Economic Snakes and Ladders

[ CHAPTER ONE | The End of Poverty ]

Ignorance is bliss. That is, until you catch a whiff of truth. At which point you’re thrown into an endless whirlwind trying to discover more of whatever that truth may be. We find this law at work in science, spirituality, and worst of all, women. I fear I’m embarking on such an adventure with looking into global poverty.

I’m probably not the first to admit I’m ignorant. Actually, I’d rather not talk about it. Suffice to say, poverty used to sit in a couple of little boxes stored away in my mind. One was labelled ‘Africa’, the other had something to do with ‘flies and no food’, but the label’s kind of been peeling away for a little while now. After a little bit of thinking, I’ve not only torn off the labels, but thrown the whole blasted box system out the window. We’re talking ladders baby, snakes and ladders.

The Bono Ultimatum

[ FOREWORD | The End of Poverty ]

I can hear it already. Seeds of doubt are blossoming as you wonder which inane U2 fact I’m going to subtly reference, or what inspiring Paul Hewson sound bite I’ll infer as gospel. “It’s all been said before,” the thoughts spin in your head. “Does the world really need another article about Bono?”

Well, not if he’s writing them himself.

Those four, bold, red letters on the cover of The End of Poverty represent a man you either love, hate… or are largely indifferent about. Regardless of your thoughts on the matter, he must be a pretty big deal. Case in point, his name on the cover is exactly the same font size as author Jeffrey Sachs (yes, I used a ruler). Bono wrote three pages in this book. Sachs wrote the other 413. Pretty good deal if you ask me. There’s a lesson in there somewhere about working smarter…

BACKGROUND | The End of Poverty by Jeffrey Sachs

Whenever I go back to my home in New Plymouth I am not only inundated by hugs and kisses, tasty meals and requests to return more often, but hundreds upon hundreds of books that stare at me with a faint charm, silently petitioning, “READ ME.” My father’s book collection makes me nervous. Like a bad smorgasbord experience, I just want to down everything at once, but I know I’d get serious intellectual indigestion if I was to read in such haste.

Thankfully, last weekend Dad had something special for me. Knowing about my growing interest in poverty alleviation, he flicked me The End Of Poverty. Upon first glance, I didn’t think too much of it. Then I did a little research on the author.