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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In praise of the late developer

The success of late developers proves that our obsession with early achievement is wrong.

A fortnight ago, I fell into conversation with the head teacher of a local school. “You’ve got to create room for late developers,” he said. “The obsession with early attainment doesn’t suit most children.”

We were soon finishing each other’s sentences – talking about long-term confidence rather than short-term hothousing, how children don’t develop in a linear way, and the value of having transferable skills rather than a single focus from a young age.

What a shame, I reflected, that his message doesn’t reach a wider audience. We hear so much about prodigies and precociousness – Serena Williams and her pushy father, Tiger Woods and “tiger mothers” – and so little of the counter-argument: the high achievers who emerge at a slower pace in more balanced circumstances.

Our conversation ended when we both departed to watch England play Scotland in the Six Nations tournament. Only then did I learn that the head teacher’s son Huw Jones was playing in the centre for Scotland. He scored two tries, just as he did last autumn in his home debut against Australia.

Jones’s career is a tacit endorsement of his father’s philosophy. In his penultimate year at school, Huw was still playing mostly in the second XV. Five years on, he is a burgeoning talent on the world stage. The two facts are connected. Jones didn’t just overtake others; he also retained the naturalness that is often lost “in the system”.

As boys, he and his brother made up their own version of rugby practice: could the ­attacker sidestep and run past the defender without setting foot outside the five-metre line? They were just having fun, uncoached and unsupervised. But their one-on-one game was teaching the most valuable skill in rugby: the ability to beat defenders in confined spaces.

Jones had access to superb opportunities throughout – at home, at Canterbury rugby club and then at Millfield, the independent school in Somerset well known for producing sportsmen. But at Millfield, he was far from being a superstar. He seldom played “A-team” rugby. The message from home: just keep enjoying it and getting better and eventually your time will come.

There was a useful precedent. Matt Perry, who won 36 caps for England between 1997 and 2001, had been a “B-team” player at school. What matters is where you end up, not who leads the race at the age of 16. Jones also developed transferable skills by continuing to play other sports. “Don’t specialise too early,” was the mantra of Richard Ellison, the former England cricketer who taught at Millfield for many years.

When Jones was 18 and finally blossoming in the school’s first XV, rugby agents started to take an interest, promising to place him in the “academy” of a professional team. “But I’d seen so many kids take that route and seen how bored they got,” his father, Bill, reflects. So Bill advised his son to go abroad, to gain experience of new cultures and to keep playing rugby for fun instead of getting on the tracksuited professional treadmill.

So Jones took a teaching job in Cape Town, where he played men’s club rugby. Instead of entering the professional system, as one of a bland cohort of similar-aged “prospects”, he served his apprenticeship among players drawn from different backgrounds and ages. Sport was shown to be a matter of friendship and community, not just a career path.

The University of Cape Town spotted and recruited Jones, who helped it win the South African university competition. Only then, in 2014, did British professional rugby teams start to take a serious interest. Jones, however, was enjoying South Africa and stayed put, signing a contract with the Stormers in the Super Rugby tournament – the world’s leading club competition.

So, in the space of 18 months, Jones had gone from being a gap-year Brit with no formal ties to professional rugby to playing against the world’s best players each week. He had arrived on the big stage, following a trajectory that suited him.

The level of competition had escalated rapidly but the tries kept coming. Scotland, by now closely monitoring a player qualified by birth, gave him his spectacular home debut against Australia last autumn – remarkable but not surprising. Finding his feet ­instantly on each new stage is the pattern of his career.

Those two qualities – first, instinctive ­try-scoring; second, a lack of vertigo – are connected. Amid all the jargon of professional sport, perhaps the most important qualities – freshness, ingenuity and the gift of surprise – are undervalued. Yet all of these rely on skills honed over many years – honed, but not dulled.

Shoehorning all young players into rigid, quasi-professional systems long before they are ready comes with risks. First, we seldom hear from the child prodigies who faded away (often damaged psychologically). Many players who are pushed too hard miss their natural learning arc; the narrative of their ambition, or the ambition imposed on them by parents, is often out of step with their physical and psychological growth. Second, systems have a habit of overestimating their contribution: they become blind to outsiders.

In a quiet way, Jones is a case study in evolved education and not just sport: a talented performer who was given time and space to find his voice. The more we learn about talent, as David Epstein demonstrated in The Sports Gene, the clearer it becomes that focusing on champion 11-year-olds decreases the odds of producing champion adults. Modern science has reinforced less frantic and neurotic educational values; variety and fun have their virtues.

Over the long term, put your faith not in battery farming but instead, in Bill Jones’s phrase, in “free-range children”.

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution