The public sector deficit through the looking-glass

The government is ignoring the flip side of the its deficit reduction targets: they require us all to spend more.

Reducing the public sector deficit has been the Coalition's number one economic goal from the start. Inheriting a record deficit in 2009/10 – Labour’s last year – equal to almost 11 per cent of GDP, no new government, even if had wanted to, could have done anything else. 

The underlying reasoning – that a deficit this big is a sign of a something seriously amiss in the economy – was and is completely correct. Since the late 1980s, this deficit had averaged 2.5 per cent. In that period, the biggest it ever got was 7.5 per cent in 1993/4 as the economy began its recovery from the early 1990s recession.

But the approach of trying to reduce that deficit by cutting spending and putting up taxes alone is wrong. The reason why is that the public sector deficit does not exist in isolation. Instead, it is part of a chain of 'imbalances' linking the public sector with the household, corporate and overseas sectors. By definition (and measurement errors aside), these four imbalances, some surpluses and some deficits, always add up to zero.

The graph below shows the public sector deficit as a percentage of GDP, year by year from 1993/4 (the previous record deficit year). The figures up to 2011/12 are actual figures. Those for 2012/3 and beyond are the OBR’s latest forecast published last week. The odd-looking 2012/3 figures themselves are due to some one-off financial transfers between the corporate and public sectors. In the big picture they can be ignored.

Sources: ONS Quarterly National Accounts (to 2011/2) and Office for Budget Responsibility, March 2013 Economy Supplementary Tables, table 1.8, (from 2012/3)

Since there is nothing on the graph labelled ‘public sector deficit’ how can it be a picture of it? On the face of it, the graph shows the other three sector balances, with surpluses above the line and deficits below it. The public sector deficit is the total of these three. In years when all three are themselves surpluses, the public sector deficit is measured by the top of the bar stack: for example, just under 11 per cent in 2009/10. In years when one or more of the other balances is itself a deficit, this has to be subtracted from the top of the stack to get the measure of the public sector: for example, just under 7 per cent in 2008/9. This is a picture of the public sector deficit as Alice might find it, through the looking-glass.

This picture provokes questions. Let’s take three of them here. First, if the public sector deficit has this double life, as both itself and as this mirror image of the other three sectors, can we say which causes which? In simple terms, the answer is no; both sides of the mirror have a life of their own. This answer is enough to undermine the basic idea of ‘austerity’; that if only a government bears down on the public sector hard enough, all, eventually, will be well.

Second, what should we make of the economy in 2017/8, the last year of the OBR’s forecast? With a public sector deficit projected at 2.5 per cent (the long term average) and (though this cannot be seen in the graph) public sector debt at last falling as a percentage of GDP. Osborne would regard this as vindication. But by looking at the reflection of the deficit in the mirror, we see that 2017/8 bears an unfortunate resemblance not to the boom years either side of 1997 but to 2002/3, the year when things started going wrong under Labour as the economy came to be sustained by public and household borrowing. 

Third, if this is where austerity gets us, where do we need to go instead? The answer is that we must concentrate as well on the problematic surpluses, both the chronic corporate sector surplus (into its consecutive 16th year by the end of the OBR forecast) and overseas surplus with the UK – better known as ‘our’ balance of payments deficit. To the extent that there is a debate about alternatives to austerity they are for the most part about how to ‘kick start’ the economy. Without a programme for dealing with the twin surpluses, however, kick-start may turn into stop-start before we get anywhere near a sufficient level of economic activity.

And she looked from Tweedledum to Tweedledee, and from Tweedledee to Tweedledum, and from Tweedledum to Tweedledee again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.