I’ve just been reading an engaging book about statistics—The Tiger That Isn’t, by Michael Blastland and Andrew Dilnot—and it’s got me thinking a little harder, as statistics always ought to, about familiar things I thought I already knew everything about.
For instance, how much do you think the mean national income was in the UK, after tax and benefits, for two childless people living as a couple in 2005/6? I’m willing to bet that many will be surprised by the answer, which is £23,000—equivalent to £11,500 each (most people I’ve tested thought it would be higher). Still, statistics are often surprising, and the wise reader learns to expect this. What’s much more interesting is just how limited this mean is as an index of national incomes.
Blastland and Dilnot use the analogy (made famous by the Dutch economist Jan Pen) of a procession of the world’s population, in which people are exactly as tall as they are wealthy. Within this procession, a person of average wealth will also be of average height; remembering that height is a measurement for which the mean is a useful index, as it roughly follows the “normal” distribution of a bell-curve. Global wealth is such, however, that it is not until 80% of humanity have walked diminutively past that you first see a person of average height. Then, in the last few minutes, giants stride into view, each one many miles high, dragging the mean inexorably towards them.
National earnings, similarly, are dragged up by huge wealth at the top, so that only about a third of the population earn the mean income or more. Far more telling is the median—the number that exactly 50% of the population lie above, and 50% lie below. In the UK, this figure is just £18,800 for childless couples, (i.e. £9,400 per person) almost 20 per cent below the mean. In other words, half of the UK’s childless couples have less than £1,567 a month coming into their bank accounts in total; less than £784 each.
In terms of income, the mode—the most frequent single result—is less useful even than the mean (it happens to be around £14,000). Sometimes, however, it too comes into its own. Take feet, in the sense of the things on the end of our legs. Because some people have one or no feet, the global mean is something like 1.998: not a very useful number. But, because there are only three possible answers to the question “how many feet do you have?” (even in the case of deformities, I think it’s safe to say you either have one foot, two, or none) the median result is also not very useful, because it’s one: the middle result of three. Here, finally, the mode comes into its own, and reminds us that most people have two feet: another triumph for statistics.
EDIT: I feel I ought to acknowledge, as highlighted in the comments below, my hastily incorrect interpretation of median in the last paragraph, which of course refers to the middle result from a given sample and has nothing to do with the “middle” out of three possible results. I should also add that this error is my own, and is no reflection of Blastland’s and Dilnot’s perfectly lucid book…

Are you suggesting that over half the population are one-footed hoppers? I think you’ll find the median number of feet will (almost everywhere) be two. Perhaps your use of the analogy of a procession of the world’s population biases the median by the fact that they’d need to stand, hop or sit.
True enough! The median of almost any population sample will of course be a two-footed person.
What I meant, I think, was that the median value for the individual statistic “number of feet” in any population can be said to be one, because this statistic only has three values: zero, one or two.
Which is rather different from the median number of feet in a population being one. And rather less interesting…
Sure, but median is not “middle value”. The median relates to the value at the middle of the ordered sample. There has to be an actual sample. And a sufficiently large randomly sampled population will with very high confidence deliver the median as two. This (as with most statistics) is not complicated — I fear the book you cite has not been very clear.
It is customary to observe that almost eveyone you meet has more than the average number of feet.
John Edwards, a contender of sorts for the Democratic primaries, thinks that means is more than a mathematical formula:
http://www.alternet.org/story/60748/
David Goodheart is thinking along the same lines in this issue.
The Guardian reports on record city bonuses, yet again.
http://business.guardian.co.uk/story/0,,2157247,00.html
It seems that economism is reaching its own logical outcome, which is now so obviously extreme and grotesque.
Perhaps there is a growing awareness that livelihoods are more than just an equation.
One would hope so, since we are entering a period (i.e the next few decades and onwards)where mass starvation, due to climate change and fresh-water shortages, is becoming a real possibility once again.
Do we know what that means?