I’m at my local shop waiting to be served. There is a queue and I have two perfectly round pumpkins clutched under each of my arms. One pumpkin per child and I’m already regretting my choice. The discount supermarket next door has cheaper product.
The person in front exchanges pleasantries with the harassed ‘sure to be’ minimum-waged shop assistant. “Wasn’t like this when I was a child”, he bemoans as he pays for slime and cobweb, “we collected our own”. I smile and am drawn away from my own internal cost minimisation monologue to agree with his sentiment. Then my memories begin to cascade, and I am drawn back a few decades, back to when the dubious ‘Trick or Treat’ culture was trickling in from across the Atlantic. Treat was typically condemned as begging. Even when this was not the case, you would rarely be greeted by baskets of goodies at the dark door of the most genial neighbour. No, treats were rarities and tricks were the only response the barely costumed child could hope for. I remember my friend celebrating a zero-sum gain at my expense. Petrifying the locals with his frenzied cackle, he scarpered off down the road after smashing rotten eggs all over my nanna’s handknit jumper and me in it. I was particularly unimpressed. Subsequently Halloween was mostly marked by a family slouch to the local video store, where my older siblings would instantly gravitate towards the X-rated films. Again, even when explored within that very specific sub-genre of ‘Halloween horror’, the concept of a fright night still failed to impress me. In my mind, titles like ‘Zombie Flesh Eaters’ stand out. It was years before I heard the term Zombie correctly applied to Economics. But by now my memory palace is beginning to collapse, I have beaten the queue and I still have two large orange monstrosities to negotiate all the way home. I consider adopting a more positive position: celebrating the Economics of Halloween.
So, if I must cobble together something informative from those pumpkins whilst walking them home, I may as well start my contemplation. Apologies to the small proportion of the population who find taste in pumpkin, but it is a bland vegetable. There is a logical reason that recipes mostly prefix the word ‘pumpkin’ with ‘spice’. It makes it edible. Despite this quite intrinsic culinary limitation, the demand artificially created by the festival is huge. In 2016 the British harvest is estimated at a whopping 15 million. East Anglia is integral to that orange bonanza. A local newspaper records one farm supplying 2 million. The short-lived but intensive exchange of pumpkins is not the only gain mind you. As the kids brandish their pumpkin scoopers, I’m about to experience an unrealized health gain. Each day I’m fighting the consequence of my myopic preferences, preferring Wigan pie to Windsor soup. Pumpkin is sneaked into my curry. Although a heterogeneous product, with the Halloween heart tasteless compared to the eating variety, we have an unusual case where asymmetric information yields positive well-being outcome. There’s no focus on moral hazard and adverse selection here, there are just health gains. I’m told it is good for my eyes. That’s handy, I have a wonky one.
And what about the Tricking and Treating? A two stage operation kicks into action. Stage 1 is the candy purchase. Economics 101 concepts come in handy here. “Crikey, that’s a bargain”, I mutter as I peruse the low prices. Economies of scale and scope spring to mind. “And look at the choice”, I state with a grin. The gains from globalisation, with so many brands able to compete. “Where are they made?”, as I check the small print. Only some are from Europe. Perhaps a ‘Brexit No Deal’ isn’t going to be such a threat in the world of confectionary? Stage 2 is the distribution of the sweets to various ‘small in stature’ ghouls, ghosts and Super Heroes. I’m reminded that rationality isn’t just served by greed. I question ‘pure versus impure’ altruism. Am I to model ‘warm glow’ from my sweet give-away in my utility function? I consider neuroeconomics, a bridge between neuroscience and economics. Are the neurons creating a premature firework display in my brain, guaranteeing joy from sharing out these sweets to all the cheery visitors? I’ll save that for one of my lectures.
I make it home with the pumpkins. They have names now: Dave and Steve. I’m not a fan of an impersonal economy. Advertising non-satiation in their consumption, the kids are demanding more. Toy horses and dragons are then mentioned, but I’m not sure why. I see no complementarity between vegetable and plastic toy. Apparently, Halloween implicates my wallet more than I know. However, I let it pass. I am busy considering how Halloween is promoting the pluralism of Economics. There’s no truth; no quick focusing of the lens to construct clarity. An Austrian Economics perspective relayed by a previous graduate springs to mind. I’m informed that there are economic gains to be had from the festivities. Our fancy-dressed children are apparently being taught economic lessons suited to enhanced long-term decision-making. They want to be successful? They must work for it. They must be entrepreneurial. They must be inventive and take advantage of bartering. And appearance does most certainly matter! To balance the scales, I contemplate a conflicting approach. Bioeconomics. Combining evolutionary biology, conventional economics and the biophysical, I wonder how it would view Halloween’s rampant consumerism and its impact on economic sustainability. There’s too much to debate here, too much for one daydreaming blog.
My contemplation finishes with a quick consideration of the Macroeconomics of Halloween. How will consumer patterns change? Do we reduce consumption in September to afford October? Will any positive effects on the economy be wiped out by negative effects experienced elsewhere? Does the price mark-up change with the festival? It is a brief foray mind you. I haven’t quite forgotten how the orthodox macroeconomists didn’t see the financial crisis coming. They’ve learnt their lesson, I’m told. It’s a cauldron of innovation. However, I’m a microeconomist. Best not spoil my good mood.
As Macroeconomist, I was particularly interested in your intertemporal substitution analysis. What strikes me is not the substitution oif Halloween with non-Halloween, but of Halloween with Christmas. Christmas came out in shops much earlier than Halloween. So is Christmas eating away all other celebrations? (How about Thanksgiving in the US? That comes even later!)
Reading this reply on my phone in a shop full of Christmas trees, I couldn’t but agree. My grinch side, mind you, is happy to quote Galbraith: “Few people at the beginning of the nineteenth century needed an adman to tell them what they wanted”. Assuming marketing is able to manipulate consumer behaviour and create a new layer of wants, perhaps its less intertemporal and more redistribution? i.e. Additional resource for the children and less for me to watch Ipswich Town Football Club spoil a perfectly good lawn.