Moral conviction

The name Amartya Sen is rarely printed in isolation, almost always accompanied by the words “eminent economist,” “respected philosopher” and, of course, “Nobel prize-winner.” But these wholly accurate descriptions of Sen’s outstanding career are often accompanied by another label, the “Mother Teresa of economics,” a phrase that exasperates the normally softly-spoken professor.

The comparison seems to have originated as clumsy journalistic shorthand for Sen’s work on welfare economics, his research into the causes of famine, and his development of poverty indexes. He was credited during an interview with having restored “an ethical dimension to the discussion of vital economic problems” when he won the Nobel Prize for Economics in 1998. But beyond the pair’s shared interest in what happens to the poor, Sen can see no basis for comparison between himself and Mother Teresa. “What could be less plausible than a saint-like Christian leader being compared with a mere academic?” he asks.

“The comparison of me with Mother Teresa makes my blood boil, I can’t think of a more inept description,” he says, displaying an understandable and decidedly unsaintlike anger. “Mother Teresa sacrificed enormously throughout her life. I like good food, I am not adverse to good wine and I do enjoy being in pleasant places, like Edinburgh. To compare me to her is not only disrespectful to her, but also shows an absence of understanding of what she stood for.”

Sen is also concerned that, in addition to misrepresenting the work of Mother Teresa, the comparison also creates confusion over his own efforts and achievements. “I try to help the underdogs of society on the basis of economic, and also political and sometimes philosophical, analysis,” he says. “I don’t think anyone in India ever used this expression until some Americans and some Britons decided that, in their words, ‘he is known in India as Mother Teresa of economics.’ Since that mindless description is on the Internet, it gets picked up and repeated without people thinking.”

Born in 1933 on the Visva-Bharati University campus in Santiniketan, West Bengal, Sen seems to have spent most of his life on campus, having studied at Presidency College in Calcutta and Trinity College, Cambridge, before teaching at Oxford, the London School of Economics and Harvard, amongst other internationally-renowned institutions. He was made aware of the devastating effects of poverty during his childhood in Santiniketan, where he witnessed the effects of the 1943 Bengal famine, in which between two and three million people died. 

Despite having taught at some of the world’s most prestigious universities, Sen does not consider economics as “ultimately a very profound subject.” Perhaps originating from his observations of the 1943 famine, which affected only the lowest social classes, he argues: “Its main object is practical usefulness. Ultimately the object of doing good economics is to have a better world. The way I think the world could be bettered is most likely to come about through generating a public discussion on the subject.”

Sen’s belief in public discussion as a means of testing ideas in an open, democratic society is part of the reason why his books are aimed at a broader educated public, not just a small circle of intellectuals. Far from inaccessible, his latest book, The Idea of Justice, has become a bestseller. 

“I think in some ways the academic recognition, including getting a prize, makes people interested in me - possibly undeservedly - but having got that attention, I see it as my minimal duty to communicate things that I would like people to think about,” he says, modestly. But Sen’s humility is clearly not an affectation, since weighing up alternate views, rather than holding one fixed position, is the purpose of rigorous public discussion.

The deeply moral approach that Sen brings to public debate has led some to accuse him of naivety. Earlier this month, Sen publicly criticised Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s policy on Burma, arguing that India should not support a brutal military dictatorship. The following day many newspapers questioned whether putting moralistic concerns over practical political decisions was a sensible approach. “I was emphasising a moral concern, for sure, but it is not naive to do so,” Sen says, firmly. “India’s policies can be more enlightened rather than being driven by short-run ‘national self-interest’.”

As a British resident and voter, Sen is also concerned with British political issues, in particular the coalition’s policy of rapid deficit reduction in a time of continued economic fragility. “I am a Labour voter by and large, though not blindly, but often against the current - I did back Labour in the last election. But my concerns here have nothing to do with my being a Labour voter. Indeed, if I thought that these issues are inescapably decided by ‘pure politics’, I would not waste my breath on this, but there is no evidence at all that Cameron is impervious to reasoning.”

One might think that grappling with issues of poverty, injustice and inequality would quickly become disheartening, but Sen, who describes himself as “a guarded optimist”, says that this is not the case. “I get frustrated when no improvements are taking place, but this has not happened yet in my judgement.”

There is no sign that Sen will cease advocating these improvements, despite his 77 years. What is next for a man whose CV already spans 28 pages? “I know it sounds rather grand but I’ve never been particularly driven by ambition,” he reflects. "I have some programs to finish and I will write a few more books if time remains my way. I wouldn’t describe them as ambitions: these are plans and programs and hopes, but as a guarded optimist I hope that this might work.”