Kelvin MacKenzie isn't a good macroeconomist

Transfers from rich areas to poor ones are really very useful for not screwing up the economy.

Former Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie wrote a silly column yesterday. In it, he argued that "the middle class of London and the South East" are underserved by politicians, and called for a new political party which "believes that the striving classes in the South are overtaxed and overburdened".

It was, clearly, bunk. Charlie Hallam took most of it apart yesterday, pointing out that high pay is not the same as a large contribution to society, and that much of the boost London and the South East gets is merely entrenched advantage:

A start-up will find loans easier to obtain with a London address. Contacts are easier to make. Lobbying is easier. And there's that whole prejudice thing you don't have to deal with if you're based in the south.

The Economist's Daniel Knowles also points out that:

Every example he offers of London and the south being attacked takes the form of taxes on the rich—stamp duty for example—which also apply in the north. Meanwhile, the subsidy he says that the north gets is in the form of public spending: welfare benefits or social housing for example, which also apply in the south.

That is, far from wanting to fight for the South, MacKenzie is arguing for the rich of Britain and against the poor, wherever they actually are.

But there's a far simpler reason why MacKenzie is talking crap. The Telegraph's Ed West touched upon it in an otherwise faintly patronising post, writing:

Different parts of the economy require different economic policies, which is why the convergence of interest rates made the euro such a fundamentally bad idea for those countries on the fringe, such as Greece and Spain, since monetary policy would be set by people in Frankfurt and Brussels and therefore would be suited towards Frankfurt and Brussels. That’s a model that will work fine so long as the Greeks are prepared to live in perpetual poverty in the name of European solidarity, and that Germans are happy to pay the Greeks’ welfare bills.

The north and south of Britain are, by virtue of sharing the same currency, yoked to the same monetary policy. Short of some extraordinarily unorthodox economics – banknotes which catch fire south of Watford Gap? – that policy will be suboptimal for one or both areas of the country. Aggregate demand shocks rarely affect the nation uniformly, and so the Bank of England has to decide whether (say) inflation in the south is worth preventing a recession in the north.

But one way of lessening that impact is with common fiscal policy. That way, shocks in part of the country can be dealt with more quickly by transferring revenue from the healthy part to the struggling part. Which is, of course, exactly what MacKenzie was complaining about.

(It is worth noting that this analysis is roughly that which was relied on by every anti-Euro economist ever, who all feel very smug these days as Greece needs continual fiscal transfers just to stay in the economic bloc.)

The alternative – giving the north its own currency and monetary policy – may, I suppose, be what MacKenzie was angling for all along. It would certainly get those pesky Scousers out of his hair.

The North. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The strange death of boozy Britain: why are young people drinking less?

Ditching alcohol for work.

Whenever horrific tales of the drunken escapades of the youth are reported, one photo reliably gets wheeled out: "bench girl", a young woman lying passed out on a public bench above bottles of booze in Bristol. The image is in urgent need of updating: it is now a decade old. Britain has spent that time moving away from booze.

Individual alcohol consumption in Britain has declined sharply. In 2013, the average person over 15 consumed 9.4 litres of alcohol, 19 per cent less than 2004. As with drugs, the decline in use among the young is particularly notable: the proportion of young adults who are teetotal increased by 40 per cent between 2005 and 2013. But decreased drinking is not only apparent among the young fogeys: 80 per cent of adults are making some effort to drink less, according to a new study by consumer trends agency Future Foundation. No wonder that half of all nightclubs have closed in the last decade. Pubs are also closing down: there are 13 per cent fewer pubs in the UK than in 2002. 

People are too busy vying to get ahead at work to indulge in drinking. A combination of the recession, globalisation and technology has combined to make the work of work more competitive than ever: bad news for alcohol companies. “The cost-benefit analysis for people of going out and getting hammered starts to go out of favour,” says Will Seymour of Future Foundation.

Vincent Dignan is the founder of Magnific, a company that helps tech start-ups. He identifies ditching regular boozing as a turning point in his career. “I noticed a trend of other entrepreneurs drinking three, four or five times a week at different events, while their companies went nowhere,” he says. “I realised I couldn't be just another British guy getting pissed and being mildly hungover while trying to scale a website to a million visitors a month. I feel I have a very slight edge on everyone else. While they're sleeping in, I'm working.” Dignan now only drinks occasionally; he went three months without having a drop of alcohol earlier in the year.

But the decline in booze consumption isn’t only about people becoming more work-driven. There have never been more alternate ways to be entertained than resorting to the bottle. The rise of digital TV, BBC iPlayer and Netflix means most people means that most people have almost limitless about what to watch.

Some social lives have also partly migrated online. In many ways this is an unfortunate development, but one upshot has been to reduce alcohol intake. “You don’t need to drink to hang out online,” says Dr James Nicholls, the author of The Politics of Alcohol who now works for Alcohol Concern. 

The sheer cost of boozing also puts people off. Although minimum pricing on booze has not been introduced, a series of taxes have made alcohol more expensive, while a ban on below-cost selling was introduced last year. Across the 28 countries of the EU, only Ireland has higher alcohol and tobacco prices than the UK today; in 1998 prices in the UK were only the fourth most expensive in the EU.

Immigration has also contributed to weaning Britain off booze. The decrease in alcohol consumption “is linked partly to demographic trends: the fall is largest in areas with greater ethnic diversity,” Nicholls says. A third of adults in London, where 37 per cent of the population is foreign born, do not drink alcohol at all, easily the highest of any region in Britain.

The alcohol industry is nothing if not resilient. “By lobbying for lower duty rates, ramping up their marketing and developing new products the big producers are doing their best to make sure the last ten years turn out to be a blip rather than a long term change in culture,” Nicholls says.

But whatever alcohol companies do to fight back against the declining popularity of booze, deep changes in British culture have made booze less attractive. Forget the horrific tales of drunken escapades from Magaluf to the Bullingdon Club. The real story is of the strange death of boozy Britain. 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.