The business argument is with the EU

Even if the politics are a disaster zone.

Ever since the financial crisis, a previously buoyant eurozone has turned into a disaster zone. The single currency has lurched from crisis to catastrophe as the finances of member states have come under pressure. Bailouts that appear to be funded in large part from northern Europe are keeping several countries in southern Europe afloat. The next crisis is potentially lurking at the tail end of summer, with Cyprus due to get its next tranche of cash from the unofficial troika of the EU, ECB and IMF in early September. That is dependent on the country meeting stringent financial and budgetary targets and there is little evidence so far that they will be met.

With a German election by then just around the corner, it is unlikely that German chancellor Angela Merkel will be in the mood for leniency. The upshot could be that Cyprus is allowed to exit the single currency – the last six months having bought enough time to make it potentially a more orderly exit, and the economy is small enough for the ramifications to be less seismic than if a country such as Greece had fallen out.

Regardless of what happens in September (and it is as easy to paint a picture in which Cyprus gets the cash and everything carries on as it is), the eurozone’s troubles at least partly explain why the subject of the EU and the UK’s role within it is so high on the political agenda. As leader of the Conservative Party, David Cameron set out his stall clearly. He said he didn’t want the party to keep “banging on about Europe”. But the growth of anti-EU sentiment and the seemingly unstoppable rise of UKIP in particular has meant that, as prime minister, Cameron has had to bang on about it quite a lot.

UK politicians and the media are having to regularly discuss details (and not the possibility) of previously abstract ideas such as a referendum, renegotiation of the country’s relationship with the EU, or even complete withdrawal. The trouble is that all these discussions happen at a volume and intensity that rarely allow for sensible debate. Economic arguments are formed and numbers and statistics thrown around with little heed for anything other than scoring points and winning the argument.

It was somewhat sobering this month then to get a snapshot of what the UK’s exporters (clearly the key to UK economic recovery) think about Europe. The most often repeated story when it comes to discussions about where the UK recovery will come from is that exporters will have to seek out sales in high-growth emerging markets in far-flung corners of the world. So-called BRIC economies (Brazil, Russia, China and India) are cited above all as the key for our future success. Well, this didn’t chime with recent research conducted by economia. We asked the leaders of 500 businesses (a mix of those already exporting and those not currently doing so but with plans to do so in the next three to five years) to rate different markets around the world for their importance.

While it was no surprise to see Western Europe rated as important or very important this year by more respondents than any other market (71 per cent compared to the next most popular market, Asia at 55 per cent), what was less expected was the pattern when respondents were asked to rate the importance of markets in three to five years’ time. Here again Western Europe dominated by a similar margin. Even more unlikely was the rise of North America in the future (up by 5 per cent), knocking Asia back into third place.

Part of the explanation for the continued preference for Europe is the geography. Cost of exports was cited as a concern for and a factor in choosing markets by almost all respondents regardless of size or sector. And while the short distances help, some of the ease of doing business in Europe is driven by the standardisation of market rules and regulations and the lack of need to comply with different country guidelines or indeed to pay any import duties.

It appears from this that when asked about Europe on a purely business basis, without any of the political or emotive overlay, there is overwhelming support for the simplification benefits that arise from EU membership. More detailed analysis of the findings of this research needs to be conducted, but initial findings suggest there is also a worrying reluctance on the part of UK exporters to tap into the phenomenal growth of the emerging economies. In the mid-term at least, the ease of doing business in Europe appears to be winning over the potential returns from more long-term investments in places such as China, India, Russia or Brazil.

That would suggest that keeping close to Europe may be economically beneficial regardless of the politics.

This story first appeared on economia

Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

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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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