Are we catching the US disease?

The average American household has failed to benefit from the recent era of economic growth and risi

In the 1970s, the policy and political elite obsessed about the 'British disease' -- the failure of our system of industrial relations, and its impact on UK prosperity relative to our competitors, above all the US. Forty years on, their concern should be whether we have caught the 'US disease': the failure of the broad mass of US households on low to middle incomes, the middle-class in American parlance, to benefit from the recent era of economic growth and rising productivity. Typical US family incomes today are at the same level as they were in the late 1980s, and median wages have flat-lined for an even longer period.

As the chart shows, the US has long had a problem with sharing -- that is, sharing out the proceeds of growth.

graph
Source: Machin, Centre for Economic Performance

The question is: are we catching their bug? Over the last decade the UK (as well as other countries like Germany) has started to show more US-like tendencies, as the relationship between economic growth and the pay rises going to the ordinary worker has weakened.

graph

Source: Resolution Foundation

There's no consensus as to what explains this great American stagnation. The easy bit is to point the finger at US policy mistakes that have certainly made matters much worse. Regressive tax policy, motivated by trickle-down theories; together with weak regulation motivated by a belief in the infallibility of markets, undermined their fiscal position, fuelled inequality and magnified economic instability. And the nature of the US political system itself poses a barrier to economic progress, with the efforts of President Obama -- like those of other Presidents -- being thwarted by deep and intractable political gridlock.

But to appreciate the deeper causes of the problem, we also need to consider the longer term hollowing out of the US jobs market. Leading US economist Jared Bernstein, who is in the UK this week to speak to a major conference on how the UK can avoid the US fate, puts it this way:

The developments that have hurt the US middle class -- and they are related -- are high levels of inequality and weak employment growth. Together, they have created a wedge between growth and broadly shared prosperity. UK policy makers take note: pushback on these forces or be prepared for a prolonged middle income squeeze.

The chart below demonstrates Bernstein's point. Each decade since World War II has seen fast employment growth (usually consisting of a dip during a downturn followed by strong growth as the economic cycle picks up). But prior to the recent recession, there was almost no employment growth: the jobs market was already flat-lining before it went into freefall.

graph 3

There are plenty of potential reasons for this decline -- the rise of an ever sharper focus on shareholder value, and more intense competition from China and India are both regularly blamed.

But the most likely villain is the changing relationship between technology and the jobs market. A leading view is that the rate of technological change has slowed down since the 1970s, and the new innovations which have occurred, particularly in ICT, are far less job-rich than was the case in previous waves of technological change (an argument advocated by US economist Tyler Cowen in his Great Stagnation). Another argument, set out in the latest zeitgeist e-book from the US, Race Against the Machine by Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfees, is that digital technology is changing faster than many workers can keep up with, rapidly encroaching into new sectors of the economy, leaving many workers economically displaced and disadvantaged (read this to see where these two perspectives converge and diverge).

If either of these are an accurate diagnosis, it's more than a bit worrying for the UK. We are of course exposed to precisely the same technological trends as the US; and prior to the recession we were already exhibiting many of the symptoms of a polarising labour market. Worse still, these long-term and underlying challenges are being made worse by short-term policy mistakes.

For now, our focus is rightly on injecting life into an economy with chronically weak domestic demand, whose main export market is in crisis. Beyond this, we need to contemplate how to avoid the US disease which, if caught, could mean that living standards for much of the country could be divorced from any future growth for a generation to come.

 

Gavin Kelly is a former adviser to Downing Street and the Treasury. He tweets @GavinJKelly1.

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.