Edible Economics: A Hungry Economist Explains the World

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Each bite-sized chapter takes the name of a food that, somewhere in the world, is a store-cupboard staple –okra, noodles, anchovies, Coca-Cola – using their histories, recipes and cultural importance to explore a variety of different economic theories. For example, in ‘Strawberry’, Chang explains how this labour-intensive fruit (actually not a berry) has contributed to the rise in low-wage jobs and, later, the automation that is seen as ‘the destroyer’ of those jobs (actually, Chang writes, it isn’t). I asked if there was any country or model that he regarded as exemplar. “No one’s perfect, you have to learn different things from different countries. In terms of building productive capabilities, you should look at countries such as Germany, South Korea, even Taiwan, which has used various types of industrial policy.” If austerity did not lead to a more just society, it also did not lead to a more prosperous economy. Since the 2007-08 crash, the UK economy has expanded at an average annual rate of just 0.9 per cent (compared with 2.7 per cent before the crisis). Of the G7 countries only Italy has fared worse. The relationship between capitalism and freedom has been conflicted and sometimes even contradictory. That’s very different from the story of ongoing freedom that free-market economists say capitalism brings to us.

Chang has made the (sometimes extremely dry and convoluted) world of economic theory much more palatable by wrapping the topics in food; a little economic pig-in-a-blanket if you will. I have devoted my entire academic career to the study of industrial policy. When I first started doing research on this as a graduate student in the late 1980s, industrial policy for many people was a four letter word—it was something that you didn’t mention in polite company. Today, a lot of countries that used to denounce industrial policy are now very keen to do it. The US is the best example, with the Green New Deal and reindustrialization momentum. The food stories are not just a pretext for a dry lecture, they are fascinating and engaging in themselves - so much engaging that you won’t realize when they morph into the economic ones. The author has an uncanny ability to connect very different topics into one coherent tale - say, pasta and automobile industry, or anchovy, guano and fertilizers. I enjoyed the conversational and anecdotal format, and the interlinking of stuff I knew with stuff I didn't. Being a history reader, I knew about events like those told in the Anchovy chapter, the Banana chapter, etc., and had a basic understanding of some economic phenomena such as industrialisation overtaking raw-materials based economies in terms of income and prosperity. It reminded me a bit of A History of the World in 6 Glasses in style and aims, though with a different focus as Standage's is history and Chang's is economy. I love this intermingling of foodie enthusiasm and academic erudition! In the 19th century, cotton and tobacco, which were mostly grown on plantations that held slaves, were the main exports of the United States. It was not an industrialized country; it was an agrarian economy. These two agriculture products alone provided up to 65 percent of US export earnings. Two-thirds of the exports were produced by slaves. Given this prevalence of unfree labor, first in the form of slavery and then in the form of indentured labor, it is quite ironic that freedom has become the central concept in the defense of capitalism by free-market economists.

There has been a lot more industrial policy than people realize. To put it more bluntly, the Silicon Valley would not have existed without US government funding for initial technologies like the computer, the internet, and GPS. All of these were funded by the Pentagon. Semiconductor research was initially funded by the US Navy. Would I recommend this book? Yes, if you're an adventurous eater like me, who also likes micro-history books and the mixing of topics in an amenable way. This book reminded me why Southeast Asian cuisine is the one ethnic food group I most want to try, and reassured me in my obstinately experimental tastes. There's no ethnic food I won't try, to the point those that know me ask me half-teasingly and half-seriously, "Just what don't you like?" Well, perhaps okra, but now that Mr Chang mentioned gumbo was what convinced his palate to welcome okra, I'm going to try it one day. In the chapter ‘Strawberry’, Chang explains how this labour-intensive fruit (actually not a berry) has contributed to the rise in low-wage jobs Ha-Joon Chang presents an easily digestible and occasionally mouthwatering introduction to some of the more challenging, and misunderstood, economic ideas

As enjoyable as the culinary mentions were, their connection to economics didn't always work. The chapters were either a hit or a miss. But that doesn't take away from how engaging the book was. To think of a recent example, the development of the COVID-19 vaccine was hugely funded by governments. Exact estimates differ, but according to some estimates, up to 80 percent of funding came from the government and other public sources. So there has been a lot more industrial policy around than we realize.This book isn't about the economy of food production from planting to the market's shelf but about worldwide economics explained through food, a clever concept that makes economics accessible for the layperson. Chang was close to the former shadow chancellor John McDonnell (“a very smart guy”) when he was on Labour’s front bench, but he is not enthused by the party’s present leadership. “Keir Starmer is basically saying we’ll maintain the same model with a few modifications, fewer rough edges, maybe a bit more caring. He’s not proposing to reindustrialise Britain or seriously reform the financial system.” Of course, the author is not an historian and neither is he a sociologist, and his explanations are going to be simplified for the sake of readability, clarity, and brevity too, as this is a short book. So do bear in mind that the book is meant for the general public, the lay public, and not for specialists in economy or history, and that a lot of the things asserted here are the author's opinions and experiences, and tastes in food, which are always personal. I had my favourite chapters, and plenty of moments exclaiming "I never knew that!" But I also could tell when information was incomplete, or simply not true. The chapter on Coca-Cola, for one, showed me the author (or his research team) aren't all that versed in Latin American politics, so the commentary there was grating to me. There's one footnote in which he says "installed by the coup d'état" about the former president of Bolivia, which isn't true, and tells me more what the author/his research team were reading to have given such an overview of the entire continent in the manner he did. I'm very used to Europeans and Europe-based gurus (the author is South Korean, but he's made his career in the UK, so I'm counting him in) being awful at analysing South America, save the Spaniards and Portuguese because language and historical ties that continue make them closer and more in touch, but it never ceases to bother me how ill-informed their commentary can be sometimes. There's enough omitted and oversimplied in that chapter that it was bothersome.

In Edible Economics, Chang makes challenging economic ideas more palatable by plating them alongside stories about food from around the world. Structuring the book as a series of menus, Chang uses histories behind familiar food items—where they come from, how they are cooked and consumed, what they mean to different cultures—to explore economic theory. For Chang, chocolate is a life-long addiction, but more exciting are the insights it offers into post-industrial knowledge economies, and while okra makes Southern gumbo heart-meltingly smooth, it also speaks of capitalism's entangled relationship with freedom and unfreedom. Explaining everything from the hidden cost of care work to the misleading language of the free market as he cooks dishes like anchovy and egg toast, Gambas al Ajillo and Korean dotori mook, Ha-Joon Chang serves up an easy-to-digest feast of bold ideas. Sin duda, en los plateamientos del autor subyace un aprecio por el valor de la democracia, el cuidado del medioambiente y la igualdad de género. Some parts of the book were fascinating because of historical context (eg. Mandated lime for English sailors to prevent scurvy) and debunking of myths (eg. Switzerland not actually being a post-industrial country). Some weren't as insightful — most probably because I was already aware of those theories and phenomena. Even if none of that sounds particularly interesting to you, it's worth the listen just to scoop up some of the fascinating tidbits (trivia buffs, take note!). Here's some of what I learned: Of course his conclusion says he hopes this book gives us deplorables an appreciation for the variety of economic viewpoints. This is just a cover that he can use when his real agenda is exposed.

This was a weird and wonderful little book! I honestly never thought I would enjoy a book on economics, but I found myself fascinated the whole way through. Ha-Joon Chang offers some unique perspectives on various economic theories, often presenting multiple differing opinions in the same chapter. He weaves together these theories and practices with tangible historical examples, all the while tying each one at least metaphorically to a food — such as the idea of chillies being representative of invisible labor or strawberries relating directly to the development of automation of the workforce. El autor es un economista partidario de un capitalismo regulado y sustentable, pero un gran detractor de las premisas neoliberales que han sido dominantes en las últimas décadas. En cada uno de sus libros, los mitos económicos ultraliberales quedan al descubierto, demostrado su falta de evidencia real e histórica. Economics affects all aspects of our lives – but who is writing the basic recipe we're cooking from, and how much do we really know about the ingredients? I open every chapter with some story about the food item after which the chapter is titled. It could be about the history of that particular food item; it could be about the relationship between that food item and myself; it could be some important historical event that revolved around that food item. I transform the food stories into economic stories.

For starters, this book is not about the economics of food. It's rather a compilation of personal anecdotes, food history tidbits, and a critique of economic theories to explain the world we live in.Chang does say upfront that this is what he’s going to do – that this isn’t a book about the economics of food per se, but a restatement of his core arguments, with culinary anecdotes functioning as treats to keep the reader interested. And they are, by and large, excellent anecdotes. Chang was born in Seoul in the 1960s and came to the UK to go to university in the 80s. So his life and career have encompassed not only the explosion of British food culture (he confirms, to an audience that might have forgotten, just how ghastly and bland things used to be), but also the development of South Korea, from a poor semi-industrialised state to the global economic and cultural powerhouse it is today.