Introduction
Summary of the book Licence to be Bad by Jonathan Aldred. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. Imagine living in a world where nearly every choice you make, from what job you take to how you treat your neighbors, is explained through the cold lens of numbers and profit. That world exists in the minds of many modern economists. They often tell us that human beings are simply economic agents, always acting selfishly to gain personal benefit. But is that really the best way to understand ourselves, our societies, and our future? In the pages that follow, we will journey through the hidden corners of economic thinking, from strange theories that encourage untrusting behavior to ideas that claim our votes and values mean nothing. We’ll see how a small group of thinkers changed the world’s understanding of success, fairness, and government—often for the worse. By the end, you’ll discover why trusting these so-called experts without question can lead to big mistakes. Are you ready to look behind the curtain?
Chapter 1: The Mysterious Rise of Controversial Free-Market Economic Ideas That Changed Our Thinking.
Shortly after World War II ended, much of Europe lay in ruins. Buildings were crumbled, factories stood empty, and ordinary people struggled just to get food. Many leaders and thinkers believed that the only way to rebuild these shattered societies was through government-led projects. Under this view, guided by economist John Maynard Keynes, the state would take the lead. Public spending was considered necessary to fix roads, invest in schools, provide social support, and get the economic engines running again. During this time, the idea was that private businesses alone wouldn’t be enough to lift everyone out of misery. Instead, a mix of government action and private efforts would rebuild trust, create jobs, and help families restart their lives. It seemed logical, humane, and fair. But as we’ll see, not everyone agreed.
In the late 1940s, while Keynesian approaches gained popularity, a small group of rebellious thinkers gathered high in the Swiss Alps at a place called Mont Pelerin. Led by economist Friedrich Hayek, this group did not trust big government interventions. They believed that free markets, left to their own devices, could solve problems more efficiently than any public official ever could. Where others saw helpful government action, they saw meddling and waste. While their voices were quiet at first, these rebels felt their ideas were truth shining through. They insisted that if markets were just left alone, people would make better, more productive choices. Governments, in their eyes, were clumsy giants trying to direct something they barely understood. Their ideas contrasted sharply with the dominant belief that public spending was a key to revival.
At that time, Hayek’s group had little influence. Most people thought large-scale public investments were the reason why some countries recovered more quickly. But the seeds planted at Mont Pelerin would grow. Over time, other economists who shared this free-market vision would gather strength. Their big message was that markets know best, and any attempt by governments to direct or shape these markets would end in disaster. This viewpoint said that individuals, if free to choose how to spend and invest, would produce better outcomes for everyone. While the majority of thinkers still leaned toward Keynes’s ideas, the Mont Pelerin group patiently waited for their moment. Slowly, people began to listen to them more seriously, especially when economic troubles seemed to return.
These once quiet voices would eventually become loud champions of economic theories that sideline the role of elected governments, laws, and moral questions. As we move forward, we will see how these free-market ideas spread, gained recognition, and then came to dominate entire schools of thought. We’ll explore how they formed the backbone of new policies that insisted markets should run almost entirely on their own. This approach promised wealth and freedom but often delivered something very different. What was once a small, daring circle in the mountains would become a global chorus praising the invisible hand of the market. Yet, we will discover that behind these praises, there are many problems—problems that affect people’s jobs, the environment, democracy, and even the way we treat one another.
Chapter 2: Hidden Roots in Post-War Europe: How a Small Group Challenged Keynesian Thought.
To understand why these controversial ideas took hold, we must step back into the fragile years after World War II. Europe’s recovery was fragile and uneven. Keynesians believed that government-led reconstruction was the best hope. They argued that when the private sector was too weak to stand on its own, the state should step in and jump-start the economy. Factories needed rebuilding, roads and bridges needed fixing, and people needed jobs. It seemed common sense that governments would guide this effort because private investors were often too scared or too broke to move first. Policymakers trusted Keynes’s theories because they had already seen how public spending during the war had helped ramp up production. Surely, that logic could now be used for peaceful rebuilding.
Yet, as these policies moved forward, the small band of thinkers at Mont Pelerin whispered a different narrative. They claimed that relying too heavily on government would weaken individual freedom. According to them, if the state got used to telling people how to run their businesses, it might never stop. These economists argued that the more power governments gained, the closer societies got to losing their precious liberties. In this group’s eyes, planning by officials, however well-meaning, was a slippery slope to something worse—perhaps even to the horrors of totalitarian regimes. To them, economic freedom was not just a practical necessity; it was a moral principle as important as freedom of speech or the right to vote.
They insisted that markets could organize themselves without the heavy hand of government. Prices, competition, and voluntary exchanges would provide signals that guided the economy. The better the market worked, the less we needed state planning. At a time when people wanted quick solutions to immense problems, this message seemed too risky. Yet the Mont Pelerin group believed that if they could just keep explaining and waiting, a time would come when their ideas seemed more promising than the alternatives. Their faith was that truth would outlast popularity contests. Over decades, they wrote books, taught students, and formed networks to spread their beliefs.
As Europe gradually got back on its feet, these dissenting voices didn’t disappear. Instead, they benefited from moments of doubt and crisis. Whenever a planned economic effort failed or a public project overspent its budget, they could say, We told you so. Eventually, their ideas appealed to political leaders in search of fresh solutions. These leaders felt that cutting state interventions might improve efficiency or spur innovation. What began as a small intellectual rebellion high in the Alps gradually blossomed into a worldwide influence. By understanding these roots, we can see how a minority opinion on the fringes gained the strength to rewrite the rules of entire economies—and, ultimately, reshape how we understand our roles as workers, citizens, and human beings.
Chapter 3: The Rise of the Chicago School’s Radical Free-Market Beliefs Shaping Our Modern Economy.
Over time, the ideas seeded at Mont Pelerin took deep root in places like the University of Chicago, where a new generation of thinkers created what we now call the Chicago School of Economics. They believed firmly that governments should take a back seat and let markets manage themselves. The Chicago School offered simple, clear messages: lower taxes, fewer regulations, more competition, and minimal state interference. This sounded like a clean, efficient solution to complicated problems. Their theories spread around the world, guiding the policies of powerful leaders. US President Ronald Reagan and UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher both drew upon these free-market ideals, introducing policies that drastically shrank government influence over the economy.
These policies, often called Reaganomics in the US and Thatcherism in the UK, transformed societies. The Chicago School and its allies argued that when people are left free to pursue their self-interest, everyone somehow benefits. Markets, they claimed, would reward hard work and innovation and punish laziness or inefficiency. They told simple stories: If you cut away government red tape, businesses can grow faster, create more jobs, and improve everyone’s quality of life. It sounded so neat and logical. Soon, many people started believing this was the only correct way to think about economics, as if it were as certain as a law of physics.
But reality often proved more complicated. When the global financial crisis hit in 2007, the world economy nearly collapsed, and ordinary people paid the highest price. Many lost their homes, jobs, and savings. Instead of blaming the reckless deals made by banks and traders, some people blamed governments for not regulating enough. This logic was strange—like blaming the police for a burglary instead of holding the thief accountable. Yet the free-market view suggests that if we blame anyone, we should blame the authorities who failed to let the market work freely, or who interfered incorrectly. Through this twisted lens, even the worst outcomes can be pinned on not having a pure enough market.
At the same time, a similar thinking style affects how we address other huge problems, like climate change. We say that if one small country or one single person reduces emissions, it won’t matter much if others don’t follow. The idea that a single action is meaningless in a giant global issue is closely linked to the economics of free-rider thinking, which we’ll explore later. By seeing the world through a purely market-driven lens, moral responsibility, fairness, and cooperation lose their weight. Instead of asking, What can we do together to solve this? we ask, Why bother acting if others won’t? It’s a harmful mindset that the Chicago School’s influence has helped spread far beyond the realm of business into the heart of society’s moral decisions.
Chapter 4: Game Theory’s Strange Power: How Mathematical Models Tried to Make Us Selfish.
Imagine a world where every decision you make—whether to help a friend or to cooperate with a neighbor—is reduced to a game. In this world, you think carefully about what others will do, and you always try to come out on top. This is the mindset encouraged by something called Game Theory. After World War II, mathematicians like John von Neumann and later John Nash used math to predict how rational people would behave in tricky situations. They assumed everyone acts for selfish gain. While this might sometimes describe how people behave in certain competitive scenarios, it doesn’t always match how people really live. Yet Game Theory’s influence made it seem like cooperation was just a tool, not a genuine moral choice.
One famous example is the prisoner’s dilemma. Two suspects are arrested and separated. Each faces a choice: confess and betray the other, or stay silent. If both stay silent, they get a small punishment. If both betray, they both get a worse punishment. If one betrays and the other stays silent, the betrayer goes free and the other gets the hardest punishment. Game Theory predicts that both prisoners will betray to avoid the worst outcome. But in real life, people often trust each other, remain loyal, and cooperate, showing that humans aren’t just clever machines endlessly calculating self-interest. They have feelings, values, and sometimes choose what’s good for the group over what’s best just for themselves.
Yet the more we teach that people are selfish, the more likely they are to act selfishly. If you’re told that nobody else cares about fairness, why should you? If society believes everyone is always out for personal gain, then friendly cooperation begins to seem foolish. Game Theory, by presenting self-centered decisions as natural and logical, pushes people toward distrust. Instead of working together to solve problems—like reducing carbon emissions or keeping stadium crowds comfortable—individuals might stand, push, and take advantage, because they think everyone else is doing the same. Ironically, by predicting selfishness, Game Theory can help create it.
It’s not that Game Theory is entirely useless. It can explain some scenarios, especially in competitive business or military situations. But when it’s used to understand all human behavior, it flattens the rich complexity of our social lives. Humans form friendships, feel empathy, and sometimes sacrifice their own comfort for others. Instead of treating that as odd, we should celebrate it. Cooperation built civilizations, allowed families and communities to thrive, and helped people survive disasters. The idea that life is just a cold game, where every move is calculated for maximum personal gain, takes away the warmth of human connection. Understanding Game Theory’s limits helps us resist the temptation to believe that selfishness is the only rational path.
Chapter 5: The Prisoner’s Dilemma and Why Real Humans Often Choose Kindness Instead.
The prisoner’s dilemma, at first glance, suggests that no matter what the other person does, the safest choice is to betray. This kind of thinking pushes people to put their own interests above everything else. But let’s pause and think about reality. If you’re living in a neighborhood, you often find it’s better to trust your neighbors. Maybe you share tools, watch each other’s houses when someone’s on vacation, or help each other in emergencies. If everyone approached community life with the prisoner’s dilemma mentality, nobody would cooperate. Yet in countless towns and cities, we see people helping each other because trust makes everyone’s lives richer.
Likewise, on a global scale, countries sometimes come together to solve problems. Consider efforts to limit nuclear weapons. The selfish view might say, If we don’t build as many weapons as possible, others will. But treaties and agreements have often reduced risks. This shows that, despite what a game-theoretic model might predict, leaders can choose cooperation over conflict. When facing climate change, nations discuss emission cuts. The strict game-theory approach might whisper, Don’t cut first, but some countries still lead the way, hoping others will follow. These actions remind us that people and states can rise above simple selfish calculations.
Why do people cooperate even when a rational model suggests they shouldn’t? Because humans are not just guided by immediate personal gain. We value fairness, long-term relationships, and emotional connections. Sometimes, being kind now can lead to future help from others. Other times, we simply feel good about doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t immediately benefit us. Game Theory often ignores these feelings or re-labels them as strange tastes instead of recognizing that morality, trust, and understanding play real roles in how we behave.
If we accept the idea that humans can be better than Game Theory’s predictions, we open the door to building societies based on cooperation, understanding, and moral responsibility. Instead of always expecting the worst, we can create laws, institutions, and cultures that encourage fairness and mutual aid. Believing that everyone is out to get us can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. But if we believe in the power of kindness and show it, we can influence others to do the same. Rejecting the purely selfish view not only reflects reality more accurately—it also gives us hope for solving the biggest problems we face together.
Chapter 6: Coase’s Theorem and the Strange Worship of Cost-Efficient Deals Above Fairness.
In the mid-twentieth century, economist Ronald Coase wrote about how people might solve conflicts over resources through private deals. For example, if a farmer’s cows keep eating a neighbor’s crops, maybe they can reach a deal—put up a fence if it’s cheaper than letting the cows run wild. Coase’s point was that costs, negotiations, and the laws affect decisions. But what happened next was unexpected. Some economists twisted this idea into a rule suggesting that as long as people can make deals, no matter what the law says, everything will turn out fine and efficient. They overlooked that laws set boundaries for what’s fair, and that real people have moral feelings that go beyond money.
Over time, this became known as the Coase theorem. Some took it to mean that the best solution to every problem was simply to let people strike bargains, without government interference. If pollution is a problem, let companies buy and sell the right to pollute. If unemployment is high, try paying employers to hire people. In Illinois in 1983, there was even an experiment to pay employers 500 dollars for hiring certain workers. But it felt weird. Many people refused because the deal looked like a bribe. This showed that not all issues can be solved by throwing money at them.
Coase himself didn’t mean to say that every problem is just about finding the right price. He wanted to show that the cost of making deals—time, effort, legal fees—matters. Yet others ran with his idea, claiming fewer laws, fewer rules, and more trading of rights was the key. This logic leads to bizarre proposals like suggesting a free market for babies instead of adoption, or viewing environmental protection as just a series of price tags on pollution. Reducing everything to deals ignores questions of justice, fairness, and moral responsibility. Sometimes the law’s purpose is not to create efficient outcomes but to protect basic rights and values.
If we treat the world as a giant marketplace for every right and resource, we risk losing our sense of right and wrong. We stop asking important questions like, Is it fair? or Is it good for the community? and just ask, Is it cheaper? This shift in perspective can erode trust and damage relationships. People might start to believe that everything, from human life to a clean environment, has a market price. Such thinking robs society of empathy, honor, and principles that cannot be measured in dollars. Understanding that Coase was warning us about transaction costs—rather than declaring that money can solve all problems—helps us avoid turning our world into a heartless bazaar.
Chapter 7: Public Choice Theory and the Harmful Belief That Democracy Cannot Work Properly.
In the mid-20th century, another set of ideas emerged, telling us that democracy is basically impossible or at best deeply flawed. Economist Kenneth Arrow’s impossibility theorem suggested that no voting system could perfectly reflect everyone’s true wishes. This made a big splash, and people started claiming democracy was just an illusion, a trick we play on ourselves. Although Arrow’s conditions were very strict and didn’t always apply in real life, the catchy idea that democracy can’t work caught on and stayed in public conversation, shaping how people think about elections, laws, and government policy.
Another theory, public choice theory, took a harsh view of politics. It stated that everyone in the political system—voters, politicians, civil servants—acts purely out of self-interest. According to this theory, politicians only make policies to get re-elected and voters are too lazy or ill-informed to care about the greater good. Public servants just want bigger budgets and more power. This view presented government as a messy competition of selfish actors who can’t be trusted to do what’s right. It suggested that the main problem with modern societies wasn’t greedy corporations or unfair markets, but the government itself.
Yet, when we look closely, these theories fail to capture the full picture. Sometimes voters do support policies that help others, even if they cost the voters more. Sometimes politicians really try to solve problems. And sometimes public servants risk their careers to protect the public interest. The problem with public choice theory is that it makes us assume the worst. It encourages us to see every political action as a sneaky ploy, every vote as a bribe, and every law as a trick. Over time, this suspicious mindset spreads, making people less willing to trust one another or their leaders. It’s a negative cycle that can harm democracy itself, turning the theory’s dark vision into a reality.
Ironically, if people believe everyone in government acts selfishly, they may start acting selfishly too. If public workers are told they’re only in it for themselves, they might become more cynical. If voters believe their neighbors are ill-informed and selfish, they may stop caring and voting. This creates a world closer to what public choice theory describes: a place where no one trusts anyone, and everyone believes government action is doomed. But remember, these theories are not scientific laws like gravity; they are interpretations that can shape our mindset. Choosing to believe that democracy and government can work, while demanding transparency and fairness, can help maintain a healthier political environment.
Chapter 8: Free-Rider Thinking: How Tiny Individual Actions Can Change the World.
Free-rider thinking is the idea that your own small efforts don’t matter if others aren’t doing their part. Imagine climate change: one person thinks, My recycling or my tiny cut in car usage won’t fix the planet. If everyone thinks this way, nobody does anything. Free-rider logic excuses inaction by arguing that individual contributions don’t count. But this is dangerous. If you’re the only one holding back a flood with a bucket, it’s true you can’t stop it alone. But that doesn’t mean everyone putting down their buckets makes sense. If thousands or millions of people act together, big changes happen.
The idea dates back to ancient times—Socrates and Plato considered whether one person’s actions mattered in a large society. More recently, economist Mancur Olson brought free-rider thinking into modern discussions. Tax avoidance, for instance, is often justified by companies saying, If our competitors evade taxes, why shouldn’t we? This creates a race to the bottom, where everyone tries to do less good. The result is worse public services, bigger environmental problems, and a weaker sense of community.
Climate change is the perfect example. Some argue, Why should my country reduce emissions first if others aren’t? But if no country takes the lead, no progress is made. On the other hand, if one country shows it’s possible and beneficial, others might follow. Collective action—when many small efforts combine—can reach tipping points where huge improvements happen. It’s true that one individual act might feel tiny, but combined with millions of others, it becomes massive.
Rejecting free-rider thinking restores our sense of responsibility. We realize that cooperation matters. It’s similar to cheering at a sports event: one cheer might seem small, but together they create a roaring atmosphere that lifts the team’s spirit. Free-rider thinking sneaks into our minds and lets us be lazy or indifferent. Once we let it go, we remember that each person’s action adds up. By choosing to be an active participant rather than a free-rider, we help shape a world where collective effort really does count.
Chapter 9: Economics’ Invasion into Everyday Life: From Buying Citizenship to Explaining Family Choices.
Starting in the late 20th century, economists like Gary Becker took their theories beyond shops and factories and applied them to nearly every aspect of life. They asked: why not sell citizenship to the highest bidder? Why not consider the traditional family model (a working husband and a housewife) as just an efficient way to organize households? They tried to explain even smoking or crime through strict cost-benefit calculations. This approach reduces human life to a series of economic decisions, ignoring values like love, justice, and moral duty.
Becker and his followers saw human beings as rational agents who weigh every action as if calculating profits and losses. If a person smoked, they were said to have chosen to shorten their life in exchange for the pleasure of smoking. If parents decided who stays home or who works, it wasn’t due to social norms, affection, or cultural background, but because one arrangement was the most economically efficient. This view strips away the rich tapestry of reasons why people behave as they do.
We see these ideas in popular books like Freakonomics, where economic thinking is applied to surprising topics—from naming children to dealing with drug gangs. While it can be fun or interesting, it also quietly suggests that everything, no matter how personal or sacred, can be understood in simple economic terms. Immigration laws now sometimes favor wealthy investors, allowing the rich to buy the right to live in certain countries. Punishing criminals by longer jail sentences is said to discourage crime at a lower cost. But does this really reflect how humans think and feel?
When every aspect of life is viewed through the lens of profit and loss, we risk losing our humanity. Not every choice we make is a careful calculation. Sometimes we help a friend without expecting payment. Sometimes we vote for a policy because it’s just and decent, not because it’s cheaper. Recognizing that humans are more than economic robots helps us protect values that can’t be priced, like kindness, fairness, and understanding. While economic thinking can offer insights, it should never become the only lens we use to see the world.
Chapter 10: Incentives and the Surprising Ways People React to Rewards and Fines.
Economists love to talk about incentives. They argue that if you want people to do something, reward them with money; if you want them to stop, fine them. But people’s reactions are not always so predictable. Take the case of daycare centers in Haifa, Israel. When parents picked up their children late, the daycare added a small fine to discourage tardiness. Strangely, parents started coming even later! The fine changed the situation from a moral issue—I should respect the daycare staff’s time—into a simple fee: I can pay for being late. This shows that introducing money can erase guilt or moral pressure.
Contrast this with the UK’s plastic bag charge. When stores began charging a small fee for plastic bags, usage fell dramatically. What made the difference? The UK campaign came with a message: it explained why cutting plastic bag use was important for the environment. People understood they weren’t just paying for convenience; they were encouraged to change a habit for a greater good. With the daycare fines, parents got no moral explanation, just a price tag. As a result, the fine felt like permission to be late, not a call to do better.
Another example is blood donation. In some places, paying people to give blood actually reduced donations. Without payment, giving blood felt like a generous act of kindness. But adding money turned it into a cheap transaction. It also led some dishonest people to lie about their health to get paid, ruining the blood supply. These examples show that people are motivated by more than just money. We care about fairness, doing the right thing, and feeling that our actions have meaning. Treating human beings like coin-operated machines ignores these deeper motivations.
Understanding that incentives are tricky can stop us from making bad policies. It also shows that economists who say everyone has a price are oversimplifying. In reality, the story we tell, the values we share, and the moral signals we send matter as much as, if not more than, a few extra dollars. Sometimes adding a price or a fine can backfire, making people care less. In other cases, a small charge works because it’s backed by a moral message. By acknowledging the complex ways people react, we can design policies that respect human values instead of treating them like simple profit-maximizing robots.
Chapter 11: Uncertain Predictions, Flawed Probability Models, and the Acceptance of Extreme Inequality.
In finance and economics, experts often try to predict the future using mathematical models. But these models can be terribly wrong. During the 2007 financial crisis, events that were supposed to be almost impossible occurred repeatedly. The normal probability models couldn’t handle the complexity of real markets. This wasn’t the first time. Past crashes, like Black Monday in 1987, also broke the models’ predictions. Using over-simplified math to describe complex realities leads to big surprises and disasters, affecting millions of people’s lives.
Another issue arises when economists try to measure everything in money and assign discount values to future lives. For example, some models treat people in the future as less important than people today, simply because of time. This helps justify inaction on climate change, since future generations are given smaller importance. Similarly, economists use models to explain why some people get extremely rich while others remain poor, suggesting inequality is just how markets work. But these theories are often based on assumptions that ignore fairness or the human cost of poverty.
Inequality itself follows strange patterns. Among the richest of the rich, the same extreme gaps appear as in the general population. Yet, none of this is truly inevitable. Before the 1980s, top tax rates in countries like the US were extremely high, and societies still thrived. Today, we accept low tax rates for the super-wealthy because economists warn that high taxes discourage them. But does making a billionaire pay more tax really stop them from working or innovating? If anything, getting richer more slowly might not reduce their effort at all. The idea that we must accept giant wealth gaps is just another guess disguised as fact.
We must remember that many so-called economic truths are built on shaky ground. They reflect moral choices rather than objective facts. Treating inequality, climate damage, or future generations’ well-being as if they are just numbers to plug into a formula misses the point. Economics can help us understand some parts of the world, but it cannot replace ethics, compassion, and democracy. We should question theories that justify selfishness, tolerate extreme inequality, or ignore moral responsibility. By seeing these theories for what they are—opinions dressed up as science—we can break free from their spell. We can choose values that truly reflect our humanity, instead of bending to the logic of markets alone.
All about the Book
Discover the provocative insights of ‘Licence to be Bad’ by Jonathan Aldred, where economics meets ethics, challenging conventional wisdom and encouraging readers to embrace moral complexity in the pursuit of a just society.
Jonathan Aldred is a renowned economist and thought leader, adept at weaving intricate economic theories with practical ethics, inspiring readers to reflect on their choices in society.
Economists, Policy Makers, Social Activists, Ethicists, Business Leaders
Reading philosophy, Exploring economic theories, Participating in debates, Engaging in community service, Attending lectures and seminars
Moral implications of economic decisions, Socioeconomic inequalities, Environmental ethics, Consumer behavior and its impacts
It’s not about the system; it’s about the people within it and how their choices shape the world around us.
Dr. Richard Thaler, Professor Amartya Sen, Activist Naomi Klein
Best Non-Fiction Book of the Year, Economic Literature Award, Social Impact Book Award
1. Understanding modern economics’ moral complexities. #2. Rational self-interest’s impact on societies examined. #3. The role of incentives in economic behavior. #4. Market outcomes versus public interest compared. #5. Insights into economic theories shaping policies. #6. Economic models influencing real-world decision-making. #7. Identifying ethical dilemmas in profit-driven systems. #8. The social consequences of selfish economic behaviors. #9. Distinguishing between economic myth and reality. #10. Critique of economic efficiency and inequality. #11. Uncovering hidden assumptions in economic models. #12. Behavioral economics’ challenge to traditional theories. #13. Examining fairness in economic transactions. #14. Assessing government’s role in market regulation. #15. Theory versus practicality in economic strategy. #16. Debunking the myth of market infallibility. #17. Linking economics with moral philosophy. #18. The influence of economic policies on culture. #19. Interconnection of economics and individual freedoms. #20. Learning to question economic ‘common sense.’
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