49's the sticking point for French firms

Quantifying regulatory burden.

A group of LSE economists have published a paper which makes a strong effort to actually work out the damage regulations do to economic efficiency. Luis Garicano, Claire Lelarge, and John Van Reenen hit upon the method of looking to France, where there are sharp increases in the regulatory burden when firms employ 50 or more workers.

Seemingly as a result of those burdens, a noticeable number of firms appear to "stick" at 49 employees even when they may hire that extra marginal person. The piece's key chart is a killer:

Notice how the number of companies with 49 employees is actually higher than the number with 45 – and also that there's a precipitous drop between the number with 49 and the number with 50.

The paper tries to estimate, to a preliminary level, the regulatory cost of this burden. They estimate that 0.05 per cent of firms are distorted, and that the total output lost by those distorted firms is about 35 per cent – meaning that GDP is lowered by 0.5 per cent.

As the New York Times' Casey Mulligan writes, however, we shouldn't confuse the direct cost with the total cost of the regulations:

This is not to say that the regulations imposed on 50-employee companies are necessarily excessive, because they can create public benefits that more than justify their net costs for an employer and his employees, just as taxes and government spending can. For example, an air-pollution regulation might kick in at 50 employees that creates a significant cost for the employer and little aggregate benefit for his employees but creates a significant benefit for the people of France.

The employers also miss another transfer of wealth that might be just as important. Matt Yglesias covered it in another context last week:

One very plausible consequence of this would simply be to strongly discourage the owners of small firms from pursuing growth. And the big winners from that kind of disincentive to firm growth will be the owners of other small firms that simply aren't as lucky or well-managed as the growing ones.

In other words, it's a transfer of wealth from a company which may expand by a few employees to the companies which aren't going to have their lunch eating by a growing competitor. In the French context at least, that transfer will be relatively small. While companies are disinclined to grow from 49 to 50 employees, they may well be happy to leapfrog from 49 to 51 or higher; and the impact on creation of massive companies will be small indeed. But it will have an impact.

Fundamentally, it's an example of why it's best, where-ever possible, to target margins rather than absolutes. In taxation, for example, there's rarely this sort of adverse incentive, because there are few margins where earning more affects the taxes you pay on money already earned (where that does happen – between £100,000 and £150,000 of income, for instance – it is still carefully planned so that there is a positive value for every extra pound earned).

The problem is that that's harder to do for regulation. You can't really tell a company that they have to provide health insurance for the 50th employee but not the first 49, for instance. It would be unfair, not to mention probably even more impractical.

Better answers may be to more gradually phase in the burdens, so that at no point is there a leap in regulation big enough to dissuade too many companies from expanding; to stop fetishising small businesses, and make them subject to the same regulations as every other company (which would also force regulations to be easy to comply with, of course); or to make such regulations more explicitly support entrepreneurship rather than merely being small by imposing them a set period after a company has been founded, rather than basing them on growth.

More research, please!

An employer works on pullover sleeves for one of the luxury French brands who outsource work to these small specialist artisan factories on December 10, 2009 in Port-Brillet. 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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Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.