Quote of the day

“I find economics increasingly satisfactory, and I think I am rather good at it.”– John Maynard Keynes

Saturday, 3 July 2021

Important piece on changes to GDP measurement

 

If it’s all about the data, a new way of measuring paints a completely different picture of growth

The Times
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Every so often new evidence emerges to remind us how little we understand the economy. Not in terms of what the future holds, but the shape of the economy now. In recent weeks, there have been a couple of such double-take moments — reminders that we know even less about what’s going on than we thought.

The first of those surprises came from the European Union settlement scheme, under which EU migrants can apply to remain in the country permanently. During the Brexit negotiations, the plight of the three million EU citizens in the UK was front page news. When the deadline closed on Wednesday, 5.2 million of those three million had been granted the right to stay and another 500,000 were being processed.

That’s right. It turns out there are 2.7 million more non-Irish EU migrants in Britain than was thought during the referendum, and 2.2 million more than the Office for National Statistics’ estimate in mid-2020. The overshoot was so large that Jacob Rees-Mogg this week felt it necessary to pay tribute to deluged Home Office officials.

CHRIS DUGGAN

Where were they hiding? In plain sight. We just had not counted them. Speaking to the Resolution Foundation think tank on Thursday, Sir Charlie Bean, the former Bank of England deputy governor, said: “It’s always struck me as bizarre that we are an island yet we’ve never had a good handle on how many people are here because we’ve never really measured migration.”

Assuming no over-counting elsewhere, the discovery of these lost residents has big implications. For a start, questions may be asked about the economic benefits of migration if more were needed to deliver the same output. A larger total population means national income per person is lower. That would make Britain economically weaker than thought, with an even worse productivity record. Or perhaps we have a thriving shadow economy of crooks and money launderers.

The ONS says the two datasets are not comparable, that 5.7 million probably overstates the true figure as many left in the pandemic (informed estimates suggest 500,000) and that the ONS’s 3.5 million estimate was never the full picture. Either way, all we know is that the official estimate for EU citizens in the UK appears wrong by a factor of 50 per cent.

Measurement matters. Policy is guided by data, which is why the second revelation is even more important. This week, the ONS unveiled a new way of calculating GDP. The changes were technical but significant. What they showed was that Britain’s manufacturing sector, all too often unloved against services, has been a far stronger driver of the UK’s economic engine than thought.

In aggregate, the size of the economy is unaffected but the story of how we got to where we are today is different. Two decades of economic history have changed and the new methods raise the possibility of a better tomorrow.

To understand the changes, though, we first have to tackle the complex subject of “double deflation”. There are two main measures of national income — nominal, or cash, GDP and real GDP. Real GDP growth, which strips out inflation to reveal the volume increase in the economy, is what we all talk about.

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Say a car manufacturer makes £200 million one year and £220 million the next but sells the same number of cars in both. From a GDP perspective, cash growth would be 10 per cent but real growth would be zero as the extra revenue was only in the price. But if the manufacturer added a stereo to the cars in the second year, the quality improvement would be treated as an increase in volume. In economic terms, the £200 million cash GDP would translate into, say, £202 million in real GDP because the “deflator” would now be smaller. This hypothetical auto economy would now have seen 1 per cent real GDP growth.

What the ONS has done, in a painstaking but long overdue piece of work, is create a new set of deflators for each industry, both for their input costs and their output prices, to establish the real economic value they have added. This has transformed the telecoms services sector, the old phone companies that now supply superfast broadband.

Telecoms prices have barely risen but data has multiplied. The ONS has begun adjusting to reflect units of data. Imagine each of those cars had not just been fitted with a stereo but could also fly. As we get so much more for our money, the effective price has fallen, which conversely means the volume measure has exploded. This quality effect means real growth in telecoms has averaged 27 per cent a year since 1998, not the 6.8 per cent previously estimated.

Unfortunately, that vast growth does not mean the economy is bigger. What’s happened is that growth attributed to other industries under the old measurement methods has been shifted to telecoms. This is where double deflation comes in. As the telecoms deflator raises the effective input cost for companies using broadband, their volume growth falls. Architecture, for example, was thought to have grown at 1.9 per cent a year between 1998 and 2018. The new deflators now suggest the industry has not grown at all.

Like telecoms, double deflation has revealed hidden real growth in manufacturing, which accounts for a tenth of GDP and is now thought to have expanded at 3.1 per cent a year in the decade to 2008 rather than 0.3 per cent. Productivity between 1998 and 2018 has been upgraded sharply in manufacturing and downgraded in most services.

The economy is no longer what it was. Measurement changes mean telecoms, technology and manufacturing are the fast-growing industries. Services, still four fifths of national output, remain key but the balance has tipped a little.

It may be no coincidence that the UK is the only G7 country not using double deflation and is sitting at the bottom of the productivity pack. Previous analysis suggested Britain’s factories have been responsible for much of the productivity slowdown. With double deflation, they may become part of the solution.

Either way, pity the policymakers. They can only be as good as the data they are given.

Philip Aldrick is Economics Editor of The Times

Monday, 28 June 2021

A bit of supply-side

 

A revamped New Enterprise Allowance would do wonders for business creation

By  

It is not often you find a Thatcherite policy that is just as likely to be celebrated in The Guardian or the RSA, as it is by The Daily Telegraph. The Enterprise Allowance Scheme (EAS) was a rare exception.

The idea is simple: pay the unemployed to start a business. The results were impressive. Success stories included Alan McGee’s Creation Records and Julian Dunkerton’s SuperDry clothing brand. It also helped launch the careers of Young British Artists (YBAs) such as Jeremy Deller and Tracey Emin.

It was also excellent value for money. One analysis by the World Bank estimated that it cost under £5,000 (adjusted for inflation) per job created. This is about as good as it gets for labour market policy. By contrast, some recent schemes have cost as much as 40 times more per job created. 

Yet its successor scheme, the New Enterprise Allowance (NEA), falls short in a number of key ways. At its peak, more than 100,000 were enrolled on the Enterprise Allowance Scheme at one time. By contrast, there have only been slightly more starts on the NEA over the past decade.

What explains the relative failure? A key problem is the level of support on offer. The EAS offered recipients £40 a week in the 80s, which is slightly more than what they could get from Job Seekers Allowance (JSA). The NEA is a fair bit stingier: you can claim up to £1,274 over six months, roughly 25% less than what you would have got on JSA.

The support does not last for long either. At the end of six months, you are effectively on your own. This wasn’t the case for the original EAS, where support lasted for a year.

There’s a further complication too. Under Universal Credit, benefits are gradually tapered away, which can create further uncertainty for the self-employed as to what they will have at the end of the month.

A scheme closer to the original EAS could have a powerful impact in the parts of the UK where poverty and deprivation are most stubborn to shift. We recently worked with Sage and Portland to poll over a thousand SMEs and people open to the idea of starting a business in some of the most deprived parts of London and Newcastle.

The polling revealed that starting a business is seen as a route to a better life for many people who are currently stuck in low-paid work. Entrepreneurship isn’t just a pipe dream either. Almost half the people we spoke to had clear business ideas. However, these ideas were not translating into new business creation because of two key barriers: finance and confidence.

Sometimes the problems were a matter of perception. The people we polled thought starting a business would cost £12,000. By contrast, the SME owners we spoke reckoned it only cost them £5,000. Most people would still fall short, but the gap isn’t insurmountable.

To make up the shortfall, external finance will be necessary. But the idea of taking out a loan, especially in a year where most have seen their income fall and businesses close, seems daunting to most.

In theory, the NEA should be perfect for them, but it is unlikely that just over £1,000 over six months is sufficient. If we were to expand the NEA to £100 a week over 12 months, as Policy Exchange have advocated, it would enable every recipient to find that £5,000 to cover startup costs.

There is one aspect of the NEA that is worth keeping. Under the current system support is frontloaded. After all, you are most likely to need support in your first few weeks before you’ve made that crucial first sale.

An expanded NEA should keep that aspect but increase flexibility. On the approval of a business mentor, you should be able to access up to 50% of your last six months worth of entitlement upfront.

We should also look at expanding eligibility. The scheme is only available to people receiving benefits. As a result, we might be missing out on supporting people who have developed side-hustles while on furlough. Similarly, those under 23 earning less than the National Living Wage could also benefit from support to start a business. Indeed, many of the Enterprise Allowance Scheme’s biggest successes were people who joined the scheme in their early twenties.

It wouldn’t be a silver bullet – we still need better support in terms of mentoring and entrepreneurship education up and down the curriculum. But it could help us take advantage of the massive opportunity to support the creation of new businesses in the parts of the UK where they are most needed.

Friday, 25 June 2021

Bureaucracy & red tape in Germany

 A fun read too. I have been following the story of the Tesla factory in Germany with a lot of interest - environmentalists have been howling in anger about it. This article puts it into perspective in terms of slowing innovation and growth, something that needs to be factored in to essays that contrast different economic regions.


What Was Elon Musk Smoking When He Chose Germany?

The 25-year saga of a missing traffic light in Berlin speaks volumes about contemporary Germany.

Every traffic light should cause such bliss.

Hear, hear! Armin Laschet, boss of Germany’s center-right Christian Democrats and candidate for chancellor, just hit bull’s-eye with his ad hoc analysis of what ails Germany. Spontaneously naming this affliction “bureaucratic ping-pong,” he illustrated it with a nondescript intersection on the eastern outskirts of Berlin.

Some 25 years ago, it appears, the local mandarins decided to install a traffic light to make the crossing safer. Then the ping-pong paddles came out. 

First, it seems, the folks in the municipal administration got into a tiff with the guys at the water utility about who was to drain what, given that the area was environmentally protected. Then regulations changed and the light needed new specs. Next, the public-transport people discovered that the signal would mess up schedules at nearby stops. And so it went until last fall, when somebody had an epiphany and placed a provisional traffic signal at the corner, in anticipation of the permanent iteration. That should arrive any decade now.

Bureaucracy isn’t unique to Germany, of course, but these time spans appear to be par for the course in Europe’s largest economy. At about the time the traffic light was conceived, for example, Berlin also began planning its new airport. After several delays, it opened — wait for it — last fall. 

So it goes, wherever you look. All administrations since the 1990s have promised to “digitize” the country. This is now bearing fruit. Over a year into the pandemic, Germany’s health agencies have recently begun switching from fax to the Internet in reporting new cases.

Time is relative, as Laschet pointed out dolefully this week as he presented his party’s election platform, and that’s a problem for an open economy that trades in global markets. “During the time we were playing bureaucratic ping-pong,” he lamented, “Amazon, Google and Tesla became tech giants.” 

Laschet could also have cited artificial intelligence, where the U.S. and China have sped ahead and Germany trails far behind. Or Germany’s ballyhooed energy transition, which is stuck in part because bureaucratic nimbyism keeps blocking pylons and power lines that would carry electricity from the windy coast to the industrial hinterland. Or the red tape that slows construction in German cities, causing rents to soar. Or almost any other aspect of German society.

But Laschet’s choice of benchmarks is telling, for Germans are peculiarly conflicted about this fast-moving and unbureaucratic U.S. trio of Amazon.com Inc., Google (owned by Alphabet Inc.) and Tesla Inc.

At one level, they love shopping on the first, searching on the second and driving in the third. They’re also green with envy, because the only German tech company in the big leagues is SAP SE, which makes comparatively boring enterprise software and, founded in 1972, is getting long in the tooth. 

At another level — and especially on the political left — Germans frown at what they see as rapacious Yankee cowboy capitalists. They suspect Amazon of undermining German labor standards, Google of violating Germans’ vaunted data privacy, and the whole lot of them of paying too little tax. Hence their German reflex: Let’s send the bureaucrats to give them a good talking to.

Germans are having particular conniptions of late about Tesla, which provokes them in every way imaginable. It specializes in sexy cars that are also electric and thus climate-friendly. Germany specializes in cars that increasingly look like mutton dressed as lamb and — despite the marketing you may have seen — still mainly guzzle gas and diesel. 

Even more embarrassing, Tesla is run by Elon Musk, a risk-loving and impatient Anglo-Saxon who also smokes dope in podcasts, hosts comedy shows, drills through bedrock, launches rockets into space and is preparing to colonize Mars. Musk is as close to the opposite of the archetypically risk-averse, wooden, paper-pushing German executive as you can be. He’s Germany’s perfect foil.

Musk, as it happens, has chosen a sandy forest near Berlin to build a Tesla factory. As you’d expect, there are some Germans who find that interesting: The site will create thousands of good jobs and it checks every box Germans claim to love: It’s green, digital, and cutting-edge.

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But nobody seems to have told Musk about the ping-pong. The environmentalists who should love his electric cars hate his factory because it uses lots of water and might endanger wildlife. Germany’s largest labor union, IG Metall, is fighting him tooth and nail because he doesn’t want to sign its dotted lines. The factory’s opening has already been delayed, and Musk must be wondering what he was smoking when he chose this location.

So Laschet deserves kudos for making bureaucracy an issue in the campaign leading up to September’s federal election. His party has been in power so long, it obviously shares some blame for the ping-pong he decries. But the truth is that the German obsession with rules and regulations, paperwork and red tape, is mainly the result of leftist policies, often well meant.

Like his main rivals, the Greens, Laschet wants to defeat both the pandemic and global warming. But unlike the Greens and other left parties, he’s also spotted the need to simplify German governance. That’s what it’ll take to unfetter the energy and innovation necessary to achieve these goals and keep Germany prosperous. When Laschet promises to take the ping-pong paddles away from bureaucrats, he’s onto something, and deserves support.