Excludability and Lessons from our Fathers

Mount Pleasant, Utah

I'm a firm believer that family history, like economics, can bring interesting and powerful insights into everyday life. Combined with basic economic intuition, then, the lessons of our fathers are even more magnificent. I recently reviewed the concept of "excludability" to Econ 110 students, and I offered the standard textbook explanation that a product is considered "excludable" if the owner can exclude others from using his/her product by charging prices and enforcing property rights. As I was walking home after giving my mini-lecture, however, it dawned on me that I could also explain excludability using tales from two of my relatives: my great-grandfather Obed, and my father.

Obed lived in Mount Pleasant, Utah from roughly 1880-1970 and herded sheep for a living. In many ways, Obed's sheep and land could be considered excludable products since Obed owned the property and only let others use his products if they purchased them at some price. Moreover, Obed could easily enforce his property rights by building fences, invoking the Second Amendment (not that he ever did), and wielding our family traits of courage and physical strength. . . . By being able to exclude others from using his property, Obed was able to protect the quality of his sheep and land. And, in fact, Obed had an interest in maximizing the current and future values of his property, since, as owner, he had the right to use his property for current and future income. Not surprisingly, anecdotal evidence from my father, who visited Mount Pleasant every summer and helped my great-grandpa herd the sheep, confirms the positive relationship between excludability and quality.

Although the she-conomist's family no longer owns the land in Mount Pleasant, the land is still well-maintained since the new owner, just like Obed, can still exclude trespassers from abusing his property. Suppose, however, that shortly after my family sold the land twenty years ago, the town council of Mount Pleasant forbade the concept of ownership altogether. All land, flocks, and capital would immediately become "common property," and it would be illegal to exclude neighbors from "borrowing" your sheep or "sharing" your land. What do you think might have happened to Mount Pleasant? Since both the ability to exclude usage and the incentives to protect the future value of property would be eliminated, everyone would opportunistically overuse land, slaughter sheep before their neighbors could "borrow" them, and let their homes run to shambles. In all likelihood, the economy of Sanpete County would collapse, crime would run rampant, and, let's just say that parents might be hesitant to send their children to Snow College for fear of their child's safety.

Drawing parallels to the Mount Pleasant scenario, I suggest that the degree to which we conduct our own lives and set "property limits" and "prices" in our dating activities can prevent the over-use and collapse of our physical and emotional well-being. In short, the extent to which we create effective filters to "exclude" undesirable prospects from dating us can make all the difference in whether our personal life operates more like private property or a common resource.

My dad taught me a valuable lesson in excludability early on. In our church, the youth aged 12-18 typically have an annual interview with the bishop sometime during the youth's birthday month. I remember getting interviewed by my bishop--who, at the time, was also my dad--around my 13th birthday. Several years later, I can still remember my dad's very loving and completely serious expression when he warned me to be very picky ("excludable") about the young men I with whom I associate and eventually date (growing up, my sisters and I were not allowed to date until we were 16). My dad told me, and still reminds me, that I am not obligated to go out with any guy just because he asks me, but that I must demand that guys "pay" me the utmost respect and compassion. (It goes without saying that I also must return the same kindness to those with whom I associate.)

Is the common property problem a big deal in dating? In my own experiences, I can honestly say that a refreshingly large proportion of the guys I've gone out with have been very respectable, honorable young men, and I like to think that I try my very best to return to them the same respect that I demand. That said, I have definitely seen the effects of hurtful social interactions, if not in my own life, perhaps in the lives of others. What price ought we set as our personal "excludability threshold?" I suppose everyone is different, but I personally avoid trespassers who exhibit any of the following behaviors, to name just a few: selfishness in physical affection, chronic negativity, lack of self-respect, and harshness in words. (Why spend time with someone who habitually belittles your intelligence, physical appearance, or talents--even if he/she justifies it by saying he's/she's just being "funny" or "honest" and is trying to "help" you by pointing out areas for improvement?)

Are people perfect? Of course not. We all are prone to putting our foots in our mouths and occasionally hurting others' feelings. However, to the extent that we can tell the difference between respectful "shepherds" who strive to do what's right and harmful trespassers, let's strive to set excludability limits and deliver the same respect to those around us. Whether or not your own father lovingly reminds you of your worth and counsels you to exclude trespassers--I personally believe that the ultimate reason for excludability is because by design, we are not just "common property," but, in fact, precious and infinitely valuable children of a loving Father in Heaven. Regardless of our pasts, He sees us as creations even more beautiful and pristine than the hills of Mount Pleasant, so why not see ourselves and others the way HE sees us by doing unto others as we'd have done to us?