Inflation is worst for the worse off

"Essentials" increased in price by far more than the CPI last year.

Money broker Tullett Prebon has created an index of price inflation in "essentials" in Britain, which it's calling (unsurprisingly) the Tullett Prebon UK Essentials Index. It defines "essential" goods as:

  • Food, alcohol and tobacco
  • Council tax, water charges and home insurance
  • The costs of domestic heating and power, principally gas and electricity
  • Fuel, road tax and vehicle insurance
  • Train, bus and other public transport fares

(Yes, alcohol and tobacco are essentials.) Between them, those components make up 40 per cent of the RPI, with the other sixty per cent being non-essentials.

Defining the difference lets us take a look at how bad inflation is hitting just the act of day-to-day living. Tullett Prebon estimates inflation in essentials was 3.7 per cent over 2012, well above the CPI, which increased by 2.8 per cent. And, since wages have been rising below even CPI, the price of essentials has soared in comparison to income:

Between 2007 and 2012, nominal incomes expanded by 10% whilst the cost of essentials soared by more than 33%, meaning that the average working person would have been 17% worse off if he or she had spent the whole of their income on essentials.

Of course, few people do spend their entire income on essentials. However, with real incomes under pressure, and with the prices of essentials now increasing at annual rates of close to 4%, the proportion of household incomes going into essentials is clearly rising, and is set to continue to do so.

As the chart below makes clear, this is entirely a post-recession phenomenon:

It's been known that inflation is worse for the worse off for quite some time now, but it's largely been a fact bandied around by the far left. The Communist Party of Britain — that's the one which publishes the Morning Star — produced a Working Class Price Index in 2010, which made much the same point. That pegged inflation for the working class (which included a broad mixture of non-essentials as well) at over 10 per cent for some years.

This isn't quite the same point as the one made by those at the intersection of compassionate conservatism and inflation hawkishness, which is that high inflation disproportionately hits the poor. That may or may not be true — I'm inclined to think it does, but not as much as high unemployment and low growth does, and insofar as inflation hawks call for that trade-off they're being disingenuous — but what is true is that whatever the headline rate of inflation is, if you're poor, life is getting more expensive much faster than that indicates.

One final point (I think made originally by Left Outside) is that a closer look at the categories which count as essentials reveals a far greater extent of government control over prices than is normal. Council tax, road tax and almost all public transport fares are set (in aggregate) by the government; a massive proportion of the cost of alcohol, tobacco, fuel and heating and power is similarly driven by taxation.

As a result, standard understanding of inflation goes out the window. There is no intrinsic link between monetary policy and the rate of inflation for "essentials", because the prices aren't set by the market. It's a rare situation where the government could have its cake and eat it; it could implement expansionary monetary policy to boost demand, while at the same time capping, temporarily, rises in those direct regressive taxes and fares to below inflation.

But for that to happen, there first needs to be wider understanding of the problem. That's why the essentials index is an important piece of research, and worth keeping an eye on.

Updated to replace the giant picture of some rice with the chart which was actually supposed to be there.

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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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.