Japan launches massive stimulus package

Shinzo Abe: Bad guy done good?

The Japanese government has approved a massive emergency stimulus package, worth ¥10.3trn (£71.5bn), aimed at restoring growth in the long-stagnant economy.

The package will be used to fund infrastructure investment, disaster mitigation projects, subsidies for companies which invest heavily in research and development, and financial aid to small businesses. The government hopes to raise growth by 2 percentage points, as well as add over half a million jobs to the economy.

The prime minister, Shinzo Abe, also made clear again that he is planning to exercise far more direct control over Japanese monetary policy than is conventional. Before Abe was elected, he announced that the BoJ should embrace "unlimited easing" and cut interest rates below even the 0.1 per cent paid on deposits "to strengthen pressure to lend".

Today, Abe reiterated that pressure, telling a press conference:

We will put an end to this shrinking, and aim to build a stronger economy where earnings and incomes can grow. For that, the government must first take the initiative to create demand, and boost the entire economy.

Abe has no qualms with wild policy. Last week, he "nationalised" industrial stock in Japan, buying private infrastructure with public funds in order to force the pace of investment in the country.

It seems quite clear that Abe is prepared to use every possible channel available to him to push for a return to growth in Japan. The results have been positive so far; bond yields have stayed low, while the yen has finally dropped (which might be bad for the country's elderly, but is very good for its economy overall).

Paul Krugman argues that all of this success isn't exactly on purpose. It bears more hallmarks of Abe –  "a nationalist, a denier of World War II atrocities, a man with little obvious interest in economic policy" – doing exactly the opposite of what he's told to do based purely on his contempt for learned opinion:

It will be a bitter irony if a pretty bad guy, with all the wrong motives, ends up doing the right thing economically, while all the good guys fail because they’re too determined to be, well, good guys. But that’s what happened in the 1930s, too…

On the 22nd, the Bank of Japan will meet, and we'll see how much it listened to Abe. If it does follow his requests/demands for aggressive monetary policy, the country will solidify its reputation as one to watch in the immediate future.

Shinzo Abe. 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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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear