GDP figures: a reaction round-up

"The government is failing to get public spending under control."

GDP fell 0.3 per cent in the last quarter of 2012. Although markets held relatively steady, the Sterling plummeted, and economists are warning that the UK is in danger of losing its AAA rating:

Charles Levy, senior economist at The Work Foundation:

Following three years of a flat economy, today's GDP figures confirm that our economy is again contracting, raising the prospect of a triple dip recession. 2012 saw considerable improvements in the labour market, with over half a million new jobs created, though many part-time. However, without growth even this improvement will be hard to sustain.

Mark Littlewood, Director General at the Institute of Economic Affairs:

These figures are clearly very disappointing. If the government does indeed have a strategy for growth, it plainly isn't working.

The government's independent forecaster had predicted the economy would be growing by about 2 per cent or 3 per cent by now. In fact, it is flatlining or even slipping backwards into a triple dip recession.

The government is failing to get public spending under control. This year alone, George Osborne will add £4,000 to the national debt for each and every British household. Far from a programme of austerity, the coalition are running up collossal budget deficits.

Andrew Goodwin, senior economic advisor to the Ernst & Young ITEM Club:

Today's GDP figures are right at the lower end of our expectations. The manufacturing and services figures came in pretty much where we expected them to but the construction outturn is very disappointing in the context of the monthly data that has already been published. Construction output must have collapsed in December to get such a small boost over the quarter as a whole.

The extraction sector also continues to exert a major drag. Where oil production was once a major support to UK activity, the sector is declining rapidly and the Q4 collapse means that output has now fallen by almost 40% over the past five years. This is having a significant impact on the GDP figures, the excluding oil measure is just over 2% short of previous peaks, in contrast to the 3.5% shortfall for GDP.

Nawaz Ali, UK Market Analyst for Western Union Business Solutions:

Britain's bigger-than-expected economic slump may now force the central bank to re-open its stimulus cupboard as soon as next month. Governor King may even reach for something unexpected in order to eliminate the risk of a triple-dip recession.

Meanwhile, Chancellor George Osborne could also bow to pressure from austerity-doves in his March budget update, but will also be well aware that Britain is now a step closer to losing its triple-A ratings crown.

The pound is falling sharply in global currency markets after the figures reinforced views that 2012 was a "lost year" for UK growth.

Frances O'Grady from the TUC:

Today's figures confirm our worst fears that the Chancellor's austerity plan has pushed the UK economy to the brink of an unprecedented triple-dip recession.

We are now mid-way through the coalition's term of office
and its economic strategy has been a complete disaster. The economy has grown by just 1%, real wages have fallen, and the manufacturing and construction sectors have shrunk. We remain as dependent on the City as we did before the financial crash.

Getty
Show Hide image

The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad