Global warming and externalities

How a carbon tax can "solve" global warming

Tim Worstall (yes, when he's not trolling he's quite good) has a piece up at the Telegraph explaining how carbon taxes work, and why they could "solve" global warming:

In economic theory, the problem here is that my actions that create emissions also damage someone else. But I don't have to pay for the damage I've caused. This is called an externality and the economists' solution is something called a Pigou Tax. That is, we add a tax equal to the damage I'm doing, so that I do pay for that damage.

Worstall cites the Stern Review's figure of $80 per tonne of CO2 as a good starting ground for where to set a carbon tax, and explains why it's the most efficient way to deal with climate change:

As a made-up example: my car emits one tonne CO2 when I drive it to buy fresh bread for lunch. That's $80 of damage I cause in the future by doing so. But the benefit to me is trivial: if you paid me 50p (alright, £5 in the rain) I'd cycle instead and not emit the CO2. The value to me of driving is that 50p; the costs to someone else are the $80. Clearly, this is a bad deal for everyone else: they're bearing costs much greater than the benefit to anyone at all. An $80 a tonne tax would get me cycling and that would be a good thing: I've stopped doing something where the benefit is lower than the cost.

However, we've a pregnant woman in pre-eclampsia. She needs to go to hospital in an ambulance which is going to emit that tonne, that $80 worth of CO2. Without it she and the child will be dead; with it they'll be fine. We usually value a statistical life in the £2 – 3 million range. That's what the railways will spend on safety to save a life on average. Or we could use the £50,000 that NICE applies to one year of good-quality life. If your drug treatment costs more than this, then you won't get it on the NHS; less and you might. Different numbers but much the same outcome: burn that fuel and damn the $80 of future damages, because they're much lower than the benefits that are achieved right now from burning that fuel.

This efficiency is why a carbon tax – or the harder to impose, but fairer and economically identical "cap-and-trade" system – really is the best way to deal with global warming. By definition, it deals with "bad" emissions while allowing "good" ones, and it does so far better than a legislature could ever hope to with a sprawling network of tariffs and subsidies.

But Worstall does somewhat overstate the case in one area, when he writes:

The other part [of a reader's question] – what's the point if we're not going to spend the money on green projects? – misunderstands the purpose of the tax. We're not trying to raise money: we're trying to change prices.

Changing prices is only half the effect of a carbon tax – or any Pigou tax. The other half is compensating the "victim" for their loss.

Suppose we live in a little two person economy where every tonne of CO2 you produce causes $80 worth of flooding damage to me. Imposing a carbon tax solves half the problem, in that it stops you polluting if you only get $10 benefit from it. But it doesn't solve what happens if you can make $100 from polluting.

In that case, you pay $80, and make $20 profit. I'm still left with $80 of flooding damage. The proper use of the money raised is to compensate the me for that loss. Otherwise, a tax which merely sorts out externalities becomes a revenue-raising tool of Government. In practice, this means that money raised from a carbon tax should be used on "green projects".

Which would annoy Worstall's fellow Telegraph blogger James Delingpole.

Anti-carbon tax protestors in Australia. Photograph: Getty Images

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

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.