Is predistribution or redistribution the best way forward?

Economies built around poverty wages and huge corporate surpluses are unsustainable. Relying on extra redistribution will not provide the correction needed.

Is 'predistribution' as championed by Ed Miliband, or old fashioned 'redistribution' as favoured, if stealthily, by Labour from 1997, the best way to create greater equality? An article by the American academic Lane Kenworthy in Juncture argues that because of the obstacles to securing a narrower gap in market incomes, we need to stick with redistribution. 

The most important element of the predistribution debate is how to tackle the problem of shrinking earnings. The share of national output going to wages has fallen from an average of 59% in the two post-war decades to 53% today, with most of the fall borne by low earners. Britain is an economy where both profits and low pay have been booming.

The spread of low pay has capped opportunities, boosted in-work poverty, weakened the incentive to work and increased the cost of income support. Kenworthy argues that reversing the earnings squeeze will be hard: the UK will continue to hemorrhage better-paid manufacturing jobs and there is limited scope for raising the minimum wage. Instead he calls for more generous tax credits to boost take-home pay.

So is this the best way forward? In 2011/12 aggregate wages in the UK stood at £835bn. This is £85bn less than if the wage share had held its 1979 level. Much of the debate about predistribution is about how much of this £85bn shortfall or 'wage-gap' could be restored.

A recent study looked at the potential impact of four ‘predistribution` style measures. It found that a modest 40 pence boost to the minimum wage and policies that halved the numbers earning less than the living wage would, by raising the wage floor, together add around £4bn to the aggregate wage bill, closing about 4.5% of the ‘wage-gap`.

A much more significant impact would come from strengthening labour’s bargaining power which has slumped to one of the weakest amongst rich nations. A doubling of the proportion covered by collective bargaining - bringing Britain closer to the European average - would significantly boost low and middle earnings, adding some £13bn to the wage pool and closing 16% of the gap.

The other most significant measure would be a cut in unemployment. Because tight labour markets are associated with higher wage growth, a rise in employment would boost the wage pool by a further £4bn. Together, these four policies would close around a quarter of the wage-gap, adding over £20bn to aggregate wages. Not huge, but a good start.

So is such a package feasible? The increase in the minimum wage would merely restore its real level to that of 2008. A phased halving of the number below the living wage could be achieved without significant job losses or increased costs. Indeed, living wage companies enjoy improved retention and lower recruitment costs.

Moreover, relying on extra redistribution would also face its own constraints. While Labour from 1997 embraced a strategy of 'stealth redistribution' the policy had run out of steam before 2010. The cost of welfare is increasingly born by middle income groups, helping to harden public attitudes towards benefits. Without reforms that tackle the explosion of tax avoidance and create a more progressive tax system, a further boost tax credits would do little to secure redistribution from the top.

There is a further critical argument for predistribution: restoring economic sanity depends on rebalancing the output of the economy in favour of wages. According to economic orthodoxy, the wages to profits shift should have improved economic health. Instead, it has brought highly damaging distortions, fracturing demand, promoting debt-fuelled consumption and raising economic risk. As profits boomed, private investment plunged. Cheap labour is also a disincentive to raise productivity, and has helped turn the UK into today’s low value-added and low-skilled economy.

According to the International Labour Organisation, nearly all large economies are ‘wage-led’ not ‘profit-led`. That is, they experience slower growth when an excessive share of output is colonised by profits.

The growing imbalance between wages and profits has, arguably, also helped prolong the crisis. While living standards have been falling across rich nations, and wage-based consumption has slumped, corporate profitability has reached new heights. The result – a global economy awash with spare capital. Instead of delivering a sustained recovery, renewing infrastructure and creating jobs, this record mountain of corporate cash reserves is lying idle – 'dead money' according to Mark Carney.

There is now a growing consensus that economies built around poverty wages and huge corporate surpluses are unsustainable, that we need a new economic model that gradually returns the wageshare closer to its post-war level with big firms devoting more of their profits to pay. Despite this, the gap between wage and output growth across rich nations - the primary explanation for falling wage shares - has risen sharply through the crisis. Kenworthy argues that this widening gap is likely to be the 'new normal' rather than a temporary aberration. If so, it will have profound economic and social implications. The signs are that, even at this early stage of recovery, stalled living standards and the growing mountain of idle money are sowing the seeds of the next crisis. 

Consumer credit levels are rising at the fastest rate since 2008 while there are signs of bubbles in house prices and company valuations. As recovery gathers pace, global cash surpluses will be used to finance business activity that raises economic risk. Private equity giants are sitting on billions of 'dry powder' waiting for takeover opportunities.

If we are in a new norm, it is unsustainable. The status quo will end in another crisis. Relying on extra redistribution will not provide the correction needed. Sustainability requires a more proportionate sharing of the cake with wage rises matching output growth. That means making predistribution work. 

Stewart Lansley is the author of The Cost of Inequality and with Howard Reed, How to Boost the Wage Share.

Ed Miliband speaks during a Q&A with party members at the Labour conference in Brighton last month. Photograph: Getty Images.
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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism