With or without Ed Miliband’s energy price freeze, the lights could soon start going out

The recent summary of the United Nations report on climate change, published on 27 September, only re-emphasised the urgency of the world taking action on emissions.

Ed Miliband’s pledge to freeze gas and electricity prices was hailed by his supporters as a masterstroke that cuts to the heart of the most important issue in post-crisis Britain: stagnant household incomes in the face of rapidly rising prices. His opponents called it a lurch to the far left that revives a brand of economic interventionism not seen since the 1970s. With any luck, it will at least encourage politicians of all parties to take a closer look at Britain’s overall energy policy.
 
In the 1950s and 1960s, Britain was in the midst of a postwar economic boom. The economy grew at 3 per cent a year on average and electricity demand at more than double that rate. It was the heyday of technocratic planning and no serious person believed that such rapid growth in demand could possibly be met by the uncoordinated private sector. By the 1970s, therefore, the supply of energy in Britain was controlled directly by the state from top to bottom. The government planned investment, provided finance and set prices; its plan was implemented by state-owned monopoly utilities.
 
At the beginning of the 1980s, however, this conventional wisdom regarding the optimal way of organising the energy industry underwent a big change. The primary reason was the general shift in economic ideology. In 1978, one of the leading British proponents of Austrian economics, Stephen C Littlechild, published a pamphlet, The Fallacy of the Mixed Economy, which became the classic statement of the economic case for privatisation and market liberalisation.
 
A planned economy, Littlechild warned, assumes extraordinary powers on the part of the planners. For planning or the planned part of a mixed economy to be efficient, the planners would have to know what people want, what technologies are available to meet their demands and where the resources are to deploy them. In reality, it is difficult for planners to discover the second and third of these and logically impossible to know the first.
 
Fortunately, he explained, society has devised an ingenious solution to this canonical informational problem in the form of the market: a magic machine for discovering consumers’ demands and the most efficient way of meeting them, in which no individual needs to know much at all.
 
A market economy might be organisationally more messy – in other words, requiring many competing firms instead of just one – but in terms of its informational requirements, it would be infinitely simpler (and therefore more efficient) than the existing planned system.
 
There were changes afoot in the UK economy that made the energy sector especially fertile ground for this new philosophy. The golden age of growth was over and the economy was busily moving from one based on energy-intensive manufacturing to the dominance of the service sector we know today. As a result, rapid growth in demand was no longer the problem. In 1970, it was predicted that Britain would require 100GW of generating capacity in 1995. In the event, only a little over half of that was needed.
 
Instead, the main challenge was how to improve the efficiency of the existing system. So, in energy more than almost any other sector, the trade-off from moving to a market system seemed to promise extraordinary economic gains.
 
The increase in organisational complexity as the nationalised behemoths were dismantled into their constituent parts and new institutions were created to regulate and operate the new energy markets would offset the far greater efficiency of resourcing, operations and investment guided by the decentralised decisions of market participants. It all took a while, but in 1998 the last vestiges of the old monopoly utilities were abolished with the introduction of competition in the retail supply of electricity and gas.
 
However, because of global warming and the new requirements of the post-Kyoto world, mitigating carbon-dioxide emissions was fast becoming the dominant challenge. As the decline of the UK’s indigenous natural gas fields came into prospect, ensuring security of supply and managing the energy sector’s impact on the balance of payments also became important concerns.
 
There was no reason in theory why the liberalised market alone was going to achieve these objectives automatically – and no evidence in practice that it would. It seemed that planning by the state would be required after all.
 
Yet successive Labour governments and the current coalition opted instead for an incremental approach: a persistent accumulation of directives, rules and subsidy schemes intended to cure the liberalised markets’ intrinsic indifference to decarbonisation and security of supply, all programmed and overseen by a growing army of regulatory bodies, quangos and advisory institutions.
 
So we have ended up with the worst result from both worlds: a Byzantine industrial structure theoretically co-ordinated by the market mechanism, but one that nevertheless requires omniscient policymakers to mastermind everything it does.
 
This situation is not sustainable. With or without a price freeze, we face the distinct possibility of a capacity shortage – that’s “the lights going out” to you or me – by the middle of this decade; and the recent summary of the United Nations report on climate change, published on 27 September, only reemphasised the urgency of the world taking action on emissions.
 
Do our politicians still believe in the model of a liberalised energy sector? If they do, then policy and regulation need to be simplified drastically. If they do not, they might as well give up and return to old-school state direction. An energy policy marooned in noman’s- land is not an option.
 
Felix Martin is the author of “Money: the Unauthorised Biography” (Bodley Head, £20). His column appears fortnightly
We are facing the distinct possibility of a capacity shortage, or "the lights going out". Image: Getty

Macroeconomist, bond trader and author of Money

This article first appeared in the 07 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The last days of Nelson Mandela

Photo: Getty
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In focusing on the famous few, we risk doing a disservice to all victims of child sexual abuse

There is a danger that we make it harder, not easier, for victims to come forward in future. 

Back in the 1970s when relations between journalists and police were somewhat different to today a simple ritual would be carried out around the country at various times throughout the week.

Reporters, eager for information for their regional newspaper, would take a trip to the local station and there would be met by a desk sergeant who would helpfully skim through details in the crime Incident Book.

Among the entries about petty thefts, burglaries and road accidents there would occasionally be a reference to an allegation of incest. And at this point the sergeant and journalist might well screw-up their faces, shake their heads and swiftly move on to the next log. The subject was basically taboo, seen as something ‘a bit mucky,’ not what was wanted in a family newspaper.

And that’s really the way things stayed until 1986 when ChildLine was set up by Dame Esther Rantzen in the wake of a BBC programme about child abuse. For the first time children felt able to speak out about being sexually assaulted by the very adults whose role in life was to protect them.

And for the first time the picture became clear about what incest really meant in many cases. It wasn’t simply a low level crime to be swept under the carpet in case it scratched people’s sensitivities. It frequently involved children being abused by members of their close family, repeatedly, over many years.

Slowly but surely as the years rolled on the NSPCC continued to press the message about the prevalence of child sexual abuse, while encouraging victims to come forward. During this time the corrosive effects of this most insidious crime have been painfully detailed by many of those whose lives have been derailed by it. And of course the details of the hundreds of opportunistic sexual assaults committed by Jimmy Savile have been indelibly branded onto the nation’s consciousness.

It’s been a long road - particularly for those who were raped or otherwise abused as children and are now well into their later years - to bring society around to accepting that this is not to be treated as a dark secret that we really don’t want to expose to daylight. Many of those who called our helpline during the early days of the Savile investigation had never told anyone about the traumatic events of their childhoods despite the fact they had reached retirement age.

So, having buried the taboo, we seem to be in danger of giving it the kiss of life with the way some cases of alleged abuse are now being perceived.

It’s quite right that all claims of sexual assault should be investigated, tested and, where there is a case, pursued through the judicial system. No one is above the law, whether a ‘celebrity’ or a lord.

But we seem to have lost a sense of perspective when it comes to these crimes with vast resources being allocated to a handful of cases while many thousands of reported incidents are virtually on hold.

The police should never have to apologise for investigating crimes and following leads. However, if allegations are false or cannot be substantiated they should say so. This would be a strength not a weakness.

It is, of course, difficult that in many of the high-profile cases of recent times the identities of those under investigation have not been officially released by the police but have come to light through other means. Yet we have to deal with the world as it is not as we wish it would be and once names are common knowledge the results of the investigations centring on them should be made public.

When it emerges that someone in the public eye is being investigated for non-recent child abuse it obviously stirs the interest of the media whose appetite can be insatiable. This puts pressure on the police who don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing offenders to slip through their hands.  And so there is a danger, as has been seen in recent cases, that officers lack confidence in declaring there is a lack of evidence or the allegations are not true. 

The disproportionate weight of media attention given to say, Sir Edward Heath, as opposed to the Bradford grooming gang sentenced this week, shows there is a danger the pendulum is swinging too far the other way. This threatens the painstaking work invested in ensuring the public and our institutions recognise child abuse as a very real danger. 

Whilst high profile cases have helped the cause there is now a real risk that the all-encompassing focus on them does both victims of abuse and those advocating on their behalf a fundamental disservice.

As the public watches high -profile cases collapsing amidst a media fanfare genuine convictions made across the country week in week out go virtually unannounced. If this trend continues they may start to believe that child sexual abuse isn’t the prolific problem we know it to be.

So, while detectives peer into the mists of time, searching for long lost clues, we have to face the unpalatable possibility that offences being committed today will in turn become historical investigations because there is not the manpower to deal with them right now.

So, now the Goddard Inquiry is in full swing, taking evidence about allegations of child sex crimes involving ‘well known people’ as well as institutional abuse, how do we ensure we don’t fail today’s victims?

If they start to think their stories are going to be diminished by the continuing furore over how some senior public figures have been treated by the police they will stay silent. Therefore we have to continue to encourage them to come forward, to give them the confidence of knowing they will be listened to.

If we don’t we will find ourselves back in those incestuous days where people conspired to say and do nothing to prevent child abuse.

Peter Wanless is Chief Executive of the NSPCC.