A recent Hollywood movie trading on a fanciful concept that the US government would be savvy enough to train soldiers in the covert use of paranormal abilities, went under a title that referred to their attempts to kill goats simply by staring at them - and thus, by extension, the enemy also. But what if economists could also become similarly skilled, we could kill off any recession with the blink of an eye? After all, as the epigraph to The Men Who Stare at Goats says: "More of this is true than you would believe!"

Although I was a slow beginner in the genial art of ‘no holds barred' networking, I have rather come to pride myself on the quaint ability to couple name dropping, (just ask Mervyn King, who I happened to be chatting with the other day) with an equally honed propensity to ‘do' small talk. So that whereas I used to hug the walls of most social occasions, engaging with discourse much like a novice skater at an ice rink,  I now find - after a mere lifetime's practice - I can cope pretty well, chatting happily with complete strangers at the drop of a canapé. "Oh, you're a sculptor are you... how very fascinating... I absolutely adore Antony Gormley's work!"

Granted, as droll repartee goes, it doesn't quite scale the same heights as Oscar Wilde, but it's better than silence. Mind you, drollness can get a bit out hand. I once overheard the late Peter Cooke, who at a party, having being introduced to someone proclaiming themselves to be writing a book, rejoindered with imperious disinterest, "oh really, neither am I!"

So it was, last Christmas - the season of festive goodwill towards all men, except bankers, naturally - when strangers walk abroad to tread vol-au-vants into one another's conference facility floor coverings. I kicked off by asking smilingly of some chap whom I found myself standing beside: "And what do you do?" He thrust out a firm right hand for me to shake whilst his left hand balanced a plate of finger nibbles, a dish of trifle and glass of champagne with the curiously effortless ease which comes through generations of selective breeding. "Economist," he replied, smartly, as if responding to a register. From a conversational perspective, I realised immediately that just to mention the financial crisis would be as inappropriate an opening gambit as asking Lincoln's wife if she enjoyed the play, so I sought an alternative tack. "Oh, erm, fascinating," I muttered, sidling away, suddenly engrossed by the cheese straws.

But now, twelve months later, matters will be very different. I've been swotting up about economists and their lives, and even talking to a few of them, which has given me many rich insights into their ideologies, doctrines and cultural beliefs - or at any rate, enough to plug any gaps in the odd conversational hiatus!

Economical with the actualité

2009 turned out to have been an especially inglorious period for economists, at least the macro variety. They really didn't have a good financial crisis, and they're not having much of a recovery either. The year has born witness to much verbiage - often written in these pages - about the dismal state of the ‘dismal science', as the Victorian historian Thomas Carlyle described economics; there's been a lot of talk about their role in causing the financial crisis, and it's an interesting debate. Yet perhaps more interesting, to me at least, is the question of where economics goes from here. Somehow, somewhere, whole swathes of the profession seem to have lost their way; or at least lost their connection to the world as it is.

So in an effort to try and find out what economics needs to do in order to claw its way back, I've been collating their ruminations. Many, like Professor Myron Scholes, were pretty unrepentant, even though he won his Nobel Prize for helping to make modern financial derivatives possible. Sure, he also started a hedge fund, Long-Term Capital Management which created a mini credit crunch of its own, running up losses of more than $4.5bn in just four months in the summer of 1998!

And then there's the Bank of England Deputy Governor, Charlie Bean, who found himself forced to experience the gaps in modern economic thinking first-hand. As Bean says, you don't need to devise a lot of fancy new economic theories to explain what went wrong. But he does think that economists need a greater understanding of history, and their own limitations. For Lord Robert Skidelsky, Keynes' biographer, the recent turmoil has been further proof that economists lost their way when they departed from the master. Keynes understood uncertainty; if economists want to catch up with the way the world works, Skidelsky reckons they're going to need to find a way to incorporate it too. "...in order to get determinate results, you can't have unknowns," insists Skidelsky, whose philosophy, in essence, suggests the stuff you can count isn't necessarily the stuff that counts.

But for me, the most enlightening contributions came from Richard Thaler, the leading behavioural economist of the current age. Thaler and his acolytes have had a good crisis; ever since he co-wrote Nudge, expounding upon his theory of how humans make decisions on topics ranging from personal investments to schools for our children to the meals we eat to the causes we champion... (and that, unfortunately, we often choose poorly) politicos have been rushing to incorporate his ideas into policy.

Thaler, certainly, had a good take on the failings of mainstream economics going into the crisis, particularly financial market economics. It partly grew out of a failure to distinguish between easy problems and difficult problems, he said, concluding: "We have the idea that people optimise, and they optimise regardless of how hard the problem is."

Scroogenomics - bah, humbug!

Nonetheless, in signing off for this year, and for a truly left field economic theory, we swing our attention around to Christmastime and the traditional orgy of value destruction! Economists usually weigh in about now to bless the healthful effects of consumer spending on the economy, but I leave you instead with the thoughts of the wonderfully-named Professor Joel Waldfogle, who specialises in research-based policy analysis at the University of Pennsylvania. His recently published book, Why You Shouldn't Buy Presents For The Holidays provides an contrasting narrative: the trouble with gift giving, opines the good Prof, is that we buy the wrong things for one another, thus producing less satisfaction than spending could create. In the process, insists Waldfogle, we destroy a staggering fifteen-billion pounds worldwide in celebration of the birth of Christ. "Normally, when one spends, say, fifty pounds on oneself," he says, "we buy something that's worth at least fifty pounds to us. Spending on gifts is different. When I set out to spend fifty pounds on you, I'm operating at a serious disadvantage. It's possible that my fifty pounds is worth nothing to you."

But isn't spending a good thing for the economy? "Let's put it this way," answers Waldfogle, "is it good for you? Not all giving destroys value; gifts for those we see often and know well generally hit the mark, so keep on giving to close friends and loved ones... especially children. In principal, cash is a safe gift, not least in that it empowers the recipient to choose something they actually would like. But it's considered tacky in most cultures. Gift vouchers are probably the next best thing, although they can get lost. Perhaps gift vouchers would be better if the unclaimed balances, after a few years, went to charity."

Finally, according to the Professor, gifts to charity on behalf of our recipients deserve a look, allowing as it does the ultimate recipient a luxury they couldn't ordinarily afford. And while luxury evokes images of jewellery and fancy chocolates and stuff, one of the clearest luxuries in the household spending data - one whose share of expenditure rises with income - is charitable giving.  "Charity gift cards," says Waldfogle, "especially those which allow our recipients to chose which charity gets the money, allow our recipients to act like rich guys, while transferring resources to high-value uses."

It's probably wrong to pillage the planet in celebration of Christmas, but if pillage we must, then we at least get maximum satisfaction. And if we can divert another billion pounds to charity by so doing, then I for one can join the jet-setting do-gooders who get to hang out with George Clooney.

Now then, did I tell you about the time I met him at a party...?

Wishing you happy and high-value-efficient, holidays!