Why Estonia should not be our economic poster-boy

Estonia has much to recommend it, but a look at its recent economic history should give anyone pause

Baltic boosterism is back. Last week Fraser Nelson used his new Telegraph column to sing the praises of Estonia's economic performance, taking his cue from an earlier editorial in the Wall Street Journal which lavished praise on the small Baltic state for cutting spending and keeping taxes "flat and low". Estonia is growing fast -- motoring along at an annualised 8.4 per cent -- and proof positive according to Nelson that expansionary contraction works. It has cut its way back to prosperity.

Last time libertarians cheer-led for the Baltic states like this was when their flat taxes were in vogue, back in 2005. Flat taxes were said to be sweeping across Eastern Europe towards Berlin faster than the Red Army, as Germany's general election approached. George Osborne even briefly flirted with the idea -- until Gerhard Schroder tore chunks out of Angela Merkel's poll lead by demolishing her on the issue. The libertarians retreated wounded, to regroup and find a new line of attack.

Estonia is indeed a fine country. Its people are resilient and dynamic. Its government is open and transparent and it invests heavily in innovation. Like other Northern European countries, it has historically exercised fiscal prudence. It has much to recommend it.

But a brief look at its recent economic history should give anyone pause for thought. During the financial crisis, Estonia's GDP contracted sharply -- by over 5 per cent in 2008 and then a massive 13.9 per cent in 2009. Unemployment rocketed to nearly 17 per cent -- one of the highest levels in the EU. It is still very high at over 13 per cent.

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Given such a deep loss of output, high unemployment and lower labour costs, one would expect rapid post-recessionary growth. But even then, much of Estonia's recent bounce back has been driven by increased exports, chiefly to its high performing social democratic neighbours. Meanwhile, inflation is high and consumer spending low, and GDP growth is now returning to a trend that is lower than before the crisis in 2008, in part because of the constraints imposed by euro membership.

That the balance sheet effects of the internal devaluations of the Baltic republics were not more severe was largely the result of negligible public debt before the crisis struck, as Roubini has recently spelled out:

The international experience of "internal devaluations" is mostly one of failure. Argentina tried the deflation route to a real depreciation and, after three years of an ever-deepening recession/depression, it defaulted and exited its currency board peg. The case of Latvia's "successful" internal devaluation is not a model for the EZ periphery: Output fell by 20 per cent and unemployment surged to 20 per cent; the public debt was -- unlike in the EZ periphery -- negligible as a percentage of GDP and thus a small amount of official finance -- a few billion euros -- was enough to backstop the country without the massive balance-sheet effects of deflation; and the willingness of the policy makers to sweat blood and tears to avoid falling into the arms of the "Russian bear" was, for a while, unlimited (as opposed to the EZ periphery's unwillingness to give up altogether its fiscal independence to Germany); and even after devaluation and default was avoided, the current backlash against such draconian adjustment is now very serious and risks undermining such efforts (while, equivalently, the social and political backlash against recessionary austerity is coming to a boil in the EZ periphery).

The Baltic republics are also curious poster-boys for British Eurosceptics, who generally favour the break-up of the eurozone, and positively urge Greece to default and bring back a devalued Drachma. It is doubly odd, therefore, that they should commend a country like Estonia for sacrificing everything on the altar of euro membership, particularly as it now has to contribute to eurozone bailout funds.

Still, when you're arguing for expansionary contraction, why let a little matter of intellectual consistency get in the way?

Nick Pearce is Director of IPPR

 

Nick Pearce is Professor of Public Policy & Director of the Institute for Policy Research, University of Bath.

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Is defeat in Stoke the beginning of the end for Paul Nuttall?

The Ukip leader was his party's unity candidate. But after his defeat in Stoke, the old divisions are beginning to show again

In a speech to Ukip’s spring conference in Bolton on February 17, the party’s once and probably future leader Nigel Farage laid down the gauntlet for his successor, Paul Nuttall. Stoke’s by-election was “fundamental” to the future of the party – and Nuttall had to win.
 
One week on, Nuttall has failed that test miserably and thrown the fundamental questions hanging over Ukip’s future into harsh relief. 

For all his bullish talk of supplanting Labour in its industrial heartlands, the Ukip leader only managed to increase the party’s vote share by 2.2 percentage points on 2015. This paltry increase came despite Stoke’s 70 per cent Brexit majority, and a media narrative that was, until the revelations around Nuttall and Hillsborough, talking the party’s chances up.
 
So what now for Nuttall? There is, for the time being, little chance of him resigning – and, in truth, few inside Ukip expected him to win. Nuttall was relying on two well-rehearsed lines as get-out-of-jail free cards very early on in the campaign. 

The first was that the seat was a lowly 72 on Ukip’s target list. The second was that he had been leader of party whose image had been tarnished by infighting both figurative and literal for all of 12 weeks – the real work of his project had yet to begin. 

The chances of that project ever succeeding were modest at the very best. After yesterday’s defeat, it looks even more unlikely. Nuttall had originally stated his intention to run in the likely by-election in Leigh, Greater Manchester, when Andy Burnham wins the Greater Manchester metro mayoralty as is expected in May (Wigan, the borough of which Leigh is part, voted 64 per cent for Brexit).

If he goes ahead and stands – which he may well do – he will have to overturn a Labour majority of over 14,000. That, even before the unedifying row over the veracity of his Hillsborough recollections, was always going to be a big challenge. If he goes for it and loses, his leadership – predicated as it is on his supposed ability to win votes in the north - will be dead in the water. 

Nuttall is not entirely to blame, but he is a big part of Ukip’s problem. I visited Stoke the day before The Guardian published its initial report on Nuttall’s Hillsborough claims, and even then Nuttall’s campaign manager admitted that he was unlikely to convince the “hard core” of Conservative voters to back him. 

There are manifold reasons for this, but chief among them is that Nuttall, despite his newfound love of tweed, is no Nigel Farage. Not only does he lack his name recognition and box office appeal, but the sad truth is that the Tory voters Ukip need to attract are much less likely to vote for a party led by a Scouser whose platform consists of reassuring working-class voters their NHS and benefits are safe.
 
It is Farage and his allies – most notably the party’s main donor Arron Banks – who hold the most power over Nuttall’s future. Banks, who Nuttall publicly disowned as a non-member after he said he was “sick to death” of people “milking” the Hillsborough disaster, said on the eve of the Stoke poll that Ukip had to “remain radical” if it wanted to keep receiving his money. Farage himself has said the party’s campaign ought to have been “clearer” on immigration. 

Senior party figures are already briefing against Nuttall and his team in the Telegraph, whose proprietors are chummy with the beer-swilling Farage-Banks axis. They deride him for his efforts to turn Ukip into “NiceKip” or “Nukip” in order to appeal to more women voters, and for the heavy-handedness of his pitch to Labour voters (“There were times when I wondered whether I’ve got a purple rosette or a red one on”, one told the paper). 

It is Nuttall’s policy advisers - the anti-Farage awkward squad of Suzanne Evans, MEP Patrick O’Flynn (who famously branded Farage "snarling, thin-skinned and aggressive") and former leadership candidate Lisa Duffy – come in for the harshest criticism. Herein lies the leader's almost impossible task. Despite having pitched to members as a unity candidate, the two sides’ visions for Ukip are irreconcilable – one urges him to emulate Trump (who Nuttall says he would not have voted for), and the other urges a more moderate tack. 

Endorsing his leader on Question Time last night, Ukip’s sole MP Douglas Carswell blamed the legacy of the party’s Tea Party-inspired 2015 general election campaign, which saw Farage complain about foreigners with HIV using the NHS in ITV’s leaders debate, for the party’s poor performance in Stoke. Others, such as MEP Bill Etheridge, say precisely the opposite – that Nuttall must be more like Farage. 

Neither side has yet called for Nuttall’s head. He insists he is “not going anywhere”. With his febrile party no stranger to abortive coup and counter-coup, he is unlikely to be the one who has the final say.