there’s a “price point” that’s attractive to recipients but at which donors are willing to leave other funding untouched.

Again, these are both surmountable challenges. I mention them merely because I think they haven’t been solved yet.

My major concern with this concept has to do with accountability. COD aid increases accountability to donors. It’s right there in the somewhat flippant name: recipient governments deliver results to the donors. It treats developing country governments like mere contractors.

I fear that this increase in a recipient government’s accountability to donors would be accompanied by a decrease in accountability to its own citizens. CGD’s work on the concept argues the opposite, namely that COD aid will create incentives for increased transparency on results, which will then enable domestic civil society and activists to hold their government accountable. I’m not convinced.

Suppose local groups aren’t happy that the education system is now focused on a narrow metric of success (say, completion rates or test scores). Parents and others want to see a broader curriculum, or more equitable access, or whatever — but their government faces strong financial incentives to stay focused on the narrow measures of “success”, however it’s been defined. If this example sounds familiar to American readers, that’s because this is what the federal government did to the states with No Child Left Behind. At least American voters have some mechanisms for holding the federal government accountable.

In the case of developing countries, pressure from domestic constituencies would have a hard time stacking up against their government’s desire to cash in on the donor’s contract. What then? The COD aid contract might achieve the results promised, while undermining longer term institutional development.

Increasing accountability isn’t always a good thing.

• Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman (I feel like I’ve had a steady trickle of Kahneman’s work from other authors over the years, so it’s about time I went to the source)
• Thank You for Arguing: What Aristotle, Lincoln, and Homer Simpson Can Teach Us About the Art of Persuasion by Jay Heinrichs (the same guy who wrote this)
• Co-Opetition by Barry Nalebuff and Adam Brandenburger
• Dancing in the Glory of Monsters: The Collapse of the Congo and the Great War of Africa by Jason Stearns (I’m a fan of his blog, so I’m looking forward to finally reading his book)
• Is That a Fish in Your Ear?: Translation and the Meaning of Everything by David Bellos (I would read this if only for the blatant Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy reference in the title)
• The Information: A History, A Theory, A Flood by James Gleick

If any readers have book suggestions, please chime in! I’ll be looking to fill up my Kindle before my next trip.

So far I’ve finished three of the books on my list. I usually don’t read multiple books at a time, but these three go well together. Here’s a mini-review on each.

The Future of Power — by Joseph Nye (2011)

This one came highly recommended from the foreign policy crowd. It’s the kind of book that never really surprises you and never leads you to controversial conclusions. You start to wonder what the big deal is.

Then you realize that Nye has systematically sorted all the major global trends into a careful framework of what it means to have or exercise power. I don’t think I learned new facts from this book, but now I have a much better understanding of the things I already knew. That’s worth a lot. For example, he makes a big point about the difference between power transition among states, and a power diffusion away from all states to nonstate actors. These are two different phenomenon that interact with one another but must not be confused. Nye gives clear-headed assessments of major actors (both state and nonstate) in terms of their power resources, especially as they compare to the United States.

One takeaway for the aid/development crowd: Nye’s framework suggests a different way of thinking about the militarization of aid. After finding the limits of their hard power in Afghanistan and Iraq, US policymakers have tried to supplement it with the soft power of aid. The results have been mixed, at best. But the militarization of aid is just a subset of a broader trend, what we might call the “power-ization” of aid: significant domestic political pressure is forcing Congress and others in DC to marshal whatever resources they can in the face of a major power transition (i.e. the rise of China), and aid is one of those resources. They’re looking for “value-for-money” — but with different expected returns than the development wonks would like.

The Great Stagnation: How America Ate All The Low-Hanging Fruit of Modern History, Got Sick, and Will (Eventually) Feel Better — by Tyler Cowen (2011)

This was easily one of the most talked-about books of the year — at least if you read economics blogs, like say, this one. Cowen packs a lot into this tiny book (it was originally released only as an e-book but its popularity induced a hard-cover edition, which clocks in at 128 pages).

The book’s subtitle sums up its argument pretty well. Much of America’s economic growth over the past century has come from low-hanging fruit, such as free land (well, stolen land — but the economic impact is the same), major technological breakthroughs, and expanding public education. We “got sick” thinking that this would go on forever. His one sentence explanation of the financial crisis: “We thought we were richer than we were.” Cowen goes head-on with the idea that we live in a highly innovative time, arguing that most Americans have seen little practical advance in basic lifestyle in the past half century. With regard to the major exception — internet and communications technology — Cowen points to the small impact the internet has actually had on America’s GDP and employment. Though he ends on some hopeful notes about positive trends and the need to reinvest in science, the overall effect of the book is sobering.

The Great Stagnation pairs well with The Future of Power because they both bring careful analysis to the challenges facing the US in coming years. Cowen’s less-than-rosy view of our economic condition supplements Nye’s description of the “power resources” that the country can convert into actual power. With a major election this year, we can expect increasing public discourse around these questions (even while candidates themselves dance around the issues, as is their custom).

Thinking in Time: The Uses of History for Decision Makers – by Richard Neustadt and Ernest May (1986)

This book stands out a bit from the other two, if only because it’s older than some of this blog’s followers. That means some of the examples used are not as familiar today. Sure, I know a bit about the Bay of Pigs fiasco — but the Skybolt affair? The social security reforms of 1983? Thankfully, the authors provide the context needed to follow along.

The real strength of this book is the basic framework: decision makers use historical analogies to understand new situations, and how they do so matters a great deal. Neustadt and May delve into the records on various majors events to elaborate on how historical memory influenced decision makers. They provide some tips for asking better questions, illustrated through the historical examples and suggestions for how they might have been better handled. For example, the authors suggest a practice called historical “placement”: systematically investigating the background of both individuals and organizations, so you can understand how they might respond to current events.

What I took away from this book is a greater sensitivity to how we use historical analogy in development thinking and advocacy. Think about references to a “Marshall Plan for Africa“, or the argument about whether the Arab Spring was more like the Iranian revolution in 1979 or the end of communism in 1989. I googled the term “another Rwanda” and the first page of results showed references to Burundi, Côte d’Ivoire, Libya, and Somalia. Such framing has great rhetorical impact, while carrying questionable analytical value. Reading Thinking in Time, and studying history in general, can make one a better user and consumer of such analogies.

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I should apologize that these are very American-centric books. Want more? I’ve got a whole page of books you may find interesting.

On a different topic, I highly recommend Cowen’s TED talk on why he’s suspicious of stories:

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(Full disclosure: Links above use the Amazon Associates program. I get a tiny percentage of revenues. So far I’ve earned $1.71 through this.)

1. Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

2. Yo, Is This Racist? (warning: foul language and frank racial commentary)

3. Best street art photos of 2011

4. Party science tricks (warning: geeky awesomeness)

5. Everyday grandpa’s shuffelin’

In 2011, I…

– learned that “falafel” means the same thing in Cairo as in New York

– looked at advocacy from development contractors in response to USAID reforms

– described the boy-named-Sue effect and what it might mean for NGO branding

– traced celebrity activism to the halo effect and mission creep

– shared some career advice (from people smarter than me)

– encouraged others to start blogging

– wondered whether employers would hesitate to hire me if I disagreed with them

– wrote a long series about politics, context, and the limitations of RCTs: part 1, part 2, part 3, and a post-script

– ran a survey of aid/development blog readers and reported on the results

– discussed whether development should (or even could) have a Theory Of Everything

– considered the lessons that Thomas Kuhn might have for a paradigm shift in international development

Thanks for a great year.

(Hat tip to most of my facebook friends.)

We’ll return to our regularly scheduled programming shortly. Until then: happy holidays!

In fact, rhetoric stems from an ancient study of the art of discourse and persuasion. I took a class in rhetoric many years ago, and it did more to shape my thinking (not just my writing or speech) than any other class I’ve taken. Becoming a better rhetorician is not just about persuading others, but being a better consumer of other people’s rhetoric.

So I was pleasantly surprised to stumble upon a wonderful short essay titled, “How to Teach a Child to Argue.” Here’s the key part:

Want more? Check out Jay Heinrichs’s blog.

(H/t Chris H.)

Applying conflict sensitivity in emergency response: Current practice and ways forward

This brief from ODI’s Humanitarian Practice Network surveys the current state of conflict sensitive practice in emergency responses, with case studies on the 2010 Haiti earthquake, 2010 Pakistan floods, and 2010/2011 Sri Lanka floods. Get the overview version or go straight to the full pdf here.

How to Make Aid More Effective for People Affected by Conflict and Fragility

CDA Collaborative Learning Projects chimes in on the aid effectiveness debate with a quick two-pager on the implementing the “do no harm” concept, linking conflict analysis with poverty analysis, and ensuring that statebuilding is mutually reinforcing with peacebuilding. It makes a great point about measuring a project’s impact on the drivers of conflict, not just on development outcomes.

DM&E for Peacebuilding Learning Portal

This is an excellent new resource for anyone working on peacebuilding programs. In a few weeks since its launch, the site has quickly filled up with evaluation reports, case studies, job opportunities, and more. Know of a great resource that’s missing? You can add it.

Well, let’s toss the skepticism aside. Direct peer-to-peer microlending works. And the pioneer wasn’t Kiva, but a smaller organization called Zidisha. Their stats are impressive: in two years of operation, Zidisha has a 99.6% repayment rate. Borrowers typically pay 8% interest. So far, Zidisha is small: just $109k in loans raised, 385 lenders, and 200 businesses financed in Kenya, Senegal, and elsewhere.

Zidisha’s basic model is simple. They provide a platform where borrowers can create profiles and request loans, specifying the maximum interest rate they’d be willing to pay and their proposed repayment schedule. Lenders can bid to fulfill a portion or the entirety of the loan. Funds are transferred electronically to the borrower. As borrowers repay, lenders receive the funds in their Zidisha accounts. Throughout the whole process, borrowers and lenders can communicate through the Zidisha platform.

It’s simple enough. But there’s always more to what makes something work. This morning I had the chance to speak with Zidisha founder Julia Kurnia about their successes and remaining challenges. Here’s what I learned.

Low, low rates

Did you catch the part about 8% interest rates for borrowers? That’s really low for microfinance. Typical rates are more like 30-40%. So how does Zidisha do it? First, their operations are very low budget. They rely on volunteers for communications, client relationship management, and financial management. Even the founder runs Zidisha part-time for free, while also working part time for a U.S. government agency. This is only feasible up to a certain scale, but for now it seems to be working for them. Small donations cover Zidisha’s phone calls, website, and other expenses.

Second, they don’t have intermediaries of any kind. From an 8% interest rate, 3% goes to the lender and 5% goes to transaction costs for PayPal, M-PESA and the like. Borrowers also pay a one-time registration fee to cover a credit check (more on that below). There are no loan officers to pay and no local infrastructure to build.

What this means is that their system works, but it hasn’t reached a level of sustainability. It doesn’t self-fund. Even if Zidisha added a few percent onto interest rates to cover its own operating expenses, they haven’t yet reached a scale where that would make a dent. They’ve been pursuing grants through Echoing Green and other sources in order to reach that scale.

Who are the borrowers?

Zidisha is very selective about who can borrow through the platform. Although they don’t have intermediaries for the loans, Zidisha does partner with private credit bureaus or local charities to do credit checks prior to approving new borrowers. This means borrowers must have some form of verifiable credit history, either with a local bank or other microfinance institution. Kurnia estimates that 40-50% of applicants fail to pass this check. For those borrowers who are approved and join the Zidisha system, their first loan can only be half the value of the largest previous loan that s/he successfully repaid.

Internet connectivity is another limiting factor: borrowers have to live someplace where they can post a profile and interact with lenders online. Kurnia pointed out that their model wasn’t feasible just half a decade ago. That may explain why Kiva (founded in 2004) started out with indirect lending.

Despite this selectivity, Zidisha has no problem lining up new borrowers. Most of them come through word-of-mouth. Zidisha’s own budget isn’t a binding constraint either. The biggest obstacle to growth that Kurnia sees? Not enough lenders. So if you’ve got a few extra bucks this holiday season, you might consider checking them out.

A new model for microfinance?

Zidisha’s success stands as a challenge to the standard microfinance model, but not because they’ve demonstrated that loan officers or local intermediaries are unnecessary, or that interest rates can be kept low. Rather, they’ve shown that different target populations can be served in different ways. Zidisha’s borrowers are not the “poorest of the poor” that many microfinance advocates target. Zidisha borrowers are aspiring middle class. Many of them are small business owners who form the backbone of a nation’s economy. Once they’ve demonstrated their credit worthiness, they should be able to access funds at lower interest rates. As their business becomes more successful, this will have outsized impacts on their communities. Zidisha makes that possible.

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Related posts:

• Kiva starts doing what we thought they were doing all along
• Truth in advertising: ChildFund, Kiva, and Bolsa Família
• Microfinance without the MFI? Zidisha tests the boundaries of microlending methodology (by Daniel Rozas)

The kerfuffle started with a blog post from David Roodman at CGD. Kiva had always been clear that the funds were channeled through a local microlender, which distributed them to the borrowers. Roodman pointed out something that most of Kiva’s microlenders didn’t know: the borrower typically received funds from the local microlender well before their profile showed up on Kiva’s site, so your funds were not actually going to that particular borrower. Roodman’s post, and others, questioned the transparency of Kiva’s practices and ultimately led the organization to change how it communicates with its lenders.

Now, it looks like Kiva is launching a pilot program to do actual person-to-person microlending. They’re calling it Kiva Zip. Here’s how they describe it:

(Emphasis in original.)

This is a markedly different business model from the current practice. Kiva is using mobile and other technology to offer very low cost loans to borrowers who don’t even have access to normal microfinance institutions. Pilot borrowers for the new system are in the United States and Kenya, because of M-PESA. In place of local microlending partners, Kiva Zip uses “trustees” who vouch for the borrowers but never handle any money.

I’m excited to see Kiva branch out in this way. Kudos to them for innovating. The crux will be lenders’ willingness to take on the extra risks of higher defaults and currency fluctuations. Kiva’s website notes that they plan to facilitate direct communication between borrowers and lenders, which could be a draw. Otherwise, it’s hard to see why someone would choose to lend through Kiva Zip rather than Kiva Classic. Whether it works or not, I hope they document the successes and failures. It’ll make a fascinating case study someday.

I’d love to hear from the readers on this one, especially those who are more familiar with Kiva’s work. Do you think Kiva Zip will be successful?

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Related posts:

• Truth in advertising: ChildFund, Kiva, and Bolsa Família

First, I’d like to share a photo (right) that I snapped in suburban Virginia a few weeks ago. No commentary needed, except to note that it wasn’t the first time I’d seen that combination of bumper stickers.

Second, here are a few how-to guides on topics you probably didn’t expect.

• How to Procrastinate and Still Get Things Done
• How to Identify and Learn from Your Mistakes
• How to Google It
• How to Talk to Little Girls

Finally, the miscellaneous links and videos.

• Patient Zero – The RadioLab podcast is consistently fascinating. This episode tells the true story of Typhoid Mary, HIV patient zero, and the origin of the high five.
• 2011 Ig Nobel Prize Winners – Improbable research that “makes people laugh and then think.” My favorite from this year is the Chemistry Ig Nobel Prize, which went to a team of researchers in Japan for determining the ideal density of airborne wasabi. (Also check out the Science Friday podcast of the award ceremony.)
• LEGO Star Wars Advent Calendar – In what galaxy does this product make sense? Nothing makes me more pessimistic about the future of our country than watching the continued decline of LEGOs. Remember when they were just blocks?

Moran Cerf: A neuroscientist discusses his past life as a bank robber

(Ht Chris Albon)

Jay Smooth: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Discussing Race

I have trouble believing that was written one decade ago, rather than half a century ago. Since then, the venerable news magazine has added a regular “Middle East & Africa” section, as well as a blog on Africa called Baobab. These are vast improvements over their previous habit of cramming occasional Africa stories under the “International” heading.

This week, The Economist cemented its new outlook on the continent with a lead article titled, “Africa rising: The hopeful continent,” and an accompanying piece on Africa’s economic growth. These articles read like the bizzaro-world version of the earlier coverage. The list of hopeful factors is long: improved governance, better health and educational outcomes, mobile technology, demographic changes, foreign investment, intra-African trade and economic integration, and more. Much more attention is given to the positive actions taken by African entrepreneurs and even politicians, as opposed to foreign powers. Ongoing problems are acknowledged, but with much more nuance.

One thing that hasn’t changed is the magazine’s love of hokey graphics. The image at the right accompanied this week’s articles. The continued reliance on Africa-shaped images is suggestive of the challenge that this form of journalism is still trying to overcome: finding the right level of abstraction. Africa is a big place. As the always-serious Lant Pritchett argued in the same magazine:

In other words: a pronouncement on the prospects of “Africa” will always be confused. You have to move down to at least the regional level, maybe even national or sub-national in some cases. I wouldn’t criticize this particular publication too much for this. Any effort to talk about the continent as a coherent whole — especially in a 1000-word news article — is going to run into problems. If you scan my blog’s archives, you could probably catch me making the same mistake. At least these recent articles are more positive. As I’ve mentioned before, perhaps simplistic hopefulness is a worthy antidote to simplistic hopelessness.

Abstracting your analysis to the continental level is bad enough. Far worse is making policy prescriptions at that level. One sentence from this week’s lead article stood out as an egregious oversimplification of this sort. I’ve emphasized it in the paragraph below.

Land reform is an incredibly complicated and politically contentious issue. Local context and history matter a great deal. This article fails to even nod at those issues, while still feeling confident enough to make a recommendation. That strikes me as poor form.

Ultimately, the trend I want to highlight has nothing to do with these articles or with The Economist. This is one publication among many that’s giving increasing attention to parts of the world that it once ignored or marginalized. There’s more progress to be made in how the international media covers less developed countries, but progress is being made.

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P.S. Big hat tip to Ken Opalo, who beat me to the comparison of the old and new articles.

I noticed two major themes in the discussion. (Few of the insights below are mine, but the event was held under Chatham House Rule so I’m refraining from attribution.)

How to divide up such a big topic?

The conversation ranged from open government data, to the use of mobiles for government service delivery, to citizen reporting on government abuses. In other words: the intersection of technology and better governance is huge. By the end of the event, it was clear that those attending had more to say on these issues.

There were several attempts to divide up the issue into manageable chunks. One rubric involved a distinction between top-down and bottom-up. The first category includes efforts to make data more accessible, use mobiles/other technology to reach citizens, or generally improve the efficiency of government operations through better technology. These could be considered top-down because they generally come from the governments, aid agencies or other institutional actors. The second category, bottom-up, includes grassroots efforts to connect citizens with one another and empower them to hold government accountable. These efforts include Ushahidi-style mapping and citizen reporting.

Another approach for understanding the topic is to think about the impact that new technologies have on current governance processes. Technology might simply make a process more efficient by reducing transaction costs. For example, mobile phones and the internet help make it a lot cheaper to monitor elections, provide government data, or inform citizens about services. But technology might go another step further, beyond mere efficiency, by actually transforming how government works and how citizens interact with one another. This (some would argue) is what Twitter did in Egypt.

Technology isn’t all upside though. It can reinforce bad institutions, or undermine good ones. Technology might help activists organize, but it also helps governments to monitor protests and respond. Another interesting example is the effect that a citizen-managed crime reporting system has on local law enforcement: it could provide a useful complement to the formal system, or it might supplant the formal system and relieve any pressure to improve it.

How do we know what works?

The other big theme yesterday was evaluation. I get the sense that most technology-for-governance interventions don’t receive anything close to rigorous evaluation. This is hardly surprising: governance issues are notoriously difficult to evaluate. As I’ve discussed before, randomized controlled trials aren’t applicable. Even psuedo-experimental methods run into trouble when trying to pick a defensible counter-factual. New technology might make data collection easier, but that won’t allow us to overcome the complexity of understanding governance or how change happens.

None of which should excuse us from bringing more critical analysis to the topic. We need a combination of methods — quantitative, narrative, economic, historical, anthropological, political, and more — to make sense of how new technology impacts transparency and accountability.

One cautionary note: we should resist the urge to clump all of technology-for-good-governance into one category and make a summary judgement. As discussed above, this is a big topic that calls for disaggregation.

[Update: You should also check out Linda Raftree's coverage of the event -- much more thorough than my own.]

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P.S. Many thanks to Linda Raftree (Plan International USA) for organizing the event, Katrin Verclas (Mobile Active) and Hapee de Groot (Hivos) for serving as lead discussants, and everyone else who attended. If you’re interested in future Technology Salon events in NYC, contact Linda. For events in DC or San Francisco, go here.

I’m calling shenanigans on your list, FP.

Which is not to say that these aren’t all very smart people. In fact, my favorite part is the list of book recommendations from the global thinkers. Here are the top 10 from…

The Global Thinkers’ Book Club

1. Lords of Finance: The Bankers Who Broke the World (2009) by Liaquat Ahamed
2. Why the West Rules — for Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal About the Future (2010) by Ian Morris
3. Civilization: The West and the Rest (2011) by Niall Ferguson
4. Getting Better: Why Global Development Is Succeeding and How We Can Improve the World Even More (2011) by Charles Kenny
5. The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined (2011) by Steven Pinker
6. Grand Pursuit: The Story of Economic Genius (2011) by Sylvia Nasar
7. Arrival City: How the Largest Migration in History Is Reshaping Our World (2010) by Doug Saunders
8. WikiLeaks and the Age of Transparency (2011) by Micah Sifry
9. Power Hungry: The Myths of “Green” Energy and the Real Fuels of the Future (2010) by Robert Bryce
10. The Quest: Energy, Security, and the Remaking of the Modern World (2011) by Daniel Yergin

Sadly, I haven’t read any of these, but now I know what I want Santa to bring. I guess this also marks the beginning of the best-of-the-year-list season. Sigh. It’s crazy, but people love lists. Personally, I’ve been less interested in it all ever since I was named Time magazine’s Person-of-the-Year in 2006.

The criticisms come from two very different sources. The first is essentially a literature review that synthesizes research on what participatory methods actually mean in practice. The second was written by the anonymous aid worker/blogger Shotgun Shack on the highly satirical Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like blog. Both are worth reading in full.

Here’s your homework question: Which one of these pieces will influence more people to think critically about participatory methods? Keep in mind not just the piece itself, but its reach.

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1. Analysis: ‘Everyone is doing something and calling it PRA’ – A Critical Reflection on Participatory Methods in Development

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2. Satire: Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like #24: Facipulation

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Update: Want more satire on aid and development? In addition to Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like, check out Hand Relief International, I Studied Abroad in Africa!, and (perhaps now defunct?) aidlolz.

In case your econ 101 class was a long time ago (or you never took one), here’s how Wikipedia defines it:

So if you’ve got $100 to save, you could just stick it under your mattress. That course of action seems to cost you nothing. But the opportunity cost would be the interest that you would earn from putting it in the bank. Applying the concept is straightforward when both your inputs and outputs are measured in dollars (or shillings, or yuan, or whatever).

It gets a little more complicated when you have other factors involved. For example, suppose you’re choosing between cooking dinner or ordering delivery. Cooking dinner is usually cheaper, but it also takes more of your time and planning to have ingredients on hand. Your personal preferences matter too: I enjoy cooking, but you might find it frustrating.

Does it seem like I’m belaboring the point? Well, there’s a reason I am:

The aid discourse seems to have little grasp of opportunity costs.

Which is amazing considering that economists dominate this field. Of course, the choices are inherently harder in aid than in the rest of economics. Our outputs are rarely measured in dollars. It can be very hard to compare outputs within a given field (say, health: what’s the relative value of stopping HIV transmission to 10,000 people, versus providing treatment to 10,000 who are already HIV-positive?) and even harder to compare across fields (say, how do you compare educational outcomes versus health outcomes?).

But the one place we should have little trouble is with the inputs. Those are almost always denominated in dollars, or in something that can be converted to dollars. Yet when we talk about committing resources to a course of action, we rarely talk about how those resources might otherwise be spent. Let me give two examples.

Opportunity cost of SWEDOW — Stuff WE DOn’t Want.

Last year, the anonymous blogger J. offered the aid world a new term: SWEDOW. In the post where he introduced it, he described his frustration:

The standard SWEDOW scheme involves collecting a bunch of old, used items (shoes, bicycles, yoga mats, whatever), getting some donated money to cover shipping, and then distributing the items in an impoverished community somewhere overseas.

Although J. never used the term “opportunity cost” in his post, that’s how I’ve always thought about SWEDOW. The question we have to ask when evaluating any SWEDOW scheme is this: If we sold all of those used items and combined that with the cash donated for shipping, what would the community in question do with that money? Would they choose to buy the shoes/bicycles/etc. that we had been planning to ship there? Or would they rather have something else? That “something else” is the opportunity cost.

The fact that a recipient expresses gratitude for the free items is not enough to prove that this was the best use of the resources. Who’s going to turn down free stuff? Who’s going to say, “thanks for the bikes, but next time please fix the road”? If you offer me a free slice of pizza, I’ll probably eat it — despite the fact that I’m mildly lactose intolerant — because it’s there and it’s free. (This is not an exaggeration. I can’t turn down free food.)

Opportunity cost of stuff I DO want

Pictured: a box. Not pictured: a school.

Not every scheme involves sending things we don’t want. Apparently there is now a plan to send something that I would love to have: an iPad.

This morning, Wayan Vota commented on a proposal to send a “School in a Box” (SIAB) to rural schools in Zimbabwe. The box (shown at right) comes complete with an iPad 2, solar charging panel, speakers, projector and more.

There are two points to make in response to this idea. Vota makes the first point:

In other words, this isn’t a school. It’s just a box. An awesome box. But a box nonetheless.

The second point is to think about opportunity cost. The SIAB site hilariously compares the cost of the box to the cost of an Interactive Whiteboard, as if that were the alternative to this package. SIAB has a per unit cost of about €1200 — or $1600. I was curious if this whole thing would only be $1600 so I did a little back-of-the-envelope calculation. I came up with $1440 for just the parts. (The cheapest version of the iPad 2 costs $500; another SIAB document says the solar power system costs $390; the projector shown on their website costs at least $270; the speakers shown will cost about $30; the case shown with padded dividers would be another $250.) That leaves $160/unit for things like overhead, distribution, training and maintenance.

The opportunity cost question is this: What else could we do with $1600? Suppose we just limit ourselves to education in rural Zimbabwe. How else might we use $1600 to benefit Zimbabwean kids in a rural school? Well, we could hire them another teacher. Teachers in Zimbabwe make $220/month. At that rate, SIAB would be worth just over 7 months of a teacher’s salary. However, $220/month is well below the poverty line in Zimbabwe, which is why the country suffers from a shortage of teachers. For the past two years, the government has been asking parents to make up the salary difference with monthly payments to teachers. Such direct payments are not only unfair to poor parents, but they also warp the incentives for teachers. Clearly, there are other needs in Zimbabwe’s education system.

Zimbabwe isn’t the only country under consideration for SIAB. The politics and economics will vary by location. Yet I still feel pretty confident stating that in most developing country education systems, you can find a better use of $1600. The problem is that if you get enamored with the idea of an iPad in a box, you forget to look for those other uses. You forget to look for the opportunity cost. It’s the same thing that happens when you decide to donate old shoes, but it’s a lot more expensive with Apple products.