Short circuiting: the Government is failing to recognise the importance of the electronics industry

Civitas' Stephen Clarke argues that the days of British manufacturing are unfairly consigned to the past.

Last week, in response to higher than expected borrowing figures, George Osborne launched a "coordinated push for growth" across Whitehall. In this push the Chancellor and the Government would do well to take a broader look at the British economy.

Before the financial crisis a political view that we do not make things in Britain any more had become disturbingly common. The official line was that we, as an advanced nation, had become a "knowledge economy" where we conceived and designed things that less intelligent people (and countries) would make.

This dangerous fallacy has now been exposed and there is an acceptance that Britain does and should produce and manufacture things. The Government has trumpeted success in a few manufacturing sectors; aerospace, the automotive industry and the pharmaceutical sector are all ministerial darlings. However Britain’s prowess goes beyond these.

The British electronics industry does not have a very large media profile yet it employs more people, pays those people more and produces more British profits than the aerospace or automotive sectors. According to official statistics, in 2010 the electronics industry employed over 200,000 people, generated a gross value added (GVA) of £13.8bn and a GVA per worker of £68,000. In contrast the automotive sector employed around 120,000 people in manufacturing and generated a GVA per worker of £45,000. The aerospace sector generated a GVA per employee of £54,000.

GVA is an important measure because it indicates how much value has been created by an industry and strips out the value of goods that an industry has consumed or transformed. GVA embodies the adage: "revenue is vanity. . . margin is sanity. . . cash is king". Profit is generated by the value a firm or an industry creates not the value it simply passes on.

The electronics industry creates a lot of value because it produces complex products for niche markets with relatively high margins. The UK stopped producing consumer electronics en masse over a decade ago and since then the industry has transformed itself. The UK is the 5th largest producer of control & instrumentation electronics, the 9th largest producer of medical electronics and the 8th largest producer of radio communication electronics. In addition, Britain is the leading designer of microchips in Europe.

Given such success one could be forgiven for thinking that it is best for the Government to continue to leave the sector to it. Unfortunately the industry faces some serious challenges, with its ability to respond to them hamstrung thanks to years of governmental neglect.

Electronics is an immensely competitive industry. Along with the technology leaders, Japan and America, countries previously specialising in low value, high volume goods, such as China, are increasingly entering the high-value markets in which the UK currently operates. As a result the British industry’s future is unclear; leading industry analysts Reed Electronics Research predict growth of only 5 per cent in the next three years.

The Government cannot afford to sit idly by and let another important British manufacturing sector slide into mediocrity. More needs to be done to stimulate Britain’s venture capital market and the current myriad of public venture capital funds should be replaced with a handful of larger public-private investment funds. More British youngsters need to be encouraged to study Electronic and Electrical Engineering and should be able to afford to do so. Most importantly the Government needs to be ready to support manufacturing: Britain may have world-class electronics designers but without greater investment in manufacturing design jobs will continue to relocate to be near production.

Britain’s politicians were almost alone in swallowing the "knowledge economy" myth. Other countries were far less blasé about the loss of productive capacity. In 2004 the President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology advised President George Bush on the future of the American electronics industry. They told him that "design, product development and process evolution all benefit from proximity to manufacturing". Clearly he and other American politicians were listening; the US Government has continued to support advanced microchip production, recently investing $1.4bn in a new microchip plant near New York.

Osborne and his colleagues can learn from this. Specifically: electronics form the basis of a successful industrial economy and should be supported. More generally: the idea of the "knowledge economy" has been partially jettisoned, what is now needed is a broader understanding of what makes a "productive economy".

Selling Circuits Short: Improving the prospects of the British electronics industry by Stephen L. Clarke and Georgia Plank was released yesterday by Civitas. It is available on PDF and Amazon Kindle.

A Sony PSP, the wireless chip for which comes from ARM in Cambridge. Photograph: Getty Images

Selling Circuits Short: Improving the prospects of the British electronics industry by Stephen L. Clarke and Georgia Plank was released yesterday by Civitas. It is available on PDF and Amazon Kindle

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.