Author: Matthew

Banking crisis: are we in 2008 again?

The US Federal Reserve.
Picture: By AgnosticPreachersKid – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6282818

The more people pop up to say that the situation in financial markets is not like 2008, when the Great Financial Crisis got going, the more we will worry. But while a crisis like that of 2008-10 looks unlikely, a prolonged period of wealth-destruction is in prospect.

The current bout of nerves comes from the collapse of two mid-sized American banks, and from a globally big one: Credit Suisse. Technically Credit Suisse hasn’t gone bust – it was taken over by Swiss rival UBS. But shareholders were bought out very cheaply, and some bondholders were wiped out in a move that has raised a lot of eyebrows. This follows a period of tightening monetary policy, responding to a period of inflation – after a prolonged boom based on very low interest rates. There are many parallels here with 2008. But the differences are striking too.

It’s worth taking a deep breath, stepping back, and trying to get a broad view of what is happening. At issue is the financial system – the world of money, rather than the “real” world of things and services – though there is quite an element of the real directly tied up in finance, which is a substantial employer in many economies. Money is a means to an end, and not an end in itself – in principle anyway. Because of this, economists, especially the macro sort, tend to ignore it, or treat it in a very cursory way with very basic models for money supply. And yet money is essential to the modern way of life; we can do little without it. If the financial system seizes up, disaster strikes. The episode that looms most over economists is the Great Depression of the 1930s, when some little local difficulties within the financial system were allowed to explode, causing mass unemployment. In a depression, lots of people want to work, but can’t; and lots of people want to buy goods and services that employ people, and can’t either. It is a colossal social waste – and one that in the 1930s fed into racism, fascism and ultimately war and genocide. The financial system matters.

At the centre of the financial system are banks. In the days of Henry VIII the monetary system was controlled completely by the state, which had a monopoly on minting coins – and the state has always played a central role in the financial system. But these days money means bank accounts – the role of notes and coins is negligible. Because of their critical role, banks are heavily regulated, with a central bank, accountable to the state, playing a keystone role. Banks provide access to money, but what do they do with it? They can just park the money with the central bank, but they will make no profits that way. So they find various ways of lending it out – further, they may create money through their lending. They make loans directly to members of the public and businesses and to governments, sometimes on a short-term basis, sometimes for terms of many years. This creates a source of instability – if the the public withdraw their deposits, the banks may not be able to liquidate their loans fast enough to give them their money back. But this “maturity transformation” is generally profitable, and it is at the heart of a healthy economy, which allows resources owned by people that have too much to be used by those that have too little.

So far, so good. This is as far as classical economists got. Interest rates are set by a process of supply and demand between lenders and borrowers, spiced up by credit risk. More modern economists then added in a role for government/central bank intervention – monetary policy. By one means or another the government could tighten or loosen monetary conditions, mainly through setting interest rates, or through “quantitative easing” (QE) – the creation of money by the central bank buying bonds through its reserves. In many accounts monetary policy brings back the idea that the government/central bank controls money like Henry VIII and the Royal Mint. The process of QE is often referred to as “printing money”. This conjures up a happy picture of a world of governments, consumers and businesses buying things with banknotes, with banks making loans to cover investments in houses or industrial machinery, or to smooth ordinary cashflow fluctuations of businesses and the public. It is at least easy to visualise this world, but, alas, too many people who should know better seem to get stuck in it.

The trouble is that we don’t use banknotes any more. And banks lend to a range of financial intermediaries rather than to “real” people and businesses; businesses and governments don’t borrow directly from banks but via these intermediaries, often through tradable instruments – “securities”. This creates the modern financial system, and instead of being a simple machine for the transmission of funds from “real” lenders to “real” borrowers it becomes a merry-go-round of speculation fuelled by the chance to make money from trading securities. Money becomes an end in itself, rather than mere lubricant. One spectacular example of this are fans of cryptocurrencies such as Bitcoin, touted as alternatives to “fiat money” created by central banks. They meet scepticism with the rejoinder “Have fun staying poor”. The point for them is to make money as intermediaries, not facilitate financial transactions. The money merry-go-round becomes a complex frenzy when monetary conditions are loose – when banks have more deposits than they know what to do with, either because there is a lack of serious lending opportunities, or because of “liquidity risk” – the risk that depositors will suddenly withdraw their deposits. At this point banks seek out opportunities for short-term speculations based on securities or short-term loans to financial intermediaries.

This was the situation in the run-up to 2008. Monetary conditions had been very loose. The narrative on why this was so varies. Many of a libertarian bent blame irresponsible monetary policy by the developed world central banks trying to fight deflation while asset prices were in a bubble. This was through low interest rates – only in Japan was there serious QE. Others point to the entry of China into the world trading and financial system with its huge excess saving. It brought in vast quantities of funds from its exports, and only used a proportion of these to buy imports, depositing a surplus of money in developed country financial markets. An oil price spike added to this with oil producers generating a similar financial surplus. Banks then had the headache (though mostly they thought of it as an opportunity rather than a problem) of where to put this surplus money and how to make a profit. Quite a lot of money went into sub-prime lending in the US property market. German banks, and others, happily lent money to the Greek government, which had entered the Euro and was fiddling its financial statistics. There was a frenzy of securitisation as banks sought to evade their regulatory straitjackets. It was like picking up pennies from in front of a steamroller. One thing I find striking from reading up my observations at the time was how much “risk management” featured in the jargon of bank professionals. They gave the impression that they had sophisticated risk models which meant that the massive profits they were making were simply the result of increased global productivity from the more efficient use of resources. There are still commentators that look back at the statistics of the mid-noughties and ask why productivity growth has slowed since then – insert pet theory here. It was a work of fiction – the trend in lost productivity growth in the developed world goes way back to way before the financial crash. Massive amounts were being lent off bank balance sheets supposedly to long-term investors like insurance companies. In fact the money was going round in circles amongst thinly capitalised intermediaries which often came back to haunt the banks themselves.

It couldn’t go on forever. Central banks increasingly felt they had to do something about loose financial conditions, especially as that oil price spike was causing headline inflation. In early 2007 the US sub-prime market started to show strain. Then in August 2007 the financial system broke when the interbank market – banks lending to each other to manage daily fluctuations – froze over. The complexity of financial securities meant that nobody knew who owed what to whom. I wrote this in September:

The ship has hit a reef below the waterline.  There isn’t much visible sign at first; the ship slows down; it has a slight list, perhaps.  But the crew looks worried even as the captain voices reassuring words to the passengers.  Will the watertight compartments limit the damage until the ship makes it to port for repairs?

The ship limped on for more than a year, as market professionals and commentators went through the process of denial and then attempted to negotiate with their fate. And then the collapse of Lehman Brothers in October 2008 created a free fall. If governments had not indulged in massive bailouts of the system, the 1930s might have been repeated with institutions essential to our way of life going down. Alas that meant many undeserving people made out like bandits. The crisis kept going for two or more years, with the drama moving to the Eurozone in 2009.

So how do things compare in 2023? We are similarly in a period of monetary tightening following period of very loose policy, this time featuring the heavy use of QE in every major developed country market. Things were loose before the Covid pandemic struck in 2020, but this stayed the hands of central bankers, and unleashed a flood of fiscal intervention by the government to offset the effects of lockdowns as well as the direct impact of the disease. And then Russia started a war with Ukraine which completely disrupted the markets for oil and natural gas, forcing yet more fiscal interventions. This loose policy similarly unleashed a riot of financial speculation. But it is different this time. Banks are better regulated, though regulation of mid-sized banks in the US is still too light. There seems to be a lot less off-balance sheet lending. Paradoxically it is good thing that banks don’t tout sophisticated risk management these days – in 2007 this was justification of excessive risk. But inflation is much higher, and nominal interest rates have gone up much more, with big losses on government (and other) bonds that was not evident in 2007-08. This played a critical role in the demise of Silicon Valley Bank. Others presumably have similar exposures. There may be no substantial sub-prime market in the US, but many are worried about US commercial property lending.

And then there is the madness of cryptocurrency. I have not written much on this craze of the last few years. It is such deep, multi-layered nonsense that I couldn’t bring myself to take it seriously enough to write about it. The problem is that more respectable institutions started to take the phenomenon seriously and lent money to facilitate speculation. One of the biggest blots against current British prime minister and former Chancellor Rishi Sunak is that he wanted to make Britain a crypto hub. This is going predictably badly – an idea billed as an escape from the the tyranny of fiat money turns out to be even more dependant on fiat than fiat money itself. I understand that it contributed to both US bank collapses.

But the biggest difference between now and 2008 is that in 2023 we are in the shadow of the Great Financial Crisis, which remains in recent memory to those in charge. This is evident in the extraordinary level of intervention by the US Federal Reserve, in effect guaranteeing all bank deposits, even those outside the scope of deposit insurance. This has prevented such spectacular events as the freezing of the interbank market which led to my holed below the waterline image. A more apt image is the one conjured up by FT columnist Megan Greene: Schrödinger’s cat. We don’t know whether the system is stable or not – so it is both at once.

The striking thing is that with each crisis in the financial system the power of the central banks seems to grow. At the start of the 20th century the Americans didn’t even think they needed a central bank. Now the west seems to be converging with communist China in the use of both formal and informal state power. But power does not necessarily mean control, and the Federal Reserve especially is confronted with a series of very difficult choices. Inflation remains rampant but the banking system is fragile.

As I reflect on this the more it seems to me that the modern banking system is not fit for purpose. Steadily essential parts of the system are being nationalised. We are slowly moving to a system whereby deposits are in effect placed with the central bank – something which is happening rather rapidly in the US as the Federal Reserve gives support to money market funds. How, then, do banks fund loans? This is a role that central banks are ill-equipped to perform and should not be nationalised beyond a few specialist agencies. I guess they will need to provide longer term investment products – but the transition is bound to create casualties – and destabilise the banking system.

For now though we must expect this period of wealth-destruction to continue. Bank deposits may be safe, but inflation is eating their value away, as the prospect of positive real interests diminishes. Bond markets are undermined by the cessation and reversal of QE. Share markets need a growing economy. A weakened financial system will undermine property prices. And yet unemployment is low, minimum wages are in place and there are strong social safety nets. It is, surely, the wealthy that are being squeezed. That is not a bad thing.

Guest post: AUKUS – more than just submarines

US Virginia class nuclear submarine.
Picture: By U.S. Navy photo by General Dynamics Electric Boat – This image was released by the United States Navy with the ID 040730-N-1234E-002 (next). https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8224242

By Cllr Noel Hadjimichael

More than 100 years ago, Liberals were often the party challenging military spending, security and defence of the realm. We took Britain into the First World War in defence of an invaded Belgium and served in the 1940s Churchill Government. We got defence and voters knew it.

In the Cold War, we were champions of pluralism, liberty, decolonisation and western values. This was in opposition to USSR state centralism so loved by many current day dictators. We were, and remain, realists: radical but responsible.

This week’s announcement on a tripartite (Australian, American and British) submarine deal is not the subject of this blog. However, the framework, context and geopolitics behind the announcement is. Progressives, social democrats and liberals should take notice. 

What has made three of the Five Eyes [also including Canada and New Zealand] turn so purposefully and publicly in this direction? The answer: defence science, capacity building, capital investment and operational structures. Realigned, tweaked and reinforced for today’s threats.

It is more than just the behaviour of Russia, China or Iran. It is a breakdown of the liberal world order that has positioned Britain poorly in this post Brexit era. There is a new global security setting that was unleashed by the pandemic: rogue states undermining democracy, leading to peer to peer warfare. 

Neither the Conservatives nor Labour have a monopoly on patriotism. Serving personnel and their families (as well as veterans) are a sizeable demographic in many constituencies. Not just the South West shires, Norfolk, the Midlands or natural cities like Portsmouth. In every region of the United Kingdom, there is an increase in voter concern about our security (food, logistics, technology or military). 

The war in Ukraine has heightened our focus. But so has the poisoning in Salisbury and the cyber attacks on our critical infrastructure. 

The AUKUS framework is a long term and strategic pressure point to revisit our defence stance. We should ask ourselves: how do we protect our people, communities and institutions? 

We don’t do borders well. Just ask the Government about its frustrating failures on Ireland or the Channel. 

We don’t have the luxury of being the dominant global leader. But we still rank highly in critical capabilities: soft power, science and technology. 

Our people are universally respected for professionalism, training and creativity. They deserve our resolve to get the politics correct.

Our new aircraft carriers have effective and demonstrable reach to the western hemisphere, the Straits of Hormuz, the Asia Pacific and beyond. Our airpower is critical to NATO and the European friends and allies many of us yearn to be closer to. Our Army is still seen as having the punch needed in the field. It has also offered Ukraine best in class training. We count. We matter in this space.

Understanding the new challenges and being the adults in the room come naturally to LibDems. We think, talk and debate. 

We also often come down on the side of evidence, experts and the engaged voter. 

Conference at York this weekend will deal with the nuclear deterrent. A sensible and suitable proposal. Those serving deserve our thanks and gratitude for their commitment. We as active party members must also play our part. We should reassure millions of LibDem voters that we understand the current global landscape.

As it is. Not as we may want it to be. 

AUKUS is part of that landscape, as is an effective and continuous at sea deterrent. 

Question it, challenge it but don’t ignore it. It is the same with our Conference. A liberal Britain is worth defending.

More on this can be found on nlcdefence.org.uk

Noel is Chair of the Defence & Security Circe of the National Liberal Club London. He is also a Liberal Democrat councillor on the London Borough of Kingston-upon-Thames

Weak leadership gets the BBC into trouble

Nadine Dorries – who gave an astonishing interview on World at One

The BBC is one of my main sources of news, but it often annoys me. Recently I wrote that the choice for mainstream media is either partisan and useless (like Fox News) or impartial and dumbed-down – like the BBC. But now it seems that pressure from Conservative politicians is making the institution erratic, and editorial management weak.

The narrative amongst British conservatives has for some time that the BBC is part of a liberal elite, which also includes the civil service, that constantly undermines conservative policies, which represent the will of most people. This narrative became politically dominant after the Brexit referendum, and seemingly unassailable with the landslide victory for Boris Johnson’s Conservatives in December 2019. Pressure on the BBC mounted, as the government sought to influence senior appointments and news coverage. The outcome has not been more rightwing bias, though, so much as weak editorial leadership.

This was illustrated recently by the news that the Labour leader, Sir Keir Starmer, was in the process of recruiting the senior civil servant Sue Gray to be his chief of staff. This was a pretty unremarkable episode of itself. Unlike most British politicians, Sir Keir is not a lifelong career politician – he had a substantial career as a lawyer in government service – a “securicrat” I have seen it called. It is easy to spot an affinity with another career securicrat like Ms Gray, though she is not a lawyer – they had known each other professionally for some time, apparently. The move shows that he is serious about the business of becoming prime minister. It also shows that senior civil servants, among others, think that he has a serious chance of doing just that. Senior civil servants have taken up this role before, for both Labour’s Tony Blair (Jonathan Powell) and the Conservative David Cameron (Jeremy Heywood, though he had a more overt relationship with the Conservatives). Nevertheless many Conservatives were incandescent at the news. This is doubtless because it is an intimation of their own political mortality – after such a dramatic fall from their seeming invincibility after the 2019 election. They suggested that it threatened the impartiality of the civil service – though their usual complaint is that the civil service isn’t biased enough. Their argument isn’t really sustainable, but it is at least arguable. That cannot be said for the line attempted by some supporters of Mr Johnson, who suggested that the report on parties at 10 Downing Street during lockdown prepared by Ms Gray was part of a malign conspiracy that caused Mr Johnson’s resignation. This is so wrong-headed, on so many levels, that it hardly needs refuting. Suffice it to point out that Ms Gary’s report was much delayed and pulled its punches, allowing the former prime minister to escape until his next series of blunders.

So there was a political kerfuffle, and clearly the BBC had to report it. But I was astonished when immediately following the news on Radio 4’s World at One, the BBC aired a long and unchallenging interview with Nadine Dorries, a former minister under Mr Johnson, in which she aired the conspiracy theory, and several clear untruths about the affair. Even the BBC admitted that the interview “in hindsight” should have been a bit more challenging – though the whole thing was so mad and implausible, challenge was hardly required. It was a display of astonishingly bad editorial judgement, which can only be explained by the sort of hidden political machinations that so often lie behind the BBC’s news agenda (which, to be fair, don’t just benefit one party or faction). What was even more astonishing was that in the flagship Ten O’Clock News on BBC television that evening the whole story barely rated half a throwaway sentence from one the political correspondents. If it was top story at 1pm, surely it counted for something at 10pm?

Alas this sort of muddle is becoming typical. But the BBC then became engulfed in a much more serious episode. The government last week launched a policy on what it calls “small boats”, headlined “Stop The Boats”, which, among other things, is designed to cancel asylum claims from refugees crossing the English Channel in dinghies. This policy deserves a post all of its own – though I’m a bit more sympathetic to the government than most other liberals. This generated the political controversy it was designed to. During the general shouting BBC sports presenter Gary Lineker tweeted his outrage at the policy, and compared the language used to justify it to 1930s Germany. There is a debate to be had, if anybody is interested, as to how far this claim is justified. The Holocaust came in the 1940s: Mr Lineker was talking about the propaganda that preceded it, building up the conditions that allowed it to happen. Still, the government has never encouraged violence against refugees. Actually, as the FT’s Stephen Bush points out, the government’s approach can be more fairly compared to 1930s Britain, who ignored the plight of refugees from Nazi Germany, on the grounds that it was somebody else’s problem (as did almost every other country in the world). The usual suspects complained that this was an outrageous act for a BBC personality, and undermined the institution’s impartiality. They’d had Mr Lineker’s card marked for some time as a member of the sinister liberal elite.

The BBC Director General responded by withdrawing Mr Lineker from his presentation of Match of the Day the following weekend. He had breached BBC guidelines – or as it guidance? Normally BBC guidelines allow freelance sports presenters to express political opinions – anything else would be an outrageous infringement. But they had been modified to impose extra standards on big stars. This undoubtedly applied to Mr Lineker, the BBC’s best-paid presenter (best-paid anything, I think). In fact I suspect this policy was adopted with Mr Lineker in mind after an earlier round of complaints. This turned a minor media skirmish into a major news story – as Mr Lineker’s colleagues pulled out of the BBC’s weekend sports coverage. They couldn’t even give us the main football scores on the evening TV news. It wasn’t hard for critics of the BBC to point out inconsistencies in the way the BBC applied its guidance (the political presenter Andrew Neil was an oft-quoted example). More to the point, the episode had clearly touched a raw nerve amongst BBC journalists, doubtless including many who disagreed with Mr Lineker’s expressed view.

I haven’t seen any public polling on the issue. Many people have been cheering Mr Lineker on. Many more feel that a sports presenter should be allowed to express political views. Conservatives often make pleas for freedom of speech for “politically incorrect” views – and it’s hard even for them to understand why this should be an exception. Opposition parties have piled in criticising the BBC management – though they mostly draw a connection with a row over the apparently politically connected appointment of BBC Chairman, an entirely separate episode. The top priority for Conservatives seems to be to re-energise their more conservative supporters, who are in a funk; they seem less bothered by trying to win back more liberal former supporters. If that is so they shouldn’t be too worried by the political fall-out. Still, liberal supporters aren’t just a tiny elite, and if can’t be good for the government to keep crossing the street to slap them in the face.

But for the BBC, the episode shows what happens if you keep giving in to political pressure. You don’t just get fairly harmless nonsenses like the Nadine Dorries interview: you ultimately lose credibility.

Productivity, growth and wellbeing – the awkward triangle

Two recent developments have tickled this cynical old veteran of office work. There was a successful trial of a four day working week. And there is general excitement at the latest thing in Artificial Intelligence – ChatGPT (generative AI, apparently). Both seem to point to improved productivity. But if that’s true it doesn’t follow that economic growth will result.

To my cynical mind office work can be divided into two broad categories: problem-solving and bullshit. The latter seems to take up most of people’s time: talking about solving problems rather than actually solving them. In any office-based environment remarkably few people in organisation actually seem to be productive problem-solvers. The others supervise, communicate, convene meetings, make calls, write presentations, set deadlines, monitor project plans, strategise and so on. Doubtless a lot of the activity I am describing as bullshit contains an element of necessary work, but it often doesn’t feel that way.

So it’s no surprise that some businesses have found that they can reduce office hours without impacting adversely on output when implementing a four-day week. The saving seems to have been in the region of four hours in a five-day week – four eight-hour days making up for five seven-hour ones, for example, though that’s a saving of three hours. ChatGPT, meanwhile, automates the production of bullshit. It manufactures a lot of plausible but unreliable verbiage that you would be unwise to stake much on. Since producing such verbiage is what so many people spend such a lot of effort doing, it’s not hard to see why people are getting so excited. Both ideas offer ways of spending less time doing pointless things. So productivity should improve.

But, of course, it is much harder to see how either invention increases the production of useful things. The idea of a four-day week isn’t to give people the time for side-hustles. The idea is that people get more time for unpaid domestic things (“leisure” is probably an mis-description of this). The study reported high levels of improved wellbeing among employees – which was seen as the main benefit. As for ChatGPT, it’s not meant to solve tough problems or make hard professional calls – the things you most want service providers to do for you – or provide the warmth of human company, though doubtless some people hope that it will help robots to do that job, it sounds a poor substitute.

Doubtless I exaggerate. But there is a more substantial point here. A lot of improvements made to workplace efficiency – improved productivity in economic speak – won’t have much impact on the sort of economic growth you can measure in money and tax – the holy grail for economists and politicians. But that doesn’t mean that people won’t be better off. Wellbeing and per capita economic income or consumption are quite different things. Some people have been saying this for quite a while – Professor Richard Layard for one, and he still is. I met him when I was part of a Liberal Democrat policy working group looking at the issue more than a decade ago. Lord Layard’s big idea is to use self-reported wellbeing as a measure of progress. I am more sceptical – I don’t think the measure is robust enough to do heavy lifting, though it is interesting nevertheless. Still I wish politicians would take up the mantra of improving wellbeing a lot more. The Lib Dem policy paper I co-authored was adopted as official policy and then forgotten. But people are voting with their feet. If growth is slowing because people are opting out of the money economy and improving their health and wellbeing, then that’s to be celebrated. Economists rarely consider this possibility, though. And Conservatives who advocate cutting taxes don’t suggest this so that people can afford to work for fewer hours – though this could be the result. Indeed they think it will increase GDP rather than reduce it.

In my youth I remember a story of some western development experts and going to an African rope factory. They gave them a machine that improved output per poker ten-fold. A year later they returned and were surprised to find the factory empty. “Why aren’t people working,” they asked. “Well, we finish the production in an hour, and then everybody can go home,” was the replay. Doubtless the original story was play on African stereotypes, but even at the time, we weren’t clear the the joke was supposed to be on.

The goal of advancing wellbeing while economic growth remains lacklustre is a perfectly feasible one. Improvements to workplace organisation and continued automation have their part to play. But public services and infrastructure can be better directed towards this goal too. And political reform to reduce the feelings of powerlessness will also help. This remains a long way off – but eventually public pressure will force it. If the four-day working week starts to take hold, it will be a major step forward.

Nicola Sturgeon: a very British politician

Picture: Scottish Government, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I was going to title this blog “A very British failure”; this follows a lot of the political commentary here in England on the Scottish First Minister, after she announced her resignation. She has been one of the most successful British politicians of this century so far, and she is leaving on her own terms. She has taken the Scottish National Party from its defeat in the independence referendum in 2014 to complete political domination north of the border. Her communication skills have won her plaudits across the whole country, especially during the Covid-19 pandemic, putting to shame occupants of 10 Downing Street. This can hardly be called failure.

And yet. There are two clouds on Nicola Sturgeon’s reputation. The first is that she has not succeeded in winning a second referendum on independence, let alone victory at that referendum. The British government has refused, and there does not seem seem to be majority demand for it in Scotland either. And the problem is a bit deeper than that, so far as independence is concerned – there is no clear majority for the move. Younger voters are in favour, though, so this may just be a matter of patience. The second cloud is that she and her party have made no progress on improving public services north of the border. For people (like me) who advocate decentralising public services, Scottish (and indeed Welsh) devolution provide no support. During the pandemic Ms Sturgeon may have been an excellent communicator, but the outcome, including the death rate, was no better than England’s. The Scottish NHS is beset by the same long waiting lists and overstretch as England’s; Glasgow has one of the worst drug problems in the developed world; Scotland’s school standards trail England’s.

It can be no surprise that Ms Sturgeon’s record on delivery is a weak one: she is a pure, careerist politician. She was active with the SNP from a young age; she did train and qualify as a solicitor, but by 29 she was a full-time member of the Scottish Parliament. In this career path she is little different from most other British politicians. And the situation appears to be getting no better. Those vying to succeed her are of the same ilk. With little flair for actually running things, such politicians gravitate to what they are good at: politicking and communicating. For Ms Sturgeon that meant elevating the issue of independence to be of all-consuming importance – though without properly addressing the practical questions that arose from it. In England the issue of EU membership has been similarly elevated, as a distraction from administrative competence, or as a way of undermining those in power. Culture wars play a similar role in America. In Scotland, the government has also placed a lot of energy into changing the law on transgender issues, partly at the insistence of their Green allies. This is the sort of “values” issue that professional politicians favour – though there are administrative issues there too, but these tend not be well dealt with.

In Scotland, the SNP has devoted much energy to consolidating its hold on political power by, for example, disempowering local government. Meanwhile it has not taken on the vested interests in public services as vigorously as it should. They did push through a major reform of policing (to centralise it); this did have some merit, but it did not go well, or not at first. I find the lack of progress in education standards the most shocking, though, perhaps because I know about what this entails. It isn’t rocket science: what is required is rigorous accountability down to school level, measuring the progress of every child. The techniques are well-established, and huge progress has been made in England, though some areas have made more progress than others. But this is unpopular with teaching unions, and the Scottish government seems to have been unwilling to take them on.

The SNP, of course, has a ready excuse for its poor track record: it’s the fault of the union with Britain. But this is unconvincing. It is hard to see how an independent Scotland would have access to more money for public services, especially now that North Sea oil and gas is in decline, and politically tainted because of climate change. If the Scottish government wants to show some of the administrative flair of its nordic neighbours, such as Norway, Sweden or Denmark, why doesn’t it try and get started now, rather than waiting for independence to arrive? Wouldn’t that make the case more convincingly?

And yet we can’t be too hard on her or the SNP, because all Britain’s political parties are like this. Scotland is mired in a very British set of problems. And yet breaking away from the United Kingdom offers no escape from the country’s essential Britishness.

Brexit: the capitalist advocates have been proved wrong

Picture: Institute for Government

The third anniversary of Britain leaving the European Union caused of a spate of comment in the media a couple of weeks ago. For me it was a moment of great sadness, but I’m trying to move on – though I still wish political destruction on every politician that advocated it. But it is as good a moment as any to reflect on what has happened.

Opinion surveys show that people who voted to stay in still think they were right to do so. They think that the arguments made in favour of staying in have been borne out. Some of those who voted to leave feel they made the wrong choice, though. But mostly they don’t – they think that it is too early to tell, or that the opportunities have been mis-handled, or they are actually happy with they way things have unfolded. What unites most from both sides is a sense of gloom, and a lack of confidence in the government. Another thing that seems to unite both sides is a wish not to reopen the debate.

In terms of the economic statistics it is very hard to isolate any economic effect of the change, especially when the Covid pandemic, the war in Ukraine, and the escalation of energy prices is confuses the picture. There is abundant anecdotal evidence that smaller British businesses have given up exporting to the European Union, or indeed to anywhere. But the aggregate trade statistics don’t paint such a clear picture. Investment has fallen since the referendum result: Brexit is an obvious culprit but it would be hard to prove it.

But if we step away from the economic statistics, some things are becoming clearer about Brexit. It isn’t too early to look at how the reality is working out against the vision. There never was a single vision, though. I can see three main ones: the globalist case, the isolationist case and the socialist case. The globalist case is the closest to the one the government espouses. This regarded the EU as a barrier to trade and free enterprise, for two main reasons. Firstly it entailed a substantial regulatory burden, covering not just products, but the way they were made (for example labour and environmental standards), and this raised costs. And second the EU raised barriers to trade with countries outside the union, which included rapidly growing markets in Asia in particular. Britain could be a country of free-wheeling (or even buccaneering) enterprise. Sometimes this was called “Singapore on Thames” – apparently by people who had little idea what of Singapore actually is – though doubtless an authoritarian, technocratic one-party state with a taste for intrusion into private life actually appealed to many of them.

It is becoming clearer by the day that this idea is nonsense. British people draw comfort from regulation, and every attempt to lighten the burden is met by howls of protest. And it is far from clear that changing regulation will have an economically beneficial effect in more than a few limited areas. Indeed it seems to many that life outside the EU involves more red tape, not less – for imports and exports, travel and immigration. Meanwhile almost all trade deals so far struck with countries outside the EU are little different from what the country had inside. The exceptions are Australia and New Zealand, which will have little impact, and probably not much that is positive for British businesses (but maybe better for British consumers). Doing deals with China, India and America – the big prizes, has proved much harder than envisioned. Brexit supporters are now talking darkly of a conspiracy of Remain-supporting establishment types undermining progress – but a lot of the trouble comes from their on side (especially so far s reactions with India and China are concerned). But the logic never was very convincing. The kindest suggestion is that it is 20 years too late – perhaps there would have been more to play for when globalisation was going full throttle, rather than in its current gentle retreat.

But it is unlikely the most people who voted for Brexit shared this vision. They were drawn to an idea of Britain that was less integrated with the world around it, not more. This was focused on one idea in particular: “control over our borders” – limitations to immigration, rather than the free movement within the union. Supporters of this idea, like Nigel Farage of Ukip and the Brexit Party, did not point to any other countries as a model: Britain was one of a kind. Perhaps some people thought of Australia, a fiercely independent Anglo-Saxon heritage nation, with strict immigration rules. Suggesting an “Australian-style points system” to manage immigration received widespread approval, even though few people understood it or its implications. Another model might be Japan. Japan is an island that trades with its giant continental neighbour, China, but emphatically maintains its distance politically. It limits immigration, and, whisper it, prides itself on ethnic homogeneity (unlike modern Australia). It is also a highly successful country, that scores well on many indicators of quality of life. Economic growth in the last thirty years has been anaemic, but that only invites the question of what economic growth is for.

How is Britain doing under this isolationist vision? Free movement of people between Britain and Europe is now gone; many people from other European countries have left, and immigration from there is is now a trickle. All immigration is now subject to bureaucratic controls. If labour shortages have resulted, then this may simply be a first step towards giving local workers more opportunities. On this vision, things are going much better. There are three problems, though. One is an influx of refugees and others arriving in small boats on the Kent coast. I don’t think anybody had expected this to be so much harder to manage outside the union than within it; but the country can’t simply deport people back to France as it could before. This has turned into a major headache, especially for the authorities in Kent, and there are no convincing solutions that don’t involve doing a deal with the EU, which would involve accepting many more refugees legally, and undoing one of the perceived benefits of Brexit to isolationists. It is possible to take a bigger view of this: even allowing for this influx the country is taking fewer refugees than before. Unfortunately for the government, people supporting the isolationist view tend not to get such things in perspective. It is undoubtedly disorderly – though chicken feed to what Italy or Greece have to deal with.

A second issue is that, notwithstanding the hurdles, immigration has not reduced overall. Instead of people arriving from the EU, they are coming in from elsewhere. Fortunately for the government, the public seems much less stressed by this than by the boats. It is a relatively orderly flow of people after all, and by and large they are going into better-paid (or “high-skilled”) jobs that the economy needs, or paying extortionate student fees. But it does complicate the scorecard. The government can’t claim reduced immigration as a Brexit achievement. Indeed, every idea for reducing numbers, like cutting back on foreign students, looks like self-harm.

The third problem is that real wages are in steep decline, as inflation runs ahead of increases in pay. And the government is aiding and abetting this by putting maximum pressure on public sector pay. Brexit was supposed to increase wages by stopping low-skilled immigration. Perhaps supporters of the isolationist case, often retired, aren’t so bothered. But it is a long way from the case made for Brexit at the time of the referendum.

All this is indicative of a hole in the heart of the isolationist case. Australia has abundant natural resources it can exploit (or pillage, if you prefer – sustainability is not high on the Aussie agenda); Japan has a manufacturing industry that is still world-beating. There are world-beating bits of the British economy, but not enough. Nostalgia won’t bring back Britain’s once world-class manufacturing industry. Coal, oil and gas are in steep decline, if not dead. And some of the successful bits of the economy, like global financial services, benefit few, in the wrong parts the country, and have a distinctly dark side (the country was very popular with Russian oligarchs for a reason). The country has been running a current account deficit for over two decades, and, notwithstanding the depreciation of sterling, it isn’t getting any better. This turns out to be more sustainable than many economists thought – in the sense that it does not seem to be leading to the sort of financial instability that other deficit countries (like Argentina or Turkey) have suffered. But it does seem to be affecting the country’s terms of trade – though it is statistically hard to pin this down. According to one calculation the country’s real effective exchange rate is 83% of what it was in 2005 (i.e a fall of 17%). British people can buy less foreign goods and services with each hour’s earnings than used to be the case. There isn’t enough high-productivity, export-generating industry in the country. This problem has its roots in the relative industrial decline of the 1950s to 1970s, and the hollowing out of the the manufacturing economy under Margaret Thatcher. This largely pre-dates membership of the EU, and arguably was made worse by it. But somehow it was easier to cover the cracks within the Union.

The third case for Brexit I mentioned is the socialist one. This case has not yet been tested. According to this the EU is a capitalist-designed, anti-democratic system that prevents governments for taking their economies in a socialist direction. Not all (or even most) socialists followed held this view – hoping to reform the union from within – but its logic is solid enough. Holders of this view are fiercely defensive of national sovereignty – their aim being to take democratic control of the country, and drive through radical reform from there. Their economic reform ideas are not particularly popular (though perhaps not that unpopular either), but their ideas about national sovereignty are widely shared. Ironically, since the main advocates of Brexit were at the more aggressive end of capitalism, it is perhaps socialist policies that present the main national opportunities after Brexit. These will not fix the country’s export problem – export industries, other than mining or drilling perhaps, tend to need capitalist leadership succeed. But it may set in train a fairer distribution of income and wealth. I suspect that there is a hybrid of modern socialist and liberal ideas that could lead to a thriving society – and perhaps it is easier to pursue that path outside the EU, though I doubt it would make all that much difference. Other European citizens would be at least as interested in such ideas as the British are. Alas there are too few people anywhere who are pushing in that direction.

Is Liz Truss right about the “economic establishment”?

UK Treasury: Picture by Carlos Delgado, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19020165

Last weekend former British prime minister Liz Truss reentered the public sphere with an essay in the Sunday Telegraph, and an interview with The Spectator, publications that are both relatively sympathetic to her cause. This has occasioned much derision in the wider media. While I share much of this derisive view of her, I’m not going to join the chorus – it’s been said too well by others. Ms Truss has simply reminded most people why they dislike her so much. I want talk about the issues she raises, both in terms of economic policy, and how it can be implemented in Britain’s institutional environment.

Ms Truss’s starting point is what is widely seen as the UK’s dismal economic performance since the great financial crisis of 2008-09. Economic growth has been dismal, and if Britain has been able to maintain the pre-crisis trend of growth, then, according to Tim Harford in the Financial Times, it would be a staggering 40% better off. She attributes this to policy mistakes – a view that seems to be widely shared, even if not many agree on what those mistakes were. Personally, I differ from this – I think that the lack of growth is a reflection of adverse economic conditions, which started before the crisis – principally demographics and a changed world trade environment, made worse by Britain’s lack of a strong manufacturing industry. Liz Truss’s solution is to go back to policies popularised by the US president Ronald Reagan in the 1980s, and often attributed to Britain’s Margaret Thatcher too, though in fact she was much more cautious. These are mainly a matter of tax cuts, especially for businesses and the well-off, and deregulation. What she particularly favours is to proceed with tax cuts without regard to short-term effects on the public budget deficit, in the belief that an expanding economy will make things good in the longer run. She was always reluctant to talk about cutting public spending, and in the case of defence, advocated a substantial increase.

Her views on tax are largely magical thinking. Tax cuts might directly stimulate growth by increasing demand, but not as efficiently as many other policies, such as more generous state benefits, and not at a time when inflation is running riot. Lower corporate taxes might attract inward investment – but they are not widely thought to be a major factor, especially when the country’s politics seem so unstable. To her credit, though, apart from tax cuts, she advocated supply-side reforms that stand a much better change of promoting growth. These included easing immigration rules and making it easier for parents of small children to reenter the labour market. These weren’t popular in her own party, though. In her speech to the Conservative Party conference she decried an anti-growth coalition – which it struck many observers as being mostly her own party. However, her supply-side ideas had nothing like the heft to make more than a small difference to the country’s growth rate. Tax cuts (or forgoing tax increases) were her only big idea.

She has a second huge blind spot: inflation. She does not appear to understand that this usually arises from excess economic demand – and therefore that taming it requires deliberately crimping economic growth. She persistently seemed to think that inflation was somebody else’s problem – in particular the Bank of England’s. I find it astonishing that somebody whose degree course included economics (PPE at Oxford) can have thought this way. Everything interacts with everything else, and if you are the head of government, you are ultimately responsible for all the tools of macroeconomic management. What individuals do with their personal time may not be government’s problem; what public institutions do most assuredly is, even if they are run at arms length.

But amid all this foolishness and and failure to understand how things actually work, she did touch on something that is true. She railed against the “economic establishment” (the Sunday Telegraph unhelpfully added “left-wing” to this in their headline, but she neither said that nor meant it). She was particularly vehement about Treasury orthodoxy, which she saw at first hand in two years as a Treasury minister. The power of this orthodoxy undermines, usually fatally, any attempt to implement policy that contradicts it. That included her fiscal policies. They didn’t have her back when things got rough, and they forced an about-turn on most of them. What is a bit less clear is how Ms Truss fits the people controlling the world’s financial markets into this orthodoxy. She and her supporters are trying to blame the derivative based policies used by many pension funds for creating an unstable situation, about which nobody warned her or her Chancellor, Kwasi Kwateng. The Bank of England, also part of the orthodoxy, should have handled this better, they suggest. Rather interestingly, when she describes these polices as allowing the funds to invest more in businesses rather than bonds, they sound like just the sort of pro-growth idea she should be supporting. Of course the real problem here was the imperious arrogance with which she and Mr Kwateng treated financial markets. And as for the Bank of England, it was widely known that it was struggling to manage markets because inflation had caused a reversal of its loose-money policies, especially Quantitative Easing, upon which markets had come to depend..

I have some radical economic ideas of my own, though quite unlike Ms Truss’s. These are that Britain is far too centralised, and that responsibility for the many trade-offs required in financial and wider policy need to be radically decentralised. It’s not surprising that people oppose housing or industrial investments in their local area, when they will not be accountable for the benefits. The tough decisions are made in Whitehall, leaving with nothing else to do but complain. But this is part of the Treasury orthodoxy too – they don’t want a chaotic decentralisation, with corrupt nobodies taking decisions without the Treasury having ultimate sign-off. When the government wanted to distribute funding for its “Levelling Up” agenda, it didn’t distribute funds for disposal by the city regions and councils, it made these institutions put in bids for the imperious mandarins to pick from. To be fair, government leaders seem a bit embarrassed about this, and say there will be changes in future. But how did they allow this in the first place? And what credibility do their promises to do things differently next time have? The Treasury will undermine any effort they make to reform things. It is now reported that the Treasury is refusing to authorise any capital projects proposed by the Department for Levelling Up. The Treasury isn’t all in the wrong here: the levelling up funding was originally envisioned by former prime minister Boris Johnson as a politically directed slush fund to help win marginal constituencies. The power of the orthodoxy is that it is often right.

So the “economic establishment” would undermine my ideas for reform just as surely as they did Ms Truss’s. It’s a real thing. Any serious attempt at political reform therefore has to take on the orthodoxy and beat it. It can be done. Mrs Thatcher did it, and, to some extent, so did Tony Blair and Gordon Brown for Labour in the early 2000s, especially with their radical expansion of health funding (and it required both of the double-act to do it). It took these leaders years and all their political skill. The remarkable thing about Liz Truss is that she thought she could break the Treasury in an afternoon, based on a mandate she had won from 100,000 or Conservative Party members.

And that is the point. We need political leaders who understand the orthodoxies and how to challenge them – people with political skills high and low. The current government possess few, if any, people of that description. Do Labour? I really don’t know. I haven’t been that impressed with Sir Keir Starmer, their leader, or Rachel Reeves, his Shadow Chancellor. But I could be wrong – they are becoming more effective. One opposition politician I am sure has the necessary heft and skill is the Liberal Democrat leader Ed Davey, having honed those skills as energy minister in the coalition government of 2010-2015. Perhaps he will get another chance.

No end in sight for the war in Ukraine

Viewsridge, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

My reviews of the war in Ukraine are becoming less frequent. Thee war just goes on. At the start I spent quite a bit of energy thinking about how it might end. And yet the prospect of an ending is receding. We must resign ourselves to several more months of death and destruction, and probably many more after that. What will happen in that time?

It is hard enough to tell what is happening now. Both sides are wary of releasing information, and it’s always for a purpose. The Institute for the Study of War (ISW), which is one of my main sources, now has extensive commentary on Russian attempts to manipulate what it calls “the information space”, both internally and in the wider world. Interesting as this may be, it reminds me of the story of the blind man looking for his keys under the street lamp: not because that is where he dropped them, but because that is where the light is. Beyond that there are formulaic reports of clashes along the three or four hotspots, which may be nothing more than aggressive patrolling, along with the endless artillery pounding. The Ukrainians are anxious to put out the story that the Russians are gearing up for a major offensive, using troops mobilised last autumn, along with, perhaps, a fresh mobilisation. The Russians seem to be dropping hints of this too, so it is probably true. Stories that Ukraine is preparing an offensive of its own come and go.

Much of the media kerfuffle in recent days has been over the supply of (relatively) advanced “main battle” tanks to Ukraine by its Western supporters. What to make of this? At the start of the war, Russia suffered desperate casualties amongst its armoured vehicles, and the idea that such things were obsolete in the age of drones and hand-portable antitank missiles Tok hold. After this came a gruelling war of artillery, and the usefulness such vehicles became more apparent. But their use seems to be a world away from the Second World War, which still shapes how many people view warfare. The Ukrainians clearly decided that they needed these tanks. Equally important, I suspect, are lighter “infantry fighting vehicles”, such as the US Bradley, which can transport troops – a cross between an tank and an armoured personnel carrier – a concept first developed by the Russians in the Cold War. These were promised to Ukraine by several countries (not including Britain, whose IFV is a bit of a failure) without much fuss before the tank row blew up. There is a lot more symbolism in the tanks, evidently. The whole episode was portrayed in the media as a show of disunity amongst the Western allies, and dithering by Germany. Well, there was certainly dithering – but such time the taken over important symbolic acts often makes them more solid. It is of the nature of alliances that they have arguments over strategy, as each participant has its own objectives. But often this helps improve the quality of decisions. It is possible to look on Germany as a foot-dragger – but it is the lynch pin of the alliance and has shown astonishing resolution, in spite of having much bigger problems thrown at it than the other allies.

Will these weapons transform Ukraine’s prospects, as the BBC seems to be reporting as fact? That is very hard to tell. A lot depends on logistics and finding the right tactics. The weapons were designed for a different type of war – but they are more capable than anything the Russians have. The Ukrainians have shown facility at both tactics and logistics, so we can expect them to make a difference. Still, transformative sounds too much.

What of the coming Russian offensive? They have refreshed their manpower, and will be able to employ large numbers, by modern standards (but not by mid-20th century standards), at the pressure point. This is likely to be in the Donbas region, where the biggest political imperative lies, as well as the easiest logistics. The Russians have learnt a lot from their earlier mishaps, and have developed much more effective tactics. Still, they face three considerable obstacles. Firstly, the Ukrainian forces are much better prepared than they have been. We’ve heard a lot about how Russia has superior numbers, but this is misleading. Russia has huge manpower potential, but Ukraine can dig deeper on its resources, and has been doing so for the last year, building up and training large forces. Second, the supply of Russian munitions is not as plentiful as it was. The Ukrainians report that Russian artillery fire has slackened recently; doubtless this is because they are conserving stocks for the offensive – but it indicates that there are limits – and artillery is central to current Russian tactics. And third, Russia lacks experienced officers and cadres to lead its freshly mobilised forces. This is usually regarded as central to the effectiveness of any army. Still, the Russians have surely thought all this through, and there may be surprises.

And the Ukrainian offensive? If the new Western supplied armour is to be part of it, it does not look as if they will be able to pre-empt the Russian one. It will have to come later, assuming that the Ukrainians have the strength left. There is some rather wild talk of seeking to recapture Crimea (for example in The Economist). Militarily this is not quite as absurd as it sounds – if Ukraine can advance south of the Dnipro River, then that would put it in a position to isolate the peninsula. Politically, it sounds like a bad idea, though. Russian claims that Crimea is somehow more historically Russian than Ukrainian is their usual nonsense. But in 2014 it had a substantial population that looked to Russia, and many anti-Russian elements (such as the Tatars) have doubtless largely left. Ukraine would acquire a grumpy province that would be hard to secure, as well as delivering a massive humiliation to Russia.

But that opens up the question of how on earth this war is supposed end. It looks as if Russia will talk about it if the annexation of Ukrainian territory is on the agenda. That would obviously include keeping Crimea, but surely also large parts of the four oblasts that they formally annexed last September and now partially occupy. That is so far inconceivable to Ukraine – the war has cost them so much that they want more to show for it. We might objectively argue that such a deal would not be so bad – Ukraine has consolidated its moral hold on the rest of its territory, and its place in the “West”, including as this expression does such countries as Finland, Poland and Bulgaria – but this is far from the psyche of the men doing the fighting, and the citizens enduring Russian bombardment. What would be decisive is the withdrawal of American support from the country. If that comes it will be seen as a huge betrayal. We will certainly have to see how the bloody events of this spring and summer play out first. I don’t think Joe Biden’s hopes of being re-elected as president in 2024 would survive such a retreat.

Could Russia’s resolve weaken? There have been plenty of examples of despots hanging on for years while their countries go to the dogs (look at Syria or Venezuela). Russia has already endured massive losses. A big test will be if the regime goes for a further wave of mobilisation, of which there is already much talk. Last autumn’s wave was clearly politically costly. Meanwhile the economy weakens, as war priorities take over, and many men are conscripted or have fled the country to avoid that fate. But economic hardship will not weaken its leader, Vladimir Putin, who sees his mission in terms of historic destiny, and who has so much personally tied up in the war. His war has failed its original objectives, but he cannot afford to admit defeat. Perhaps a coup will carry him away. But this would be done by Kremlin insiders, who are also committed to the war – there would be limits as to how much such people could concede. Mass unrest that would cause the collapse of Russia’s internal security apparatus looks vanishingly unlikely – though it is conceivable that another wave of mobilisation could provoke it.

The outlook is very gloomy indeed. The war presents as clearly as ever the main lesson of war: never start one. But there was plenty of evidence for that before this misadventure began.

The Economist advocates turning the clock back on trade

Last week’s Economist led on the dangers of changing political attitudes to world trade. The paper suggested that the rise of “zero-sum thinking” threatens capitalism, liberal democracy and the livelihoods of many. But we live in a world were the conventional wisdom of economists is being challenged – from inflation to interest rates to economic growth. The conventional wisdom on trade needs to be challenged too: not because the economics is wrong, but because the context has changed.

There are two central foundations to economists’ understanding of the benefits of trade. One is the logic of comparative advantage, one of the first insights of modern economics when it got going more than two centuries ago. What matters when resources are constrained (as they almost always are) is opportunity costs, and not absolute costs. It is more efficient for for a less productive supplier to produce goods, if the more efficient one is better able to produce other goods that are in short supply. It is one of the first things economics students are taught, and one of the most important challenges to “zero-sum thinking”, which suggests that imports are bad because they put local people out of work. Those people can be redeployed to make things things more productively in world terms, meaning that everybody can benefit.

The second foundation for the economic benefits of trade is economies of scale and the benefits of specialisation (or economies of scope). Industries may not have critical mass in their own market – but through trade they can access bigger markets, benefiting everybody. This idea can work alongside comparative advantage (the concentration of watchmakers in Switzerland presents economies of scope and scale, which in turn leads to comparative advantage, for example). That makes them easy to muddle. Economies of scale and scope do not necessarily lead to comparative advantage, and you can have comparative advantage in a particular area without economies of scale or scope. This needs to be picked through with care – which alas The Economist seldom does. Now let’s step back and look at how world trade has evolved in the last 40 years or so.

The massive explosion in global trade in the 1990s and 2000s is mainly explained by comparative advantage. The thing to understand about comparative advantage is that it is driven by differences in economic structure, which create differences in opportunity costs: it is a function of difference. China, the largest driver of this surge in global trade, was a very different place to the developed countries it traded with in 1990. A vast number of people were still employed on the land, in highly inefficient agriculture; in the developed world the agricultural workforce was nearly insignificant, while producing much more food than it could consume. By shifting workers from agriculture to manufacturing in China, a lot more manufacturing goods could be produced, with any shortfalls in agricultural production made up for by developed world production with a negligible increase in workforce. This meant that Chinese manufactured goods were dirt cheap, while its agricultural produce was expensive – a colossal opportunity for world trade, even if Chinese manufacturing productivity was much lower than in the developed world. The process worked something like this: low agricultural productivity ensured low wages; low wages meant cheap manufacturing products, even with low manufacturing productivity. The picture was a lot more complicated than this – it wasn’t actually a case of China importing grain while exporting washing machines (they imported more capital goods than food) – but comparative advantage was the driver.

That is all Economics 101. But while economists understand how comparative advantage works in principle, they are surprisingly ignorant of how it works in practice. It has improved impossible to model the dynamics of comparative advantage in a way that produces the detailed results and predictions that are most economists’ day job. So, after they have completed their undergraduate studies, few economists think much about it. If they did they would me more alive to the issue of convergence. The Chinese economy, like the Japanese and South Korean economies before it, did not stand still. Productivity shot up, especially in agriculture, and the agricultural workforce rapidly diminished, while that of manufacturing and services rose. Convergence with the developed world happened at astonishing speed, and as that happened the differences that drove comparative advantage diminished. Developed countries started to find Chinese products becoming more expensive. The incentives for long range trade between China and the rest of the world diminished. This hurt developed countries much more than it did the Chinese – as the Chinese benefited directly from increased productivity and rising wages. It is, I believe, one of the reasons for sluggish growth in the developed world since the great financial crisis of 2007-09, though it is almost never mentioned as a factor (and certainly not by The Economist), in spite of the great economist Paul Samuelson drawing attention to it.

This is where the second factor can come into play – economies of scale and scope. In Europe, for example, the leading economies converged in the late 19th and early to mid-20th centuries. Comparative advantage diminished. But, after the Second World War, trade within the continent flourished, so clearly something else was behind it. Why, for example, did Germany, France, Britain and Italy all have substantial car industries, all with a lot of cross-border trade? This shouldn’t happen under comparative advantage, unless the cars each country made were somehow very different from each other. In fact the economics of motor manufacture meant consolidation into larger and larger firms was required to be competitive. Cross-border trade gave consumers more choice, and the other benefits of competition, if their own country only had room for one or two car firms. As Europe developed its single market, economic benefits flowed – but on nothing on scale that flows between more diverse economies. There are two sorts of benefit here. The first is that the benefits of economies of scale lifting productivity; this can work in quite a similar way to comparative advantage, with some countries specialising and others happy to have cheaper products (the aero industry is a bit like this). The second derives from good old fashioned competition between businesses in different countries. This is very different, as this only works if multiple countries are making similar products. We must also bear in mind that as the gains or more limited, it requires a level playing field to work; if one country suffers a systemic disadvantage, such as high transport costs because they two oceans away, then the benefits of trade diminish. That is one reason that Europe had to develop detailed rules for free trade, while the Asian economies’ rise was based on much cruder arrangements, such as World Trade Organisation (WTO) rules.

The important thing to realise about economies of scale and scope is that they are dependent on technology and not any iron logic of economics, as is the case for comparative advantage, although you wouldn’t think it from the way many executives from large businesses talk. And technology changes with time. The late 20th Century was particularly good for economies of scale, but that is changing. And that is for two reasons. The first is the rise of technologies that diminish the costs of short production runs and individualisation (indeed the same edition of The Economist featured this in its business section – a new theory of the firm – one of the articles featured on the cover). The second is the diminishing importance of manufactured products in the economy as whole, compared to services, such as healthcare, which are largely untradeable. All this points to reduced benefits from trade, especially between big geographical blocks like America, Europe and East Asia, as opposed to within them.

Where does that leave the current debate on trade? The first point is that I don’t think the benefits of trade are diminishing because of political obstacles; I think those political obstacles are arising because the benefits of trade are diminishing. The second thing is that, for developed economies, there is no great box of goodies that can be unlocked through trade liberalisation to help flagging growth along. Doubtless there are further benefits to be had – and especially with less developed countries if done in the right way, but not on the scale that saw the economic transformation of the 1990s and 2000s.

Now let’s look at biggest specific issue bothering The Economist – the problem of US government subsidies for green industries. Europeans are worried that this will make their own industries uncompetitive. That is a legitimate worry, but if Europeans match those subsidies with their own, the damage will be limited – and, indeed, it might hasten the transition to clean technology, with the benefits that will flow from that. The Economist worries that it will lead to inefficiency and, horror, duplication. And yet duplication is a prerequisite of competition.

Still, trade remains integral to the modern way of life and deserves continued political attention. For some things, the importance of both comparative advantage and economies of scale and scope remain undiminished. Only a few countries have direct access to metals such as cobalt and lithium, which play a critical role modern industries. And serious economies of scale or scope remain in others, such as the mining of iron ore (Australia has unmatched scale economies), or the manufacture of advanced microchips (Taiwan leads in scope economies). But the key the issue is not just economic costs, it is the potential for serious dislocation if supplies are interrupted. The modern economy contains many bottlenecks. We have to balance the benefits of short term cost savings with the risks of natural disaster and conflict. Alas the solutions are likely to make manufactured products yet more expensive.

The reason for the rise of “zero-sum thinking” is that the economics of trade is moving in that direction too, though the benefits of free trade remain substantial. It is not surprising that other issues loom larger than trade freedom, such as security of supply and the need to accelerate the transition to clean energy. It is easy to understand why The Economist wants to turn the clock back to the days of easy trade gains and steady economic growth – but it does not help prepare its readers for the hard choices ahead.

Sir Keir Starmer: the tortoise of British politics

Picture: Randy Browning, US Fish & Wildlife Service

Uncharismatic politicians are gaining the ascendency. In America Joe Biden bumbles away in public and looks his age, and yet his record of achievement in difficult political conditions is remarkable. In Germany, Chancellor Olaf Sholz is hardly more impressive in public, and yet his awkward three-way coalition government looks solid and is managing stresses that could hardly have been imagined when it was formed. Meanwhile in France the charismatic Emmanuel Macron is not out, but he is down. In Britain the Leader of the Opposition, the dull Sir Keir Starmer, is looking getting stronger by the day.

Sir Keir has caused a lot of frustration among Labour supporters, along with anybody that wants to see the back of the Conservative government. He seems unable to spell out a compelling vision of what Labour stands for; as a speaker he is uninspiring. But Labour’s poll ratings are sky-high, and his own public approval ratings are higher than they have ever been. These ratings may not be decisively better than those for the prime minister, Rishi Sunak, (though one recent put them on that path) but the steady upward trend is what is remarkable. Usually politicians start by sparking high hopes, and then gradually disappointing. Sir Keir is achieving the opposite.

Partly this reflects the chaos stalking the Conservative party, to which Sir Keir’s colourless Labour party presents and appealing contrast. Boris Johnson had bags of charisma, but no grip. Liz Truss lacked charisma but did communicate a clear vision effectively – but people found it detached from reality, and she could not control her parliamentary party. Mr Sunak presents a favourable contrast to these two, but he struggles to reassure voters about the state of his party, and doubts grow.

But Sir Keir’s performance has been more assured of late too. He remains extremely cautious about putting clear policy proposals out into the public domain. Instead he and his team have put out two much vaguer themes in early 2023. These build on the theme developed in 2022 of placing a high priority on environmental sustainability, and the goal of “green growth”. The first of these was developed by Sir Keir himself: when he made an attempt to hijack the Brexit slogan of “Take Back Control” to promote the idea of greater devolution to the nations and regions of the UK. This is cheeky, not least because Britain has little tradition of devolved power, so the slogan is suggesting people take back what they never had in the first place. That is forgivable because the idea is the right one: decisions need to be taken closer to the people affected by them, and people need to have a greater sense of involvement in them. Whether Labour proposals will actually deliver much that is worthwhile is open to doubt. The party has a tradition of being highly centralised, and Sir Keir has batted away more radical ideas like electoral reform. It is hard to think that he will go down the road of a local income tax, for example. I’m unconvinced that anybody in the Westminster ecosystem really “gets” what would be involved in the sort of reform that would make more than a minor difference. Still, the verbiage is better than nothing. It is more worrying, if unsurprising, that Labour spokespeople have not tried developing the theme since Sir Keir flew the kite in the New Year.

The second idea to be developed this year comes from the party’s health spokesman, Wes Streeting. The NHS needs radical reform, he says, not “sticking plaster solutions”. Unlike the “take back control” idea, this one has been regularly repeated by Labour since. The idea seems to be that a reformed NHS can deliver better results without requiring an “open cheque book”, as sir Keir put it. At one level this looks like muddle and nonsense. Currently the NHS is suffering an emergency as it fails to cope with demand, following a decade of under-investment; this demands urgent solutions and not reforms that will take much longer to deliver benefits. The NHS badly needs sticking plaster right now, and lots of it. And radical reform has been tried before, and the results have almost always disappointed – most recently with the coalition government’s attempt in the early 2010s. To make a real difference, some kind of open chequebook will be needed, alongside sensible reforms – including to social care. Meanwhile Mr Streeting is vague about what reforms he has in mind – beyond tearing up the contract for general practitioners (GPs) – which came as a surprise to GPs. Still, politically these words make more sense. Labour does need say something about the NHS, and not just throwing money at it. Perhaps it is the inverse to 2010. Then the Conservatives promised that there would be no radical (“top-down”) reforms to the NHS, and then promptly broke their promise by embarking on a huge reform programme. Labour are probably promising radical reform but planning to deliver sticking plaster with spin.

Tactically this is all very shrewd. My feeling is that Labour will manage to consolidate their advantage over the Conservatives, which still has a certain fragility – polls show few people making a switch between the parties, and many more former Conservatives abstaining or supporting the Reform party of radical Brexiteers. It is the race of the tortoise and the hare. The hare lacks the attention span to win.

But there is a dark side to Sir Keir’s progress. In his campaign to party members to win the leadership, he promised to stay true to the party’s broad policy agenda, developed under his predecessor, Jeremy Corbyn. He has broken this promise. according to Stephen Bush, of the Financial Times and formerly of the New Statesman, this isn’t because he was deliberately misleading. He just didn’t understand the implications of his words, and found that when the time came he was unable to keep his promise. What he said was driven by the political exigencies of the time, without having been properly thought through. This is surely true of his emerging policy agenda now. Britain’s many problems can’t be fixed except with additional public spending, and this must be done when adverse demographics, among other things, mean that there will be little economic growth. Meanwhile Britain runs a substantial current account deficit. To my rather conventional mind, this means that there will have to be higher taxes, and the sort of taxes that will crimp domestic demand – income tax, VAT and National Insurance. Whether or not this is so in theory, Ms Truss has surely shown that it is true in practice – the government needs a degree of confidence from financial markets, which like to see a degree of prudence in public finance. Sir Keir will not say this, but once in power he will surely be faced with the need to raise taxes.

Two other areas worry people about Sir Keir’s caution. One is relations with the European Union. He avoids talking about Brexit, and has set his face against rejoining the Single Market or customs union. With the electorate slowly but surely coming to view Brexit was a serious mistake, surely he has the opportunity to be bolder, while forcing the Tories to defend a sticky wicket? Actually in this case I think Sir Keir’s judgement is sound. Re-integration with the EU brings with it awkward choices, surrendering sovereignty while acquiring little influence. Besides, the EU itself will be sceptical. And though the public may be regretting Brexit, they show little appetite to reopen the debate.

The second issue is electoral reform. Labour members support this, but Sir Keir is ducking and weaving, and is committing to nothing. This is disappointing because it is hard to see the British political system changing for the better without it. British politics has got itself stuck in an awkward groove, which in effect disenfranchises most voters, contributing to a huge sense of frustration. Of course countries with other electoral systems suffer problems too – but Britain’s are deep. Sir Keir’s caution is understandable though. I suspect many Tories think that Labour adopting electoral reform would be a gift to them. It gives them a chance to change the subject from their own record, and to awake the innate conservatism of the British electorate, with all sorts of lurid stories as to what the implications of reform are. Still, I don’t think it would work for them. Maybe Labour can promise electoral reform at a local level, as part of their “take back control” agenda. That would be a worthwhile step.

None of which takes away from Sir Keir Starmer’s relentless rise. It is a striking political achievement that deserves wider recognition.