Enough longtermism — we need to think about now

The writer is a former head of responsible investment at HSBC Asset Management and previous editor of Lex

“We need to start worrying about what kind of world we are going to leave behind for Keith Richards” is the funniest line I’ve ever heard on global warming. And no doubt the indestructible Rolling Stones axeman will outlive us all. But the quote, which became a social media meme, has a serious side too. It encapsulates our hallowed obsession with the future — that securing it for generations to come, or even just for “Keef”, is paramount.

The ethical view that people living decades, centuries and millennia from now are as important as those plodding around today is called “longtermism”. It is also a crucial tenant of effective altruism, the newish philosophy that has been thrust into the news recently thanks to a follower named Sam Bankman-Fried, of FTX infamy. This so-called impartiality across generations is why the likes of Professor William MacAskill argue that “influencing the long-term future is a key moral priority of our time.”

Is it though? As Groucho Marx is often attributed with saying. “Why should I care about future generations. What have they ever done for me?” But even to pose this question more seriously these days is heretical — imagine doing so at the recent COP27 climate conference.

The only other public challenge I’ve ever heard to the idea that the future trumps everything else was a heartfelt plea years ago that has stuck with me ever since.

I was working on a consulting project for one of the world’s largest sovereign wealth funds. It was in a small country, so the role of the fund was hotly debated, both in government and on the streets. Naturally there were the usual appeals to children’s grandchildren and a golden forever devoid of want. But to my surprise several parliamentarians said, hang on a minute. We have holes in our roads, now. We have underfunded hospitals, now. We have slums with no sewage, now. Why are we hoarding money for the year 2100?

They might have added: “Besides, our country may not even be around then.” We were in a volatile part of the world. But uncertainty is universal. Why do we devote so much effort to an unrealised future with a massive deviation in possible outcomes when events with a 100 per cent probability of occurring exist today? When I value a company, distant earnings are worth less than the same profits made in the near term.

Or imagine we incurred huge costs in 2019 worrying about the welfare of the 11bn people the UN predicted would be alive in 2100. The latest estimate from the University of Washington now has the global population at 8.8bn in that year. Oops! More than 2bn future people have just vanished.

Of course the future matters. It’s just that the present matters more. Today’s humans are not a means to an end — they are the end. Thankfully most politicians recognise this — if only because great-grandchildren cannot vote. During this energy crisis as costs soar, for example, our crucial fight against climate change is taking a temporary breather so we can heat our homes while we actually live in them. That makes sense to most people.

But how are such trade-offs to be made? Here again the longtermists are somewhat lost, mostly because the study of population ethics is, according to one philosopher, “notoriously difficult”. Theories come to dead ends. Take the two most obvious approaches to future human welfare. The one known as totalism strives to maximise the total quality of life in the world — measured as the number of humans multiplied by their average welfare. Trouble is, you can keep adding people with average wellbeing until earth is fit to burst.

Alternatively, we could aim to maximise the average quality of life — irrespective of how many people there are. This leads to even worse outcomes. A single very happy human is supposedly a better result than 8bn merely happy ones. Mathematically, it would be fine to replace horribly painful lives with just horrible lives given the improvement in average welfare. No need to add any above average lives at all.

Philosophers, politicians, and environmentalists are not the only ones who need to put the long run into perspective. Business leaders also risk ignoring what is happening under their noses. FTX wanted to distract us with its future do-goodery. Likewise big tech firms have spent the past decade spending billions of dollars on long-duration projects with questionable pay-offs. Many banks advertise their net zero aspirations while destroying their current shareholder value — the ultimate definition of unsustainable.

Perhaps that is why investors often prefer now to later, taking dividends rather than market value gains, when they should be agnostic between them. Or why American firms outcompete European ones — the former are willing to take risks, blow-up, learn their lessons and start over. Say what you wish about US chief executives and their supposedly myopic share option plans, the nation’s long-run equity returns speak for themselves. There’s a reason why living in the moment — mindfulness — is all the rage.

If we are shorter term than we think, let’s not be afraid to admit it. Much of the world needs our attention right now — not in 100 more trips round the sun. I’ll wager that Keith Richards can look after himself.