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The Ergas Collection

Inspired by Lewis Carroll's poem below, the great economist (and Nobel Prize winner) William Vickrey coined the term "green whiskers project" to describe a recurring feature of public decision-making: the tendency to spend substantial resources on a project or policy, only to then do things inconsistent with that policy's or project's stated goals. The example Vickrey gave was that of costly airport expansion projects: runways were upgraded so as to allow large airplanes to land, but then charges were levied on runway use which discouraged them from actually using the airport. Just as in Lewis Carroll's poem, the airport authorities went to all the difficulties of devising ingenious and expensive schemes for dying their whiskers green, only to then "use so large a fan/that they could not be seen."
 
Why are "green whiskers" policies so pervasive? In some cases, it is simply poor coordination; in others, it is ignorance – the failure to perceive the inconsistencies and their costs; but most often, it is the desire to seem to do both one thing and its opposite – to boldly promote development, say, by building a larger airport, while at the same time preventing any disruption or loss to those who live in its vicinity.
 
The projects you will find here do not hide their green whiskers – far from it. For example, our programme of support for emerging artists directly engages with what it is that makes emerging art different, including its willingness to question, challenge and at times confront. Equally, our support for the Red Room Poetry Company aims at getting more recognition for, and appreciation of, what poetry has to add to daily life – always enriching albeit often in ways that require thought and commitment.
 
Finally, my papers over the years and the comments I intend to add on a regular basis. All I can say is that they express my thoughts, with no large fans added.
 
Henry Ergas
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The White Knight's Song
"Who are you, aged man?" I said.
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head,
Like water through a sieve.
He said, "I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men," he said,
"Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread--
A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come tell me how you live!"
And thumped him on the head.

Lewis Carroll.
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