Our over-reliance on imports is harming the recovery

It is new markets, not existing ones, that are key to securing long-term economic growth for the UK

For all the disagreement about how to fix the UK economy, there are a few truths about the roots of the present slump that most people accept. In the good years leading up to the crisis, Britain lived beyond its collective means, and built an economy that couldn’t last. Part of this excess was fuelled by cheap, irresponsible credit; part of it was built on the UK’s huge and long-standing trade gap. Since 1997, the UK has consistently imported far more than it exported, creating a serious imbalance that paved the way for the financial crash.

Our research, published today, provides new insights into how the UK economy became so unbalanced. Over the last 15 years, the UK has performed extremely poorly by not providing the products which consumers increasingly want to buy. Consumers appetites for certain products has proved insatiable; in 2009 we bought over eight times more consumer electronics and twice as much clothing as we did in 1997. The problem is that most of this growth was met through an increase in imports, and not domestic production.

Many observers see patterns such as these and assume they are driven by well-established economic arguments about international competitiveness, with the high cost of production in the UK preventing more manufacturing taking place here. Whilst this is undoubtedly true of some low cost products - clothing springs to mind - this line of reasoning often falls down, even for low-tech industries. Recent research showed that the UK now imports more than half of its bacon from the Netherlands and Denmark, where wages in meat processing are twice the level here. Even more concerning is our performance in high-tech sectors such as consumer electronics, where the high value of the goods produced tends to override cost concerns. The UK is an anomaly amongst other advanced economies in being extremely weak in these markets.

What is most worrying, however, is the sheer scale of this shift, and the fact that increases in our imports of consumer products have not been compensated by a large enough rise in exports. Take clothing, consumer electronics and vehicles. Together our poor trade performance in these product markets accounts for more than 40 per cent of our goods deficit. This suggests our difficulty in providing consumers with enough of the things they want to buy, even in just a few key markets, can and is acting as a large drag on the UK economy. We have some outstanding consumer facing businesses in the UK, such as Unilever and Dyson. The problem is we don’t have enough of them to reverse the persistent UK trade problem.

So what should the government be doing to put this right? Part of the response should be to try and increase exports of those things that we are good at, including business services like consultancy and architecture. But that will only take us so far - we also need a greater emphasis on trying to foster the emerging consumer markets of the future, and on making the UK a world leader in these areas. This isn’t just about inventing more technologies – it is about how we use them. The UK’s world-class science base is excellent at generating new ideas, but businesses need far more support to overcome the barriers they face in turning these technologies into high-growth markets.

Take 3D printing as an example. The ability to print personalised goods on demand has real potential for the UK economy in the future, but there are many state-controlled levers that need to be co-ordinated to make it actually work in real life. Without the right regulations to foster consumer and business confidence, without standards to make software and materials compatible with each other, without the necessary physical and electronic infrastructure, 3D printing will remain a niche market in the UK, and will probably take off in another country first. We need to get these things right, and quickly, if the UK wants to be a world-leader in 3D printing – and these principles will apply to many other emerging technologies over the next decade.

Policymakers already lay out and co-ordinate their long-term strategy for many established sectors. Just yesterday the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills published their strategic vision for UK aerospace, for instance. But we want to see this approach applied to those new and innovative markets that have the greatest potential for exports and domestic demand. We would argue that it is the new markets, not the existing ones, that are key to securing long-term economic growth for the UK.

A port in Hamburg. Britain must cut back on its import addiction, according to a new report from the Work Foundation. Photograph: Getty Images

Spencer Thompson is economic analyst at IPPR

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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred