50 Things That Made The Modern Economy with Tim Harford

It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer or the baker that we expect our dinner,

but from their regard to their own interest.

We address ourselves not to their humanity, but to their self-love and never talk to them

of our own necessities, but of their advantages.

That was Adam Smith in the wealth of nations, but when Smith was writing that famous passage

in the 1770s, his male probably didn't include envelopes with the resting images of hungry

children.

When he strolled around his hometown of Kikodian Scotland, he was not accosted by clipboard

wielding young women, trying to sign him up for a monthly donation.

These days, we are frequently spoken to not of our advantages, but of other people's

necessities.

Charity has become big business.

Although it's hard to say how big, there's little good data.

One recent study estimates that the British, for example, donate 54 pence in every hundred

pounds.

That's three times more than the Germans, but the Americans give three times more again.

That's also roughly what Britain's spend on beer, not much less than they spend on

meat and three times what they spend on bread.

In economic significance, the charity fundraiser is up there with the butcher, brewer and baker.

Charity, of course, is as old as humanity.

The ancient religious custom of tithing, indirectly giving a tenth of one's income to worthy

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