Britain never had a double dip recession – and that doesn't matter

The magic of GDP revisions.

The ONS has released a bumper set of GDP revisions, taking a fresh look at the national output all the way back to 1997. The headline points:

  • The recession in 2009 was much more severe than previously thought. The agency has revised its estimate of the 2009 contraction from 4 per cent of GDP to 5.2 per cent; an increase of a third.
  • A change of 0.1 percentage points has erased the "double-dip" recession in 2011. The contractions in Q4 2011 and Q2 2012 still exist, but Q1 2012 is now estimated to have had exactly 0.0 per cent growth; the wiggle thus no longer qualifies as a technical recession.
  • Historically, the 2001 slump after the dot-com boom also appears to have been much worse than previously thought. Rather than the economy growing by 2.9 per cent that year, it grew by 2.2 per cent, a revision of 0.7 percentage points.

The immediate effect of the revision is political. The double-dip recession has been extraordinarily damaging for the Government, allowing the Opposition a concrete fact to point to to back up the claims that they "inherited growth and provided recession". The revisions eliminate the negative growth in one quarter, and mean that that period no longer meets the requirement of two or more consecutive quarters of negative growth which defines a recession.

But that is a technicality of the highest order. The estimate for growth over those three quarters combined is exactly the same as it was yesterday: a contraction of 0.6 per cent. All that has happened is that the timing of some of that contraction has shifted. Q2 2012 is now thought to be marginally worse, and Q1 2012 is now thought to be marginally better.

In other words, as I said back in April 2012, technical recessions don't matter. They impose an artificial dividing line between "good" and "bad" growth, when in fact, going by yesterday's stats or today's, that period is and always was mediocre. Horribly, cripplingly mediocre.

Anaemic growth is just as bad as a technical recession. In many ways, it's worse; whereas technical recessions are at least expected to end, the stagnation which we are living at the moment has stretched out for almost half a decade, and could well last almost half a decade more.

The more interesting fact is that the recession and depression have been massively increased in size. Since 2008, the economy has actually contracted by 1.1 per cent more than we thought. That increases the so-called "productivity puzzle": why has unemployment been falling while GDP hasn't been increasing? That puzzle is partially solved with the realisation that the labour market improvement stopped six months ago; but there still appears to be a disconnect between the two measures. The commonly cited solution to the puzzle is to argue that labour productivity has dropped; but even that just pushes the question further down the tree. Why is our productivity down so much?

But the number one take-home lesson from all of this is: GDP is actually kind of crappy. It's estimated from samples several steps removed from actually "measuring the size of the economy". It misses out huge sectors of the economy, from unpaid caring and parenting to increasingly mainstream aspects of the shadow economy like transactions in bitcoin. And it's wrong; sometimes for decades on end.

Perhaps we should take the advice of former MPC member Andrew Sentence (who has been predicting this recession would be revised out of existence for a year), and focus on more important and less volatile indicators like unemployment and business activity. Not only would that reduce the risk of rewriting history: it would also mean that doing well could no longer be defined as "not failing".

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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After Strictly, I'd love to see Ed Balls start a new political party

My week, from babbling at Michael Gove to chatting Botox with Ed Balls and a trip to Stroke City.

If you want to see yourself as others see you, write a weekly column in a national newspaper, then steel yourself to read “below the line”. Under my last offering I read the following comment: “Don’t be angry, feel pity. Her father was a member of the European Parliament. Her older brother has been a member of parliament, a cabinet minister, a secretary of state, a historian, a mayor of London. Her younger brother is a member of parliament and minister for universities and science. She has a column in the Daily Mail. Can you imagine how she feels deep inside?” Before I slammed my laptop shut – the truth always hurts – my eye fell on this. “When is Rachel going to pose for Playboy seniors’ edition?” Who knew that Playboy did a seniors’ edition? This is the best compliment I’ve had all year!

 

Three parts of Michael Gove

Part one Bumped into Michael Gove the other day for the first time since I called him a “political psychopath” and “Westminster suicide bomber” in print. We had one of those classic English non-conversations. I babbled. Gove segued into an anecdote about waiting for a London train at Castle Cary in his trusty Boden navy jacket and being accosted by Johnnie Boden wearing the exact same one. I’m afraid that’s the punchline! Part two I’ve just had a courtesy call from the Cheltenham Literature Festival to inform me that Gove has been parachuted into my event. I’ve been booked in since June, and the panel is on modern manners. De mortuis nil nisi bonum, of course, but I do lie in bed imagining the questions I hope I might be asked at the Q&A session afterwards. Part three There has been what we might call a serious “infarction” of books about Brexit, serialised passim. I never thought I would write these words, but I’m feeling sorry for the chap. Gove gets such a pasting in the diaries of Sir Craig Oliver.

Still, I suppose Michael can have his own say, because he’s returning to the Times this week as a columnist. Part of me hopes he’ll “do a Sarah Vine”, as it’s known in the trade (ie, write a column spiced with intimate revelations). But I am braced for policy wonkery rather than the petty score-settling and invasions of his own family privacy that would be so much more entertaining.

 

I capture the castle

I’ve been at an event on foreign affairs called the Mount Stewart Conversations, co-hosted by BBC Northern Ireland and the National Trust. Before my departure for Belfast, I mentioned that I was going to the province to the much “misunderestimated” Jemima Goldsmith, the producer, and writer of this parish. I didn’t drop either the name of the house or the fact that Castlereagh, a former foreign secretary, used to live there, and that the desk that the Congress of Vienna was signed on is in the house, as I assumed in my snooty way that Ms Goldsmith wouldn’t have heard of either. “Oh, we used to have a house in Northern Ireland, Mount Stewart,” she said, when I said I was going there. “It used to belong to Mum.” That told me.

Anyway, it was a wonderful weekend, full of foreign policy and academic rock stars too numerous to mention. Plus, at the Stormont Hotel, the staff served porridge with double cream and Bushmills whiskey for breakfast; and the gardens at Mount Stewart were stupendous. A top performer was Jonathan Powell, Tony Blair’s former chief of staff, who runs his own conflict resolution charity. Powell negotiated the Good Friday Agreement and also has a very natty line in weekend casual wear. Jeremy Corbyn has said he wants a minister for peace, as well as party unity. Surely “Curly” Powell – a prince of peace if ever there was one – must be shoo-in for this gig.

PS: I was told that Derry/Londonderry is now known as “Stroke City”. I imagined stricken residents all being rushed to Casualty, before I worked it out.

 

On board with Balls

Isn’t Ed Balls bliss? From originating Twitter’s Ed Balls Day to becoming Strictly Come Dancing’s Ed Balls, he is adding hugely to the gaiety of the nation. I did the ITV show The Agenda with Tom Bradby this week, and as a fellow guest Balls was a non-stop stream of campery, charleston steps, Strictly gossip and girly questions about whether he should have a spray tan (no!), or Botox under his armpits to staunch the sweat (also no! If you block the armpits, it will only appear somewhere else!).

He is clever, fluent, kind, built like a s*** outhouse, and nice. I don’t care that his waltz looked as if his partner, Katya, was trying to move a double-doored Sub-Zero American fridge across a shiny floor. After Strictly I’d like to see him start a new party for all the socially liberal, fiscally conservative, pro-European millions of us who have been disenfranchised by Brexit and the Corbynisation of the Labour Party. In fact, I said this on air. If he doesn’t organise it, I will, and he sort of promised to be on board!

 

A shot in the dark

I was trying to think of something that would irritate New Statesman readers to end with. How about this: my husband is shooting every weekend between now and 2017. This weekend we are in Drynachan, the seat of Clan Campbell and the Thanes of Cawdor. I have been fielding calls from our host, a type-A American financier, about the transportation of shotguns on BA flights to Inverness – even though I don’t shoot and can’t stand the sport.

I was overheard droning on by Adrian Tinniswood, the author of the fashionable history of country houses The Long Weekend. He told me that the 11th Duke of Bedford kept four cars and eight chauffeurs to ferry revellers to his pile at Woburn. Guests were picked up in town by a chauffeur, accompanied by footmen. Luggage went in another car, also escorted by footmen, as it was not done to travel with your suitcase.

It’s beyond Downton! I must remember to tell mine host how real toffs do it. He might send a plane just for the guns.

Rachel Johnson is a columnist for the Mail on Sunday

This article first appeared in the 29 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, May’s new Tories