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Originally Posted by Clive Thompson
The son of Jewish immigrants who arrived from Brussels during World War II, Bueno de Mesquita grew up in Manhattan, where his father ran a small publishing company and his mother managed a women's clothing shop. He went to Queens College when he was 16 - "way too young," he says - and read history and literature voraciously. (Bueno de Mesquita spent years researching and writing a short novel that defends Ebenezer Scrooge as a kindhearted man.) "He is one the most remarkably intelligent human beings I've met in my life, and Bruce does not hesitate to tell you that," Kevin Gaynor, an environmental lawyer who has twice hired Bueno de Mesquita to advise his corporate clients on "extremely sensitive" government negotiations, told me half-jokingly. "He's not self-effacing. But he's not self-effacing in a charming way." Bueno de Mesquita's voluminous academic work - he has published 16 books and more than 100 papers - is credited with helping to move game theory and mathematical modeling into the mainstream of political science; according to one count, by 1999 fully 40 percent of papers in the American Political Science Review used modeling. (The figure was so high it prompted deep consternation among non-game-theory political scientists.) While few perform the consulting work he does, other game theorists have produced models very similar to Bueno de Mesquita's, and he actively promotes his technique, including training N.Y.U. undergraduates to do similar predictions.) He spends half the year at N.Y.U., where he recently finished a four-year stint as the chairman of the political-science department, and half the year at the Hoover Institution at Stanford. Under the terms of his academic contracts, he is permitted to spend one day per week during the academic year doing outside consulting.
It is this consulting, more than his academic work, that has made Bueno de Mesquita both well off and controversial. He began offering predictions to the private sector in 1982, when A.F.K. Organski, a former professor of his, suggested they go into business using Bueno de Mesquita's model. Business negotiations, they reasoned, were like international relations in that they involved players trying to wheedle and coerce one another. Soon Bueno de Mesquita and Organski (who died in 1998) acquired clients ranging from Arthur Andersen to Union Carbide, which tapped them for advice on placating the Indian government after the Bhopal chemical spill. Today Bueno de Mesquita's firm essentially consists of himself and Harry Roundell, a former banker at J. P. Morgan who met Bueno de Mesquita when Roundell hired him in 1995 to help the bank figure out how to push for new, favorable regulations in the U.S. They charge $50,000 and up to do a prediction and offer negotiating tips, and they take on 18 to 20 of these assignments a year. Beyond saying it was "a reasonable amount of money," Bueno de Mesquita would not describe his income from the company.
To produce a corporate prediction, Roundell and Bueno de Mesquita determine the numerical values of the players in a negotiation by interviewing a firm's executives. This can take anywhere from a few hours on the phone to two days of face-to-face conversations. Both men conduct the interviews, and Bueno de Mesquita enters the information into a spreadsheet.
The real value of Bueno de Mesquita's work, several clients told me, is not only in his predicting how a corporate event might unfold. It is also in figuring out how to influence that event. Because Bueno de Mesquita's model forecasts the future by calculating the impact every player has on every other player, round by round, Bueno de Mesquita can go back and see when some players suddenly become more flexible midway through a negotiation. He can thus perform "what if" experiments: What if that person could be persuaded to change his mind? He'll enter new values into the model, manually changing that player's position, then run it again to see if this change recasts the future to his client's advantage. If it does, Bueno de Mesquita now has a piece of advice: focus on that player in real life, and try to influence him. If there are dozens of players and dozens of rounds, the number of possible "what if" scenarios becomes enormous: it can take Bueno de Mesquita days of peering at his spreadsheets to identify useful pressure points.
One of Bueno de Mesquita's most prominent public consultations occurred in 1999, when Richard Lapthorne, then the vice chairman of British Aerospace, asked him to help engineer a $10 billion acquisition. The British government wanted British Aerospace to form a pan-European firm by merging with the German firm DASA and the French giant Aérospatiale; British Aerospace, however, was more interested in trying to buy the British electronics giant Marconi Electronic Systems. To persuade the British government to approve the Marconi deal, Lapthorne asked Bueno de Mesquita to predict the viability of mergers between the German and French firms. The model forecast that the three firms would never be able to agree on terms, and that the Marconi deal was the better option; when Bueno de Mesquita showed his analysis to the government heads, they agreed to permit the Marconi acquisition. "There's nothing shimmy shammy or flip-flop about it," Lapthorne says of the logical nature of Bueno de Mesquita's prediction. "It's very clear where the information came from. It has intellectual rigor." Lapthorne is now chairman of the U.K. telecommunications company Cable and Wireless; he has used Bueno de Mesquita for seven predictions since, though he would not disclose the subjects.
It is difficult to verify how accurately Bueno de Mesquita's model performs in corporate settings because most firms are loath to discuss his work for them. For most of the cases we discussed, Bueno de Mesquita would disclose details of the negotiation but wouldn't name the firms in question. In other cases, clients would talk to me and praise Bueno de Mesquita's work for them, but they would not disclose verifiable details of specific negotiations. There were a few exceptions: Robert F. Kelley, a retired former partner of Arthur Andersen, described using Bueno de Mesquita for "60 or 70" cases, ranging from internal firing decisions to figuring out how to persuade the U.S. to support China's entry into the World Trade Organization. (Bueno de Mesquita also offered to use his software to predict which of Arthur Andersen's clients - including, at the time, Enron - were likely to engage in financial fraud. But the firm's lawyers, Bueno de Mesquita says, didn't want to use the tool for fear it would put them in awkward legal positions. "Had I been able to convince the firm" to use the model, Kelley says, "I think that Andersen would be alive today.")
Bueno de Mesquita's most regular client by far has been the C.I.A. He says he has performed more than 1,200 predictions for the agency, tackling questions like "How fully will France participate in the Strategic Defense Initiative?" and "What policy will Beijing adopt toward Taiwan's role in the Asian Development Bank?" In 1987, Stanley Feder, a research political scientist for the C.I.A., published a report analyzing forecasts that Bueno de Mesquita's firm did of political events in 27 countries; he found that the success rate of its predictions was the same as that of the C.I.A.'s own analysts, only more precise. (He "got the bull's-eye twice as often," Feder wrote in his report, which was declassified in 1993. No other reports have been declassified since.) Feder noted, for example, that Bueno de Mesquita's model predicted in a forecast done of Italy's budget one year a specific figure that turned out to be off by only 1 percent; the C.I.A. method would predict just a deficit.
Those who have watched Bueno de Mesquita in action call him an extremely astute observer of people. He needs to be: when conducting his fact-gathering interviews, he must detect when the experts know what they're talking about and when they don't. The computer's advantage over humans is its ability to spy unseen coalitions, but this works only when the relative positions of each player are described accurately in the first place. "Garbage in, garbage out," Bueno de Mesquita notes. Bueno de Mesquita begins each interview by sitting quietly - "in a slightly closed-up manner," as Lapthorne told me - but as soon as an interviewee expresses doubt or contradicts himself, Bueno de Mesquita instantly asks for clarification.
"His ability to pick up on body language, to pick up on vocal intonation, to remember what people said and challenge them in nonthreatening ways - he's a master at it," says Rose McDermott, a political-science professor at Brown who has watched Bueno de Mesquita conduct interviews. She says she thinks his emotional intelligence, along with his ability to listen, is his true gift, not his mathematical smarts. "The thing is, he doesn't think that's his gift," McDermott says. "He thinks it's the model. I think the model is, I'm sure, brilliant. But lots of other people are good at math. His gift is in interviewing. I've said that flat out to him, and he's said, 'Well, anyone can do interviews.' But they can't."
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