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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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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