Economics & Finance – thinking liberal

Reasons to be cheerful

Copilot does “Light at the end of the tunnel”

The human brain seems hard-wired to pessimism – often called realism. There is indeed much to gloomy or worried about at the moment. Quite a bit of it is talked up here: don’t get me started on the subject of economic growth! But it is always helpful to challenge oneself, and in this season of good cheer, I thought I would give it a go. So here are five things that give me hope.

1. Solar Power

Solar panels are a truly transformative technology, in ways that we are only slowly starting to appreciate. It is a distributed technology, which requires little infrastructure of itself (though of course to transport its output large distances does require substantial investment). It doesn’t require much maintenance once installed, as there are few moving parts. It reduces marginal costs of energy to very little. And advances in battery technology make its one major drawback – that it only produces when there is sunlight – much more manageable. It is an economic proposition that fossils fuels are finding it harder and harder to compete with. Thanks to these technologies China is already ahead of its decarbonisation goals. It is indeed thanks to China that the technological advance has been so swift. It is the underlying economics of solar power that makes decarbonisation a feasible proposition, and one that is developing its own momentum. Wind power has some of the same features, but many more difficulties. We should not be placing tariffs on Chinese exports of solar panels or batteries, but saying “thank you very much” and importing all that they can produce. Domestic production will catch up in time.

2. The bad guys can’t deliver

Our modern era is sometimes compared to the 1920s and 1930s, which saw the rise of the Nazis, Fascists and Stalinism. The rise of the far-right today is often compared to these movements. But the context is very different. Then there was much unused economic potential, thanks to misguided (as we now see it) conservative economic policies, and industrial technology that provided a ready and highly productive use for relatively unskilled labour – and much untapped demand for that technology’s output. Fascist regimes could readily produce dramatic economic results by unleashing infrastructure investment programmes – and even by building up armed forces. This would come to be called “Keynesian economics”. The results gave these regimes popular legitimacy. This was especially dramatic in Germany and helped Naziism to become an embedded ideology. No such opportunity exists in the 2020s. Advanced technology does not produce lots of new jobs – or not of the right sort. Labour markets are already quite tight, so that expansionary fiscal policies, and excessive military spending, produces inflation, and not lower unemployment. Instead, the policies of today’s near-fascists result in cronyism, corruption, inflation and general underperformance. That undermines their legitimacy.

Playing for the biggest fall is Vladimir Putin’s Russia, however much he manages to achieve in Ukraine. Russia has a massive demographic problem, with a very low birth rate. The war is making that much worse. Mr Putin’s obsession with pollical control is resulting in cronyism and the suppression of initiative: this is not good for economic efficiency – while sanctions arising from the war reduce Russia’s options. Instead, Russia is heavily dependent on hydrocarbons. See 1. above. Events in Syria show how quickly an excessively tyrannical regime can crumble – and shares elements with the fall of the Soviet regime.

I hesitate to call China evil in the same way as Russia. Its leadership is much more able, and recognises the need to keep corruption in check and for economic efficiency. It has some impressive achievements to its name (see 1. above). But it remains an imperialist power, and actively tries to undermine the West. It too has a demographic problem, and it is finding that an obsession with political control comes with increasing costs. It does not present a shining alternative to western ways, as it once thought it did.

3. Information technology

I am thoroughly sick of the hyping of artificial intelligence (AI), and the way it is crowbarred into any topic you care to name. But it is part of an astonishing development of information technology that will transform our lives in ways that we barely understand. I don’t think it translates into increased productivity in the smooth way that some talk of. As with most technologies it will have to change the way we work and think about things before it will have a real impact. But it should improve economic efficiency and human wellbeing in the longer run. My hope is that it will make some of the public service challenges developed countries face more tractable, reducing the pressure on government finances.

4. The developing world

A lot of the progress made by the developed world in the later part of the 20^th Century and the first years of the 21^st comes down to the opportunities provided by less developed countries in East Asia. As these countries developed their economies, they presented trading opportunities and gains from trade with the developed world. This has run its course, and has actually gone into reverse, as East Asian economies converge with developed world ones (and in some cases have joined that developed world), reducing trade gains (a process which, of course, has been enormously beneficial to those East Asian economies). This has been a regular hobby horse of mine as this piece of basic economics is so widely under-appreciated, even by economists who should know better. And yet there remain two large areas of the less developed world which have yet to advance properly: South Asia (notably India) and Africa. Might not the development of these economies provide further opportunities for mutual benefit?

This is far from straightforward. The East Asian model saw the transfer of workers from subsistence agriculture to manufacturing industry, mass producing consumer products for export, in exchange for a different suite of products and services from the developed world. That model is surely done. Manufacturing technology is so advanced that there are too few jobs at stake, and the developed world’s appetite for “stuff” is surely approaching saturation – although we should remember that potential markets include those East Asian economies, including China, too. To advance, the South Asian and African economies must move the workforce out of agriculture. India has made important strides, but has yet to seriously tackle agricultural reform. But what should surplus agricultural workers do? Here I’m struggling a bit, but I’m sure that 1. and 3. above are part of the solution. It may be that their development will be less dependent on exports. At the moment, their biggest economic impact arises from the export of labour though emigration, affecting Europe and the Middle East in particular (also America, where immigrants also come from Latin America – which is less of a development opportunity). This has mutual benefits but the stresses in host countries are showing, and this is not sustainable in the longer term.

Of course this effort must be led by the developing countries themselves, and not as part of a paternalist relationship with the developed world – as the East Asian progress owed little to the West except in the cold, hard mutual benefits of trade. There is a lot of baggage here but it is in the developed countries’ interests if they are to take their people out of poverty.

5. Liberal values become world values

I’m on fairly safe ground on the first three of my choices; number 4 is a bit shaky. This one is a bit of outrageous optimism. The later 20th Century was a post-colonialist age. Colonialism by the big European powers was pretty much over, though colonialism in Asia by Russia and China lived on. But the pall of colonialism hung over those European powers and still dominated political narratives. Newly independent nations blamed all their ills on their colonial past, and sought compensation in some form or other from the former colonists. They adapted the narrative somewhat to put pressure on the USA too as some sort of “neo-imperialist”. Meanwhile the developed world – the Western powers, consisting largely of those ex-colonisers, espoused liberal values as being universal ones, and criticised others when they fell short. These two narratives got tangled up, and many less developed countries accused developed countries of imposing alien values to their own advantage, and accused them of racism on top.

This all has another narrative: the West remained extremely powerful after decolonisation, and even more so once it had seen off its Communist rival the Soviet Union. Developing countries needed to plead their case to get aid and assistance; the Western powers never let their liberal values get in the way of self-interest, leading to accusations of hypocrisy that were often justified. Then some of these developing nations became more powerful. China worked its way into superpower status (in large part through trade with the West); other countries, like Iran, became more assertive. The anti-liberal movement gained momentum. Liberal values were Western values, and were a new way of promoting a kind of moral colonialism.

The result was ugly. The number of oppressive regimes grew. Medium-sized powers felt free to interfere in regional affairs, allowing a series of awful civil wars to take root. Western liberals feel beleaguered. And they are criticised at home, by conservatives who are fed up with what they see as the trashing of their countries’ history and culture; and by the left who promote anti-colonialist attitudes, and indulge in identity policies among minority communities that would not be tolerated by those minorities if they were in the majority..

And yet the West’s critics still look to the West for leadership in such matters as combatting climate change. “It’s your fault,” they suggest, “so you fix it.” China, by now the biggest contributor to world pollution and climate change sits idly by, though at least they are developing post-carbon technologies – see 1. above. India persists in its victim mentality, apparently unable to see that with a billion people they can’t just complain from the sidelines.

But this is breaking down. The rise of the populists, and especially Donald Trump, means that the West is retreating from its leadership role. And yet the West still looks to be one of the best places to live in the world. Few would say that of China – and especially if you don’t happen to be Han Chinese. And problems such as climate change change and civil wars rage on, with less developed countries as their main victims. This is creating something of a leadership vacuum, which the less developed countries need to fill. And their favoured narratives are losing traction. East Asian countries that have transitioned to developed status did this largely through their own efforts, assisted by free trade with the developed world. They had to move on from the victim mentality and take on proper agency of their own. It is not that African and south Asian countries are necessarily wrong about the damage of colonialism and slavery, but that their obsessing about this is no basis for building a prosperous future.

Meanwhile Western values and the moral high ground don’t look so bad. Capitalism has proved to be the only viable route to prosperity. The cynicism of non-Western powers, like China and Iran, to say nothing of Russia, is very evident, and has hardly promoted world peace. They are not creating great places to live (even if China’s progress must be acknowledged, it compares unfavourably with places like Taiwan). China may be free of Western hypocrisy, but that just leaves its naked self-interest unvarnished – as it develops its very own brand of hypocrisy. Western values really do have a universal application.

This would be good news because if we see a better quality of leadership from non-Western countries, then global problems will become more tractable. They will push forward harder on de-carbonisation, starting at home; they will be less free about arming rebel movements among their neighbours. A bit more humility on the part of Western countries would certainly be appropriate, but people being what they are, that will not be forthcoming.

When reflecting on this I am reminded of one of the courses I studied in my final year at Cambridge, when I was studying history. It was on the philosophy of international relations and led by Professor Harry Hinsley. How do you achieve peaceful international relations? One line of argument suggested that you needed a dominant power to act as a sort of policeman. Another suggested that you needed an empowered supra-national authority. The first is an uninviting prospect, the second is clearly infeasible, and leads to the problem of how that world authority is to be accountable. A more hopeful idea is that if the world was divided into autonomous nations, whose sovereignty ended at agreed borders, then those countries would learn to live with each other out of self-interest. This was in effect the system that Europe developed after the Seven Years War in 1763. Europe didn’t banish war, but the periods of peaceful relations lasted longer than before. The problem was that wars become harder to stop once started. I would like to think that the medium-sized nations of the world – Turkey, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Iran, Israel in particular – will start to learn this lesson. Also that the newer great powers – China and India – will realise that they must play a bigger leadership role if world problems are to be tractable. And that neo-imperialist powers, Russia and to a lesser extent China, realise the futility of their enterprise and start to focus on the real needs of their populations. None of this necessarily involves embracing liberalism – but somehow I feel that it leads there.

Hope springs eternal

Good news tends to happen slowly and it isn’t newsworthy. But there is no denying that the world is entering a rough patch. Economic growth has run out of road in the developed world – as at last even the FT’s Martin Wolf is starting to appreciate. He says that this is causing the current political dysfunction, but it’s worse than that. The US is widely admired for delivering the best growth story, and yet the dysfunction is as bad there as anywhere. Actually the changes required to generate growth are as painful as trying to live without it. But the march of technology and scientific understanding goes on – and we don’t need conventionally understood economic growth for the world to become a better place. Think of a place where people don’t consume any more on average in developed countries (though with a more equal distribution), but who live longer, healthier lives, and where there is much less crime. A world where greenhouse gases in the atmosphere are steadily being reduced, where extreme poverty is being pushed back, and which is not so blighted by armed conflict. Apart from the beating back of poverty, none of these things needs economic growth – and the growth required to combat poverty is required only in less developed countries. This advance can be ecologically sustainable. I have not lost hope that the world can get much closer to such a vision.

A Budget that poses as many questions as it answers

This week Rachel Reeves, Britain’s chancellor of the Exchequer, delivered the first strategic Budget the country has had since George Osborne’s in March 2016, unless you count Kwasi Kwarteng’s short-lived effort in Autumn 2022. Mr Osborne’s effort was, of course, simply maintaining the strategic course he set when he first became Chancellor in 2010, and on which doubled-down in 2015 once he’d dispensed with his Liberal Democrat coalition partners – a strategy usually referred to as “Austerity”. That was to shrink of the British state’s footprint, reversing the trend established by Labour, especially from its second term starting in 2001. Ms Reeves is reaffirming the role of the state, but whether that is simply consolidation or a decisive expansion remains unclear. What is over is the firefighting, bluff and pretence of the years 2016 to 2024; there is now a serious engagement with the challenges confronting Britain.

Mr Osborne’s budget of 2016 was quickly overwhelmed by the Brexit referendum in the following June, which saw a new prime minister, Theresa May, and Chancellor, Philip Hammond. They rejected the Osborne strategy with a turn against Austerity. But the mess left by the referendum result was not conducive to clear strategy, as nobody really understood what the result meant. Was it the creation of a small-state “Singapore on Thames” as many senior Brexiteers wanted, or just a grumpy turning inwards? Any chance of the new government coalescing around a coherent strategy was destroyed when it lost its majority in the snap election of 2017. A new government emerged under Boris Johnson in 2019, but his strategy was to have his cake and eat it – to avoid any difficult choices: a strategy not to have a strategy. Liz Truss and Mr Kwarteng took over in 2022, and although they did appear to be strategic, their efforts collapsed almost before they had started. The Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Hunt regime’s only strategy was to try to survive until their political fortunes turned. They pushed through cuts to National Insurance based on fictional forecasts of future government spending. It was fundamentally unserious.

Labour’s first job after taking power in July was to restore those public spending estimates to some kind of reality, without sparking the kind of panic over fiscal probity that Mr Kwarteng had done. They made this job much harder because they chose to humour the Conservatives’ fiction on the public finances rather than challenge it. They promised not to raise taxes on “working people”, and specifically not Income Tax, National Insurance or Value Added Tax. Since taking power they then suggested that they had discovered a surprise “black hole” of over £20 billion, or perhaps £40 billion. But mostly this was known about before the election – and repeatedly pointed to by the Institute for Fiscal Studies. But no political party addressed the issue properly – not the Lib Dems, Reform UK or the Greens, never mind the main two parties. All said that public services could be maintained based on implausible taxes on other people, or equally implausible cuts to benefits. Ms Reeves decided that raising employer National Insurance was not too egregious a breach of election pledges, and went for that. This raises the overall tax take to its highest ever level as a ratio to income, but well within European levels. Whether this really means the largest extent of the state ever, I suspect, depends on how you treat benefits, which is more of a negative tax than a part of the state apparatus, and which have been steadily creeping upwards. But looking ahead beyond the next two years, Ms Reeves continued her predecessors’ fictions on public spending, and cut safety margins to nothing, in order to demonstrate medium term financial targets were being met.

That was because the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) forecast meagre growth. Labour’s plans had always been based on improved economic growth – but they cannot give the OBR anything solid enough to raise their forecast. A lot of growth comes from the zeitgeist, out of reach to policymakers and economic forecasters alike. And many of the government’s pro-growth policies have yet to be worked out. Landing a big extra tax burden on businesses in the short term, moving to workers medium term, leaves a bit of a credibility gap there, and it’s hard not to think that Ms Reeves is relying on a positive change to the zeitgeist to get her out of the hole.

Still, the government was never going to solve its economic challenges in one go. This budget is seen as a necessary first step, setting a credible baseline from which to move forward. To me that is a convincing enough narrative, but one that clearly leaves many questions. I have already mentioned growth. Social care is an issue that overshadows all health and welfare spending – and even the Tories attempted to tackle it on occasion – but it has so far been ignored by the government. The government wants to increase the efficiency of government services – but so has every government I can remember: what makes this time different? And many stretched government services, notably those within the remit of local government, are getting little if any extra funding: how sustainable is that?

The one thing going for the government is that expectations are dismal – it will not be so hard to beat them. They aren’t making the mistake that Mr Johnson made in 2019. A good run of luck could change the climate completely.

For me the jury is still out on this government. This Budget isn’t a bad start by Ms Reeves, but many more tests are to come.

The American economy’s success is driving the toxicity of its politics

“Don’t bet against the American economy,” says The Economist in a recent special report. I understand where that sentiment is coming from. Over the years I have read many prophesies of doom, or at least of decline, for that economy, and often found them persuasive. On each occasion they have proved false. Two thoughts have struck me from this report: first that America’s success can’t be replicated by Europe, and that Europeans shouldn’t try; and second that America’s economic success, paradoxically, lies at the heart of its toxic politics. It is that last paradox which might cause the American success to unravel, as, to be fair, the report acknowledges.

My first insight flows from the principle of comparative advantage – a core economic insight originally articulated by David Riccardo in the 18th/19th Century. It is part of Economics 101, and is the critical idea about what drives international trade, and why such trade is mutually beneficial even if one economy imports stuff that it could make more efficiently for itself. It’s all about opportunity costs, as more modern language than Riccardo’s would have it. At a strategic level the theory of comparative advantage has massive predictive power – explaining so much of the world economy as we see it, including, for example, why exchange rates don’t match purchasing power parity. But as you try to get into more detailed, and tactically useful, predictions, economists have been unable to turn it into anything more precise, in spite of one or two attempts. Therefore it is left out the economic models that drive so much of the work of economists, and it does not progress beyond Economics 101. That is why so many economists, not least writers at The Economist, often forget that it is there and seem ignorant of how it actually plays out. So far as I can see, the great (and late) economist Paul Samuelson is one of the very few economists of modern times to properly have internalised its implications. He it was who pointed out that as undeveloped economies converged with advanced ones, the gains from trade between them would diminish, at the expense of the advanced economies. This does much to explain the relative economic stagnation of advanced economies since the financial crash of 2007-09, compared with the era of rampant globalisation before it (which happened after Samuelson died, having forecast it) – though there are other factors, not least demographics. And yet this is never mentioned amid the wringing of hands about the backlash against global trade, which is generally blamed on politics alone. And yet the invisible hand is so often behind the politics.

I have a another insight arising from Riccardo’s thesis. America’s recent success compared to Europe, as The Economist‘s report points out, is based on high-tech industries, where productivity has soared, while it has plodded elsewhere. This success is surely based on the scale of America’s market, and the relatively lack of legal and cultural barriers to trade and the movement of labour. This is clearly a source of comparative advantage over Europe – though not to China, which has a very similar advantage. This means that the relative productivity of the tech sector compared to others (making aircraft, for example) is always going to be greater in America than in Europe, apart from a few specialist niches. That will drive America to specialise in hi-tech industry, while Europe’s direct competitors will diminish – to the benefit of both, as an Economics 101 student can readily explain. If this the way of the invisible hand, then why does The Economist (and such luminaries as Mario Draghi the EU éminence grise with an economics training) spend so much time bemoaning Europe’s lagging hi-tech industry and urging it to to try harder? Economically literate politicians, like Mr Draghi, often do this sort of thing because it is a convenient argument for policies that are actually about economic efficiency in general . Journalists in more sophisticated publications have no such excuse. Europe is never going to match America, or China for that matter, in some areas and it will be a waste of effort trying. Meanwhile they are doing well enough exporting the many products where they do have comparative advantage – Europe does not operate with a large trade deficit, after all. Of course European leaders must keep trying to improve economic efficiency, and perhaps watching America will act as a spur, but a clearer understanding of the workings of comparative advantage would mean better-directed public investment.

Back to America. The Economist does not fail to attribute some of America’s success to an entrepreneurial zeitgeist – but it points to more solid factors too. First is that it has comparative advantage in industries that happen to be highly productive – not just in hi-tech, but also oil and gas. The former advantage stems from the size and flexibility of America’s product and labour markets – something that only China matches (India seems to be closer to Europe in this respect); the latter from a geological endowment. That’s all very well, but it creates tensions. The successful industries take off, but the corollary is that many others are left behind – and through the laws of comparative advantage – become less internationally competitive (as the dollar strengthens, and as they have to pay workers more to compete with the more productive sectors). This creates what Donald Trump calls “American carnage” – the flip side to economic flexibility, as factories close and more productive workers flee to the booming parts of the country. How much the imbalance between globally successful industries and the mainstream is driving high inequality is an interesting question. The Economist suggests that the poorest quintile has seen significant income growth in recent years with tighter labour markets – but in the middle of the income distribution there may be more stagnation – as the higher income groups continue to do fabulously. But if things happen quickly in America, the human cost is going to be high. Rapid growth breeds “carnage”.

A further source of advantage, according to The Economist, is access to large numbers of immigrants, and not least those flooding across the southern border. This seems to act as a lubricant: jobs get filled more quickly in the growing parts of the economy. Europe has immigrants too (though not China) but finds these harder to integrate. And yet this is a central driver to the country’s toxic politics.

And so the rapid change to the structure of the US economy, and the flood of immigrants that its success attracts, are driving a sense of dislocation among Americans, which in turn is driving the highly destructive direction of US politics. This is placing all its critical institutions under threat. Four dangers lurk in particular: the capture of US institutions by a big business elite (“rent-seeking” in economic jargon); rolling back international trade through tariffs and other measures; clamping down on immigration; and finally macroeconomic instability arising from public finances going out of control.

The concentration of big business, leading to capture of the political system and the corruption of institutions to protect established business from competition (often in the name of social stability), is a familiar process. We see variations of it in many places (although sometimes, as in Russia and Hungary, the relationship between political leader and business elite is more complex) – and , indeed, it is alleged to have happened in America in the late 19th Century. The concentration is happening in America now, as is the business elite’s dabbling in politics (most egregiously by Elon Musk) – but The Economist does not think it is leading to significant anti-competitive practices. Competition between the major hi-tech companies remains intense and the pace of innovative product development is hardly slowing. We might raise eyebrows about the way money buys influence in the US, but it does not appear to be a big threat to the US economy.

The backlash against foreign trade is a more substantive concern and especially the advocacy of tariffs. This seems to be mainly driven by Donald Trump – and as such it is one of his most distinctive contributions to economic policy – but the Democrats are copying him. It is hard to see how such policies will do much to help the American public – their main effect will be to raise costs. However it may not do much damage to the main drivers of US economic health: the technology giants and the oil and gas industries. It is not good news for the rest of the world, however, especially Europe.

Anti-immigration will also probably not hurt as much as it could – unless Mr Trump is actually tries to fulfil his campaign rhetoric about mass deportation. The Economist is also quite sanguine about the impact of public budget deficits, which few politicians seem to be taking seriously. There remains little threat to the US Dollar as the world’s preeminent currency, and hence the ease with which dollar finance can be obtained.

Still, there does seem to be an unhealthy cycle here. Growth in the American economy remains robust, but it is driving US society apart. Politicians and commentators alike focus on the choices at the next election, always described as the most important in modern times. But neither side is able to deliver a killer blow to the other. If Mr Trump wins next week’s election, his movement will have to find ways to survive his departure, amid the inevitable chaos of his administration. If Kamala Harris wins it is hard to see that she can convince Trump supporters that she is taking America along the right course, continuing to fuel the destructive radicalism of the right. One way or another this political toxicity will surely affect the astonishing robustness and resilience of the US economy that is one of its main drivers.

National finances don’t work like household budgets. That doesn’t help Labour

Government finances are under water. OK, a weak link but I’m bored of AI images and public domain photos. Bosham in Chichester Harbour this weekend, by my own hand.

Taxation and public spending is very much on the political agenda here in Britain. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Rachel Reeves, is claiming that there is a £22 billion black hole of unfunded spending commitments in the government finances, left by a Conservative government addicted to brushing problems under the carpet. There is much talk of how her Labour government might raise taxes to plug this hole and meet expectations of improvements to public services and the social safety net.

This makes it a good time to ponder the economics of all this. Public debate encourages us to think of the state’s finances in terms of a household budget: public spending must be covered by taxes, or else the national debt gets out of control, which in due course could mean throwing the country to the mercy of foreign creditors, or burden future generations. This narrative has the merit of being easy to communicate and sounding like common sense. Try telling voters that this is not how things work, and they will immediately become suspicious. The US Republicans, to my knowledge, are the only politicians to have succeeded with a different narrative: the so-called “Laffer curve”, whereby tax cuts pay for themselves through economic growth. Former British Prime Minister Liz Truss tried this out on the British public in 2022, but it went very badly. Her supporters argue that his was actually through bad luck – but most politicians now treat the idea of “unfunded” tax cuts or spending commitments as politically toxic, as well as economically unwise.

The Laffer curve is in fact just one argument against the household budget narrative – but it is not a huge departure from it. Households may borrow to invest, so states should be able to so as well. If a budget deficit leads to a future increase in revenues, or lower costs, then surely it is sustainable? Labour tried to make this case with a proposal for massive investment in clean energy infrastructure – but lost their nerve as the general election loomed. Joe Biden’s administration is actually implementing such a programme in America, but the public there are resolutely sceptical. You have to believe that the future benefits are for real – and the public is generally unbelieving. Not without reason, as the processes of accountability are weak.

A further, and well-established, argument against the household budget narrative might be called the Keynesian critique. This follows the argument originally put forward by the great economist Maynard Keynes, after stringent budgeting by governments during the Great Depression of the 1930s made things worse. If there is spare capacity in the economy – a typical feature of recessions – then it makes sense for the government to run a deficit to raise demand and employ unemployed workers, creating a virtuous circle of growth – and stopping a potential doom-loop of savings leading to reduced demand leading to further savings. Governments should use taxes and spending to help manage overall demand, to ensure that the economy runs at an efficient level of capacity. This idea is very popular on the political left, who generally assume that the economy is always working below capacity – but it is not always easy to tell if there is spare capacity. Many people thought that high unemployment in the 1970s meant that there was spare capacity then – but generous fiscal policy simply seemed to stoke inflation – “stagflation”. In fact the escalating price of oil, amongst other things, meant that the economy was in a period of transition, which caused the high levels of unemployment without a ready supply of potential new jobs. I thought something similar was happening in Britain after the great financial crisis of 2007-2009 – and that this was the justification for the 2010 coalition government’s austerity policies (which were rejected by the left with religious fervour). The pre-crash economy had been too dependent on fake gains in financial services and related business services, meaning that it wasn’t just a case of managing aggregate demand, but allowing for a degree of restructuring, which takes longer. I don’t think anybody else made that argument. Supporters of austerity used versions of the household budget narrative, while most economists said that austerity was the wrong policy because aggregate demand was weak. I still think I was right – though by 2015 the case for further austerity had largely gone, meaning that further cuts made by the Conservative government from that year were excessive.

A final critique of the household budget narrative is made most prominently by advocates of Modern Monetary Theory (MMT). They point out that where countries control their own money supply (which is the case for Britain and America, though not the Eurozone), then they don’t need to worry about the national debt, because they can just create the money to fund it. This, in fact, is exactly what many governments did during the period of Quantitive Easing (QE) in the 2010s. For some reason, MMT is regarded as heterodox economics, and its advocates akin to heretics by conventional economists. I have never entirely understood this – it has always seemed to be a matter of politics rather than substance. Some MMT advocates delight in attacking orthodox economics, not always with secure logic, and this no doubt creates a backlash. Nevertheless MMT economists such as Stephanie Kelton produce well-argued work which is thought-provoking in a good way (this article in the FT gives a flavour). The central proposition is that the limiting factor for fiscal policy is inflation, not debt. While inflation in the developed world appeared dead and buried in the 2010s, MMT became popular on the left, as it suggested that large budget deficits were sustainable, supporting their argument that austerity policies were primarily “ideological”. In the 2020s, with inflation back in the picture, we don’t hear so much about MMT, though their analysis remains just as valid. My personal scepticism of MMT is that its advocates don’t tend to think enough about the difficulties of managing a small open economy, which has to manage its economic relations with other economies (and exchange rate policy in particular) – a situation that fits the British economy more than the American one.

What all these insights point to that there are two important constraints to fiscal policy rather than simply whether there is enough money: inflation and foreign debt (if we accept the MMT argument that domestic debt isn’t a problem if inflation is under control). Low inflation is central to a country’s feeling of economic wellbeing. I would suggest that maintaining the value of the currency is one of the sacred duties of the state – and governments play fast and loose with this at their peril – though most liberal economists are more relaxed about this. And foreign debt can interfere badly with a sense of national sovereignty. The reason that the recent left-wing Mexican president Manuel Lopez Obrador was so keen on limiting government expenditure was exactly that: a fear of foreign debt (and an example of how austerity is not always a matter of right wing ideology). Where governments have dormant inflation and little need for foreign debt (through a current account surplus), then budget deficits can run wild – this is the case with Japan, for example. In Britain things are considerably trickier. The country now has an inflation problem, and a long persistent current account deficit, which complicates managing the national debt. It is hard to know how much of a constraint the latter problem actually is. It hasn’t been tested to destruction since the 1970s (if you discount the Truss episode), when the government called in the IMF, though some suggest this was just political theatre. The country has had no trouble in financing itself from abroad in its own currency. The country’s dependence “on the kindness of strangers” is a popular scare story put up by officials of the Treasury and the Bank of England to keep politicians in their place. And yet, like inflation in the early 2020s, you don’t know if you’ve gone over the limit until it’s too late. It was a debt problem that did for Ms Truss’s bid for freedom, after all. That was a dislocation in the domestic debt market because of some technical issues with pension fund financing. I have oversimplified things by referring to “foreign” debt – but the presence of foreign investors affects the disciplines required across the whole market. That episode showed that management of the national debt has to be strategic – it is not a simple matter of ramping up a budget deficit and seeing what happens.

Meanwhile, I suspect that inflation in Britain remains a serious problem, in spite of the headline rate returning to 2%. In the public sector the government is no longer able to resist above-inflation payrises: you can only defy the market for so long – this is a large part of Ms Reeves’s black hole. That may ripple through to the wider labour market, as the previous government feared. Meanwhile there is enormous political pressure to reduce levels of immigration – and it isn’t just politics: high rental and property prices, in part driven by immigration, is causing serious hardship, and disappointed expectations amongst younger people. Politicians talk of encouraging a high-wage high-productivity economy, not dependent on cheap immigrant labour, and it might be that the country is in transition to just such a destination. But all economic transitions involve bumpy rides, and inflation is often part of that journey. That matters because under the country’s current economic governance, the Bank of England will not reinstitute QE, and make government debt easier to swallow, when there is a threat of inflation. And while reforming economic governance might be a good idea, in the short term it would carry a heavy risk of the destabilisation of financial markets.

So, with a clear menace of inflation, and more difficult markets for government debt, the government is likely to have to raise taxes. And here politics has created a further problem. Easily the most effective taxes are Income Tax, National Insurance and Value Added Tax. These are effective because they have a large base, meaning that small percentage increases have a big impact, and because they have the most direct impact on aggregate demand, helping the management of inflation. And yet Labour has ruled out increasing these taxes (other than through the “stealth tax” of freezing tax-free allowances). There was, in fact, a political consensus on that policy: no party is suggesting that there should be any increases – which is seen to add hardship to those already suffering from higher inflation. That leaves various flavours of capital taxes or wealth taxes. These have the political advantage of primarily affecting the better off, but they help with the national debt rather than inflation – their impact on demand is limited. And they are often evaded by people with tax advisers. That is the big problem with the idea, popular on the left, that increased state spending can be financed just by taxing the rich – such a policy would be inflationary and likely to underperform its targets.

Something has to give. The government will struggle on with continued austerity and increasing some fringe taxes, hoping for a growth bump. But growth is bound to disappoint, inflation will refuse to die, and interest rates will remain uncomfortably high. One commentator has written that it will not be until a second term that Labour will start to seriously address how the country manages the state – through some combination of higher (and doubtless reformed) taxes and reduced state ambition. If the Conservatives remain in a mess, that may become politically feasible. Up until now Sir Keir Starmer’s aim has been to secure an election victory, and to impose a more serious style of political governance. That is a start but it is not enough.

The growth genie is not under government control

What do British Prime Ministers Sir Keir Starmer and Liz Truss have in common? The Labour leader defines himself as a complete contrast to his disastrous predecessor but one. But both made economic growth central to their political programmes. If that leads to a focus on economic efficiency, then this is doubtless a good thing. But the truth is that we are keen on growth as a way of avoiding hard choices.

Recently, writing in the Financial Times, the Oxford economist Daniel Susskind pointed out that economic growth has become the universal panacea for politicians, but that the political focus on it is comparatively recent. Indeed I think the political focus on growth statistics, including in the BBC news, is overdone. The voting public does not pay much attention to the statistical updates. The balance between income and expenses, the ability of governments to fund public services and welfare, and the state of the job market – these impact much more directly on peoples’ lives. All of these are supposed to be driven by growth, and yet the relationship is complicated. Nevertheless growth drives so much of the conversation amongst political elites that we need to ponder it.

But, as Mr Susskind points out, economic growth is poorly understood. Growth emerges from the actions of millions of individuals all working to their own priorities. Attempts to drive economic development (much the same thing, but with a longer history of political focus) by government fiat has led to some of the worst man-made disasters in history. Mao Zedong’s policy of collectivisation and the “Great Leap Forward” in China in the 1950s led to the biggest mass starvation event in history, followed by utter stagnation. Conversely Deng Xiaoping’s reversal of Mao’s policies in 1978 led to the most astonishing and important period of economic growth and development in world history. The simple act of letting farmers grow what they wanted and sell their produce on the open market boosted food production several times over.

Attempts to understand growth and develop policy have tended to focus on the supply side of the economy. That includes Mr Susskind – who homes in on innovation, which improves productivity. Sir Keir talks of investment doing much the same thing, and also the creation of more houses to allow people to move where the jobs are (or at least I think that’s a large part of why he includes housing in his growth agenda – although in truth he has shown little evidence of a grasp of economic policy). Ms Truss’s idea was to reduce taxes to provide businesses and workers with greater incentives to work harder.

But this misses something: the demand side matters too. There’s no point in producing more products or services if people don’t want to consume them. Mao’s strategy in the Great Leap Forward was to produce more iron in village smelters – but there was little use for the poor-quality metal that resulted. There is an underlying assumption that people will always consume more if they can – they are simply limited by the income they can earn from working. Of course economists know things aren’t as simple as this. People with higher incomes tend to spend a lower proportion of their income (leading to the rather more complicated question about saving, investment and growth). People may choose leisure, such as early retirement, which limits the supply of labour and often restrains demand.

And then, when you think about it, things get more complicated still. Once people have enough money to meet their basic needs, they often want to spend the surplus to signal social status. By and large this is done by buying things that are not made efficiently (hand-stitched bags, etc.) or services that require prodigious amounts of labour (personal trainers rather than fitness classes), reducing economic efficiency.

And then what about sustainability? Intensive farming delights economists because it maximises productivity. But it kills the soil, making it harder and harder to use it to produce anything of worth – and requiring ever more inputs of fertilisers, etc, which in turn create further environmental damage.

A further complicating factor is that the growth of the information economy means that the relationship between demand and supply is more complicated. Demand for information (including such things as music and video entertainment) can be met with little impact on production.

All of this raises two questions. The most obvious is whether growth is actually such a good thing. This is the basis of Green scepticism of growth. People’s basic needs must be met, of course, but beyond this we need to think about quality of life and sustainability. There are plenty of people whose basic needs aren’t being met, even in advanced economies like Britain’s – but dealing with poverty looks to be much more a problem of income distribution than the aggregate income across society. The United States has the largest income per head of any major economy – and yet strikingly high levels of poverty too. But economic efficiency is a good thing, provided proper account is taken of “externalities” (environmental damage, etc.). In principle it gives people more choices over their lives. Inasmuch as growth is simply our society becoming more economically efficient, then it is a good thing. If it destroys the planet or merely speeds up a treadmill of drudgery and pointless competition, then not so much.

The second question is more interesting. What if people, through the revealed preferences of their freely-made choices, don’t actually want growth? Growth is a popular idea, provided somebody else does all the work. But perhaps you would just like a nice place in the country and watch the world go by, rather than set your sights on ever more possessions or a frenetic succession of “experiences”. Growth, or the potential for it, emerges from the zeitgeist. In 1978 China, with so many people on the edge of starvation, it is easy to see why this zeitgeist was massively positive for growth. But in 2020s Britain?

Actually in 2024 Britain there are signs of a positive zeitgeist for growth – as many people complain about the cost of living. Sir Keir’s government may well be fortunate for a year or two. But the zeitgeist could turn – and we’d be back to swimming in treacle. And that would pose awkward questions for the sustainability of public services and the social safety net. Politicians and the public need to be focusing on these hard questions, and not just hoping that the growth genie will make them go away.

The lightbulb moment is past. Why we must break the growth mindset

Back in the 1970s there was a persistent story about lightbulbs (then incandescent tungsten ones) that was trotted forth to demonstrate the madness of capitalism. It was that the life of a bulb was kept deliberately short so as to create demand for replacement bulbs. Apparently it was true – but nobody cared. Whinge as we might at the fringes, politicians and the public were happy to keep the economic treadmill going. Longer-lasting lightbulbs would mean fewer jobs. Those days are long gone. Our lightbulbs now are immeasurably more efficient, and they aren’t built to self-destruct. Few jobs are at stake, and even fewer jobs in countries that use the bulbs. This leaves the world materially much better off. But politicians and economists alike hanker after the those old days – hence their obsession with economic growth.

Even serious economic commentators like the Financial Times’s Martin Wolf can’t break this: Mr Wolf started a recent column with the words: “If the UK’s real gross domestic product per head had continued on its 1955-2008 path, it would now be 39 per cent higher.” This implies that the lack of economic growth in the last 15 years is a failure of economic policy, and not due to a change in the way the modern economy works. This is wrong: instead we should think of the second half of the 20th Century as a unique period in economic history – and recognise that we have long since entered a new era, one in which sustained growth of gross domestic product per head is not a feature – nor even really desirable. Life can get better, but not through consuming ever more stuff.

Economists don’t like to look behind their beloved aggregated economic statistics, which they like to treat as classical physicists once did the measurements of pressure, temperature and volume of gases. What the gas molecules were made of didn’t matter. Some economists try to construct historical time series of centuries and more in an attempt to build a narrative of economic policy, as if to say that there are common economic principles that are everlasting. To them the post-war era in the developed world, and parts of the developing one, featuring consistent growth is a model of wise policy. Firstly through good macro-economic management, with Keynesian demand management, and then inflation targeting monetary policy: these smoothed out the dips and troughs that were a feature of previous eras. Then there was a consistent advance of productivity through the use of new technologies and more advanced management. “Productivity is not everything,” said the economist Paul Krugman, “but in the long run it is almost everything.”

But looking back on it, that golden age was the result of the convergence of four factors, each of which has reached its limit: the post-war baby boom, bringing women into the workforce, the expansion of world trade, and the rising consumption of manufactured goods. The baby boom expanded the proportion of the workforce that was of working age, but by the 1980s the babies were now all of working age while the birth rate had fallen; and as the boomers reached retirement age in the 2000s, the proportion of people of working age shrank. The economist Dietrich Vollrath did the maths and found that this accounted for most of the tail-off of economic growth per head in the 2000s in America – and in Britain the effect would have been greater, if anything. This led to my comment that “Demographics is not everything, but it is almost everything.” The war brought many women into the workforce, but in the 1950s the convention that married women should stay at home remained powerful. But as families wanted to spend more on consumer goods and property (and technology made housework easier), women were steadily brought into the workforce, increasing the overall rate of employment, and thus driving growth. This trend has been slow but steady – the proportion of women at work was still growing through the 2000s – but now there is not a big difference between male and female employment, and in most economies, including Britain’s, the limit has surely been reached.

Freedom of trade has also been an important driver of economic growth, as the laws of comparative advantage and economies of scale came into play – in notable contrast to the pre-war years. First came GATT – the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, part of the great post-war settlement. Then, for Britain, there was membership of the European Economic Community – which in turn was given a major lift when this morphed into the European Union with its Single Market. But perhaps even more significant was the steady rise in Asian economies, and the huge increase in trade in manufactured goods – a succession starting with Japan, moving through to the Asian “Tigers” (Taiwan, South Korea and so on) onto China, with India in a supporting role. The rise of this trade, referred to as “globalisation” was transformative. The cost of manufactured consumer goods in the early 2000s tumbled as a result, and was one of the critical underpinnings of economic growth. But this trade is no longer growing – and is probably shrinking, while Britain has left the EU and Single Market. Gains from trade are unravelling. This is partly a product of the rise of protectionist politics, but it is also because economic convergence has reduced the potential gains from comparative advantage. Funnily enough the reversal of globalisation is often celebrated by politicians, almost in the same breath as they call for stronger economic growth.

These three factors are well-known amongst economists, even if they don’t talk about them enough when considering the slowdown of economic growth – compared to familiar targets such as lack of public and private investment, NIMBYism, muddled political policy and so on. In contrast my fourth factor seems to be less well understood. In the post war era there was a massive expansion of consumer goods, from cars to cosmetics. This was made possible by advances in technology during the war, with the development of plastics, for example. Keynesian economic policy helped to pump-prime a virtuous circle of increased supply and demand – the expansion of manufacturing and distribution jobs helping to fuel demand. This cycle became central to the growth of advanced economies, copied by many less developed economies, though, interestingly enough, not so much by China, which is another story (they channeled much more of the extra demand into investment, relying on exports much more for growth). Along the way absurdities like the built-in obsolescence of light bulbs were tolerated. Many view this era, up to the late 1970s in Britain, as something of a golden age: one with a largely stable working-class culture, geographically well-spread, and quite a bit of upward mobility into an expanding middle class – before the destruction of the industrial heartlands that started in the 1980s. This view requires rose-tinted spectacles. Some things were clearly better then: access to social housing, for example; and this, combined with high taxes on the rich meant lower inequality and better social cohesion (so long as you weren’t brown or black skinned). Public services were more generously staffed, though usually terribly managed. But was an era of massive environmental degradation and plenty of social strife; film and television dramas of the era depict people shouting at each other but failing to communicate – which is largely how I remember it as I was growing up.

But this age of expanding consumerism could not be sustained. There are only a certain number of cars, fridges and so on the people can own. There was a limit to the amount of electric light that people could constructively use. And besides, advancing productivity meant that fewer jobs were required to sustain demand, and expanding trade kept up fierce pressure on efficiency. The final blow came when when, for reasons of comparative advantage rather than efficiency, the developing economies of Asia took over a huge share of the production of consumer goods. The 1980s onwards saw massive closures of factories and other infrastructure, such as coal mines.

But the standard rejoinder to this from economists is that these developments shouldn’t really matter. Cheaper consumer goods mean that people have more to spend on other things, and these require people to provide them – and these people can be made more productive. Lightbulbs may have been replaced by cheap LEDs made in China, but the new technology can be arranged into much more complicated and creative arrays, which need people to design and install them. But there have proved to be a number of problems with this idea. Economists will admit that manufactured consumer goods have largely been replaced in the modern economy by services, where productivity is a much trickier thing. They call it “Baumol’s Cost Disease”, teach it in Economics Batchelor degrees, and then forget about it.

Unfortunately, a Batchelor Economics degree is as far as my formal economics training went. The theoretical complexities of an economy where increasing productivity comes about through higher quality rather than quantity, and were an increasing amount of consumption goes into access to land, rapidly takes me out of my depth. But the outcome of these complexities is surely that developed economies do not behave as they once did. One problem is that the modern economy is more unequal. Large numbers of people are now extremely well off by past standards, and we have the phenomenon of “mass affluence”. Millionaires are commonplace. But at the other end of the scale many working class jobs are much less secure than the factory and office jobs of the past. The better-off, meanwhile, spend a lot of their money is on status goods and services, rather than basics. (They also save more, which complicates things more – though overall savings rates have gone down rather than up). One of the key ingredients is human content. In olden times this might be the number of servants you employed; nowadays it is the consumption of personal services and use of products whose whole point is that their production processes are inefficient (hand-stitched handbags, etc.). These often require low-paid people to provide. There is surely a danger that this inequality gets entrenched, and that this is a drag on economic development. This is surely one reason that minimum wage policies have not caused the damage that a consensus of economists predicted in the 1990s.

Then you have the problem of leisure. One way for people to exploit the benefits of higher productivity is to work less. This might be more holidays, or (as in my own case) retiring early. Then there is the hobby economy – where people produce things deliberately on a non-commercial basis for the sheer enjoyment of it. All this is perfectly rational economically, but it makes a mess of classical economic assumptions. And here’s the thing: a society were people don’t have to work as hard to achieve a comfortable and fulfilling life is not a failure. But listening to conventional economists you might think it was. Such a society is taking shape through the freely made decisions of economic agents: it is not a failure of policy. We need to understand how much slow growth is the result humanity realising the benefits of greater economic efficiency, and how much is through dysfunction – and I will admit there still quite a bit of dysfunction about.

So what are my conclusions? Firstly it is that most economists are suffering from a fallacy of composition when talking about productivity and growth. They have a mental model of the supply side of an economy being a single business scaled up (“UK plc”) when the reality is much more complicated. Advances in productivity in one place can simply lead to a reduction somewhere else. Secondly we are often confusing the creation of wealth with its realisation. Many people rationally choose to realise wealth by earning less – and the number is growing. Thirdly, the inequalities in our economy aren’t just a bit of untidiness that will resolve itself, but need to be a central focus of economic thought and policy development – as this is likely to do more to advance economic wellbeing that overall economic growth.

Politically this means that both the left and the right are barking up the wrong tree – at least as represented in Britain by the Labour and Conservative parties. Conservatives hanker after a low-tax high-growth society, powered by free-wheeling entrepreneurs. Those days are long gone. Lower taxes simply increase inequality and have nothing to do with growth. Labour assume that better direction from government towards constructive investment will unleash growth that will generate taxes that will fund improvements to public services. This is a lot less wrong-headed than the Conservative narrative. After the years of chaotic Conservative government, it is surely true that a bit of grown up government will unleash a some catch-up growth, enough to generate a bit more tax revenue – and maybe even to lift growth to the top of the G7, as Labour predicts (doubtless thinking that the other six economies are due for a bit of a stall…). But it can’t last – and the party is not ready for the hard choices that lie when it all fizzles out and they are forced to confront various combinations of austerity and higher taxes.

What we need to do is to take a fresh look at society and its dysfunctions and address that dysfunction through slimmer but more effective public services, and intelligent redistribution. Technological advance continues to offer the opportunity to advance human wellbeing – but we will get there faster if break the growth mindset.

Britain is not Japan. Abenomics would stoke inflation

I asked Bing Image Creator to give me a picture of shoppers in an English town buying foreign goods. This is one of the four results. Me neither.

Somewhere over the Christmas holiday I heard on BBC Radio 4 a very authoritative gentleman suggesting that Britain should copy Japan’s economic policies. Alas I didn’t catch who it was, and can’t trace him. I think he was on the World at One, but these days the BBC doesn’t let you search past programmes for particular items. Anyway, it is an excellent illustration of the point that I was making about the British economy a couple of posts ago. It’s worth explaining why he is so wrong. I suspected that the gentleman was a graduate of PPE at Oxford, like former Prime Minister Liz Truss: a degree course that equips its subjects to sound plausible when talking about economic policy, without necessarily grasping even the basics of the subject. Ms Truss did not seem to realise that reducing inflation meant limiting demand.

The particular set of Japanese policies the interviewee referred to dates from a number of years back, and was advocated by the late Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, and is often referred to as Abenomics. He himself called his approach as the “three arrows”. This was based on the ancient wisdom that while it is easy to break the shaft of a single arrow, it is hard to break the shafts of three arrows bound together. His three arrows were monetary policy (ultra low interest rates supported by Quantitive Easing (QE), i.e. the buying of government bonds by the central bank), fiscal policy (extensive infrastructure investment funded by budget deficits) and supply-side reforms. All these policies were mutually reinforcing. Supply side reforms were required to expand the capacity of the economy, fiscal policy to ensure that aggregate demand met this this expanded capacity, while loose monetary policy made the large government budget deficits implied by this sustainable. Without all three strands of policy, there would be failure. Japan had endured many years of economic stagnation, and Abenomics was an elegant and coherent approach to this – more than can be said for British policy economic policy since 2010, when the different policy levers often seemed to work against each other.

The interviewee did advocate one point of departure from Abenomics. When explaining supply side reforms, he advocated three “Is”. The first of these was “investment” – I can’t remember what the other two were (perhaps “institutions” was another). Investment was not a focus of Abenomics. Fiscal policy was directed at public investment, admittedly, but there was little economic coherence to this – it. was mostly about the dispensation of political favours (“bridges to nowhere”) – and the desired economic impact was to raise aggregate demand, not to expand economic capacity. Supply side reforms were aimed at non-financial barriers that were holding the economy back, such as the low rate of employment of women, and not investment.

So what’s wrong with all this in the British context, skating over its mediocre results in Japan itself? Japan was, and is, in a very different economic place. It has a robust industrial base which routinely delivers export surpluses, in spite of having to import raw materials and energy. It has a high rate of domestic savings (in other words domestic consumption is much less than income). Investment is plentiful. But it has all manner of market inefficiencies due to conservative business practices and cultural mores (for example severe prejudice against working women). Contrast this with Britain: its industrial base is comparatively weak, delivering no trade surplus so far this century; the private savings rate is low; investment is weak; but business practices, regulations and social mores are as conducive to economic efficiency as they are anywhere in the world – with a high rate of overall employment, for example. Both countries share grim demographic trends, with a reducing ratio of people of working age – though Britain has been mitigating this with immigration on a scale that Japan doesn’t.

What ails Britain? Pretty much everybody seems to agree that the country lags other developed countries, though whether you compare with America or with Europe depends on your politics. Apart from the lacklustre growth record since 2007, the main evidence is poor comparative statistics on productivity. A lot of the analysis is very shallow, however. Even many academic economists who should know better are susceptible to the fallacy of composition. While they quickly recognise that national decisions on budgeting and demand management are not the sum of individual household budgets – and what would be right for a household would not be right for the country as a whole – they fail to see the same thing on the supply side. They often talk of the country’s production side as if it is a single business (“UK plc”), but that is grossly misleading.

For a start, the supply side of the economy is very heterogeneous. Computer factories are highly productive; hospitals are the opposite. It doesn’t follow that we would be better off if we closed our hospitals and replaced them with computer factories. Furthermore, if individual businesses become more efficient, it also does not follow that this translates into the whole economy doing so. That depends on what those individual businesses do with their extra efficiency. They might expand production, perhaps helping to expand the economy as a whole – provided that there is latent demand for their product. If this happens there may be a virtuous circle that helps the whole economy grow. Or they might just keep production levels steady and sack some workers, paying extra dividends to investors who use it to invest in other businesses. Or the directors may pay themselves more in bonuses to spend on personal trainers, luxury goods, and other things where low productivity is the essence. Overall there is a well-established pattern, however, referred to by economists as the Baumol effect. As productivity advances in some sectors of the economy, lower productivity industries come to occupy a higher proportion of the economy as a whole. The balance of wealth creation (highly productive industry) to wealth realisation (the part of the economy that prioritises self-actualisation and typically has a high human content – i.e. low productivity) shifts towards the latter. What’s the point of being rich if you can’t access decent healthcare, drive around in Bentleys or eat organic food?

The problem for Britain is that the overall mix of its economy is out of kilter. It imports a disproportionate share of the goods and services where productivity is very high, while producing too much of the goods and (mainly) services that are critical to quality of life, but where productivity is low, and export potential is much weaker. The answer isn’t to try and raise the productivity of the latter goods, as this will tend to kill the quality. It into rebalance the production side of the economy towards high productivity goods that can be exported. There is another way of looking at this problem: it is that British consumption is too high. We are living beyond our means, importing more than we export. Consuming less would give the supply side of the economy the chance to rebalance in favour of exports. This is the opposite problem to Japan, where aggregate demand tends to be too low for economic efficiency. In Britain there needs be more private saving and more investment. In Japan it is the opposite.

So Abenomics would not work here. Looser fiscal policy would push us into inflation. Loose monetary policy would simply build speculative bubbles. Supply side reform would not make enough difference, though doubtless there are some useful things to do.

But the interviewee was right about one thing: the key to progress in Britain is greatly increased investment. Any move to highly productive, high exporting businesses will entail substantial investment. What are these businesses? Basic economics teaches us that these should focus on areas where the country has a comparative advantage – but that is a very slippery thing to identify. We shouldn’t be chasing a past golden age, or trying to directly copy other successful economies. If you care to look, there are areas of promise – for example life sciences, especially if the country can tap into NHS patient data. The government, at least does seem to appreciate this – it talks about building the industries of the future. But it struggles to deliver the right economic conditions to generate the level of investment required. There are not enough private savings to fund the business investment required; too much of what there is disappears into government debt – pushed that way by conservative regulation.

This points to a different three arrows to those advocated by Mr Abe. We need to incentivise more equity investment in businesses with export potential – especially if these are based outside London and the South East. Much of this must be led locally by regional and local governments, able to raise their own revenues. Pension regulations need to be overhauled. Second we need a much tighter fiscal policy in order to damp down private demand and keep inflation in check – this will consist of higher taxes and more efficient government (e.g. coherent public services that solve problems rather than passing the buck). If the public won’t save more of their own volition, then the enforced saving of higher taxes has to do the job. This would then give the government space to kick-start investment and tackle bottlenecks. Third monetary policy should primarily be focused on creating a healthy climate for savers, and ensuring financial stability. That will surely mean higher interest rates.

No politicians can advocate steps two and three of this programme. But the first part is near political consensus – and we could find that it drags fiscal and monetary policy in its wake. British policy usually advances by muddle. It is possible that the country will muddle along in the right direction. That is the best we can hope for.

Higher interest rates would be good for the UK economy

In my last post but one I discussed how Britain’s politicians are in denial over the hard choices that need to be made over taxation – evidenced by a fatuous Autumn Financial Statement from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and the inadequate opposition response. Now The Resolution Foundation has published a new report: Ending Stagnation: a New Economic Strategy for Britain, based on a substantial amount of research, and again we are coming back to the growth problem.

Unfortunately I haven’t read this worthy and weighty contribution to the debate. It is nearly 300 pages long and describes itself as a “book”. Instead I have read the Executive Summary and some of the commentary, including from Torsten Bell, the Resolution Foundation’s Chief Executive, amongst other reviews. These leave me a bit confused, and clearly a lot of the devil (and perhaps some angels too) is in the detail. Given my substantial reading list, getting round to reading the detail will take some time.

Mr Bell has been trying to paint an optimistic picture – that Britain has the opportunity for catch up growth based on its weak performance: something that I have mentioned, amid my rather dismal assessment of longer term growth prospects. He points to two opportunities in particular: strengths in service industries which can be an engine of export growth, and the ability of Britain’s weaker regions to narrow the gap with the prosperous London and South East.

The point about services is an interesting one. It flows from two propositions that I agree with. The first is that manufacturing is yesterday’s story; it has become so efficient that there are few jobs in it, and besides there are saturation effects as the link between consuming quantities of stuff and improving wellbeing weakens. The second is that export industries are critical to most models of economic growth. Most successful economies in Europe and the developing world run trade surpluses. The US is an exception, but it is also an export powerhouse – it is just an import powerhouse too. The position of the US in the global economy is unique, however, and it doesn’t offer Britain any kind of hopeful model.

Why should exports be so important? That is a bit harder to answer. The explanation often advanced is that export industries are usually highly efficient (especially if they are not about mining and natural resources), partly because they have to be globally competitive, and partly, doubtless, because supplying things across borders requires a degree of efficiency anyway. There is doubtless a lot of truth to this. And this is linked to another truth, which is that exports and investment go together. This is in turn is linked to basic macroeconomic dynamics. A country with an export surplus consumes less than it earns – otherwise all the exports would be balanced by imports. And that usually means that such a country has high investment levels, as that surplus needs to be spent somewhere. That oversimplifies things quite a bit, of course, and disentangling cause and effect can be hard. But if Britain is going to play the catch-up game I am sure that it means three things that are very closely linked: better balanced trade (currently there is a 2.9% current account deficit – one of the largest amongst bigger economies, though America’s is close at 2.8%); greater levels of investment; and a higher rate of personal saving (currently 9.1%, actually relatively high compared to the pre-covid period, but still much lower than the EU average of 18.2%).

The first two parts of this trilogy are uncontroversial. Pretty much any commentary you care to read on the UK economy mentions the need for more investment, both private and public. People are less explicit about the need for more balanced trade. Back in the 1960s and early 1970s, before floating exchange rates and free capital flows, this used to be a matter of high political drama. Since then it has dropped from the conversation; Britain seemed to be doing just fine in spite of regular and large negative balances. But conversations about growth often turn to greater export volumes, and that implies more balanced trade. But surely something else is true: the country needs to import less if it is to save more and provide the funds for investment. And that means consuming less. There is a strikingly similar conversation to be had about tax. Higher public investment, and better quality public services, and a more adequate social safety net, imply higher taxes… and less consumption.

Looking at the graph of Britain’s savings rate over the last 70 years (above) it is hard not to see the supposedly economic golden years of new Labour, from about 2000 to the crisis of 2007-09, as a bit hollow: a consumption boom based on reduced savings levels. It was linked to a consistent current account deficit (the last surplus was in the mid-1990s). I have always thought this economic achievement was less than it appeared, driven as much of it was by the spurious profitability of the banking sector, which was reversed in the financial crisis. One important aspect of the decline of personal savings in this period was the reduction of corporate pension schemes. I witnessed this at first hand as a finance director in the first part of the 2000s, with presentations from consultants offering to reduce the costs and risks of pension schemes for employees. Final salary schemes were replaced with money-purchase ones, which almost always entailed a simultaneous reduction in contribution rates. This was sold as an advance for personal autonomy over the patronising ways of the past. In truth the potential liabilities associated with final salary schemes, or more correctly defined-benefit ones, were quite scary, and they gave employees who changed jobs a rough ride. Also the general decline in interest rates made those promises more expensive to keep. But now the collapse in pension funds as the source of UK business investment is much remarked on, though people tend to blame the post-crash flight to safety in pensions regulation; its roots are much deeper. Attempts to revive domestic business investment by the Chancellor look puny by comparison with the larger economic forces in play.

How might the savings rate be increased? The best way surely is for the current rise in interest rates to be sustained. This will deliver higher returns on new savings, even as it damages the capital value of past savings. There is a paradox here. It is often claimed that lower interest rates are required to stimulate business investment, but reducing the costs of finance. But the finance director in me says that cheap finance means poor-quality investment. There is nothing like a higher target rate for return on investment to focus minds on the best way to structure an investment project. I have seen it time and again.

Another problem with higher interest rates is that, all other things equal, it will drive up the exchange rate. This would make exports more expensive and imports cheaper – working against reducing the trade deficit. it would tend to make the country less attractive for foreign business investors. But part of the attraction of raising domestic savings is that it reduces the dependence on foreign capital, which is less reliable for a medium-sized economy like Britain’s. Many of Britain’s most successful businesses are foreign-owned and based on foreign investment. And yet, in spite of a relatively cheap pound, these foreigners have not invested much recently, especially since Brexit.

Unfortunately there is no guarantee that higher domestic savings would lead to more productive business investment. The old defined benefit pensions were a particularly effective channel for this purpose, and they are gone for good. More money could be pushed into domestic property – though some funding for this sector would be a good thing, so long as it just isn’t a matter pushing up land prices. Funds could be swept up by government debt, if budget deficits are not also brought under control. But buy and large a higher interest rate environment is more conducive to productive investment, rather than fuelling speculation. High interest rates are not good for the property market, which in current conditions is a good thing. Serious thought needs to be given to pension reform so that there is greater level of collective investment – as this is most likely to be channelled productively. There are examples from other countries of ways that this might be done (the Netherlands and Australia come to mind).

So my recipe for getting the British economy onto a healthier path includes higher taxes and higher interest rates. This is not going to be taken up by any political party – but parties in government might be forced into that route anyway. The Conservatives seem the least likely to do so – with their agenda of tax cuts and supporting property prices. My favoured option is for a Labour-Lib Dem coalition – which would require a hung parliament, and both parties having the stomach for a coalition. On present evidence neither proposition is looking likely. A large part of Britain’s lacklustre performance comes down to our prioritisation of personal consumption. Changing that is a hard road.

Britain’s politicians are in denial – are the voters?

From the Office of Budget Responsibility: Economic and fiscal outlook November 2023

This week’s Autumn Statement by Britain’s Chancellor of the Exchequer, Jeremy Hunt, was a miserable affair, full of political chicanery with little to effort to tackle the country’s deepening problems. Worse yet, the opposition parties (Labour and the Lib Dems anyway), for all their huffing and puffing, are also unable to face up to these problems.

The Conservatives billed the set of measures as the biggest set of tax cuts since the 1980s. And yet the overall tax burden is rising as the freezing of tax allowances and thresholds will bring ever more people into tax or higher rates of tax, and increase the proportion of income people pay as tax. An even bigger problem is that the government has been using inflation to squeeze public spending, while services across the board – health, education, the police, the courts, and the list goes on – are clearly overstretched and in many cases breaking down – with collapsing buildings and rising waiting lists. The Chancellor offered not a penny to alleviate this crisis, while planning a further squeeze in the years ahead. Labour and the Lib Dems gleefully pointed out the first problem, but failed to address the second. They will stand by the announced tax cuts, while offering only gestures (taxing non-domiciled residents, or private schools, for example) to help fund public services. These tax-raising wheezes are nowhere near enough to match the scale of the crisis. Meanwhile all parties suggest that a bonanza of economic growth is coming to the rescue, without acknowledging the severe headwinds that will limit the country’s long-term growth prospects.

I am also highly sceptical of the one measure that seems to be getting widespread support – the full expensing of investment in machinery and systems against corporate profits. It is said that this will boost business investment, which is sorely lacking. It is in a fact the revival of a policy that failed in the 1980s, and was abolished by Nigel Lawson, the Tory tax-cutting Chancellor, who has been about the only holder of that post in memory that had a grasp of how the tax system as a whole worked and could be reformed. Back then it created a tax-avoidance industry and encouraged wasteful investment with fancy kit, rather than the thinking through of business processes which is the real key to improved productivity. That fiasco occurred at the beginning of my professional career as a Chartered Accountant, where I could see the nonsense it was creating up close. Alas the current crop of politicians and their advisers are too young to remember this. And it is of little use to new businesses, where the need is most acute, as these typically do not generate enough profit for this to be of use. What a silly waste!

Meanwhile the fiscal climate is getting a lot worse. Interest rates are rising at time that the size of the national debt is historically very high. If interest rates are higher than the overall rate of growth, and there is a budget deficit, then a debt spiral threatens, which, if it leads to an international loss of confidence in the public finances, could usher in a severe financial crisis. At the moment it is actually quite hard to understand how much of a problem this is. You should be comparing real interest rates to real growth rates – i.e. after inflation. But there are mixed signals on real interest rates. If you compare the nominal rate on government lending, it is if anything less than reported inflation – indicating a negative rate. But yields of index-lined bonds are positive and have risen sharply. Meanwhile the budget deficit is quite high – at 4% of GDP. It wasn’t so long a go when none of this seemed to matter. Interest rates were low, and the Bank of England’s Quantative Easing (QE) programme made large government debt look manageable. But conditions have changed. Inflation has made money much tighter – with interest rates rising, and QE going into reverse. I am starting to suspect a deeper change is afoot in the world’s capital markets. Earlier this century a number of countries ran large trade surpluses – notably China, Japan and Germany. This made trade and budget deficits more stable in countries like the UK and US, as the surplus countries had plenty of spare currency to provide funding. As the world’s trading environment is getting more difficult, this may changing – though it is not yet evident in public statistics. After over-reacting to fiscal risks in 2010, and moving into austerity too quickly, the opposite risk beckons. But the Autumn statement proposes tackling the budget deficit only slowly, leaving the very high level of net debt virtually unchanged. Politicians seem to assume that as inflation comes down things will simply go back to the easy financial environment that pertained before. This is complacent.

More from the OBR report – government plans make little impact on public debt

If that is complacency, the politician’s attitude to economic growth is outright denial, though some economists who should know better seem to be in the same place. It is assumed that the UK’s poor performance has an easily fixable cause. More investment perhaps, or encouraging more people into work, or perhaps lower taxes. Rachel Reeves, Labour’s Shadow Chancellor, blithely talks about sorting out public services through economic growth – even applying the first-person to the process, as if growth was the gift one individual, and not the collective result of many millions of decisions. International comparisons seem to show that Britain’s productivity lags against peers. All that we need to do is fix this, the argument goes, and we will unlock growth. Well it may be that a burst of catch-up growth that is obtainable – but I suspect that these comparisons reflect an irreversible de-industrialisation, when a swathe of high-productivity industries left the country in the 1980s and 1990s and will not return. But stepping back, most or all of the developed world faces a number of headwinds that reduce growth potential, and in some case send it into reverse:

Demographics: more people are retiring as lower birth rates take their toll. Immigration can make up some of the difference, but is politically fraught, and stresses housing resources.
Trade: as globalisation runs into reverse, gains from trade are turned into losses. The UK is spared the American obsession with “near-shoring” or the reversal of the off-shoring of industries – but we have our own demons unleashed by Brexit.
Overdevelopment. The increasing consumption of goods, a critical driver of past growth, is simply a phase in economic evolution that has clearly ended. People move on to improve their quality of life in other ways. Meanwhile massive increases to the productivity of manufacturing industry mean that its impact on the total economy is much reduced. All this means that lower productivity parts of the economy, including many public services, loom larger. Productivity gains are harder to get, and where they happen the result is not so much increased production, but a transfer of resources to low-productivity sectors.
The energy transition. The country needs to make big investments to sources and distribution of energy, and its more efficient consumption. While the end result is desirable, in the meantime this will push down consumption. This, in fact, applies to pretty much all forms of investment. The country has become used to high consumption and low savings – reversing this won’t necessarily reduce growth as it usually measured, but to many people it will feel that way.
Housing. One way of achieving growth, or at least burst of catching up, is to allow people to move to places where the most productive jobs are. But these areas lack enough housing to accommodate this. Britain’s house builders have growth rich on the skilful management of land portfolios, rather than the actual building of houses, which many are actually very bad at. They have no incentive to increase the pace of building. And if the pace is increased, skill shortages quickly become evident. And I haven’t even mentioned slow and restrictive planning processes. Politicians at least show some awareness of this issue, but action never matches the promises.

The days of steady economic growth over the medium to long term are over, whether we like it or not. The best we can hope for is a short-term spurt. There is plenty of potential for human wellbeing to improve, but this will manifest itself in other ways.

The central problem is the funding of public services and maintenance of social safety-nets. A combination of two things are required here. The first is higher levels of taxation – and mainstream taxes which directly affect demand, and not gimmicks around capital and wealth (the latter may help make debt more manageable, but won’t suppress demand and prevent inflation). The second is a radical reform of public services so that demand for them is reduced – reducing the level of social problems, so that we require fewer police, courts, hospital beds, etc – and managing those problems so that they are solved early rather than passed from agency to agency. Alas we have very little idea how to bring such a change about – though we can see that some countries do this better than us (Japan, Switzerland, Denmark perhaps). A radical reform of government is clearly a part of this, with less centralised control – but it needs much more than this: decentralisation by itself could actually make things worse. With the possible exception of education (which has become more effective rather than cheaper) the reform efforts made by our governments in the last twenty years have taken us in the wrong direction – from Labour’s over-centralisation, to the de-skilling and outsourcing of the Conservative and coalition years. Unfortunately the choice between the two approaches of higher taxes or radical reform is not a binary one. Reform will require substantial investment, and that is likely to mean higher taxes in the short term at least.

If our politicians are in denial about all of this, how about the public? They surely understand that public services are in a dire state – and that fixing this will not come cheap. But they are too wrapped up in their own personal struggles to spend any energy on demands for change. Politicians are in denial for a reason: they don’t just a lack imagination and perception, but they also know a voter-loser when they see it. Still, Labour are clearly presenting a more realistic prospectus than the Conservatives, even if it is based on wishful thinking. Their poll lead at least seems to show some wider awareness by the public at large. And we must grasp at that straw.

Why The Economist is wrong about the global economy

The Economist print edition was published before Hamas’s shocking attack from Gaza, and led on one its own stories. I will stick with that story today. This blog isn’t meant for instant reactions and the dust is a long way from settling. All I will say is that I was a volunteer at one of the kibbutzes (Be’eri) attacked on Saturday back in 1979 – long ago but it still adds depth to my reaction.

The Economist‘s lead is a challenge to “homeland economics” – the rejection of globalisation in developed economies, with the rise of protectionism and massive state subsidies to locate manufacturing in home country. The case is made by an extended essay (“special report”) on the world economy by Callum Williams, senior economics writer. This in turn is fronted by a leading article, Are free markets history?, which frames the issue as a challenge by politicians to the ideas of free market economics, which will lead to bad things. “Governments are jettisoning the principles that made the world rich,” it says. Having free market instincts myself, I find much to agree with in this critique. Most of the justifications offered for the increase in protectionism and extended government programmes don’t add up. But the newspaper’s writers are making three mistakes. They are taking the political narrative at face value without trying to understand the forces that shape it. They underestimate how much free markets themselves are driving the changes to the economic system. And they don’t know what they want. “The task for classical liberals is to prepare…a new consensus that adapts their ideas to a more dangerous, inter connected and fractious world.” Yes, but what on earth does that look like? It may turn out to be surprisingly close to what the world is doing now, but in slightly different clothes.

I see things differently – while at the same time using classical liberal economics as my basis. The expansion of global trade has been one of the most critical aspects of the development of the world economy since the Second World War. At first the main beneficiaries were the Western European and American economies – but this started to run out of steam in the 1960s – as the war-damaged economies of Europe recovered. Then Asia burst onto the scene, in three distinct phases – first Japan, then the “tiger economies” of South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore – and finally and most dramatically with China – with India, Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia and Bangladesh playing a significant role too. This last phase, from the mid 1990s up to the financial crash of 2007-09, was the most dramatic of them all and was given the monicker of “Globalisation”. The impact was dramatic – many scores of millions were lifted out of poverty; China rose to be a superpower; and living standards in the developed world (now including Japan) steadily advanced as falling prices of manufactured goods fed through. These advances had three critical ingredients: free trade, technology and comparative advantage. The weakness of The Economist‘s argument is that it concentrates on the first part of this holy trinity without appreciating the impact of the other two.

Let’s consider technology. The first critical development was the rise of manufactured consumer goods. Technological developments from the Second World War – from manufacturing technology to the use of plastics – saw a massive rise in the production of cheap goods from cars to washing-up liquid which came to occupy a dominant position in the economy. Advancing agricultural technology also led to huge agricultural surpluses in some countries. These goods are readily tradable and thus gave rise to a huge opportunity for trade. The second critical development was the advance of information technology in 1980s and onward, which allowed the development of long, global supply chains and the relocation of manufacturing and other economic activity, sometimes to the other side of the world. This again greatly expanded the scope for increased trade.

Then there is comparative advantage. This classical piece of economics has been well understood for two centuries and more. It gets taught in basic economics courses (“Economics 101”) as a wonderful illustration of the power of counterintuitive thinking. Then, after Economics 101, it quietly gets forgotten by trained economists. While its strategic impact is obvious, it is very hard to incorporate it into the mathematical and computer models that are at the heart of professional economics. That is unfortunate, because its dynamics are critical to understanding patterns of trade. It suggests that benefits from trade exist when two economies have structural differences that lead to different opportunity costs for different economic goods and services – for illustration the amount of wheat production that must be foregone by redeploying resources (typically labour) to make a car, say, or vice versa. In an undeveloped economy, like China in 1990, agricultural productivity is very low and you don’t have to forego much wheat to make a car. In America, agricultural productivity is sky-high, and the amount of wheat forgone to make that extra car is much higher, even allowing for much higher manufacturing productivity. So China is said to have a comparative advantage in car production, and America in wheat production – even if America is much more efficient at car production. So if China redeployed labour from the farms to factories and imported wheat from America to make up the shortfall, it could make more cars than the Americans would forego to redeploy labour to produce the extra wheat. Of course, that specific example is flawed: America can’t simply send workers to the countryside and expect that to raise agricultural production. But the general principle stands: export where you have comparative advantage; import where you don’t – and everybody should be better off. Exchange rates gravitate to levels that make the exchange beneficial to both sides, allowing for the differences in absolute productivity. This is one of the main reasons that exchange rates do not follow purchasing power parity.

Now the point that isn’t made in most Economics 101 courses, and fails to be fully appreciated by even trained economists, is that these gains from trade arise from differences in the structure of economies. If two national economies are identical, there will be no gain. And, in principle the more economies differ, the bigger the potential gains. Sometimes these differences arise from geography – if one country can drill oil in its jurisdiction it will certainly have a comparative advantage in oil over one that doesn’t – and production of oil will tend to drive out production of other goods (one reason why British de-industrialisation was particularly acute when North Sea oil was plentiful). But other differences are less rooted. The main difference that drove globalisation was the state of development – and in particular a vast, unproductive agricultural workforce compared in developing countries compared to a fully mechanised one in advanced ones. This did not necessarily drive agricultural trade, which is often subject to heavy protectionism, but led to low manufacturing wages, and thus an advantage in lower-tech manufacturing. But as these economies developed, starting with Japan, and moving on to China, they converged with the developed world. Manufacturing wages rose and the exchange rate of the developing nations appreciated. The gains from trade were based on much more subtle differences, and there were generally less of them. Outsourcing manufacturing from America to China is a much more nuanced economic proposition now, even without all the political baggage.

The role of technology in trade has changed too. Manufacturing technology has advanced to the point of being so productive that its role in the overall economy is much less dominant than it was. Indeed The Economist points out that one of the issues with relocating it “back home’ is that it doesn’t bring many jobs with it – it will not be recreating the good old days of plentiful mid-level jobs in the 1970s. Technology itself continues to evolve at a rapid pace, but it is far from clear that it is doing so in a way that opens opportunities for trade. It may even be doing the reverse by making it easier for economies to be self-sufficient after paying due homage to the technological giants that control so much of it. And the tech giants do not employ all that many people.

So it’s not at all surprising that the bottom is falling out of globalisation. There are just fewer opportunities to make profits. And with this tightness comes political sensitivity. It is much more likely that government policies will affect trade patterns because it takes less effort to turn the tables. And other issues such as resilience and security weigh more heavily. In particular China’s unsubtle effort to tilt economic advantage its ways in particular economic sectors, and use economic leverage to bully (countering, no doubt they would suggest, the American propensity to do the same) is drawing an understandable political reaction.

Where The Economist is right is to suggest that the new developments in structure of the world economy will yield disappointing results, especially in the developed world. The loss of gains from trade as a result of convergence adversely impacts the world economy. By and large they result from increased productivity in developing nations, who are able to offset the loss of trade gains by banking the extra productivity. The developed world can’t offset the loss in the same way. The costs of imported goods rise relative to domestic goods and this amounts to a headwind against living standards. A tailwind turns into a headwind for economic growth, to be added to other headwinds such as adverse demographic changes.

These are, funnily enough, the problems of success. Globalisation has done a huge amount to advance human development, but we’ve reached the top of the escalator (leaving aside, for now, the issue of what happens to the remaining less developed economies, in Africa for example). Much the same can be said of developments to manufacturing technology. We must look in a different direction to make future advances.

That different direction may include market economics, and surely it includes a trade in ideas – but physical trade will play a lesser role. Restoration of the environment, a better appreciation of human psychological needs, and a rethink of public services will be the critical elements. We can’t look to the recent past as our guide.