Countering the capital orthodoxy

Why Janan Ganesh is wrong about the north and economic agglomeration.

Janan Ganesh this week wrote a column that flew in the face of all the contemporary evidence on the nature of economic agglomeration; the role of mid-sized cities in developed economies; and the role of public policy in addressing contemporary globalisation.

Despite the most rapid growth taking place in the capital city, 57 per cent of net aggregate growth was generated by so-called "intermediate regions" in the UK. The north of England, for example, also produces a quarter of national economic output; it is twice the size of the Scottish economy and if it were a nation it would rank as the eighth-largest in the EU, ahead of Sweden, Denmark and Belgium.

Economists across the world – OECDMcKinseys to name but two – are increasingly interested in the role of mid-sized cities in driving national economic output and it is now widely recognised that the underperformance of UK cities outside London is the cause of a significant drag on the national economy. In fiscal terms, that drag appears through an ever-worsening gearing between tax generation in London and the south-east – supported by apparently "spatially-blind" policy measures - which is then redistributed beyond the capital city in the form of grants and benefits. That gearing needs to change by releasing the potential of Britain’s city economies.

Ganesh is right to name the strong “impersonal forces and historical trends” that have shaped London’s dominance in recent years and had devastating impact on a deindustrialising north and midlands. But to suggest that the north has never punched its weight is to deny the Industrial Revolution ever took place, even if the majority of its spoils – and those of the wider Empire – did end up stoking London’s stock exchange. It is the same trends and forces that led to the financial crash but again the idea that Northern Rock and Bradford & Bingley were somehow that causes of that crash is quite ludicrous – they were simply the first UK casualties of a global phenomenon.

It is also wrong to suggest that public policy has had – and will have – no purchase on these forces and trends. London’s agglomeration has a huge amount to do with it being the seat of political and cultural as well as economic power. Our own analysis of government spending on economic affairs shows that London has consistently received twice the amount per capita as any other region excluding Scotland and that since 2008/9 this amount has increased more than 25 per cent whilst declining in the rest of the country. In terms of transport infrastructure spending, the current National Infrastructure Plan commits £2,595 per head to London and the south-east compared with just £5 per head in the north-east. In terms of R&D, Scientific Research Council spending is three times as much per capita in London than in any Northern region despite the existence of eight world class universities in the North.

Much international evidence shows that agglomeration can be successfully supported by an active industrial policy which spreads wealth around nations such as Germany and Sweden through a range of effective measures. The problem – as Ganesh quite rightly points out – is that such measures in the UK have been relatively weak and ineffectual, largely hampered by the vested interests of an overly centralised bureaucracy as most recently evidenced in the pathetic government response to Heseltine’s Single Local Growth Fund.

His critique of the “Hezza-Prezza years” is though once again without evidence. The fact that London continued to grow faster than the regions is a function of the growth of the financial service sector rather than an indictment of public policy. And the role that Regional Development Agencies have played in the transformation of cities like Manchester, Leeds and Newcastle should not be underestimated. Although those cities and their hinterlands may not yet have fully made the transition to a post-industrial economy, they are a long way further forward and well-positioned to continue to grow.

Ganesh argues that London that needs a “citywide government of its own”. This is true, but it’s not just London. Central government control over economic affairs constrains not just London but the whole country. Indeed, one could argue that in wresting control of transport and housing, the London mayoralty is doing very well. From Travers’ London Finance Commission, to Heseltine’s No Stone Unturned, to last year’s Northern Economic Futures Commission the message is clear – Whitehall must let go: of transport, innovation, skills, welfare, housing and crucially fiscal powers and incentives if the national economy is to thrive.

One wonders what kind of London Ganesh sees as the outcome of his laissez-faire approach. With the lowest quality of life indicators in the country already, Londoners will surely be concerned at the prospect of a new overcrowded Mumbai? And what might be the constitutional implications of a new city-state like Singapore? This is a debate that has a growing urgency, for if recent reporting is anything to go by it may well be that the biggest legacy of the London Olympics will not be a sporting one but that Ganan’s orthodoxy reigns once and for all.

Ed Cox is the director of IPPR North. Find him on Twitter as @edcox_ippr

The Corus steelworks in Redcar. Photo: Getty

Ed Cox is Director at IPPR North. He tweets @edcox_ippr.

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue