The Danes' counter-example

Additional stimulus hasn't caused bond yields to rise in Denmark. They're in the EU and have their o

Denmark's new three-party coalition government has announced that the primary aim of its economic policy is to secure a balance between revenues and spending and create growth by bringing forward public investment. The new Danish prime minister, Helle Thorning-Schmidt, who is Neil Kinnock's daughter-in-law, unveiled her coalition cabinet on Monday and indicated that her government would take a radically different approach from the austerity measures being adopted by other European countries. The new Danish government apparently intends to spend ten billion Danish kroner to upgrade roads, railways and bicycle paths. The stimulus agenda also includes plans to provide temporary tax credits for companies that invest in R&D and machineries along with new technologies. It said it also aimed to carry out a tax reform that would significantly reduce taxes on wage incomes.

This is a very interesting counter-example to George Osborne's and David Cameron's claims that austerity is crucial to keep bond yields low. This is what Cameron said in the rapidly revised part of his party conference speech yesterday, that in a draft version that was circulated told people to save -- when he really meant he wanted them to spend.

When you're in a debt crisis, some of the normal things that government can do, to deal with a normal recession, like borrowing to cut taxes or increase spending -- these things won't work because they lead to more debt, which would make the crisis worse. Why? Because it risks higher interest rates, less confidence and the threat of even higher taxes in future. The only way out of a debt crisis is to deal with your debts. That's why households are paying down their credit card and store card bills. It means banks getting their books in order. And it means governments -- all over the world -- cutting spending and living within their means.

Cameron's speech -- even the corrected final version -- gets it precisely the wrong way round. The only way out of a debt crisis -- if by debt crisis we mean, as he says, a situation where households are desperately trying to pay down debt because on an individual level this is rational -- is for the government to step in and spend more, at least temporarily. For the government to join in and try to save more too, which he argues is logical, is disastrous. A first-year undergraduate course in macro-economics should have taught him that!

What has happened in Denmark -- which, just like the UK, is not in the euro but is a member of the European Union? It is a nice test case, because if Dave is right -- which he isn't -- then bond yields should have soared in Denmark, even on talk of injecting stimulus. They haven't. Here is a selection of yields on ten-year government bonds for Denmark and the UK over the past couple of months or so.

 
  Denmark UK
05/10/2011 2.005 2.354
30/09/2011 2.069 2.427
23/09/2011 1.932 2.363
09/09/2011 1.975 2.456
02/09/2011 2.204 2.641
19/08/2011 2.362 2.606
12/08/2011 2.573 2.753

 

One argument the coalition has made is that the US has lower yields because the dollar is a reserve currency, so their data isn't relevant: currently their yield is 1.888 per cent. But that does present the government with a further problem, because bond yields in Sweden, which is also in the EU but not in the euro, are 1.695 per cent. They are 2.135 per cent in Canada, which is also not a reserve currency, and a paltry 0.879 in Switzerland, which really does look like a place of safety.

Based on the evidence from Denmark, putting additional stimulus into the economy has not caused bond yields to rise and they remain below those in the UK. The Danes are a much better comparison country than the Greeks, the Portuguese, the Italians or the Spanish that don't have their own central bank and currency as the Danes do; just as we do.

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear