i&a: How would you describe being a political economist? What does that mean?

John: Political economy predates modern economics and offers a more holistic approach to understanding economic systems, blending insights from history, politics, and society. Unlike the narrow focus of some mathematical models, political economy values narrative explanations alongside quantitative methods. Alfred Marshall famously said to “burn the maths” once you’ve used it to refine your ideas, emphasizing the importance of expressing conclusions clearly and narratively. Political economy encourages reading widely—history, literature, even literary criticism—to gain a richer perspective. After the 2008 financial crisis, there’s been growing recognition that economics lost its broader context, which political economy seeks to restore. For me, it was a natural fit, allowing me to explore multiple disciplines without abandoning any of them.

i&a: What was the journey to get you there?

John: I grew up in Oshawa, Canada, where my parents had emigrated from Britain. I studied at Carleton University, focusing on history and political science, before doing my postdoc in development economics at Oxford. I realized the importance of immersing myself in the realities of developing countries, which led me to accept a position in Jamaica. What began as a short-term move turned into a longer journey, including founding a think tank with offices in Jamaica, Barbados, and London. Over time, my work expanded to include academic teaching, journalism, and writing books for general audiences, eventually allowing me to focus on writing full-time. Today, I split my time between London, South Africa, and travels for research and writing.

i&a: You struck a chord on the human behavioural aspect on economic models and how the outcomes have turned into economic crisis because we haven't taken human behaviour into consideration. To hear your thoughts behind that?

John: Understanding human behaviour has been a challenge for economics. Behavioural psychology, led by Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman, brought a new perspective by testing the assumptions underlying economic models. They conducted experiments to observe actual behaviour, revealing that humans often act in ways that don’t fit traditional economic predictions. This caused significant controversy, especially among economists who resisted non-mathematical approaches.

The 2008 financial crisis exposed the limitations of these models, with economists failing to predict it. Famously, the Queen asked the London School of Economics why no one foresaw the crash, highlighting the profession’s blind spots. The crisis spurred greater openness to self-criticism and interdisciplinary approaches, with heterodox economists gaining more recognition. While there’s still work to be done, economics is gradually evolving to better incorporate the complexities of human behaviour.

i&a: Correct me if I'm wrong, but is this what we're seeing in the U.S. with the recent elections?

John: Yeah, that's another one. That's a really good example because it just shouldn't have happened. The objective indicators and economists are just kept saying we just need to tell people how good things are because they don't believe it. But there was something rather than actually listening to what the people are saying, they keep saying you want a better voter the problem is not with us, the problem is with them. Even if that is, even if that were partially true, or it doesn't exonerate you from actually doing a better job of getting out there.

i&a: Where do you think the problem lies?

John: Part of the problem is if you look at the career path, and this isn't peculiar to economics, but it's particularly acute in economics. There is no reward in the top academic institutions for taking a few years out of academia to go run a business, work in government, work in an NGO and actually get your feet wet and see how the world works. It actually inhibits your career development. You're told over and over published papers. You're strongly discouraged from diversifying. I spent a year as a visiting professor in Germany. I was struck by the fact that after a German PhD, candidate gets the PhD, they're expected, before they can get an academic appointment, to write a new book, but it has to be in a totally new field. They're supposed to prove they have some breadth. In Anglo Saxon universities it's the complete opposite. You're told, find your specialty and then just stay in your lane. You're going to produce a lot more papers. You can work your way up the ladder into the highest impact journals. So you do become so narrowly focused.

i&a: What is the impact of this?

John: One of the most significant barriers to meaningful change is the erosion of trust in expertise and the systems meant to produce and validate truth. My classmate’s experience in Rwanda offers a striking example: under Kagame’s leadership, economic data was manipulated to serve political narratives. It underscores a broader issue, particularly in disciplines like economics, where the reliability of data is often compromised. Yet, the world still leans on these figures because the financial system rewards those who play along.

This creates a dangerous cycle. The public, disillusioned by experts who have either been complicit in or blind to these inaccuracies, increasingly rejects expertise outright. Movements like Brexit and the rise of populist leaders like Trump are built on this discontent. They represent a visceral response to a system that has often failed to deliver on its promises, favouring gut instincts over data-driven decisions.

What impacts society’s ability to create lasting change isn’t just the disconnection between experts and the public—it’s the lack of accountability in the systems that shape our worldview. Until we address these fundamental flaws, we’ll struggle to build trust, and without trust, there can be no meaningful progress. Leaders must not only speak to people’s frustrations but also create systems that genuinely earn their trust through transparency and integrity.

i&a: What kind of change were you thinking of?

John: The kind of change I’m thinking of requires us to fundamentally rethink how we approach truth and knowledge. We’ve created this divide between fact and faith, where science claims to only deal in facts, but this oversimplification has led to hubris and flawed reasoning. Most of what we believe to be true isn’t something we’ve personally verified; it’s a narrative we accept because it fits into our broader story of the world and ourselves.

Take the economic disparities between countries as an example. People often cling to the idea that wealth differences are purely the result of effort or productivity, but that narrative ignores historical injustices and structural inequalities. Challenging these beliefs makes people uncomfortable, so they reject the challenge and cling to their stories.

The problem is, this dynamic is playing out on a larger scale in today’s polarized world. Movements like Trumpism, for instance, gain traction because people feel disillusioned with ‘experts’ who often fail to acknowledge their own biases or flawed assumptions. While some of what these movements claim is nonsense, parts of it—like critiques of economic inequality—are uncomfortably true.

We, as intellectuals and social scientists, have failed by focusing on the wrong arguments. We criticize others for believing in untruths without acknowledging the unverified beliefs we hold ourselves. To create lasting change, we need humility. Instead of doubling down on fact-checking and evidence-based policy in a way that alienates people, we need to offer a better, more inclusive story—one that connects truth to human values and recognizes the role of belief in shaping our world.

i&a: If we start to think about actively seeking the truth, what does that look like to you? How do you go about seeking the truth?

John: I think the pursuit of truth begins with humility—a recognition that our assumptions may be flawed and that we must constantly test them. I don’t buy into the postmodern notion that there is no truth or that all ways of knowing, whether scientific or mystical, are equivalent. I firmly believe in the scientific method as a means of arriving at truth. But it’s not just about equations or hypotheses; it’s about being moved by a vision, questioning it, and testing it empirically.

Unfortunately, many in intellectual circles, particularly economists, fall short here. They start with assumptions that suit their narrative and fail to test them rigorously. To me, every claim we make must be falsifiable and subject to challenge—otherwise, we risk becoming dogmatic and disconnected.

That’s why I think intellectuals, especially academics, need to engage more with the world beyond their echo chambers. Too often, they rely on clichés and stereotypes about people they’ve never truly met. By stepping out of their comfort zones—whether that’s bowling alleys or places of worship—they can confront perspectives that challenge their own and build empathy.

Personally, living in South Africa keeps me grounded in these truths. The struggles I see daily—poverty, hunger, the lack of basic necessities—remind me of the stakes and stir me from complacency. Truth isn’t just something you find in books or laboratories; it’s something you experience, refine, and deepen through empathy, discomfort, and real-world engagement. From that empathy comes a more profound understanding of what’s true.

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