[6月 21, 2024]

The world this week

Leaders
Letters
By Invitation
Briefing
Essay
United States
The Americas
Asia
China
Middle East & Africa
Europe
Britain
International
Business
Finance & economics
Science & technology
Culture
The Economist reads
Economic & financial indicators
Obituary
 | Next section | Main menu |

The world this week

Politics
Business
KAL’s cartoon
This week’s covers
The Economist :: How we say the world

| Next section | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

The world this week

Politics
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Vladimir Putin visited North Korea. The Russian president was given an
elaborate welcome before holding talks with Kim Jong Un, the Asian
country’s dictator. The pair have strengthened their alliance during the war
in Ukraine, with North Korea providing Russia with weapons. The West
fears that in return Russia is helping North Korea with its nuclear
programme. Both leaders signed a mutual-defence pact. Mr Putin then went
to Vietnam, where he was also given the full state-visit treatment.

South Korean soldiers fired warning shots at North Korean troops who had
breached the demarcation line in the demilitarised zone that separates the
South and North. It was the second such incident in a week, though South
Korea thinks the breaches were accidental.
Thaksin Shinawatra, who was deposed as Thailand’s prime minister in a
coup in 2006 and returned from exile last year, was formally charged with
insulting the monarchy. Mr Thaksin, an influential figure in Thai politics,
was granted bail, deferring for now the problematic prospect of sending him
to prison. The indictment is one of three politically charged cases that could
rock Thai politics. The Constitutional Court has set dates for early July to
hear one case that could bring down the prime minister, Srettha Thavisin,
and another that could ban Move Forward, the main opposition party.

Meanwhile, Thailand became the first country in South-East Asia to legalise

same-sex marriage, after the upper house of parliament overwhelmingly
approved the measure. The king now needs to sign the bill, paving the way
for gay weddings later this year.

A global summit to shore up support for Ukraine in its fight against Russia
ended without securing the agreement of the big non-aligned countries.
China stayed away from the gathering in Switzerland and countries such as
India, Indonesia, Mexico, Saudi Arabia and South Africa did not sign the
final communiqué.

Jens Stoltenberg, the secretary-general of NATO, said that 23 of the alliance’s

32 members would meet a target of spending at least 2% of GDP on
defence this year. That is up from just three countries in 2014 and ten in
2023. Mr Stoltenberg was in Washington to discuss next month’s NATO
summit, which is expected to reach a deal on providing security assistance
and training to Ukraine. Meanwhile Mark Rutte, the outgoing Dutch prime
minister, looked set to succeed Mr Stoltenberg as NATO’s leader in
October.

The French revolution

Jordan Bardella, the president of the hard-right National Rally (RN) in

France, urged voters to hand his party an absolute majority at snap
elections called for June 30th and July 7th. Polling shows the RN’s
parliamentary party, which is led by Marine Le Pen, winning the most seats
but falling short of a majority. Bruno Le Maire, the finance minister, subtly
criticised Emmanuel Macron’s decision to call the election, saying it had
caused “worries, incomprehension, sometimes anger” among French
people.

A European Union meeting that should have decided who takes the bloc’s
top jobs for the next five years ended without an agreement. Ursula von der
Leyen is still favourite to extend her term as president of the European
Commission. The positions are supposed to be confirmed at a summit on
June 27th and 28th.

The Israel Defence Forces said that it would hold a daily “tactical pause” of
military activity on a road in the south of Gaza to allow more aid to enter
the territory through the Kerem Shalom crossing. Binyamin Netanyahu,
Israel’s prime minister, denounced the decision. The IDF made it clear that
this did not amount to a ceasefire. It said that fighting would continue in
Rafah, where eight soldiers were killed recently.

Mr Netanyahu released a video criticising the Biden administration for its

treatment of Israelduring the current war in Gaza. He said that it was
“inconceivable” that America had been “withholding weapons and
ammunitions” in recent months. The White House said it did not know what
the prime minister was talking about, stressing that only one shipment of
heavy bombs had been delayed.

After the departure of Benny Gantz and Gadi Eisenkot, Mr Netanyahu

dissolved his six-member war cabinet. Some of the decisions previously
made by the war cabinet will now fall to the larger security cabinet, which
includes some of Mr Netanyahu’s far-right allies.
At least 550 people died during the haj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca in
Saudi Arabia, as temperatures in the city hit 51.80C (1250F). Around 1.8m
Muslims are expected to travel to the site for the pilgrimage this year.

A ship that was attacked recently by Houthi insurgents from Yemen sank in
the Red Sea, the second vessel that the rebels have sunk since starting their
campaign to disrupt shipping last November. One crewman died in the
incident. The Houthis used a drone boat packed with explosives.

South Africa’s two biggest political parties, the African National Congress
and the Democratic Alliance, formed a coalition government headed by
Cyril Ramaphosa, the president, after the ANC lost its parliamentary
majority. The new government, which also includes other smaller parties,
agreed to focus on economic growth, cheering investors. MK, the party of
Jacob Zuma, a disgraced former ANC president, will join the opposition.

Senegal joined the club of African oil producers, as the country’s first
offshore project commenced production after a string of delays. The new
government of Bassirou Diomaye Faye, Senegal’s left-leaning nationalist
president, hopes the nascent oil and gas industry will enable it to invest
more heavily in its priorities, such as agriculture.
The UN Security Council adopted a resolution ordering the Rapid Support
Forces, a rebellious Sudanese paramilitary group, to lift its siege of el-
Fasher, in the Darfur region. It also called for a halt in fighting between the
RSF and the official Sudanese Armed Forces. The resolution, which passed
after Russia abstained, points to a hardening of international opinion against
the RSF amid concerns that it and allied Arab militias are conducting
genocide in Darfur.

To have and to hold

Joe Biden announced new legal protections for migrants who are in
America illegally but married to American citizens. The new system
streamlines the process for applying for permanent residency, but applicants
must have lived in the United States for at least ten years. Around 500,000
spouses could potentially benefit, in one of the most significant presidential
actions on immigration in a decade.

Louisiana’s governor, Jeff Landry, signed a bill that obligates schoolrooms

in the state to display the Ten Commandments. The mandate does not come
into effect until next year, and will face numerous legal challenges from
secularists who argue it contradicts the constitutional split between church
and state.

Large protests were held in Brazil against a proposed change to the law that
would equate abortions after 22 weeks to homicide. Conservatives in
Congress support the bill, but critics note that late abortions are often
performed on children who were abused by relatives. Abortion is legal in
Brazil only in cases of rape, fetal deformation and when the woman’s life is
in danger.

Venezuela’s opposition coalition said that four more of its activists had
been arrested ahead of the presidential election on July 28th. Dozens of
opposition figures have been detained this year on bogus conspiratorial
claims. Polling suggests that Nicolás Maduro, the authoritarian president,
would heavily lose a free and fair vote.
Ecuador will temporarily suspend visa waivers for Chinese nationals from
July 1st, as tens of thousands of migrants travel to the country en route to
the United States. Ecuador is one of only two South American countries that
grant visa-free travel to Chinese visitors (Suriname is the other). From
there, they often head north. The number of Chinese nationals trying to
cross the US border has rocketed since 2022.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-world-
this-week/2024/06/20/politics

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The world this week

Business
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Dave Calhoun, Boeing’s CEO, was questioned by American senators about

recent safety incidents involving his company’s planes, such as the blowout
of a door panel on a 737 MAX. Richard Blumenthal, the chairman of the
committee investigating the failures, described Boeing as “an iconic
company…that somehow lost its way”. Mr Calhoun, who is stepping down,
apologised for the recent incidents and two earlier fatal crashes. Meanwhile,
the latest whistleblower to make a complaint revealed that Boeing lost track
of 400 faulty parts, and that some of them may have been installed on
planes. Boeing’s share price is down by 30% this year.

Nvidia overtook Microsoft and Apple to become the world’s most valuable
company, with a stockmarket value of more than $3.3trn. The maker of
chips for artificial intelligence has seen its share price surge by 40% since
issuing bumper quarterly revenues and profits a month ago, and expects
sales to increase from the roll-out of its Blackwell chip, billed as the
world’s most powerful. Nvidia is only one of a dozen companies to lead the
S&P 500 since its creation in 1926. It recently split its stock, lowering the
share price to make it more attractive to small investors.

Broadcom’s share price also hit new highs, after the chipmaker announced
a ten-for-one stock split that comes into effect in July. Over the past few
years big tech companies have been using stock splits to dilute the price of
their surging shares, though Meta and Microsoft have notably not done so.

A study by the IMF said that the “sheer scale and speed of the
transformation” in AI would amplify job losses, reducing the share of
labour income in national accounts and exacerbating inequality. It called
on governments to prepare social systems that will “cushion the transition
costs for workers”.

The Bank of England held its main interest rate steady, at 5.25%. The day
before the decision new figures showed headline annual inflation in Britain
dropping to 2% in May, bang on the bank’s target, though the core rate,
excluding food and energy, was 3.5%, and inflation for services didn’t fall
as much as expected. The bank’s next monetary-policy meeting is on
August 1st, after a general election that is expected to usher Labour into
power.

Investor reprieve

A judge in Texas dismissed what remained of ExxonMobil’s lawsuit

against activist investors over its emissions targets. Arjuna Capital and
Follow This had proposed a proxy vote on quickening the pace of Exxon’s
emission cuts, but they dropped the proposal when it threatened to sue,
claiming they were abusing the proxy system. The judge ruled that the case
against Arjuna was now invalid, as it had pledged not to refile the motion.
He had already removed Follow This from the suit.

Tesla submitted a letter to a judge in Delaware asking for new legal

arguments on Elon Musk’s 2018 pay deal, after 77% of the company’s
shareholders backed the package at their annual meeting. In January the
judge voided the package in a case brought by a dissident shareholder, who
claimed the sum, now worth around $46bn, was too large. Tesla says the
vote backing Mr Musk’s pay “significantly impacts” the issue. But lawyers
for the dissident investor insist the vote has no legal impact.

Fisker, a maker of electric vehicles, filed for bankruptcy protection in

America. The company went public in 2020 amid a wave of optimism in the
industry, but its sales never took off. Fisker was delisted by the New York
Stock Exchange recently because its share price was “abnormally low”.

Toyoda Akio’s reappointment as chairman of Toyota won the support of

just 72% of shareholders, down from 85% last year. Two big proxy advisers
had recommended voting against Mr Toyoda for failing to oversee the
proper certification process on some vehicles. It was a rare instance of a
rebellion in corporate Japan. https://t.me/+NA8muckncd4yNDUx

The ownership structure of Heathrow was overhauled, following the

decision of Ferrovial, an infrastructure group, to sell down its stake. Ardian,
a French private-equity firm, is now the airport’s largest shareholder, with a
22.6% stake. Saudi Arabia’s sovereign-wealth fund is taking 15%. The
other big investor is the Qatar Investment Authority, with a 20% holding.
(Heathrow’s chairman, Lord Deighton, is also chairman of The Economist’s
parent company.)

Singapore returned to the top spot in an annual ranking of competitiveness

among 67 countries compiled by IMD, a business school. The city-state last
topped the poll in 2020. Switzerland came second and Denmark, last year’s
champion of efficiency, came third. America dropped three places to 12th
spot. China climbed seven places to 14th. Venezuela took the wooden
spoon.

Knights of Wall Street

Employees from Chessify, an online chess platform, won the World

Corporate Chess Championship in New York, beating a team from
ChessMood, another platform. Banks and financial firms, including
BlackRock and Goldman Sachs, took part in the rapid-round format, though
only two, Susquehanna and UBS, made it through to the semi-finals. A team
from Google came second-bottom in its group.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-world-
this-week/2024/06/20/business

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The world this week

KAL’s cartoon
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

KAL’s cartoon appears weekly in The Economist. You can see last week’s
here.

This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-world-

this-week/2024/06/20/kals-cartoon

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The Economist

This week’s covers

How we say the world
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

THIS WEEK we had two covers. In the EU we explored how the character
of warfare is about to be profoundly changed by artificial intelligence (AI).
This rapid change has several causes. One is the crucible of war itself, most
notably in Ukraine. A second is the recent exponential advance of AI. A
third is the rivalry between America and China, in which both see AI as the
key to military superiority. The scale of AI-based war means that mass and
industrial heft are likely to become even more important than they are
today. The uncertainties are profound. The only sure thing is that AI-driven
change is drawing near.
Leader: War and AI
Briefing: How AI is changing warfare

On our cover in the rest of the world, we looked at the impact of the
exponential growth of solar power. Solar panels occupy an area around half
that of Wales, and this year they will provide the world with about 6% of its
electricity. That is almost three times as much electrical energy as America
consumed back in 1954, when Bell Labs unveiled a new technology for
turning sunlight into power. But the most remarkable thing is that the rise of
solar power is nowhere near over. Installed solar capacity doubles roughly
every three years. Solar cells will in all likelihood be the single biggest
source of electrical power on the planet by the mid 2030s. By the 2040s
they may be the largest source not just of electricity but of all energy.
Leader: The exponential growth of solar power will change the world
Essay: Solar power is going to be huge
Africa: Private firms are driving a revolution in solar power in Africa
Business: China’s giant solar industry is in turmoil
Business: Floating solar has a bright future
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-world-
this-week/2024/06/20/this-weeks-covers

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Leaders
The exponential growth of solar power will change the
world
The solar age :: An energy-rich future is within reach

AI will transform the character of warfare

The future of combat :: Technology will make war faster and more opaque. It could also prove
destabilising

Emmanuel Macron’s project of reform is at risk

French peril :: A snap election in France reveals the flimsiness of his legacy

How to tax billionaires—and how not to

An unrealisable idea :: Closing loopholes would be a better bet than a levy on unrealised
capital gains

Javier Milei’s next move could make his presidency—or

break it
Raising Argentina :: Radical experiments with the currency could spell disaster

India should liberate its cities and create more states

Power and politics in India :: It doesn’t need more government. It needs more governments

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

The solar age

The exponential growth of solar

power will change the world
An energy-rich future is within reach
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午
IT IS 70 YEARS since AT&T’s Bell Labs unveiled a new technology for
turning sunlight into power. The phone company hoped it could replace the
batteries that run equipment in out-of-the-way places. It also realised that
powering devices with light alone showed how science could make the
future seem wonderful; hence a press event at which sunshine kept a toy
Ferris wheel spinning round and round.
Today solar power is long past the toy phase. Panels now occupy an area
around half that of Wales, and this year they will provide the world with
about 6% of its electricity—which is almost three times as much electrical
energy as America consumed back in 1954. Yet this historic growth is only
the second-most-remarkable thing about the rise of solar power. The most
remarkable is that it is nowhere near over.

To call solar power’s rise exponential is not hyperbole, but a statement of

fact. Installed solar capacity doubles roughly every three years, and so
grows ten-fold each decade. Such sustained growth is seldom seen in
anything that matters. That makes it hard for people to get their heads round
what is going on. When it was a tenth of its current size ten years ago, solar
power was still seen as marginal even by experts who knew how fast it had
grown. The next ten-fold increase will be equivalent to multiplying the
world’s entire fleet of nuclear reactors by eight in less than the time it
typically takes to build just a single one of them.

Solar cells will in all likelihood be the single biggest source of electrical
power on the planet by the mid 2030s. By the 2040s they may be the largest
source not just of electricity but of all energy. On current trends, the all-in
cost of the electricity they produce promises to be less than half as
expensive as the cheapest available today. This will not stop climate
change, but could slow it a lot faster. Much of the world—including Africa,
where 600m people still cannot light their homes—will begin to feel
energy-rich. That feeling will be a new and transformational one for
humankind.

To grasp that this is not some environmentalist fever dream, consider solar
economics. As the cumulative production of a manufactured good increases,
costs go down. As costs go down, demand goes up. As demand goes up,
production increases—and costs go down further. This cannot go on for
ever; production, demand or both always become constrained. In earlier
energy transitions—from wood to coal, coal to oil or oil to gas—the
efficiency of extraction grew, but it was eventually offset by the cost of
finding ever more fuel.

As our essay this week explains, solar power faces no such constraint. The
resources needed to produce solar cells and plant them on solar farms are
silicon-rich sand, sunny places and human ingenuity, all three of which are
abundant. Making cells also takes energy, but solar power is fast making
that abundant, too. As for demand, it is both huge and elastic—if you make
electricity cheaper, people will find uses for it. The result is that, in contrast
to earlier energy sources, solar power has routinely become cheaper and
will continue to do so.

Other constraints do exist. Given people’s proclivity for living outside

daylight hours, solar power needs to be complemented with storage and
supplemented by other technologies. Heavy industry and aviation and
freight have been hard to electrify. Fortunately, these problems may be
solved as batteries and fuels created by electrolysis gradually become
cheaper.

Another worry is that the vast majority of the world’s solar panels, and
almost all the purified silicon from which they are made, come from China.
Its solar industry is highly competitive, heavily subsidised and is
outstripping current demand—quite an achievement given all the solar
capacity China is installing within its own borders. This means that Chinese
capacity is big enough to keep the expansion going for years to come, even
if some of the companies involved go to the wall and some investment dries
up.

In the long run, a world in which more energy is generated without the oil
and gas that come from unstable or unfriendly parts of the world will be
more dependable. Still, although the Chinese Communist Party cannot rig
the price of sunlight as OPEC tries to rig that of oil, the fact that a vital
industry resides in a single hostile country is worrying.

It is a concern that America feels keenly, which is why it has put tariffs on
Chinese solar equipment. However, because almost all the demand for solar
panels still lies in the future, the rest of the world will have plenty of scope
to get into the market. America’s adoption of solar energy could be
frustrated by a pro-fossil-fuel Trump presidency, but only temporarily and
painfully. It could equally be enhanced if America released pent up demand,
by making it easier to install panels on homes and to join the grid—the
country has a terawatt of new solar capacity waiting to be connected.
Carbon prices would help, just as they did in the switch from coal to gas in
the European Union.

The aim should be for the virtuous circle of solar-power production to turn
as fast as possible. That is because it offers the prize of cheaper energy. The
benefits start with a boost to productivity. Anything that people use energy
for today will cost less—and that includes pretty much everything. Then
come the things cheap energy will make possible. People who could never
afford to will start lighting their houses or driving a car. Cheap energy can
purify water, and even desalinate it. It can drive the hungry machinery of
artificial intelligence. It can make billions of homes and offices more
bearable in summers that will, for decades to come, be getting hotter.

But it is the things that nobody has yet thought of that will be most
consequential. In its radical abundance, cheaper energy will free the
imagination, setting tiny Ferris wheels of the mind spinning with
excitement and new possibilities.

This week marks the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. The Sun
rising to its highest point in the sky will in decades to come shine down on
a world where nobody need go without the blessings of electricity and
where the access to energy invigorates all those it touches. ■

For subscribers only: to see how we design each week’s cover, sign up to
our weekly Cover Story newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/20/the-exponential-growth-of-solar-power-
will-change-the-world

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The future of combat

AI will transform the character of

warfare
Technology will make war faster and more opaque. It could also prove
destabilising
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午
THE COMPUTER was born in war and by war. Colossus was built in 1944
to crack Nazi codes. By the 1950s computers were organising America’s air
defences. In the decades that followed, machine intelligence played a small
part in warfare. Now it is about to become pivotal. Just as the civilian world
is witnessing rapid progress in the power and spread of artificial
intelligence (AI), so too must the military world prepare for an onrush of
innovation. As much as it transforms the character of war, it could also
prove destabilising.

Today’s rapid change has several causes. One is the crucible of war itself,
most notably in Ukraine. Small, inexpensive chips routinely guide Russian
and Ukrainian drones to their targets, scaling up a technology once confined
to a superpower’s missiles. A second is the recent exponential advance of
AI, enabling astonishing feats of object recognition and higher-order
problem solving. A third is the rivalry between America and China, in
which both see AI as the key to military superiority.

The results are most visible in the advance of intelligent killing machines.
Aerial and naval drones have been vital to both sides in Ukraine for spotting
and attacking targets. AI’s role is as the solution to jamming, because it
enables a drone to home in on targets, even if GPS signals or the link to the
pilot have been cut. Breaking the connection between pilot and plane
should soon let armies deploy far larger numbers of low-cost munitions.
Eventually self-directing swarms will be designed to swamp defences.

But what is most visible about military AI is not what is most important. As
our briefing explains, the technology is also revolutionising the command
and control that military officers use to orchestrate wars.

On the front line, drones embody just the last and most dramatic link in the
kill chain, the series of steps beginning with the search for a target and
ending in an attack. AI’s deeper significance is what it can do before the
drone strikes. Because it sorts through and processes data at superhuman
speed, it can pluck every tank out of a thousand satellite images, or interpret
light, heat, sound and radio waves to distinguish decoys from the real thing.

Away from the front line, it can solve much larger problems than those
faced by a single drone. Today that means simple tasks, such as working out
which weapon is best suited to destroying a threat. In due course, “decision-
support systems” may be able to grasp the baffling complexity of war
rapidly and over a wide area—perhaps an entire battlefield.

The consequences of this are only just becoming clear. AI systems, coupled
with autonomous robots on land, sea and air, are likely to find and destroy
targets at an unprecedented speed and on a vast scale.

The speed of such warfare will change the balance between soldier and
software. Today, armies keep a man “in the loop”, approving each lethal
decision. As finding and striking targets is compressed into minutes or
seconds, the human may merely “sit on the loop”, as part of a human-
machine team. People will oversee the system without intervening in every
action.

The paradox is that even as AI gives a clearer sense of the battlefield, war
risks becoming more opaque for the people who fight it. There will be less
time to stop and think. As the models hand down increasingly oracular
judgments, their output will become ever harder to scrutinise without
ceding the enemy a lethal advantage. Armies will fear that if they do not
give their AI advisers a longer leash, they will be defeated by an adversary
who does. Faster combat and fewer pauses will make it harder to negotiate
truces or halt escalation. This may favour defenders, who can hunker down
while attackers break cover as they advance. Or it may tempt attackers to
strike pre-emptively and with massive force, so as to tear down the sensors
and networks on which AI-enabled armies will depend.

The scale of AI-based war means that mass and industrial heft are likely to
become even more important than they are today. You might think new
technology will let armies become leaner. But if software can pick out tens
of thousands of targets, armies will need tens of thousands of weapons to
strike them. And if the defender has the advantage, attackers will need more
weapons to break through.

That is not the only reason AI warfare favours big countries. Drones may
get cheaper, but the digital systems that mesh the battlefield together will be
fiendishly expensive. Building AI-infused armies will take huge
investments in cloud servers able to handle secret data. Armies, navies and
air forces that today exist in their own data silos will have to be integrated.
Training the models will call for access to vast troves of data.

Which big country does AI favour most? China was once thought to have
an advantage, thanks to its pool of data, control over private industry and
looser ethical constraints. Yet just now America looks to be ahead in the
frontier models that may shape the next generation of military AI. And
ideology matters: it is unclear whether the armies of authoritarian states,
which prize centralised control, will be able to exploit the benefits of a
technology that pushes intelligence and insight to the lowest tactical levels.

If, tragically, the first AI-powered war does break out, international law is
likely to be pushed to the margins. All the more reason to think today about
how to limit the destruction. China should heed America’s call to rule out
AI control over nuclear weapons, for instance. And once a war begins,
human-to-human hotlines will become more important than ever. AI
systems told to maximise military advantage will need to be encoded with
values and restraints that human commanders take for granted. These
include placing an implicit value on human life—how many civilians is it
acceptable to kill in pursuing a high-value target?—and avoiding certain
destabilising strikes, such as on nuclear early-warning satellites.

The uncertainties are profound. The only sure thing is that AI-driven change
is drawing near. The armies that anticipate and master technological
advances earliest and most effectively will probably prevail. Everyone else
is likely to be a victim. ■

For subscribers only: to see how we design each week’s cover, sign up to
our weekly Cover Story newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/20/war-and-ai

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

French peril

Emmanuel Macron’s project of

reform is at risk
A snap election in France reveals the flimsiness of his legacy
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IT MAY NOT measure up to Napoleon’s march on Moscow in 1812, but

Emmanuel Macron’s decision to call a parliamentary election this month is
looking like one of the most self-destructive gambles by a French leader in
modern times. After seven years under his centrist government, voters’
judgment threatens to be severe. It may well plunge France into a political,
and perhaps even economic, crisis. One victim would be Mr Macron’s own
project of reform.

The signs so far are ominous. The stockmarket has fallen by 4% since he
made his announcement on June 9th, the night of his party’s drubbing in the
European Parliament elections at the hands of Marine Le Pen’s National
Rally. Share prices in France’s three big banks are down by almost 10%.
Bond spreads are widening. Euro-elections tend to be a protest vote, not a
reflection of how people will express themselves when choosing their
national parliament. This time, however, their anger now has barely a week
left to dissipate and the polls show no sign that it will.

The president faces a squeeze between Ms Le Pen’s hard right and a rapidly
created New Popular Front that includes powerful hard-left elements,
especially the Unsubmissive France party dominated by Jean-Luc
Mélenchon, a former Trotskyist. Mr Macron seems to have assumed such
an alliance would not be formed so fast. France’s parliamentary elections
use a two-round system, with a high threshold for going through to the
second round. The danger is that most of the president’s men and women
will not make it that far—leaving a choice between the xenophobic
nationalists and the anti-capitalist radicals. His political group, Ensemble,
faces losing half its seats or more.

Mr Macron will remain in office; his term does not expire until 2027. But
although the president has extensive powers over defence and foreign
policy, new domestic policy, like the budget, needs to be voted through by
parliament. Administering it is the preserve of the government, headed by a
prime minister whom the president picks but whom parliament can dismiss
through a simple confidence vote. In practice, Mr Macron will have little
choice but to offer the job to the nominee of whichever party or alliance
comes top. Mr Macron may hope that his centrists can forge a post-election
alliance with other moderates, but the numbers do not look close to adding
up.

That leaves three options: a hung parliament, or a government of either the

hard right or hard left. None of them is good. Both the right and the left are
committed to doing things France cannot afford. These include imposing
punitive wealth taxes, slashing VAT on fuel and scrapping Mr Macron’s
reforms of the pension system, so that France can go back to one of the
earliest retirement ages in the world. (The right would add harsh restrictions
on immigration, citizenship and free movement to the mix; the left, a big
jump in the minimum wage.) The problems are compounded by the fact that
France is already running a high budget deficit, of over 5% of GDP this
year.

The most likely outcome is a hung parliament with an unstable government.

It might be even worse. As everyone jockeyed for advantage in the
presidential poll in three years’ time, legislation would struggle to get
through, even a budget. The gridlock could spread to the European Union.
The one thing the hard left and right might agree on would be to ditch most
of the past seven years’ reforms.

Mr Macron’s ambition was to transform France’s political system by

strengthening its moderate elements, and to permanently shift the national
consensus towards economic modernisation. Right now his legacy looks
more likely to be reforms that do not stick and a political centre that has
been eviscerated—so much so that his successor as president may yet be his
nemesis, Ms Le Pen. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/20/emmanuel-macrons-project-of-reform-is-
at-risk

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

An unrealisable idea

How to tax billionaires—and how

not to
Closing loopholes would be a better bet than a levy on unrealised capital
gains
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Editor’s note (June 20th 2024): The Supreme Court has ruled in Moore v
United States, upholding the tax at issue (the “mandatory repatriation
tax”). The court declined to weigh in on the constitutionality of a tax on
unrealised gains.

THE RICH are different from other people. They have more money and, in
most places, they pay much less tax. Going by one broad definition of
income that combines consumption and someone’s change in net worth,
America’s best-heeled pay just a few cents on every dollar of their fortunes.
Lately, those fortunes have ballooned, thanks to a soaring stockmarket. One
study found that unrealised capital gains account for $6trn of the $11trn in
wealth held by the richest Americans. Since 2023, as the artificial-
intelligence frenzy has fuelled demand for both Nvidia’s GPUs and its
shares, the chipmaker’s founder, Jensen Huang, made more than $100bn.
But until he sells some of his stocks, all that money is off-limits to the
taxman.

Cash-strapped governments want to get their hands on a slice of these

riches. Next year Australia will start taxing unrealised gains in employee
pension-fund accounts with balances of more than A$3m ($2m). As part of
his re-election campaign, President Joe Biden is promising to find $500bn
over ten years for social programmes by charging a 25% tax on the
unrealised capital gains of individuals who, like Mr Huang and 10,000 other
Americans, are worth $100m or more.

It is easy to understand why the world’s non-multimillionaires may want to

soak the very rich. It is equally easy to grasp the appeal for governments,
which the wealthy are playing for fools by coming up with clever ways to
live in the lap of luxury without ever realising any capital gains.

One of these manoeuvres in America is to buy assets, offer these as

collateral for loans and roll over the loans until their death. At that point any
capital gains accrued over the owner’s lifetime are zeroed out and the clock
starts anew for their heirs, who then themselves “buy, borrow and die”, as
this (perfectly legal) device is known.

However, taxing unrealised gains is complex and wrongheaded. It is also

unnecessary. A similar end could be met with much less controversial
means.

Taxes should be simple to administer and collect. Ideally, they should also
raise revenue while distorting behaviour as little as possible. Taxing
unrealised gains fails on each of these counts. Calculating someone’s net
worth is nightmarishly complicated even once, at their death, let alone
every year. America’s Internal Revenue Service took 12 years to put a value
on Michael Jackson’s estate. France, Sweden and a few other European
countries that have tried to levy wealth taxes have abandoned their efforts
after generating lots of administrative headaches but little actual revenue.

Taxing unrealised gains would also cause wild swings in the liabilities of
people who own volatile assets, including Mr Huang and his Nvidia shares.
Mr Biden’s proposal, which assesses the tax over five years, smooths out
some of this volatility. But some taxpayers would still fail to get a rebate for
their unrealised losses. That could discourage angel investors and other
risk-takers from backing promising ventures whose stratospheric valuations
could suddenly collapse, and which can be hard to price. In America taxing
unrealised gains may also be unconstitutional. The Supreme Court is about
to rule in a case in which the plaintiffs claim that a one-off levy on foreign
investments in 2017 was illegal because it taxed their unrealised gains.
Even if the justices issue a narrow ruling that leaves the principle intact, Mr
Biden’s idea will be challenged.

What, then, are the tax authorities to do? In America they could start by
ending the rule that lets inheritors reset the clock for capital-gains each time
someone dies. This provision of the tax code, called “step-up in basis”, was
introduced in 1921, five years after estate taxes, which are assessed on the
market value of assets at the owner’s death. The goal was to avoid double
taxation. If heirs paid estate tax on this fair value, they should not also pay
tax on any further capital gains.

This rationale looks flimsy now that the biggest estates are built not on
earned income, which would have been taxed throughout an estate-builder’s
life, but on assets’ appreciation, which was not. Heirs who get rich thanks to
their benefactor’s buy, borrow and die are therefore treated very differently
from those who inherit a fortune amassed out of taxed income.

Scrapping step-up in basis could yield perhaps a quarter of the $500bn that
Mr Biden hopes to get from his wealth tax, at a far lower administrative
cost. Taxing capital gains at death would raise the same again. He could
realise much of the rest by closing other loopholes, notably the “carried
interest” provision which lets buy-out barons pay capital-gains tax rather
than (usually higher) income tax on their private-equity firms’ investment
profits. Going after unrealised gains is easy to understand and hence good
politics. But it is bad economics. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/19/how-to-tax-billionaires-and-how-not-to

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Raising Argentina

Javier Milei’s next move could

make his presidency—or break it
Radical experiments with the currency could spell disaster
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

WHEN ARGENTINA’S president, Javier Milei, donned his leather jacket

and belted out rock songs to a stadium last month he cut an eccentric figure.
And when he insults his country’s Congress (“a nest of rats”), the governor
of Buenos Aires province (“a communist dwarf”) and Spain’s prime
minister (“the laughing stock of Europe”), he comes across as just another
boorish populist. Both characterisations have a grain of truth. Even so, by
most economic measures Mr Milei is beating expectations.

In December, as he took office, Argentina’s economy was a tangle of

rampant inflation and unsustainable price controls. To clean up, Mr Milei
slashed spending. The central bank stopped printing money to finance the
deficit. As a result, Argentina has had fiscal surpluses for five months in a
row. Inflation spiked after a sharp devaluation, but has since fallen to a
monthly rate of 4.2% in May, the lowest in over two years.

Mr Milei’s coalition has so few lawmakers in Congress that some analysts

feared he might have pursued his agenda by sidelining Argentina’s
democratic institutions or wrecking them. Instead, after Mr Milei’s
administration negotiated with legislators, the Senate passed two bills on
June 13th to liberalise the economy, promote investment and raise revenue.
The lower house is expected to give its final approval soon.

Mr Milei’s success so far rests on his unrelenting attacks on Argentina’s

establishment and unions, which have been sufficiently convincing—and
entertaining—to keep his approval ratings above 50%. That has given him
cover to keep reforming, even as spending cuts have caused a deep
recession. His fanatical commitment to fiscal surpluses has underpinned the
fall in inflation. Just as important, he has learned to compromise in order to
get legislation through Congress.

Yet Argentina’s knot of economic failures will be devilishly difficult to

untie—and the hardest part for Mr Milei is still to come. Monthly inflation
may creep up in June as energy prices rise. That will exacerbate fears over
the Argentine peso, which once again appears to be overvalued. Mr Milei
angrily denies the currency is too strong. But the longer he ignores it, the
greater the risk of a more damaging and inflationary devaluation later.

Very soon Mr Milei must also decide on the future of the central bank and
the peso. Argentina’s awful history of inflation and default means it is right
to explore new ways to anchor the economy. Yet on this front Mr Milei has
so far offered monetary anarchy rather than a new order. On the campaign
trail he promised to dollarise the economy and “blow up” the central bank.
Now he and his team talk of “currency competition”, whereby the peso
would coexist with other currencies. But the details remain worryingly
vague. And he still wants to close the central bank. All this uncertainty has
costs. Investors do not want to sink cash into a country where the monetary
system and currency are up for grabs.
Mr Milei still harbours radical visions, even if some on his team do not. In
May he declared that he wanted “endogenous dollarisation”. Argentines
could use dollars or pesos, but the supply of pesos would be fixed. When
the economy grows (and thus needs more money to circulate) Argentines
would therefore be forced to start using their own dollar savings. The peso,
he said, would become a “museum piece”.

This half-baked scheme raises more questions than it answers. It has never
been tried elsewhere. Freezing the money supply could lead to deflation.
Or, if the goal is to push people away from pesos entirely, even for
transactions, then it could stoke inflation as the supply of pesos outstrips
plummeting demand for them. The IMF, which has a $44bn lending
programme to Argentina, seems worried. Mr Milei has promised to tell the
fund all about his monetary plans by the end of the month. But, if
endogenous dollarisation survives, it would probably be less likely to lend
his government new cash.

The art of the deal

Such a radical experiment is not just risky, it is also unnecessary. Across the
Andes, Peru has the kind of currency competition that could work in
Argentina. There, dollars are used alongside the sol. But in contrast to Mr
Milei’s plan, the central bank adjusts the supply of the sol and supports its
use. Mr Milei succeeded in Congress by compromising. To avoid
squandering his hard-won gains, he needs to foster certainty and sanity by
giving ground over the peso, too.■

Sign up to El Boletín, our subscriber-only newsletter on Latin America, to

understand the forces shaping a fascinating and complex region.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/19/javier-mileis-next-move-could-make-his-
presidency-or-break-it

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Power and politics in India

India should liberate its cities and

create more states
It doesn’t need more government. It needs more governments
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN HIS FIRST decade in office Narendra Modi used centralisation to help

modernise the country. His ideal is a strong leader, with a national mandate
and a majority in Parliament, who can direct the central government to
force through changes across a huge country. Election results on June 4th
cast doubts on that approach because Mr Modi’s party lost its majority and
now relies on allies to rule. Centralisation appears to have reached its limit.
That means it is worth considering the alternative: delegating power by
creating more independently run cities and even more states.
The opening line of India’s constitution declares that the country “shall be a
union of states”. After independence in 1947, princely realms were folded
into new states, residual colonial territory annexed, and borders reorganised
along linguistic lines. The system continues to adapt. Three new states were
born in 2000. Telangana, the newest, turned ten this month. Today, India’s
28 states are powerful. They employ more people than local and central
governments put together. And they are constitutionally responsible, or
jointly responsible, for most basic functions, including health care,
education, law and order, agriculture and the supply of welfare.

Yet today’s set-up has two problems. One is that India’s mega-cities lack
autonomy: they are typically part of states with large rural populations
whom politicians tend to put first. The other is that many states are too
large. America, with a quarter of the people, has 50 states. China has 27
provinces and autonomous regions but its administrative energies are
concentrated at the sub-provincial level. Uttar Pradesh (UP), the largest
Indian state, has 240m people, more than Nigeria or Brazil.

Because of India’s vast political and economic diversity, centrally imposed

one-size-fits-all policies only sometimes work, and exclude many policy
areas that are crying out for change. More local autonomy creates an
alternative mechanism for reform by boosting flexibility, accountability,
experimentation and competition. Since its creation, Telangana’s share of
GDP has risen from 4.1% to 4.8%. Neglected when it was part of the
undivided state of Andhra Pradesh, its rural areas now have regular power
and water.

This newspaper does not usually argue for more government. But it has no
hesitation in arguing for more governments. True, India has tried this
before. In the 1990s Parliament passed constitutional amendments aimed at
devolving power from states to local governments, but states proved
reluctant to cede control.

Our solution is different: to allow mega-cities to govern themselves and to

have more states. The constitution grants Parliament unilateral power to
create states, extinguish existing ones (as Mr Modi did with Jammu and
Kashmir in 2019) and change boundaries. UP should be divided up. Other
places have solid claims to independence. In Maharashtra, Mumbai should
have more clout; relatively poor eastern Maharashtra has long demanded
statehood.

Decentralisation does have downsides. With lots more states and cities,
there would be non-stop elections, so India would need to create
synchronised, regular voting cycles. The distribution of resources between
states, from tax revenues to energy, is a delicate affair; extra states and cities
would make it more complex still. And redrawing India’s internal
administrative borders would open up the thorny question of its
parliamentary-seat boundaries, which give disproportionate power to the
wealthy south at the expense of the poorer north.

Yet these problems would be outweighed by the benefits of better

administration, more responsive government, improved services and faster-
growing economies. In the long run, creating new states would help India
thrive. ■

Stay on top of our India coverage by signing up to Essential India, our free
weekly newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/leaders/2024/06/20/india-should-liberate-its-cities-and-
create-more-states

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Letters
Letters to the editor
On competition law, old people and savings, green belts, New York, worms, equality,
followership :: A selection of correspondence

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

On competition law, old people and savings, green belts, New York, worms, equality,
followership

Letters to the editor

A selection of correspondence
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Letters are welcome via email to letters@economist.com

Caution on competition law

Margrethe Vestager, the European Union’s commissioner for competition,

posits that competition law has not addressed “the structural entrenchment
of companies holding market power”, and that sweeping regulations like the
EU’s Digital Markets Act (DMA) are therefore justified (By Invitation,
June 3rd). She compares the case-by-case approach of competition
enforcement to “playing a never-ending game of whack-a-mole”. However,
enforcement is often slow and complex, especially in the kinds of “abuse of
dominance” cases that have been brought against large online platforms.
This deliberate pace is necessary, as the companies’ business models and
the consequences of their behaviour are themselves complex.

One need only see the unfortunate changes forced upon Google Maps in the
EU, where users can no longer click map locations from their search results,
to understand that platform design entails complex trade-offs among
usability, safety and competition. In ignoring these trade-offs there is a
genuine risk that heavy-handed enforcement will do more harm than good.

The case-by-case approach that prevails under most competition law allows
enforcers to separate the wheat from the chaff and condemn only those
business practices that ultimately prove harmful to consumers. This
cautious approach has arguably helped America to become a global leader
in digital markets, by nurturing promising firms rather than imposing
overbearing rules upon them.

Unfortunately, the DMA ignores these lessons and categorically prohibits

conduct, such as “self-preferencing” by online platforms, that can benefit
consumers.

GEOFFREY MANNE
DIRK AUER
MARIO ZÚÑIGA
International Centre for Law and Economics
Portland, Oregon
Baby boomers and savings

Does your assertion that “a proliferation of old folk means more people
saving for retirement” get the logic upside down (Free exchange, May
25th)? A rising ratio of pensioners to workers means that there will be fewer
people toiling to save for their old age, and more older folk will be happily
spending their retirement nest-eggs. The balance of savings to investment
will be skewed towards lower savings and thus a higher neutral interest rate.

In the same vein, the balance of aggregate demand (all people consume) to
aggregate supply (only those who still work) will shift towards less supply
and hence more price pressures. At the margin, low birth rates helped
explain why inflation and interest rates were so low over the past 15 years
while the baby boomers were still working and saving. But that will be over
very soon. With ever more pensioners around, brace yourself for somewhat
sticky inflation and higher rates for longer.

HOLGER SCHMIEDING
Chief economist
Berenberg
London
Save London’s lungs

It is an unpopular opinion these days, but green belts are doing their job
well (“Labour’s growth plan”, June 8th). The nearest bit of green belt to
central London is about 30 minutes by Tube and most of it is over an hour’s
commute. People don’t want to live out there. They want to live 15 minutes
away from their work, in places with good infrastructure and connectivity.

I sometimes take the train into Paddington. The last 20 minutes of this
journey travels through seemingly endless areas of low density, low-rise
Victorian or post-war housing sprinkled with industrial parks and lonely
office blocks, aka urban sprawl, exactly what the green belt was created to
arrest. Rather than allowing this monotonous concrete kudzu to resume its
inexorable outward creep it is much more sensible to densify and modernise
the urban areas that people already reside in. The quest to build on green
belts has become an end in itself and its proponents have lost sight of the
real aim, which is to provide affordable housing in places where people
want to live.

Britain’s cities don’t need to grow wider, they need to grow taller.
NICK LOTT
South Hams, Devon

Driving in the Big Apple

You characterised critics of congestion pricing in New York as “back-seat

drivers” or a “handful of people who have a windshield view of everything”
(“Jam today”, June 8th). That is dismissive of the millions of working-class
and blue-collar New Yorkers who do not conveniently live next to subway
lines or work perfect nine-to-five jobs. Congestion pricing would be
devastating to those workers who need to schlep their equipment into the
city, work the overnight shift, or have to drive across town for their second
job.

In fact, the only ones who are excited about this half-baked idea are affluent
people who don’t need to punch a clock and have the luxury of working
from home. Before we go dipping into the working man’s pocket (again) to
fix the transit authority, how about we conduct a thorough audit to ensure
our money is being spent properly first.
PATRICK LINDIE
New York

In praise of the lowly worm

“Wormageddon” (May 25th) noted that Charles Darwin’s book on worms,

“The Formation of Vegetable Mould”, did not enjoy the same success as his
“On the Origin of Species”. Darwin’s interest in worms was sparked by
reading Gilbert White’s “The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne”.
In that study White records, in minute detail, the flora and fauna of the
village of Selborne in Hampshire and makes a life-affirming statement
about the lowly earthworm, “though in appearance a small and despicable
link in the chain of nature, yet, if lost, would make a lamentable chasm”.

Unlike Darwin’s study of worms, White’s “Natural History” is one of the

most published books in the English language, with some 300 editions since
its first publication in 1789.

GERALD SMITH
Wellington, New Zealand
The equality enforcer

Dystopian cultural extremes (“Dummy business”, May 25th) were a

constant subject of Kurt Vonnegut’s novels. In his short story, “Harrison
Bergeron”, Vonnegut created the Handicapper General, who is charged with
enforcing equality laws, such as having athletic people wear weights and
attractive people don masks. Your review of Lionel Shriver’s “Mania”
speaks of a cancel culture where calling someone “stupid” is banned. There
was no need for that in Vonnegut’s story, as clever people had to wear
radios blasting loud noises to dumb them down.

RICHARD ROSENBAUM
Boston
Woolly thinking

Bartleby dismissed sheep as passive “followers” (May 18th). In truth, sheep

are highly attuned to the needs of the flock, move around together
according to weather and time, and become audibly distressed when one of
them is lost or in trouble. I lived for many years next to a field of sheep.
Human societies would be greatly improved if they learned to respect, and
even imitate, the animal’s communitarianism.

SYLVIA ROSE
Totnes, Devon

Bartleby’s discourse on the overlooked benefits of followership called to

mind Dilbert’s unforgettable quip: “Change is good. You go first.”

ZUBIN AIBARA
Bülach, Switzerland
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/letters/2024/06/20/letters-to-the-editor

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

By Invitation
Ray Kurzweil on how AI will transform the physical world
Artificial intelligence :: The changes will be particularly profound in energy, manufacturing
and medicine, says the futurist

Vladimir Putin’s war against Ukraine is part of his

revolution against the West
Russia and the West :: He is leading Russia into a new phase of strategic confrontation, says
Stephen Covington, a longtime NATO adviser

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Artificial intelligence

Ray Kurzweil on how AI will

transform the physical world
The changes will be particularly profound in energy, manufacturing and
medicine, says the futurist
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

BY THE TIME children born today are in kindergarten, artificial

intelligence (AI) will probably have surpassed humans at all cognitive
tasks, from science to creativity. When I first predicted in 1999 that we
would have such artificial general intelligence (AGI) by 2029, most experts
thought I’d switched to writing fiction. But since the spectacular
breakthroughs of the past few years, many experts think we will have AGI
even sooner—so I’ve technically gone from being an optimist to a
pessimist, without changing my prediction at all.
After working in the field for 61 years—longer than anyone else alive—I
am gratified to see AI at the heart of global conversation. Yet most
commentary misses how large language models like ChatGPT and Gemini
fit into an even larger story. AI is about to make the leap from
revolutionising just the digital world to transforming the physical world as
well. This will bring countless benefits, but three areas have especially
profound implications: energy, manufacturing and medicine.

Sources of energy are among civilisation’s most fundamental resources. For

two centuries the world has needed dirty, non-renewable fossil fuels. Yet
harvesting just 0.01% of the sunlight the Earth receives would cover all
human energy consumption. Since 1975, solar cells have become 99.7%
cheaper per watt of capacity, allowing worldwide capacity to increase by
around 2m times. So why doesn’t solar energy dominate yet?

The problem is two-fold. First, photovoltaic materials remain too expensive

and inefficient to replace coal and gas completely. Second, because solar
generation varies on both diurnal (day/night) and annual (summer/winter)
scales, huge amounts of energy need to be stored until needed—and today’s
battery technology isn’t quite cost-effective enough. The laws of physics
suggest that massive improvements are possible, but the range of chemical
possibilities to explore is so enormous that scientists have made achingly
slow progress.

By contrast, AI can rapidly sift through billions of chemistries in

simulation, and is already driving innovations in both photovoltaics and
batteries. This is poised to accelerate dramatically. In all of history until
November 2023, humans had discovered about 20,000 stable inorganic
compounds for use across all technologies. Then, Google’s GNoME AI
discovered far more, increasing that figure overnight to 421,000. Yet this
barely scratches the surface of materials-science applications. Once vastly
smarter AGI finds fully optimal materials, photovoltaic megaprojects will
become viable and solar energy can be so abundant as to be almost free.

Energy abundance enables another revolution: in manufacturing. The costs

of almost all goods—from food and clothing to electronics and cars—come
largely from a few common factors such as energy, labour (including
cognitive labour like R&D and design) and raw materials. AI is on course
to vastly lower all these costs.

After cheap, abundant solar energy, the next component is human labour,
which is often backbreaking and dangerous. AI is making big strides in
robotics that can greatly reduce labour costs. Robotics will also reduce raw-
material extraction costs, and AI is finding ways to replace expensive rare-
earth elements with common ones like zirconium, silicon and carbon-based
graphene. Together, this means that most kinds of goods will become
amazingly cheap and abundant.

These advanced manufacturing capabilities will allow the price-

performance of computing to maintain the exponential trajectory of the past
century—a 75-quadrillion-fold improvement since 1939. This is due to a
feedback loop: today’s cutting-edge AI chips are used to optimise designs
for next-generation chips. In terms of calculations per second per constant
dollar, the best hardware available last November could do 48bn. Nvidia’s
new B200 GPUs exceed 500bn.

As we build the titanic computing power needed to simulate biology, we’ll

unlock the third physical revolution from AI: medicine. Despite 200 years
of dramatic progress, our understanding of the human body is still built on
messy approximations that are usually mostly right for most patients, but
probably aren’t totally right for you. Tens of thousands of Americans a year
die from reactions to drugs that studies said should help them.

Yet AI is starting to turn medicine into an exact science. Instead of

painstaking trial-and-error in an experimental lab, molecular biosimulation
—precise computer modelling that aids the study of the human body and
how drugs work—can quickly assess billions of options to find the most
promising medicines. Last summer the first drug designed end-to-end by AI
entered phase-2 trials for treating idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a lung
disease. Dozens of other AI-designed drugs are now entering trials.

Both the drug-discovery and trial pipelines will be supercharged as

simulations incorporate the immensely richer data that AI makes possible.
In all of history until 2022, science had determined the shapes of around
190,000 proteins. That year DeepMind’s AlphaFold 2 discovered over
200m, which have been released free of charge to researchers to help
develop new treatments.

Much more laboratory research is needed to populate larger simulations

accurately, but the roadmap is clear. Next, AI will simulate protein
complexes, then organelles, cells, tissues, organs and—eventually—the
whole body.

This will ultimately replace today’s clinical trials, which are expensive,
risky, slow and statistically underpowered. Even in a phase-3 trial, there’s
probably not one single subject who matches you on every relevant factor
of genetics, lifestyle, comorbidities, drug interactions and disease variation.

Digital trials will let us tailor medicines to each individual patient. The
potential is breathtaking: to cure not just diseases like cancer and
Alzheimer’s, but the harmful effects of ageing itself.

Today, scientific progress gives the average American or Briton an extra six
to seven weeks of life expectancy each year. When AGI gives us full
mastery over cellular biology, these gains will sharply accelerate. Once
annual increases in life expectancy reach 12 months, we’ll achieve
“longevity escape velocity”. For people diligent about healthy habits and
using new therapies, I believe this will happen between 2029 and 2035—at
which point ageing will not increase their annual chance of dying. And
thanks to exponential price-performance improvement in computing, AI-
driven therapies that are expensive at first will quickly become widely
available.

This is AI’s most transformative promise: longer, healthier lives unbounded

by the scarcity and frailty that have limited humanity since its beginnings. ■

Ray Kurzweil is a computer scientist, inventor and the author of books

including “The Age of Intelligent Machines” (1990), “The Age of Spiritual
Machines” (1999) and “The Singularity is Near” (2005). His new book,
“The Singularity is Nearer: When We Merge with AI”, will be published on
June 25th.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/by-
invitation/2024/06/17/ray-kurzweil-on-how-ai-will-transform-the-physical-world
| Section menu | Main menu |
 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Russia and the West

Vladimir Putin’s war against
Ukraine is part of his revolution
against the West
He is leading Russia into a new phase of strategic confrontation, says
Stephen Covington, a longtime NATO adviser
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

WHEN VLADIMIR PUTIN invaded Ukraine in 2022, many Western

observers thought it a temporary regional crisis that ultimately would settle
into a frozen conflict. Two and a half years later, this view is challenged by
a more consequential reality.

The Russian leader’s goal is not just to break Ukraine and stop its quest for
a place in the family of Western democracies, but to dismantle the
American-led security system that emerged after the second world war. In
that sense Mr Putin is fomenting a revolution: using the strategy and tactics
of revolution against the Western system. His war against Ukraine is
inextricably linked to the strategic objective of his revolution.

In the early 1990s Russia’s reformers judged that the country could be
competitive only by integrating itself into the global economy and stepping
away from confrontation with the West. The past 20 years of Mr Putin’s
rule have been characterised by two very different, concurrent patterns: the
stage-by-stage dismantling of democracy and freedoms inside Russia, and
an intensifying campaign to delegitimise the West, its democratic values
and the institutions that uphold them.

Inside Russia the results have been greater repression against the Russian
people, greater power for the security services, greater wealth for Kremlin-
connected business leaders and greater investment in the armed forces.
Outside Russia Mr Putin has increasingly pressured the America-led global
order; sought to undermine norms, principles, and rules of Western
institutions; organised regional and global opposition to the West; and
conducted military action in Georgia, Ukraine and Syria.

Mr Putin now asserts that the Western system poses an existential threat to
the sovereignty of Russia and the values it should hold. He speaks of two
sharply contrasting visions of the future: either the Western system
continues to exist and Russia is strategically defeated, or the Western
system is replaced and Russia continues to exist. He is convinced that
Russia has reached a historical crossroads in its post-Soviet development
and that dismantling the existing global order and building a new one is
fundamental to Russia’s greater-power aspirations. His revolutionary push
is motivated by both internal power-preservation aims and external power-
expansion aims.

His revolution values Russian advantage and gain of power over the West
more than coexistence, mutual security, crisis avoidance and stability with
the West. His security vision requires a Europe without NATO, and without
organisations that uphold the fundamental principles of freedom,
democracy and the rule of law. That vision also involves Russian co-
operation with other countries to curb American power in the Arctic, Euro-
Atlantic and Indo-Pacific regions.
His “all of Russia” revolution and war are now shaping how Russia is
organised, how society is mobilised, how industry is prioritised, how
foreign policy is aligned, how the army is structured and how
communications are conducted. His legitimacy as a leader of Russia—and
his place in history—are now inextricably tied to this revolution. He
portrays himself as the only leader who can guide Russia through this
crossroads of history. Mr Putin’s pursuit of advantage and power is unlikely
to be replaced by caution in pursuit of stability.

Neither his revolution nor his war is near its end. In Ukraine he is pursuing
several strategic actions simultaneously. By intensifying military operations
and attacking Ukraine’s infrastructure he hopes to weaken its defence,
demoralise its armed forces and create among the broader population a
sense of inevitable Russian victory. He is also seeking to divide Ukraine
politically. And he wants to damage the West’s will to continue supporting
Ukraine in the war.

The signs are that Mr Putin will continue to pursue this revolution-and-war
approach, further locking the country’s politics, economy and armed forces
into a structure that can only sustain revolution and war. It is unlikely that
he will stop the revolution, demobilise the armed forces, deconstruct the
war economy or re-embrace acceptance of the Western system. It is equally
unlikely that he will seek political, economic, conflict-resolution or arms
agreements with Western countries. This revolution and war will put
enormous stress on Russian society—a price that Mr Putin appears willing
to pay.

Mr Putin has chosen decisive paths to advance Russian power. He is leading

Russia into a new phase of strategic confrontation with the West over the
America-led regional and global order. Given his logic, this reality is not a
temporary crisis-management challenge. The West must continue to support
Ukraine’s right to self-defence and strengthen the collective security and
defence of the Euro-Atlantic area and globally, as part of a strategic pattern
to manage Russia’s pressure and assault on a global security system. Absent
these steps, Mr Putin would have the opportunity to match a level of
aggression against the Western system with his level of revolutionary
ambition.
In late 2022, Mr Putin predicted that ahead lay “probably the most
dangerous, unpredictable and, at the same time, important decade since the
end of World War II”—a state of affairs that he said was “fraught with
global conflicts”. His destabilising, calculated revolution and war against
Ukraine—Mr Putin’s choices for Russia—could make his prediction a
reality. He is organising and preparing Russia for this future, not setting a
course to avoid it. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/by-
invitation/2024/06/20/vladimir-putins-war-against-ukraine-is-part-of-his-revolution-
against-the-west

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Briefing
How AI is changing warfare
Model major-general :: An AI-assisted general staff may be more important than killer robots

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Model major-general

How AI is changing warfare

An AI-assisted general staff may be more important than killer robots
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN LATE 2021 the Royal Navy approached Microsoft and Amazon Web
Services, a pair of American tech giants, with a question: Was there a better
way to wage war? More specifically, could they find a more effective way
to co-ordinate between a hypothetical commando strike team in the
Caribbean and the missile systems of a frigate? The tech firms collaborated
with BAE Systems, a giant armsmaker, and Anduril, a smaller upstart,
among other military contractors. Within 12 weeks—unfathomably fast in
the world of defence procurement—the consortium gathered in Somerset in
Britain for a demonstration of what was dubbed StormCloud.

Marines on the ground, drones in the air and many other sensors were
connected over a “mesh” network of advanced radios that allowed each to
see, seamlessly, what was happening elsewhere—a set-up that had already
allowed the marines to run circles around much larger forces in previous
exercises. The data they collected were processed both on the “edge” of the
network, aboard small, rugged computers strapped to commando vehicles
with bungee cables—and on distant cloud servers, where they had been sent
by satellite. Command-and-control software monitored a designated area,
decided which drones should fly where, identified objects on the ground
and suggested which weapon to strike which target.

The results were impressive. It was apparent that StormCloud was the
“world’s most advanced kill chain”, says an officer involved in the
experiment, referring to a web of sensors (like drones) and weapons (like
missiles) knitted together with digital networks and software to make sense
of the data flowing to and fro. Even two years ago, he says, it was “miles
ahead”, in terms of speed and reliability, of human officers in a
conventional headquarters.
AI-enabled tools and weapons are not just being deployed in exercises.
They are also in use on a growing scale in places like Gaza and Ukraine.
Armed forces spy remarkable opportunities. They also fear being left
behind by their adversaries. Spending is rising fast (see chart 1). But
lawyers and ethicists worry that AI will make war faster, more opaque and
less humane. The gap between the two groups is growing bigger, even as
the prospect of a war between great powers looms larger.
There is no single definition of AI. Things that would once have merited the
term, such as the terrain-matching navigation of Tomahawk missiles in the
1980s or the tank-spotting capabilities of Brimstone missiles in the early
2000s, are now seen as workaday software. And many cutting-edge
capabilities described as AI do not involve the sort of “deep learning” and
large language models underpinning services such as ChatGPT. But in
various guises, AI is trickling into every aspect of war.

ProsAIc but gAIinful

That begins with the boring stuff: maintenance, logistics, personnel and
other tasks necessary to keep armies staffed, fed and fuelled. A recent study
by the RAND Corporation, a think-tank, found that AI, by predicting when
maintenance would be needed on A-10C warplanes, could save America’s
air force $25m a month by avoiding breakdowns and overstocking of parts
(although the AI did worse with parts that rarely failed). Logistics is another
promising area. The US Army is using algorithms to predict when
Ukrainian howitzers will need new barrels, for instance. AI is also starting
to trickle into HR. The army is using a model trained on 140,000 personnel
files to help score soldiers for promotion.

At the other extreme is the sharp end of things. Both Russia and Ukraine
have been rushing to develop software to make drones capable of
navigating to and homing in on a target autonomously, even if jamming
disrupts the link between pilot and drone. Both sides typically use small
chips for this purpose, which can cost as little as $100. Videos of drone
strikes in Ukraine increasingly show “bounding boxes” appearing around
objects, suggesting that the drone is identifying and locking on to a target.
The technology remains immature, with the targeting algorithms
confronting many of the same problems faced by self-driving cars, such as
cluttered environments and obscured objects, and some unique to the
battlefield, such as smoke and decoys. But it is improving fast.

Between AI at the back-end and AI inside munitions lies a vast realm of

innovation, experimentation and technological advances. Drones, on their
own, are merely disrupting, rather than transforming, war, argue Clint
Hinote, a retired American air-force general, and Mick Ryan, a retired
Australian general. But when combined with “digitised command and
control systems” (think StormCloud) and “new-era meshed networks of
civilian and military sensors” the result, they say, is a “transformative
trinity” that allows soldiers on the front lines to see and act on real-time
information that would once have been confined to a distant headquarters.

AI is a prerequisite for this. Start with the mesh of sensors. Imagine data
from drones, satellites, social media and other sources sloshing around a
military network. There is too much to process manually. Tamir Hayman, a
general who led Israeli military intelligence until 2021, points to two big
breakthroughs. The “fundamental leap”, he says, eight or nine years ago,
was in speech-to-text software that enabled voice intercepts to be searched
for keywords. The other was in computer vision. Project Spotter, in
Britain’s defence ministry, is already using neural networks for the
“automated detection and identification of objects” in satellite images,
allowing places to be “automatically monitored 24/7 for changes in
activity”. As of February, a private company had labelled 25,000 objects to
train the model.

Tom Copinger-Symes, a British general, told the House of Lords last year
that such systems were “still in the upper ends of research and development
rather than in full-scale deployment”, though he pointed to the use of
commercial tools to identify, for instance, clusters of civilians during
Britain’s evacuation of its citizens from Sudan in early 2023. America
seems further along. It began Project Maven in 2017 to deal with the deluge
of photos and videos taken by drones in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Maven is “already producing large volumes of computer-vision detections

for warfighter requirements”, noted the director of the National Geospatial-
Intelligence Agency, which runs the project, in May. The stated aim is for
Maven “to meet or exceed human detection, classification, and tracking
performance”. It is not there yet—it struggles with tricky cases, such as
partly hidden weapons. But The Economist’s tracker of war-related fires in
Ukraine is based on machine-learning, entirely automated and operates at a
scale that journalists could not match. It has already detected 93,000
probable war-related blazes.
AI can process more than phone calls or pictures. In March the Royal Navy
announced that its mine-hunting unit had completed a year of
experimentation in the Persian Gulf using a small self-driving boat, the
Harrier, whose towed sonar system could search for mines on the seabed
and alert other ships or units on land. And Michael Horowitz, a Pentagon
official, recently told Defense News, a website, that America, Australia and
Britain, as part of their AUKUS pact, had developed a “trilateral algorithm”
that could be used to process the acoustic data collected by sonobuoys
dropped from each country’s submarine-hunting P-8 aircraft.

In most of these cases, AI is identifying a signal amid the noise or an object

amid some clutter: Is that a truck or a tank? An anchor or a mine? A trawler
or a submarine? Identifying human combatants is perhaps more
complicated and certainly more contentious. In April +972 Magazine, an
Israeli outlet, claimed that the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) were using an AI
tool known as Lavender to identify thousands of Palestinians as targets,
with human operators giving only cursory scrutiny to the system’s output
before ordering strikes. The IDF retorted that Lavender was “simply a
database whose purpose is to cross-reference intelligence sources”.

In practice, Lavender is likely to be what experts call a decision-support

system (DSS), a tool to fuse different data such as phone records, satellite
images and other intelligence. America’s use of computer systems to
process acoustic and smell data from sensors in Vietnam might count as a
primitive DSS. So too, notes Rupert Barrett-Taylor of the Alan Turing
Institute in London, would the software used by American spies and special
forces in the war on terror, which turned phone records and other data into
huge spidery charts that visualised the connections between people and
places, with the aim of identifying insurgents or terrorists.

ExplAIn or ordAIn?

What is different is that today’s software benefits from greater computing

power, whizzier algorithms (the breakthroughs in neural networks occurred
only in 2012) and more data, owing to the proliferation of sensors. The
result is not just more or better intelligence. It is a blurring of the line
between intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) and command
and control (C2)—between making sense of data and acting on it.

Consider Ukraine’s GIS Arta software, which collates data on Russian

targets, typically for artillery batteries. It can already generate lists of
potential targets “according to commander priorities”, write Generals
Hinote and Ryan. One of the reasons that Russian targeting in Ukraine has
improved in recent months, say officials, is that Russia’s C2 systems are
getting better at processing information from drones and sending it to guns.
“By some estimates,” writes Arthur Holland Michel in a paper for the
International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), a humanitarian
organisation, “a target search, recognition and analysis activity that
previously took hours could be reduced…to minutes.”

The US Air Force recently asked the RAND Corporation to assess whether
AI tools could provide options to a “space warfighter” dealing with an
incoming threat to a satellite. The conclusion was that AI could indeed
recommend “high-quality” responses. Similarly, DARPA, the Pentagon’s
blue-sky research arm, is working on a programme named, with tongue
firmly in cheek, the Strategic Chaos Engine for Planning, Tactics,
Experimentation and Resiliency (SCEPTER)—to produce recommended
actions for commanders during “military engagements at high machine
speeds”. In essence, it can generate novel war plans on the fly.

“A lot of the methods that are being employed” in SCEPTER and similar
DARPA projects “didn’t even exist two to five years ago”, says Eric Davis,
a programme manager at the agency. He points to the example of
“Koopman operator theory”, an old and obscure mathematical framework
that can be used to analyse complex and non-linear systems—like those
encountered in war—in terms of simpler linear algebra. Recent
breakthroughs in applying it have made a number of AI problems more
tractable.

PrAIse and complAInts

The result of all this is a growing intellectual chasm between those whose
job it is to wage war and those who seek to tame it. Legal experts and
ethicists argue that the growing role of AI in war is fraught with danger.
“The systems we have now cannot recognise hostile intent,” argues Noam
Lubell of the University of Essex. “They cannot tell the difference between
a short soldier with a real gun and a child with a toy gun…or between a
wounded soldier lying slumped over a rifle and a sniper ready to shoot with
a sniper rifle.” Such algorithms “cannot be used lawfully”, he concludes.
Neural networks can also be fooled too easily, says Stuart Russell, a
computer scientist: “You could then take perfectly innocent objects, like
lampposts, and print patterns on them that would convince the weapon that
this is a tank.”

Advocates of military AI retort that the sceptics have an overly rosy view of
war. A strike drone hunting for a particular object might not be able to
recognise, let alone respect, an effort at surrender, acknowledges a former
British officer involved in policy on AI. But if the alternative is intense
shellfire, “There is no surrendering in that circumstance anyway.” Keith
Dear, a former officer in the Royal Air Force who now works for Fujitsu, a
Japanese firm, goes further. “If…machines produce a lower false positive
and false negative rate than humans, particularly under pressure, it would be
unethical not to delegate authority,” he argues. “We did various kinds of
tests where we compared the capabilities and the achievements of the
machine and compared to that of the human,” says the IDF’s General
Hayman. “Most tests reveal that the machine is far, far, far more accurate…
in most cases it’s no comparison.”
One fallacy involves extrapolating from the anti-terror campaigns of the
2000s. “The future’s not about facial recognition-ing a guy and shooting
him from 10,000 feet,” argues Palmer Luckey, the founder of Anduril, one
of the firms involved in StormCloud. “It’s about trying to shoot down a
fleet of amphibious landing craft in the Taiwan Strait.” If an object has the
visual, electronic and thermal signature of a missile launcher, he argues,
“You just can’t be wrong…it’s so incredibly unique.” Pre-war modelling
further reduces uncertainty: “99% of what you see happening in the China
conflict will have been run in a simulation multiple times,” Mr Luckey
says, “long before it ever happens.”

“The problem is when the machine does make mistakes, those are horrible
mistakes,” says General Hayman. “If accepted, they would lead to traumatic
events.” He therefore opposes taking the human “out of the loop” and
automating strikes. “It is really tempting,” he acknowledges. “You will
accelerate the procedure in an unprecedented manner. But you can breach
international law.” Mr Luckey concedes that AI will be least relevant in the
“dirty, messy, awful” job of Gaza-style urban warfare. “If people imagine
there’s going to be Terminator robots looking for the right Muhammad and
shooting him… that’s not how it’s going to work out.”
For its part, the ICRC warns that AI systems are potentially unpredictable,
opaque and subject to bias, but accepts they “can facilitate faster and
broader collection and analysis of available information…minimising risks
for civilians”. Much depends on how the tools are used. If the IDF
employed Lavender as reported, it suggests the problem was over-expansive
rules of engagement and lax operators, rather than any pathology of the
software itself.

For many years experts and diplomats have been wrangling at the United
Nations over whether to restrict or ban autonomous weapon systems
(AWS). But even defining them is difficult. The ICRC says AWS are those
which choose a target based on a general profile—any tank, say, rather than
a specific tank. That would include many of the drones being used in
Ukraine. The ICRC favours a ban on AWS which target people or behave
unpredictably. Britain retorts that “fully” autonomous weapons are those
which identify, select and attack targets without “context-appropriate
human involvement”, a much higher bar. The Pentagon takes a similar view,
emphasising “appropriate levels of human judgment”.

Defining that, in turn, is fiendishly hard. And it is not just to do with the
lethal act, but what comes before it. A highly autonomous attack drone may
seem to lack human control. But if its behaviour is well understood and it is
used in an area where there are known to be legitimate military targets and
no civilians, it might pose few problems. Conversely, a tool which merely
suggests targets may appear more benign. But commanders who manually
approve individual targets suggested by the tool “without cognitive clarity
or awareness”, as Article 36, an advocacy group, puts it—mindlessly
pushing the red button, in other words—have abdicated moral responsibility
to a machine.

The quandary is likely to worsen for two reasons. One is that AI begets AI.
If one army is using AI to locate and hit targets more rapidly, the other side
may be forced to turn to AI to keep up. That is already the case when it
comes to air-defence, where advanced software has been essential for
tracking approaching threats since the dawn of the computer age. The other
reason is that it will become harder for human users to grasp the behaviour
and limitations of military systems. Modern machine learning is not yet
widely used in “critical” decision-support systems, notes Mr Holland
Michel. But it will be. And those systems will undertake “less
mathematically definable tasks”, he notes, such as predicting the future
intent of an adversary or even his or her emotional state.

There is even talk of using AI in nuclear decision-making. The idea is that

countries could not only fuse data to keep track of incoming threats (as has
happened since the 1950s) but also retaliate automatically if the political
leadership is killed in a first strike. The Soviet Union worked on this sort of
“dead hand” concept during the cold war as part of its “Perimetr” system. It
remains in use and is now rumoured to be reliant on AI-driven software,
notes Leonid Ryabikhin, a former Soviet air-force officer and arms-control
expert. In 2023 a group of American senators even introduced a new bill:
the “Block Nuclear Launch by Autonomous Artificial Intelligence Act”.
This is naturally a secretive area and little is known about how far different
countries want to go. But the issue is important enough to have been high
up the agenda for presidential talks last year between Joe Biden and Xi
Jinping.

RemAIning in the loop

For the moment, in conventional wars, “there’s just about always time for
somebody to say yes or no,” says a British officer. “There’s no automation
of the whole kill chain needed or being pushed.” Whether that would be
true in a high-intensity war with Russia or China is less clear. In “The
Human Machine Team”, a book published under a pseudonym in 2021,
Brigadier-General Yossi Sariel, the head of an elite Israeli military-
intelligence unit, wrote that an AI-enabled “human-machine team” could
generate “thousands of new targets every day” in a war. “There is a human
bottleneck,” he argued, “for both locating the new targets and decision-
making to approve the targets.”

In practice, all these debates are being superseded by events. Neither Russia
nor Ukraine pays much heed to whether a drone is an “autonomous”
weapon system or merely an “automated” one. Their priority is to build
weapons that can evade jamming and destroy as much enemy armour as
possible. False positives are not a big concern for a Russian army that has
bombed more than 1,000 Ukrainian health facilities to date, nor for a
Ukrainian army that is fighting for its survival.

Hanging over this debate is also the spectre of a war involving great
powers. NATO countries know they might have to contend with a Russian
army that might, once this war ends, have extensive experience of building
AI weapons and testing them on the battlefield. China, too, is pursuing
many of the same technologies as America. Chinese firms make the vast
majority of drones sold in America, be it as consumer goods or for
industrial purposes. The Pentagon’s annual report on Chinese military
power observes that in 2022 the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) began
discussing “MultiDomain Precision Warfare”: the use of “big data and
artificial intelligence to rapidly identify key vulnerabilities” in American
military systems, such as satellites or computer networks, which could then
be attacked.
The question is who has the upper hand. American officials once fretted that
China’s lax privacy rules and control over the private sector would give the
PLA access to more and better data, which would result in superior
algorithms and weapons. Those concerns have mellowed. A recent study of
procurement data by the Centre for Security and Emerging Technology
(CSET) at Georgetown University found that America and China are
“devoting comparable levels of attention to a similar suite of AI
applications” (see chart 2).

Moreover, America has pulled ahead in cutting-edge models, thanks in part

to its chip restrictions. In 2023 it produced 61 notable machine-learning
models and Europe 25, according to Epoch AI, a data firm. China produced
15. These are not the models in current military systems, but they will
inform future ones. “China faces significant headwinds in…military AI,”
argues Sam Bresnick of CSET. It is unclear whether the PLA has the tech
talent to create world-class systems, he points out, and its centralised
decision-making might impede AI decision-support. Many Chinese experts
are also worried about “untrustworthy” AI. “The PLA possesses plenty of
lethal military power,” notes Jacob Stokes of CNAS, another think-tank,
“but right now none of it appears to have meaningful levels of autonomy
enabled by AI”.

China’s apparent sluggishness is part of a broader pattern. Some, like

Kenneth Payne of King’s College London, think AI will transform not just
the conduct of war, but its essential nature. “This fused machine-human
intelligence would herald a genuinely new era of decision-making in war,”
he predicts. “Perhaps the most revolutionary change since the discovery of
writing, several thousand years ago.” But even as such claims grow more
plausible, the transformation remains stubbornly distant in many respects.

“The irony here is that we talk as if AI is everywhere in defence, when it is

almost nowhere,” notes Sir Chris Deverell, a retired British general. “The
penetration of AI in the UK Ministry of Defence is almost zero…There is a
lot of innovation theatre.” A senior Pentagon official says that the
department has made serious progress in improving its data infrastructure—
the pipes along which data move—and in unmanned aircraft that work
alongside warplanes with crews. Even so, the Pentagon spends less than 1%
of its budget on software—a statistic frequently trotted out by executives at
defence-tech startups. “What is unique to the [Pentagon] is that our mission
involves the use of force, so the stakes are high,” says the official. “We have
to adopt AI both quickly and safely.”
Meanwhile, Britain’s StormCloud is getting “better and better”, says an
officer involved in its development, but the project has moved slowly
because of internal politics and red tape around the accreditation of new
technology. Funding for its second iteration was a paltry £10m, pocket
money in the world of defence. The plan is to use it on several exercises this
year. “If we were Ukraine or genuinely worried about going to war any time
soon,” the officer says, “we’d have spent £100m-plus and had it deployed in
weeks or months.” ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/briefing/2024/06/20/how-ai-is-changing-warfare

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Essay
Solar power is going to be huge
The Sun machines :: An energy source that gets cheaper and cheaper is a wonderful thing

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

The Sun machines

Solar power is going to be huge

An energy source that gets cheaper and cheaper is a wonderful thing
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

A PHOTOVOLTAIC CELL is a very simple thing: a square piece of silicon

typically 182 millimetres on each side and about a fifth of a millimetre
thick, with thin wires on the front and an electrical contact on the back.
Shine light on it, and an electric potential—a voltage—will build up across
the silicon: hence “photovoltaic”, or PV. Run a circuit between the front
and the back, and in direct sunlight that potential can provide about seven
watts of electric power.

This year the world will make something like 70bn of these solar cells, the
vast majority of them in China, and sandwich them between sheets of glass
to make what the industry calls modules but most other people call panels:
60 to 72 cells at a time, typically, for most of the modules which end up on
residential roofs, more for those destined for commercial plant. Those
panels will provide power to family homes, to local electricity collectives,
to specific industrial installations and to large electric grids; they will sit
unnoticed on roofs, charmingly outside rural schools, controversially across
pristine deserts, prosaically on the balconies of blocks of flats and in almost
every other setting imaginable.

Once in place they will sit there for decades, making no noise, emitting no
fumes, using no resources, costing almost nothing and generating power. It
is the least obtrusive revolution imaginable. But it is a revolution
nonetheless.

Over the course of 2023 the world’s solar cells, their panels currently
covering less than 10,000 square kilometres, produced about 1,600
terawatt-hours of energy (a terawatt, or 1TW, is a trillion watts). That
represented about 6% of the electricity generated world wide, and just over
1% of the world’s primary-energy use. That last figure sounds fairly
marginal, though rather less so when you consider that the fossil fuels
which provide most of the world’s primary energy are much less efficient.
More than half the primary energy in coal and oil ends up as waste heat,
rather than electricity or forward motion.

What makes solar energy revolutionary is the rate of growth which brought
it to this just-beyond-the-marginal state. Michael Liebreich, a veteran
analyst of clean-energy technology and economics, puts it this way: in
2004, it took the world a whole year to install a gigawatt of solar-power
capacity (1GW is a billion watts, or a thousandth of a terawatt); in 2010, it
took a month; in 2016, a week. In 2023 there were single days which saw a
gigawatt of installation worldwide. Over the course of 2024 analysts at
BloombergNEF, a data outfit, expect to see 520-655GW of capacity
installed: that’s up to two 2004s a day.

This extraordinary growth stems from the interplay of three simple factors.
When industries make more of something, they make it more cheaply.
When things get cheaper, demand for them grows. When demand grows,
more is made. In the case of solar power, demand was created and sustained
by subsidies early this century for long enough that falling prices became
noteworthy and, soon afterwards, predictable. The positive feedback that
drives exponential growth took off on a global scale.

And it shows no signs of stopping, or even slowing down. Buying and

installing solar panels is currently the largest single category of investment
in electricity generation, according to the International Energy Agency
(IEA), an intergovernmental think-tank: it expects $500bn this year, not far
short of the sum being put into upstream oil and gas. Installed capacity is
doubling every three years. According to the International Solar Energy
Society, solar power is on track to generate more electricity than all the
world’s nuclear power plants in 2026, than its wind turbines in 2027, than
its dams in 2028, its gas-fired power plants in 2030 and its coal-fired ones
in 2032. In an IEA scenario which provides net-zero carbon-dioxide
emissions by the middle of the century, solar energy becomes humankind’s
largest source of primary energy—not just electricity—by the 2040s.
Growth in solar is not dependent on efforts to stabilise the climate; if it
keeps getting cheaper it will grow even if people persist in burning coal and
oil alongside it. In a paper published in 2022 Rupert Way of Oxford
University and colleagues sought to see what would happen if the costs of
solar and other new technologies kept falling with increased deployment as
they have done in the past. Under their “fast transition” scenario, they found
that by 2070 the world could be getting more useful energy from solar cells
than it got from all energy sources combined last year (see chart).

Naive extrapolation has trounced sober forecasting again and again

Expecting exponentials to carry on is rarely a basis for sober forecasting. At

some point either demand or supply faces an unavoidable constraint; a
graph which was going up exponentially starts to take on the form of an
elongated S. And there is a wide variety of plausible stories about possible
constraints, from manufacturers going bust, to solar farms not being able to
connect to grids, to extensively solar-powered grids not being stable, to
excessively solar grids no longer being attractive sites for further
investment.

All real issues. But the past 20 years of solar growth have seen naive
extrapolations trounce forecasting soberly informed by such concerns again
and again. In 2009, when installed solar capacity worldwide was 23GW, the
energy experts at the IEA predicted that in the 20 years to 2030 it would
increase to 244GW. It hit that milestone in 2016, when only six of the 20
years had passed. According to Nat Bullard, an energy analyst, over most of
the 2010s actual solar installations typically beat the IEA’s five-year
forecasts by 235% (see chart). The people who have come closest to
predicting what has actually happened have been environmentalists poo-
pooed for zealotry and economic illiteracy, such as those at Greenpeace
who, also in 2009, predicted 921GW of solar capacity by 2030. Yet even
that was an underestimate. The world’s solar capacity hit 1,419GW last
year.
This performance suggests that solar is not like other energy sources.
History shows the same thing. From 1800 to 2020 the amount of energy the
world derived from coal increased by roughly a factor of 400. But as Dr
Way and his colleagues point out, when adjusted for inflation coal’s cost in
terms of its energy content stayed more or less the same. The same is true
for the long-term costs of oil and, later, natural gas. Exploiting these fuels
drove lots of economic growth; that made the fuels more affordable, their
use more valuable and the returns on their production greater. But their
costs stayed broadly stable in real terms.

Since the 1960s what analysts call the levelised cost of solar energy—the
break-even price a project needs to get paid in order to recoup its financing
for a fixed rate of return—has dropped by a factor of more than 1,000, and
the trend is continuing. Now that solar energy is a significant part of the
world’s entire energy portfolio, the world as a whole is going to go on
seeing the energy used in many applications getting cheaper and cheaper. A
burst of innovation aimed at making the most of this bonanza will change
the way many existing industries work and create new ones more or less
from scratch. It will be the steepest drop in the price of one of the basic
factors of production that the world economy has ever seen.

THE CYLINDERS for the first steam engines that Matthew Boulton and
James Watt began to sell in the 1770s were not made in-house at Boulton’s
Soho manufactory, outside Birmingham; they were cast at the nearby
foundry of John “Iron Mad” Wilkinson. But the manufactory provided the
fittings that turned those cylinders into engines, supervised the engines’
building and owned the patent on their design. As Boulton explained to
James Boswell, a writer, when he visited the Soho works, “I sell here, Sir,
what all the world desires to have—power.”

The silicon foundries of China lack salesmen with Boulton’s verve (“an iron
chieftain…father to his tribe,” as Boswell put it). But when it comes to
exquisite chemical purity and physical flawlessness, the wares they provide
to serve the world’s desire for power should be enough to make anyone
silicon mad.

Their raw material is sand made of quartz, a crystalline form of oxidised

silicon. Silicon foundries heat it to 1,900°C in electric-arc furnaces with
some carbon, in the form of coke. The oxygen from the sand reacts with the
carbon to create carbon monoxide, leaving behind molten “polysilicon”.
That is then cooled, crushed and reacted with hydrochloric acid to produce
a volatile liquid called trichlorosilane, which is then repeatedly distilled to
remove all trace of impurity. The most advanced foundries work at “10
nines”, meaning that polysilicon they derive from their trichlorosilane is
99.99999999% pure. This silicon can then be remelted and cooled in a way
which sees every atom end up sitting in its properly appointed spot within a
single crystal.

Until the beginning of this century the only products that were worth this
sort of palaver were the wafers from which the computer industry made its
silicon chips. The solar-cell industry lived on the offcuts. But the subsidies
of the mid-2000s saw demand for photovoltaics rise beyond what the
computer industry could spare. As the price of polysilicon rose, firms in
Asia started to make the investments needed to build polysilicon foundries
for supplying the PV industry.

China quickly took the lead, and kept it. In 2023 Chinese firms made 93%
of all the world’s polysilicon destined for solar cells. Some are vertically
integrated and make photovoltaics themselves (an approach Boulton took
when he invested in a foundry of his own at Soho). Some leave the
diamond-saw slicing of their ingots into wafers, the precise polishing of
their surfaces and the perfectly calibrated “doping” that makes the silicon
into a semiconductor to their customers.

The country’s foundries and manufacturers have followed extraordinarily

bullish investment strategies. But as Mr Bullard explains, if as a
manufacturer you are tempted to heed a forecast of solar installation that
rises only gently, “you are dead the second you look at that line.” It is all-in
all the time.

That said, the manufacturers benefit from the fact that they are key to their
country’s industrial strategy. There have been some bankruptcies, but the
Chinese government has extended cheap loans to many overextended firms.
Gregory Nemet of the University of Wisconsin-Madison notes that the
solar-cell market typically catches up with the overcapacity thus created
within a couple of years. The current oversupply will see whether this
remains the case. China’s two biggest producers of polysilicon, GCL-Poly
and Tongwei, each had a production capacity of 370,000 tonnes in 2023,
more than enough to meet demand. Tongwei has said it is investing some
$3.9bn in a new facility that will eventually be able to produce 400,000
tonnes a year. Johannes Bernreuter, an analyst of the polysilicon market,
says China has facilities capable of 7m tonnes a year in the pipeline, enough
to produce an annual 3.5TW of solar panels.

In terms of polysilicon such amounts are seen as huge. But it is worth

noting that in terms of the material requirements of other energy
technologies they are tiny. Coal production runs at roughly 8bn tonnes a
year; add on oil and gas and you double that.

Chinese firms have other advantages, notably a vast and protected domestic
market and low-cost energy. GCL-Poly and other Chinese firms have
several factories in Xinjiang near huge coal-fired power plants which
themselves sit more or less on top of large coal mines. Electricity accounts
for 40% of the cost of polysilicon production, and burning coal that was
mined next door in a depreciated plant that delivers power to your arc
furnaces directly is pretty cheap. That said, before too long solar power
could be cheaper.

As one investor puts it: “The Sun has won”

Though protected and subsidised—and open, in Xinjiang, to allegations of

the use of forced labour—the Chinese industry is also fiercely competitive
in the sort of way that only companies manufacturing more or less the same
thing can be. Manufacturers of other energy technologies have to keep the
specific needs of their various clients in mind. Engines which burn fuel are
dramatically different depending on whether they are to be installed in a
back-up generator or a moped. Turbines which spin under the force of
moving fluids must be tailored to the steam of a coal plant or the water of a
hydroelectric plant. Such specialisation produces the sort of friction and
lock-in that favours incumbents. Siemens has been able to hold its edge in
the manufacture of gas turbines for decades.

In PVs, though, there is no such enduring edge to be found. Solar cells are
standardised products all made in basically the same way; they have no
moving parts at all, let alone the fiendish complexity of a modern turbine.
Manufacturers compete on cost, by either making cells that make
fractionally more electricity out of a given amount of sunshine or which
cost less. “The barriers to entry are capex,” says Jenny Chase, who analyses
the industry at BloombergNEF. “You can buy the machines [needed for
manufacture], it’s not super tech-intensive.”

The key to demand growth is the industry’s “experience curve”

The commoditised nature of the product does not just lead to relentless
competition on the supply side. It also provides incredibly diverse and deep
demand. Heymi Bahar of the IEA sees this as perhaps the technology’s
biggest advantage. What is revolutionary about solar, he says, is that it “is
addressed to all kinds of investors”. From the teacher in South Africa who
buys a $2 charger for her phone to the company developing 10GW power
plants, everyone who uses solar is buying basically the same product.
“There is no other energy-generation tech where you install 1m or one of
the same thing depending on your application,” says Rob Carlson, a
technology investor; as he puts it in a white paper, “The Sun has won”.

The key to the way this demand grows is to be found in the industry’s
“experience curve”. The degree to which processes get cheaper as
production gets larger is frequently expressed in terms of the extent to
which unit costs come down every time cumulative production doubles.
From the mid-1970s to the early 2020s cumulative shipments of
photovoltaics increased by a factor of a million, which is 20 doublings. At
the same time prices dropped by a factor of 500. That is a 27% decrease in
costs for each doubling of installed capacity, which means a halving of
costs every time installed capacity increases by 360%. If you treat the late
2000s, when subsidies led to the creation of foundries producing polysilicon
specifically for solar cells, as an inflection point, the rate is now over 40%.

THE GREEN members of the German coalition which kicked off the huge
demand-establishing subsidies of the early 2000s liked the decentralisation
they offered; the Social Democrats liked the prospect of developing a new
manufacturing industry devoted to their production. Both sides also saw
solar panels as weapons in the fight to decarbonise the economy—but not
necessarily as particularly powerful ones. They offered a sort of greenness
that only really worked if people radically reduced their consumption.

It took those leading the decarbonisation charge some time to appreciate

that solar could in principle be much more than this. When Adair Turner, a
grandee technocrat, became the first chair of Britain’s Climate Change
Committee, an organisation mandated by parliament to lay out the path to
net-zero emissions, solar was not a large part of its thinking. “We totally
failed to see that solar would come down so much,” he says. “In 2008 we
were thinking that capital costs would come down 19% by 2020. When we
got to 2020 they were down 95%.” In the 2014 report which set the agenda
for the Paris agreement of 2015, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate
Change placed far more emphasis on carbon-capture at fossil-fuel plants
and on burning biomass than it did on photovoltaics.

Since then, though, solar has proved the stand-out of the pack. In 2015
BloombergNEF estimated that the levelised cost of electricity (LCOE) for
solar, on a global basis, was $122 per MWh, almost half as high again as
the LCOE for onshore wind, then $83. The LCOE for coal in places without
carbon prices at the time was $50-$75. Today both solar and onshore wind
are in the low $40s, while coal remains much where it was.

Not only have solar panels been getting cheaper more quickly than wind
power, they have done so while staying comparatively unobtrusive. For
wind, more efficiency means putting bigger turbines higher into the sky on
more massive pylons. Their two-dimensionality allows solar panels to be a
lot less visible from a distance (and also very easy to ship; you can get 300
into a standard TEU freight container). Though covering tracts of arable
countryside with them upsets some people in some places, by and large
solar panels are popular: research finds they enjoy more “social licence”
than any other form of energy generation, be it renewable, fossil-fuel or
nuclear.

Cheap, plentiful, acceptable energy which is emissions-free at the point of

generation; it might seem that the climate crisis is solved. There is a catch,
though—in fact, two. Consumers want to be able to draw power at night.
And the grids to which they look for it work on the basis of a “merit order”:
everyone supplying the grid at a given time is paid the price needed to
attract the marginal supplier of power.

This becomes terribly inconvenient when very low-cost power from solar
(or wind) becomes a large factor in electricity supply. When there is a lot of
solar power on a grid the price of electricity in the middle of the day can
fall to zero, or below. Solar-rich grids in Spain, Portugal, Germany, France,
California and Texas have all experienced negative wholesale power prices
in recent months. Eventually all markets which install plentiful solar can
expect something similar, which makes the potential profits of further solar
investment in such markets seem limited.

But there are ways around those limits. They include long-distance
connections; storage (especially batteries); increasing overall demand; and
the innovation low prices always encourage.

Long-distance connections allow sunnier places to serve those more dimly

lit. England could be powered by panels in Morocco, New England
evenings served by Nevada afternoons. Making such connections takes time
and money. But if the power that is plentiful and cheap at one end can
command an attractive enough price at the other they make sense.

Batteries and other storage technologies allow arbitrage across time rather
than space; energy generated at midday, when grid prices are low, can be
sold back when the Sun sets and prices are higher. What is more, batteries,
like solar cells, are mass producible and targets of Chinese industrial policy.
As a result they are moving down an experience curve even steeper than
solar’s. The Rocky Mountain Institute, a think-tank, calculates that the cost
of a kilowatt-hour of battery storage has fallen by 99% over the past 30
years.

By providing an investment case for new solar in markets that are already
seeing zero prices, batteries increase demand for panels. Take California. It
first saw sunshine-driven negative prices on the grid in 2017, when it had
about 19GW of solar installed. It has more than doubled its solar capacity
since then in part because it now has 10GW of battery storage; there have
been evenings recently when batteries have been the largest source of
power on its grid. Things are moving even faster in Texas, where battery
operators had revenues of $532m in 2023.

It is possible that batteries might move electricity in space as well as time.

Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory estimates that there are 2.6TW of
generation and storage capacity queuing up for grid connections in America
—enough to double the country’s installed generating capacity. This queue
contains a full terawatt of solar power. SunTrain, in which Dr Carlson’s
firm, Planetary Technologies, is an investor, sees this as a market for
batteries with wheels

The company plans to use solar farms in places that have little to
recommend them other than a railway line nearby as filling stations at
which to charge heavy but cheap batteries built into goods wagons. A 100-
car train similar to the ones that currently carry coal east from Wisconsin
could deliver 3 gigawatt-hours to users. Dr Carlson describes a utility-
boss’s jaw hitting the floor when he proposed that, instead of a multi-decade
planning battle to build a high-voltage transmission line, SunTrain could
meet the utility’s power-import needs with a couple of trains a day.

FOR THOSE who are unconvinced by such an apparently outlandish way

of profiting from cheap power there is a much more tried and tested avenue.
It is one of the ironies of solar power that much of its growth has been
driven by relatively unsunny countries, notably those of northern Europe,
where there has been little demand for additional energy. The global south
has a lot of empty land, better access to sunshine and much more unmet
demand.

Adani Green Energy, one of the world’s largest solar developers, has
obtained the rights to build solar farms on two vast tracts of land in India,
one in Gujarat, near the border with Pakistan, the other in Rajasthan. Each
of them is large enough to take some 30GW of solar panels, says Sagar
Adani, the company’s boss and the nephew of the larger Adani Group’s
founder, Gautam Adani. At that size they would offer a capacity more than
two-thirds as large as that which Germany has installed over the past 25
years; and because India has much more sunshine, they will produce more
energy in a given year than all those German cells put together. Mr Adani
says the firm is installing about 5GW of solar on this land every year.
India’s solar expansion, Mr Adani says, is driven by two factors: energy
security and national finances. “India imports gas for fuel, transport,
fertilisers. It imports oil, too.” These are the main reasons for the current-
account deficit. “So when Ukraine is invaded, Indian energy goes for a
toss…You can’t have 1.4bn people rely on geopolitical factors for their
energy.”

Not that Mr Adani is against using geopolitics to his advantage when the
opportunity arises. His firm is both an operator of panels and a
manufacturer of them. Adani Green Energy buys almost all the kit it is
installing in India from China or firms in East Asia connected to the
Chinese supply chain. It exports some 90% of the panels it makes in-house
to America, which has concerns about Chinese PV supply, at prices 10-15%
higher than those it pays for its imports. As Mr Adani’s production scales
up, and his costs fall, he will find himself in the strong position of being
able to install homemade panels when it suits him, and Chinese-origin PV
when it does not.

Mr Adani’s first-order reasons for India’s going solar do not include

decarbonisation. India wants more energy from many sources; it is building
coal plants and wind farms (the Adani Group is involved in both) as well as
solar farms. Climate diehards argue that it would be better advised to build
only solar and wind. By some calculations the capital expenditure needed to
generate solar energy is now less than the fuel bill for a fully depreciated
coal plant. But those calculations do not always account for the higher costs
of capital in a country where such projects are not yet easily bankable,
especially if you are not an Adani. Nor do they include the political issues
raised by shutting down a coal industry which employs millions.

As in India, so in many other middle-income countries. In the absence of

strong policies aimed at curbing carbon-dioxide emissions, solar power may
add to overall capacity as much or more than it displaces existing plants.
And in the absence of strong policy the existing or potential capacity which
it displaces will often be that which is clean, or cleaner, and comparatively
expensive, not cheap and dirty coal. It is quite plausible to imagine there
will soon be countries powered by solar, coal and little else.
It is also possible to imagine poor countries that quickly become mostly
solar: in particular, countries in sub-Saharan Africa. Small-scale solar is
already common across the continent. One barrier to a broader roll-out is
financing. “These projects require financing upfront,” says Jehangir
Vevaina of Brookfield, one of the world’s largest solar developers.
“Investors need to have confidence that contracts will be honoured.” Lack
of that confidence, stemming from the likelihood of political instability,
means that investors demand high interest rates to finance African solar
projects, increasing costs beyond the point of viability even when panels are
cheaper than ever. Another problem is the parlous state of the continent’s
electricity grids.
This means that, for the time being, solar power’s growth in sub-Saharan
Africa will be more off-grid than in other regions. Off-grid, its competition
is mostly diesel power, which is much more expensive. Solar with batteries
should be able to replace a lot of diesel generators and reduce the market
for new ones very quickly.

One factor will be the spread of electric vehicles: an important driver in

much of the world, but perhaps a particularly crucial one in Africa. Electric
vehicles can be cheaper than those powered by internal combustion. Their
batteries provide storage as part of the purchase price. And if powered by
local renewables they drastically reduce fossil-fuel imports. This is the logic
which has led Ethiopia to ban the import of vehicles which use internal
combustion. Though in Ethiopia the renewable energy in question is mostly
hydropower, and the grid which delivers it unreliable, across much of the
continent the energy will be solar and may not be delivered over a grid at
all.

Africa currently has the lowest electricity use per person of any continent;
600m people in sub-Saharan Africa enjoy no access to electricity at all. For
the continent’s average electricity use per person to rise to the level of
India’s, which is more than twice as high, would require 2TW of new solar.
Ten years ago that would have been unthinkable. At today’s prices it is
beginning to look plausible. In ten years time, it should be well on its way
to being done, and ambitions will have increased. And so demand will
grow, and cumulative capacity will grow, and prices will fall.

PROVIDING BILLIONS of people in developing countries with the

benefits of access to energy represents a huge amount of demand. Unmet
need for air conditioning alone is in the terawatts, and will only grow as the
population and temperatures rise.

But cheaper-than-chips solar will also stimulate innovations that increase

electricity demand further everywhere. William Jevons, a 19th-century
economist, pointed out that when energy gets cheaper, people use more of
it. When that energy has large uncosted externalities, as fossil fuels do,
Jevons’s “rebound effect” can be a source of environmental worry even as it
provides economic benefits. If the energy’s only large cost is that of the
marginal land in a place with a grid connection—or, if the user is willing to
move nearby, without even that—it becomes a lot more benign.

SunTrain is one example of this sort of thinking. Another is Terraform

Industries, a startup founded by Casey Handmer in 2021 to make “green
hydrogen”.

William Jevons pointed out that when energy gets cheaper people use
more of it
Green hydrogen is made by powering electrolysers which split water into
hydrogen and oxygen with renewable energy. Mr Adani thinks that a good
chunk of his company’s solar output in India will be used this way to ease
India’s reliance on imported natural gas. Green hydrogen is also much
touted as a way of storing energy for longer periods of time than batteries
offer. But the cost of the electrolysers needed makes it expensive. Mr Adani
says that “India today is already at a place where the cost of green hydrogen
is equal to the 10-year average of imported LNG [liquefied natural gas]”,
but not everyone agrees—and even if it is indeed the case, LNG is a pricey
form of energy.

Dr Handmer, formerly of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, thinks

that this approach is based on economic assumptions which no longer
apply. People have assumed that, because electricity has a cost, it is a good
idea for electrolysers to turn as much of the electrical energy fed into them
into hydrogen as possible. The technologies which improve this hydrogen
yield—platinum-group-metal electrodes, high pressures and temperatures,
fancy membranes, heat exchangers—make the electrolysers expensive. That
means they have to be used as close to 24/7 as possible to pay back the
capital invested in them.

What if, instead, you produce an electrolyser with no bells and whistles that
uses 60% more electricity to produce a unit of hydrogen but requires much
less capex. And then you site it right next to the simplest sort of solar
system imaginable—one which provides power in the direct-current (DC)
form that photovoltaics produce and electrolysers use, and thus does not
need the inverters most systems use to put electric power onto the grid in
the form of alternating current (AC). You may need much more electricity
to produce a unit of hydrogen than fancy-electrolyser systems do. But with
very cheap electricity and huge savings on capital expenditure you can still
come out ahead.

Terraform says that a cheap-electrolyser/off-grid-solar demonstrator it has

built along these lines produces hydrogen at a cost close to $1 per kg, the
level which analysts reckon hydrogen must reach in order to compete with
fossil fuels. That it is well-suited to developing markets is not a
coincidence. Mr Handmer thinks people should be able to “throw solar
panels on the ground and hook up some equipment, anywhere on Earth”, in
order to make any hydrogen they need.

Once you start to think in terms of energy being really copious and all-but
free, at least at some times and in some places, brute-force approaches to all
sorts of problems begin to appear. One way to drastically reduce the spread
of airborne disease is to speed up the rate at which the air in the world’s
buildings is vented and refreshed. If energy is expensive this is not feasible.
But what if…? One way to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere is
to grind certain sorts of rock into fine dust that is then dispersed across the
oceans. Given that this needs to be done at a scale of billions of tonnes a
year, again the energy requirement is incredible. And again, what if…?

Energy is not the only expense; any given scheme along these lines could
fail. But that human ingenuity finds useful things to do with better access to
energy is one of the clearest messages of the past 200 years. If real energy
costs drop dramatically across the global economy, and access to energy
expands, to bet against great things is to bet against the innovative engines
of capitalism. It is not a wager history encourages. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/interactive/essay/2024/06/20/solar-power-is-going-to-be-
huge

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

United States
Republicans are favoured to win the Senate. What would
they do?
Preparing for a takeover :: Congressional Republicans are already considering the art of the
possible

Are America’s leading presidential candidates up to it?

Freezing time :: Americans are worryingly unconfident in the sanity of the two men

America is educating a nation of investors

School of stocks :: Encouraged by research, more states are requiring schools to teach personal
finance

Lauren Boebert’s primary is a window into everyday

Trumpism
On the trail in Colorado :: Republican primary voters’ favourite thing is anything that horrifies
Democrats

New research exposes the role of women in America’s slave

trade
The second sex :: In the bondage of others they saw their freedom

Legal immigration to America has rebounded

Beyond the border :: Is anyone paying attention?

Donald Trump has finally got it right about the January

6th insurrectionists
Lexington :: They were “warriors”—that’s the problem

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Preparing for a takeover

Republicans are favoured to win

the Senate. What would they do?
Congressional Republicans are already considering the art of the possible
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Washington, DC

DONALD TRUMP’S visit to Capitol Hill on June 13th served as a

reminder that—whatever the candidate promises—Congress will have a
critical role in shaping policy if he returns to the White House. Although
Republicans largely support their presumptive nominee and his programme,
the finer points of a potential second-term agenda remain up for debate.

The Economist’s election-forecast model reckons that Donald Trump is

more likely than not to retake the presidency. A Trump victory would
probably be accompanied by Republicans gaining control of the Senate and
perhaps expanding their majority in the House. Congressional Republicans
are already considering the art of the possible if they do so.

Their legislative aspirations would be limited by the filibuster, a tradition

that requires 60 votes in the 100-seat Senate to approve much legislation.
Republican institutionalists are loth to ditch it. Their agenda is also limited
by reduced ambitions: Republicans no longer talk about entitlement reform
or sweeping changes to health care. Yet the party could still dramatically
shift the country’s fiscal trajectory thanks to a parliamentary procedure
known as reconciliation, which allows the Senate to use a simple majority
to change spending and revenue. That is particularly important next year,
with many of Mr Trump’s first-term tax cuts set to expire.

Rate cuts for individuals and estates, along with several changes for
business, will lapse by the end of 2025. Some 60% of American households
would then send bigger cheques to the taxman each year. Simply extending
the law would increase the deficit by around $4trn over the next ten years,
according to the Joint Committee on Taxation. The seemingly impossible
task is to deliver a politically viable bill that encourages growth without
expanding America’s already massive deficit, which exceeded 6% of GDP
in 2023.

Many Senate Republicans have plans to build on Mr Trump’s 2017

legislation. “I was not a real big fan,” Ron Johnson, a Republican senator
from Wisconsin, says of the bill he voted for seven years ago. While the
headline corporate rate fell from 35% to 21%, changes to deductions for
small-business owners left some paying more. Mr Johnson believes the
party needs to embrace a “paradigm shift” and radically simplify the tax
code. Others are discussing how to create more predictability for business
while retaining aspects of the law that encourage investment.

A relatively young but growing faction emphasises support for workers. Jim
Banks, a congressman expected to win Indiana’s Senate race this year, has
expressed dissatisfaction that the corporate-rate cut was permanent whereas
reductions for individuals were not. And Marco Rubio, a Republican
senator from Florida and long-time child-tax-credit advocate, says:
“Allowing families to keep more of their hard-earned money is not only
fair, but absolutely essential to helping them recover from the Biden years.”
Jason Smith, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, said in
May that “very well-known conservative” Republicans are even open to
increasing the corporate rate.

Two complicating factors could frustrate any effort to reduce America’s

deficit. The first is Mr Trump, who during a recent speech vowed to
eliminate taxes on tips. That is politically savvy in the service-industry-
powered swing state of Nevada, but would be expensive. The second
complication is the House, where tax legislation originates; the size of any
Republican majority there would be pivotal.

The fiscal question could affect another priority, defence spending. John
Kennedy, a Republican senator from Louisiana, sees these as inextricably
linked. On the one hand, America must deal with “authoritarians throughout
the world who want to kill us and drink our blood out of a boot”. On the
other, “You’re trying to control your debt, grow your economy and pay for
an older population.” He says reducing wasteful spending is essential.

Roger Wicker, the top Republican on the Senate Armed Services

Committee, recently called for America to increase defence spending to 5%
of GDP, up from a projected 2.9% in 2024. Mr Wicker has plenty of
support from key figures like Mitch McConnell, the Republicans’ outgoing
Senate leader. Yet a growing isolationist wing of the Senate will grumble
that the country already spends, and wastes, far too much. The faction
undeniably has grown in recent years, but hawkish Democrats can
compensate for lost Republican votes.

A likely compromise could be increased defence spending, albeit not at the

level some hawks believe is necessary. More spending directed at countries
like Ukraine and Taiwan could become even more difficult. Although
foreign military aid has commanded bipartisan support under Mr Biden, its
approval in a Republican-run Washington could come down to the whims of
congressional leaders and Mr Trump—which is not exactly comforting for
leaders in Taipei or Kyiv.

Beyond budgets and bombs

Mr Trump is also running hard against the mess at America’s southern
border and Mr Biden’s green-energy policies. As president he could take
executive action on myriad border and energy policies, but legislative
action has more staying power. Few Democrats align with Mr Trump on
expanding fossil-fuel production, and fewer still would vote with him on
immigration. Some Republican senators see an expansive role for the
reconciliation procedure. “There’s actually a great deal that can be done.
We’ll need to think creatively about it,” says Bill Hagerty, a senator from
Tennessee. “The language in the reconciliation process needs to be budget-
related, but what you can say is, ‘Thou shalt not fund’ and fill in what
you’re trying to address.”

Getting presidential nominees installed is critical to reshaping power in

Washington. Executive-branch nominees could implement Trumpian
immigration policies, undo Mr Biden’s energy and environmental
regulations and even claw back funds meant for green power projects.
About 1,200 of the president’s 4,000 political appointees require Senate
confirmation. A Republican Senate majority would prioritise approving
lifetime appointments to the federal judiciary over temporary jobs in the
bureaucracy.

The judicial stakes help explain the most notable development from Mr
Trump’s visit to the Capitol on June 13th: the former president burying the
hatchet with Mr McConnell after years of acrimony. (At the moment the
race to succeed Mr McConnell as the Republicans’ leader in the Senate
seems a toss-up between John Thune of South Dakota and John Cornyn of
Texas, although if Mr Trump were to throw his weight behind an
alternative, such as Steve Daines of Montana, that could prove decisive.)

All three of Mr Trump’s first-term Supreme Court picks are under 60.
Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito, who would be in their late 70s by the
end of a second Trump term, could retire. No one knows what America’s
tax system or defence budget will look like in 20 years. But anyone
wondering why Republicans stick by Mr Trump through everything need
only remember that, if he wins, a majority of Supreme Court justices could
be Trump appointees well into the 2040s.■
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/17/republicans-are-favoured-to-win-the-senate-what-would-they-do

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Freezing time

Are America’s leading presidential

candidates up to it?
Americans are worryingly unconfident in the sanity of the two men
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | WASHINGTON, DC

“I REALLY HATE doing this, but I cannot not do it,” announced the
conservative host Hugh Hewitt on his online show. This was a preface to a
montage of video clips showing “President Biden’s obvious and increasing
infirmity”.

One, from a star-studded fund-raiser held in Los Angeles on June 15th,

shows Mr Biden staring blankly at the audience before Barack Obama, the
night’s other headline act, grasps his arm and leads him offstage. The
second, taken a few days earlier at the G7 summit in Italy, appears to show
Mr Biden wandering away from other world leaders as they watch a
skydiving demonstration. In conservative corners of the media and the
internet, such clips of Biden freezes abound. Another recent entry shows the
president staring blankly at a White House concert celebrating the new
federal holiday of Juneteenth on June 19th, which marks the end of slavery.

Selective editing of the clips makes them look more devastating than they
are. A longer recording of the Los Angeles episode shows Mr Biden waving
to one side of the audience and clapping before turning and standing still for
about seven seconds—possibly to try to hear what was being shouted (Mr
Obama intervened before anything more awkward could occur). A fuller
clip of the Italian incident shows that Mr Biden did not wander off into the
distance but rather to greet a skydiver who had landed off-screen (though
Giorgia Meloni, the Italian prime minister, similarly intervened to bring him
to centre stage).

This is not to say that the president is a paragon of lucidity. Mr Biden, an

octogenarian, certainly has his senior moments. Some are hard to explain
away: in 2022 he wondered whether a recently deceased congresswoman
was in a crowd at a White House event (“Where’s Jackie?” he asked to
silent horror). The special counsel appointed to investigate classified
documents at Mr Biden’s house said that he frequently confused dates,
including of his son’s death in 2015. The transcript of the interview is not
exactly exonerating.

The fracas gives a preview for what the next five months of campaigning
will look like. Donald Trump and his allies will relentlessly scrutinise the
president’s public appearances for signs of senility and distribute clips
purportedly showing this (there is little need for AI-generated
disinformation when simple editing tools do so well). Mr Biden’s campaign
will be anxious not to give them too much material to work with,
reinforcing a bunker mentality.

Allies of Mr Biden wonder why more is not made of Mr Trump’s strange

utterances. On June 9th at a rally in Las Vegas, the former president told a
bizarre, lengthy hypothetical story about being electrocuted by a battery-
powered boat while being chased by sharks. It might be an enjoyable,
absurdist scene in a B-horror film, were it not for the scarier fact that the
raconteur is the leading contender to win the presidential election. Mr
Trump, who is 78, has also confused the leader of Hungary for that of
Turkey and mistakenly said that Mr Obama was now president.

Democrats are right about the difference in standards. Such utterances are
barely news stories for Mr Trump; Democrats might forcibly commit Mr
Biden to an elder-care facility for a monologue like that. Yet the difference
in standards is the point. Mr Biden’s pitch is competent, rational leadership,
whereas Mr Trump has been a surrealist from the start.

Voters appear to be steeling themselves for a dismal choice. A recent poll

conducted for CBS News by YouGov found that just 35% of registered
voters say Mr Biden is mentally and cognitively healthy enough to be
president; even 29% of registered Democrats say they are not sure their
man is all there. The same poll found that 50% of voters thought Mr Trump
was mentally fit for office. Only in this contest could such a result be
thought of as positive.

Mr Trump is sure that he has the cognitive advantage. His campaign has
pushed for holding multiple debates, on the theory that Mr Biden would not
be able to keep up either rhetorically or physically. While president, Mr
Trump memorably bragged about his high marks on a mental-acuity test
(meant as a diagnostic tool for early dementia, not admission to MENSA).
Speaking in Detroit this week, Mr Trump challenged Mr Biden to take the
same test he had “aced”. While issuing the blustery challenge, Mr Trump
got confused about the name of the White House physician who
administered it to him: he was Ronny Jackson, not “Ronny Johnson”. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/20/are-americas-leading-presidential-candidates-up-to-it

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

School of stocks

America is educating a nation of

investors
Encouraged by research, more states are requiring schools to teach
personal finance
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | WILLINGBORO, NJ

“HOW IS THE stockmarket looking today?” asks Jennifer Varga, a teacher

at Memorial Middle School in Willingboro, New Jersey, a suburb about 20
miles outside Philadelphia. She has projected a live visualisation of S&P
500 companies sorted by market cap onto the board at the front of her
classroom. It is a sea of mostly red boxes. A 14-year-old pupil quickly
answers: “Trash!” She is not wrong—it was a rubbish morning for the index
on June 11th. Ms Varga adjusts the picture to show the S&P’s rise over the
past month, then the past six months. The pupils nod approvingly at the sea
of green boxes as Ms Varga explains the virtues of investing long-term.
Personal-finance courses that teach pupils best practices for managing their
money are spreading across America, propelled by recent state laws
requiring such instruction. Since 2020, 17 states have adopted mandates
that make taking a financial-literacy course a requirement for high-school
graduation, bringing the total up to 25. According to Tim Ranzetta, the co-
founder of Next Gen Personal Finance, an advocacy group, 53% of pupils
are in a state that currently requires or has decided to soon require such a
course to graduate. That figure will probably grow. New York State is
considering a mandate, and California has a bill in the works (potentially
driving up the percentage to about 70% of all American pupils).

Pupils in these classes learn not only how to buy and sell shares, but how to
save their earnings in order to have something to invest in the first place.
Courses teach how to properly bank, budget, manage credit and pay for
college. They cover comparison shopping and the basics of how to plan and
track daily expenses. (“I save all my money and spend my parents’ money!”
one future hedge-fund manager said.)

Young people badly need these courses. According to the Programme for
International Student Assessment, an international survey, only 10% of 15-
year-olds in the OECD, a club of mostly rich countries, score highly on
financial-literacy assessments. Are personal-finance courses the answer?
For a long time, the research said no. Many studies, including a meta-
analysis from 2014 that was cited over 2,500 times, claimed that financial-
literacy courses were ineffective. The finding made intuitive sense; many
teenagers have yet to work or manage a household.

But more recent findings have changed the picture. “Research has gotten
better,” explains Carly Urban, an economics professor at Montana State
University. The courses themselves have also improved. Studies that use the
gold standard of investigation—a randomised controlled trial—have found
that the courses are effective in improving financial knowledge and
behaviour. A meta-analysis of 76 randomised experiments in 33 countries
found that people who take these courses learn the content, save more and
budget better.

Other studies have found that pupils who take personal-finance courses in
high school borrow less money. If they do borrow for college, they choose
low-cost options. And low-income borrowers exposed to personal-finance
coursework are more likely to pay down their balances and steer clear of
exploitative, high-interest pay-day loans. They are also less likely to have
credit-card debt, and they have higher credit scores and fewer defaults.

Instruction at school is necessary because it is not always available at home.

“Everyone always says, ‘I wish someone taught me this when I was a kid,”
says Tony Thurmond, California’s school superintendent. “I hear that from
people every time I talk about it.” Naysayers worry about adding one more
graduation requirement to California’s long list, but Mr Thurmond is
willing to remove courses with less direct bearing on life skills.

“When I was 20, it would have been nice to have this class,” Ms Varga says
after the pupils she was educating about the S&P 500 have gone to lunch.
She got into some financial trouble as a young adult before she learned the
subjects she now teaches and improved her own money management. “I
want them to be better than my generation.” ■

Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter
with fast analysis of the most important electoral stories, and Checks and
Balance, a weekly note from our Lexington columnist that examines the
state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/20/america-is-educating-a-nation-of-investors

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

On the trail in Colorado

Lauren Boebert’s primary is a

window into everyday Trumpism
Republican primary voters’ favourite thing is anything that horrifies
Democrats
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | AKRON, COLORADO

A WEEK BEFORE Colorado’s primary elections, which take place on June

25th, Richard Holtorf was busy feeding cattle and preparing his ground for
planting wheat. But the 59-year-old had politics on his mind as he stepped
down from a massive tractor at his ranch on the state’s eastern plains. After
a brief oration on the deficiencies of battery-powered farming equipment,
Mr Holtorf explained why he was running in the Republican primary and
hoping subsequently to win a seat in the US House of Representatives.
After gaining legislative experience as minority whip in the state House, Mr
Holtorf has developed a desire to influence policy at a higher level. And
then there is Lauren Boebert. “She hasn’t done anything except run her
mouth and showboat and carry a pistol around, and showboat some more,”
he argues. Ms Boebert—who before entering politics ran Shooters Grill in
Rifle, Colorado—first defeated a Republican incumbent in 2020, despite
expressing sympathy for the QAnon conspiracy theory.

Her frequent television appearances, high-profile political feuds with fellow

Republicans and a warm relationship with Donald Trump have made her
one of the most recognisable figures on Capitol Hill. The 37-year-old
grandmother was kicked out of a musical in Denver last year after vaping
and fondling her date, increasing her notoriety, and maybe her appeal.

Voters in Colorado’s third congressional district, which preferred Mr Trump

over Joe Biden by a mere five points in 2020, grew tired of this stuff. Set
for a rematch this year with a well-funded Democratic opponent, and after
winning reelection by only 546 votes in 2022, Ms Boebert opted to run in
the more heavily Republican fourth district. Armed with Mr Trump’s
endorsement and unrivalled name recognition, she is the frontrunner.

A recent survey conducted by Kaplan Strategies, a political consultancy,

showed her favoured by 40% of the primary electorate, and her opponents
winning between 3% and 5%. Perhaps this is not surprising in a district
with a highway billboard that declares GOD BLESS DONALD TRUMP.
GOD BLESS THE AMERICAN FLAG. Other candidates questioned the
Kaplan survey’s size, and insisted that they had met few real voters who
supported Ms Boebert, but still acknowledged her strong position.

Sitting in a cluttered conference room at his metal foundry in Loveland,

about an hour north of Denver, Mike Lynch offers this assessment of her.
“If she was an incredibly effective legislator, and then has a weird life, I
don’t care.” The former state house minority leader contrasts this with his
own work on issues like fire prevention, which doesn’t get much attention
on social media. Mr Lynch predicts that Republicans would lose the fourth
congressional district with Ms Boebert as their nominee—something the
party has managed only once in the past half-century.
Ms Boebert, of course, is not the only candidate with flaws. Asked at a
debate in January whether they had ever been arrested, six of the then nine
candidates raised their hands. Several candidates described ultimately failed
efforts to consolidate the field. According to Peter Yu, a businessman and
perennial candidate, “There were other candidates in the race who refused,
no matter what the situation was, to ever drop out.” Ms Boebert raised
$332,935 between April 1st and June 5th—several times more than her
nearest competitor. She has campaigned in the district and frequently
attacks her opponents as members of the “uniparty”. In the unlikely event of
an upset on June 25th, she could indeed point to a uniparty being
responsible: unaffiliated voters are allowed to vote in either party’s
primaries, and Ms Boebert is widely reviled outside the party base. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/20/lauren-boeberts-primary-is-a-window-into-everyday-trumpism

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The second sex

New research exposes the role of

women in America’s slave trade
In the bondage of others they saw their freedom
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Washington, DC

THEY DIDN’T know how bad it was. That was how James Redpath, a
northern journalist who toured the South in the 1850s, explained white
southern women’s support for slavery to his readers. He reckoned that
women were shielded from the “most obnoxious features” of the trade—
rarely witnessing the auctions and the lashes doled out as punishments on
plantations—and were oblivious to the “gigantic commerce” that it had
become. Over time historians came to agree that slavery was the business of
men.
Research published last month shatters that narrative. Economists at Ohio
State University analysed data from the New Orleans slave market, the
biggest of them all, to quantify women’s involvement. They found that
women were buyers or sellers in 30% of all transactions and 38% of those
that involved female slaves. By matching names to census records they
show that it was not just single or widowed women who dealt in slaves
because they lacked husbands; married ones did, too.

These are the first hard numbers building on a growing body of qualitative
work by Stephanie Jones-Rogers, a historian at the University of California,
Berkeley, showing just how instrumental women were to the slave
economy. In the travel logs of foreigners she uncovered descriptions of
southern belles bidding at the slave markets dressed in their finest silks and
“glittering in precious jewels”. And in interviews conducted by the federal
government in the 1930s she found that former slaves frequently reported
belonging to the “mistis” and told stories of being beaten by her with
stinging nettles or coming home to find their child missing and the mistress
counting a “heap of bills”.

For the ladies of the antebellum South, slavery was more than business—it
was their ticket to economic freedom. Coverture laws compelled women to
relinquish property and money to men when they married, but exceptions
were made for slaves. As with furniture and clothing, a bride could hold on
to the humans she owned and take them with her to her new husband’s
estate. Fathers hoping to secure their daughters’ futures gave them slaves at
baptisms, birthdays and engagements.

As grown-ups, women used slaves to establish financial independence. In

cities like Charleston and New Orleans they put them to work selling cakes
or dresses and pocketed the profits in secret. Some ran slave brothels. The
mistresses then used the cash to reinvest in the slave market. But unlike
their husbands, who often bought fit men to work the fields, women bought
more women, who were cheaper but paid dividends later on when they
reproduced.

On the eve of the civil war Southern women came to understand that the
Union army threatened to strip them not just of their material wealth but of
their independence. As men went off to battle and Congress passed the
Confiscation Acts of the early 1860s, which authorised the government to
seize slaves, women panicked. Before the war, half of the South’s wealth
was in slaves. The fall of the Confederacy left many Southerners destitute.
Freed slaves later recounted giving their former mistresses grits and
potatoes to subsist on after emancipation.

It would be decades before the women of the South gained the right to
control their earnings, own property, take custody of their children and vote.
Ms Jones-Rogers contends that their fight for segregation into the 20th
century was fuelled by the sense of power they had known and lost. In the
subjugation of others they had tasted freedom.■

Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter
with fast analysis of the most important electoral stories, and Checks and
Balance, a weekly note from our Lexington columnist that examines the
state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/18/new-research-exposes-the-role-of-women-in-americas-slave-trade

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Beyond the border

Legal immigration to America has

rebounded
Is anyone paying attention?
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Los Angeles

REPUBLICAN POLITICIANS often compare America’s southern border

to Swiss cheese. It is more like a black hole. Its gravitational pull is so
strong that officials can think only of enforcement and security (or the good
electoral politics that come with harping on about enforcement and
security). The names of small, dusty border towns—Eagle Pass, Jacumba
Hot Springs—have never been so well known. The black hole leaves little
time to consider the other parts of America’s creaking immigration system,
such as refugees, skilled-worker visas or reforming quotas that are decades
out of date.
Yet it is worth looking at what is happening beyond the border. For even
while the surge of irregular migration has soaked up attention and
resources, legal immigration has rebounded. And on June 18th President
Joe Biden announced new safeguards—including work permits and
protection from deportation—for people who have been living illegally in
the country for years but are married to American citizens. The move was
crafted to appeal to, among others, Latino voters and to assuage
progressives angered by Mr Biden’s crackdown on illegal migration in an
executive action two weeks ago. At a stroke, it also swells the ranks of the
country’s legitimate residents by about 500,000 people.

Two things combined to decrease legal immigration to the lowest level in

decades during Donald Trump’s presidency: anti-immigrant policies and
covid-19. Research from Giovanni Peri and Reem Zaiour, of the University
of California, Davis, suggests that America’s foreign-born workforce began
to shrink in 2019, before the pandemic. Between 2016 and 2020 America
saw the longest continuous decline in new green cards issued since the
1990s. The number of refugees admitted annually tumbled to its lowest
level in the resettlement programme’s history. Denial rates for skilled-
worker visas rocketed. Later, the pandemic closed consulates abroad.

Liberty’s lure

Legal migration took time to recover: consulates reopened slowly, and visa
backlogs were huge. But in 2024 it has returned to pre-pandemic, and
indeed pre-Trump, levels. Nearly 1.2m green cards were issued in the fiscal
year of 2023, a 68% increase from 2020 and slightly more than the number
doled out during Mr Trump’s first year in office. The government is
projected to resettle at least 90,000 refugees in 2024, potentially short of Mr
Biden’s 125,000 allotment but far more than the 11,000 or so settled during
the doldrums of the pandemic.
Non-immigrant visas, the kind that temporary workers and students get,
have also made a comeback. This is good news for firms wanting to hire
skilled workers. The H-1B lottery system, which allots visas to high-skilled,
mostly tech, workers, was rife with fraud. Hundreds of thousands of
applicants compete for just 85,000 spots, a number set by Congress in 2004.
Sometimes dozens of applications were submitted on behalf of one person.
A tweak to the lottery system is intended to fix that.
Although more students are again coming to study in America, more than
ever are also being denied visas. The same factors encouraging border
crossings—a hot labour market, violence and instability at home, and a
more welcoming president—may also be pushing young people abroad to
seek their education in America. Cecilia Esterline of the Niskanen Centre, a
think-tank, suggests that students may be failing to convince consulates that
they will return to their home country after studying.

What has all this meant for the workforce? At its peak in 2021, the shortfall
of foreign-born workers identified by Mr Peri and Ms Zaiour reached about
2m people. That hole has now disappeared, partly due to the number of
people who streamed across the border and found work. But Mr Peri
reckons the rebound has also been fuelled in part by the return of college-
educated legal migrants. Some 45% of recent immigrants have a college
degree, compared with 38% of native-born Americans and 33% of those
who arrived in the 1990s.
One thing that has not changed is the immigration system itself. Congress
has repeatedly failed to create new legal pathways for migrants, to increase
caps for limited visas and to make the system more responsive to the needs
of America’s economy. The result is a monumental backlog for green cards,
long waiting times at consulates, frustrated families who worry they will
never be reunited, and irritated businesses and states eager for more labour.
The process is next to impossible, says Mr Bier. “There are the people who
are screwed, people who are really screwed, and then the people who are
just going to die before they get a chance to come,” he adds, bleakly.

Americans do not share Congress’s allergy to reform. They increasingly

support more deportations and the border wall, but the desire for stricter
enforcement has not yet shaken their approval of immigration overall. A
majority of Democrats and a plurality of Republicans support more legal
pathways. Some 61% of registered voters surveyed by Pew in April
maintain that America’s openness to people from elsewhere is essential to
its national character. But in an election year, with the black hole sucking up
so much attention, reform of the legal system is unthinkable. ■

Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter
with fast analysis of the most important electoral stories, and Checks and
Balance, a weekly note from our Lexington columnist that examines the
state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/18/legal-immigration-to-america-has-rebounded

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Lexington

Donald Trump has finally got it

right about the January 6th
insurrectionists
They were “warriors”—that’s the problem
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

HERE IS a thought experiment. Try to put politics and the presidential race
out of your mind and give Donald Trump the benefit of the doubt about the
attack on the Capitol on January 6th 2021. Accept that he believed the
election was stolen and that he meant it when he told the crowd that day to
march from the White House to Capitol Hill “peacefully and patriotically”.
Accept that he believed none of his supporters was carrying weapons or
intended violence of any sort. Accept that he has since come to conclude, as
he has claimed, that Nancy Pelosi, then the speaker of the House, somehow
“caused” the violence, that the police “ushered in” the crowd, that they
were “a loving crowd”, indeed, “patriots” who have since become not just
“victims” but even “hostages” of a weaponised system of justice.

Then ask yourself this: after embracing all of those assumptions and
assertions, why would you celebrate the rioters as “warriors”, as Mr Trump
did during a rally earlier this month?

To call them warriors is not simply to insist their cause was just and that
they were somehow tricked into entering the Capitol with the guns, bats,
knives and other weapons that Mr Trump once maintained they did not
have; it is not just to ignore or minimise the violence that day, which
resulted in five deaths; it is not even to shift the blame for that violence to
others, whether police officers (some 140 of whom were assaulted), or Ms
Pelosi (whom the rioters were hunting, and who can be seen on video from
that day urging Mr Trump’s acting secretary of defence to dispatch troops to
the Capitol). It is instead to praise the people who attacked the Capitol
precisely—definitionally—for their capacity to wage war. That is to move
the understanding of what happened on January 6th, at least for Mr Trump’s
supporters, onto new and even darker ground.

There was a moment, back in the mists of 2021, when just about everyone
in the mainstream of American politics recoiled in shock from the mayhem
of January 6th. They agreed that attacking the Capitol was wrong, and that
Mr Trump, to some degree, was responsible. Even Mr Trump said so, the
leader of the House Republicans, Kevin McCarthy, told colleagues at the
time, according to the exacting report delivered in 2022 by the House select
committee that investigated the attack. That was briefly Mr McCarthy’s
view, too, as it was that of Mitch McConnell, the Senate Republican leader,
who called Mr Trump “practically and morally responsible for provoking
the events of that day”. During her campaign for the Republican
presidential nomination this spring, Nikki Haley called January 6th a
“terrible day” and said Mr Trump “will have to answer for it”.

But the times when Republican leaders would say they wanted Mr Trump
held accountable for the riot appear to be over. A few days after Mr Trump
praised the “J6 warriors”, Mr McConnell joined other Republican
legislators in welcoming the former president back on Capitol Hill for the
first time since the attack, for a meeting Mr McConnell called “entirely
positive”. And yet even as they absolve Mr Trump of responsibility, other
Republican politicians at least still seem to see attacking the Capitol as a
bad thing to do. “No real Republican with any credibility in the party is still
blaming him” for January 6th, Senator J.D. Vance of Ohio told reporters.
That construction implies the conduct of the crowd was blameworthy. By
contrast, Mr Trump is valorising it.

Mr Trump faces federal charges over his efforts to overturn the last election,
but that case is on hold. Meanwhile, the exhaustive work of the January 6th
committee somehow already smells of mothballs and reads like the relic of
a different era, back before polarisation had done its work of rallying
Republicans to Mr Trump. Based on sworn testimony from witnesses who
were almost all Republicans, the committee showed that Mr Trump ignored
repeated assurances from top aides that he had lost legitimately and instead
trumpeted lies about electoral fraud; ignored warnings that the crowd he
summoned to Washington was primed for violence; used that word
“peacefully” just once, as scripted by his speechwriters, but ad-libbed the
word “fight” 18 times; and then sat on his hands for more than three hours
as staff and family members implored him to call a halt to the riot.

Thousands of the protesters who assembled to hear Mr Trump’s speech on

January 6th refused to pass through the magnetometers, or left their packs
outside them, the committee found. From those who did pass through the
Secret Service collected 269 blades or knives, 18 brass knuckles, 18 tasers
and 30 batons or blunt instruments. In other words, Mr Trump has landed
on the correct description of many of those who answered his call that day:
they were warriors.

The shadow knows

And yet some of them came to lament taking part. About 820 people have
pleaded guilty to various federal charges so far, and at least another 162
have been convicted in contested trials. “I guess I was like a traitor,
somebody against my own government,” one told prosecutors. Another
noted that every male member of his family had served in the armed forces,
and he had cast “a shadow” over the family name.
This is what seems strange about Mr Trump’s celebration of “those J6
warriors”: He does not need to go that far. In fact, doing so may limit his
appeal to the independent-minded voters who seem critical to victory this
year, and Mr Trump’s loyalists would surely have accepted his assurances
that he wanted to see only peaceful, patriotic protest. Maybe it is simply Mr
Trump’s philosophy to insist that every seeming weakness is a strength, that
any wrong he may be associated with is actually a right. Or maybe he is
getting ready for next time round. ■

Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter
with fast analysis of the most important electoral stories, and Checks and
Balance, a weekly note from our Lexington columnist that examines the
state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/united-
states/2024/06/20/donald-trump-has-finally-got-it-right-about-the-january-6th-
insurrectionists

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

The Americas
Javier Milei has turned Argentina into a libertarian
laboratory
No pain, no gain :: But the biggest economic test is yet to come

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

No pain, no gain

Javier Milei has turned Argentina

into a libertarian laboratory
But the biggest economic test is yet to come
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | BUENOS AIRES

JAVIER MILEI, Argentina’s president, has enjoyed the best week of his
term. At dawn on June 13th the Senate passed two bills aiming to boost
growth and raise revenue, giving Mr Milei his first legislative victory since
he came to power in December. Hours later he travelled to the G7 in Italy,
where he giggled with Giorgia Meloni, the prime minister, embraced Pope
Francis and palled around with Kristalina Georgieva, the head of the IMF.
“I always love our meetings,” he gushed to Ms Georgieva. Yet the
relationship between Mr Milei and the fund, which has a $44bn lending
programme with Argentina, may soon become less chummy. Uncertainty
about the president’s plans for the central bank is worrying investors and
the IMF alike.

Mr Milei’s early successes are impressive given the mess he inherited. For
years, the central bank had created money to finance the fiscal deficit,
fuelling inflation. It also had no foreign reserves. Another default seemed
almost inevitable.

In his inauguration speech Mr Milei warned Argentines of hard times,

declaring that “there is no money”. He immediately fired hundreds of
bureaucrats, cut spending and devalued the peso by over 50% (which
initially pushed up inflation). Meanwhile, public salaries and pensions were
held down, slashing their real value. As a result, Argentina has enjoyed
fiscal surpluses for five months, something not seen since 2008. Inflation
has fallen to 4.2% month on month, the lowest since January 2022 (see
chart 1).

Some Argentines are angered by the accompanying pain. The night the
Senate voted on the reforms, protesters hurled Molotov cocktails outside
and set a car alight. Unions have organised huge marches. Yet despite the
excruciating recession, over half of Argentines still approve of Mr Milei.
Jorge Juliano, a 72-year-old taxi driver in Buenos Aires, gives a simple
reason: “With the other lot we were living in Walt Disney, a fantasy.”

Investors have welcomed Mr Milei’s recent progress. But their enthusiasm

is dampened by uncertainty about the president’s plans for the central bank
and the peso, which is once again looking overvalued. The next few months
of government may be harder than the first.
One reason is political. Though Mr Milei’s coalition has just 15% of seats in
the lower house, he came to office with a thumping personal mandate. This
persuaded opposition lawmakers to negotiate. Mr Milei’s main bill passed
with 400 fewer clauses than the original, but it is still a big win for him. It
declares a state of economic emergency for one year, during which he will
have extraordinary powers over energy, economic and financial matters. It
also opens the way to privatise several state-owned firms and creates
incentives for would-be foreign investors. The package now goes back to
the lower house for final approval. It may choose to reinstate income taxes,
which the government hopes for but which the Senate had refused to do.

Opposition legislators may think they have given Mr Milei enough. “It’s
going to be more and more complicated,” says Luis Juez, a senator who
supported the reforms. The lower house is already fighting back. It recently
passed a pension formula that could cost almost 0.5% of GDP this year. Mr
Milei attacked those who voted for it as “fiscal degenerates” and vowed to
veto it. But if it is passed with a two-thirds majority in both houses—a
distinct possibility—he will be unable to change it.

The bigger challenges, however, are macroeconomic. Mr Milei has

prioritised fighting inflation, but Argentines are becoming worried about
unemployment and will eventually clamour for growth. The recession has
been deep. Construction activity in April was down by 37% year on year.

Complicating the recovery is the overvalued peso, which is making the

country unjustifiably expensive in dollar terms. The official exchange rate
is currently set by the government, which also imposes capital controls.
Almost all of the devaluation in December has been eroded (see chart 2). It
involved initially devaluing the peso by over 50% and then by 2% each
month. But monthly inflation has been greater than the crawling peg. The
result is that the real effective exchange rate is rising.

The effects are obvious from atop the Andes. On a single long weekend in
April some 40,000 Argentines crossed the mountains into Chile to buy
everything from trainers to car tyres because, surreally, Chile has become
cheaper than Argentina. Mr Milei slams those who say the peso is
overvalued as “intellectually dishonest”. Yet when an Argentine president
says there won’t be a devaluation, taxi drivers know there is a good chance
there will be one, quips Nicolás Gadano of Empiria Consulting in Buenos
Aires.

A pricey peso scares off tourists, makes exports expensive and deters
investors. An overvalued currency often eventually crashes. “If you see
Argentina appreciating, this is always a sign of worse things to come,” says
Eduardo Levy Yeyati of Torcuato Di Tella University in Buenos Aires.
Falling exports make it harder for the central bank to accumulate dollars,
which it needs to pay off foreign debts and to build up its safety buffers.

The government could allow the peso to float or accelerate the 2% crawling
peg. But either would probably push up inflation, thus endangering Mr
Milei’s popularity and undermining some of the benefits of the devaluation.
For now, Mr Milei is able to keep a tight grip on the exchange rate because
of capital controls.

Money madness

What happens next? Mr Milei has promised to ultimately remove capital

controls as part of his plan to restore investor confidence. He insists that
inflation will soon be 2% a month, the same as the rate of devaluation. This,
he says, would allow him to slowly ease the restrictions and float the peso
without its value plunging.
 Eyeing the future

This is optimistic. There is little, such as rising productivity, to justify a

stronger peso. Worse for Mr Milei, early data for June suggest that inflation
is edging up. Argentines are being hit with eye-popping energy bills as the
government cuts subsidies that had kept prices low. Real wages are also
starting to recover as workers lobby for higher pay, potentially raising other
prices. Mr Levy Yeyati predicts that monthly inflation will hover at around
4-5% for a while. If that is correct, the risk of a sharp currency correction
will grow.

Looming over all this is a thornier issue: what to do with the central bank
and the peso. Mr Milei campaigned on a promise to blow up the former and
scrap the latter, declaring that the local currency “is not worth crap”. These
days his team prefers to talk about currency competition, in which dollars
and pesos would both be legal tender. But no one knows the details of the
plan or the monetary programme to stabilise the peso that would go with it.
“Further work is needed in defining some of the key underpinnings,” the
IMF diplomatically concluded on June 17th.

Mr Milei, though not his economic team, seems particularly enthusiastic

about a scheme he calls “endogenous dollarisation”. This would involve
fixing the supply of pesos. When the economy grows, and more cash is
needed, Mr Milei expects Argentines to use their own dollar savings for
transactions. “The peso will become like a museum piece,” he said in mid-
May. He would then close the central bank.

The IMF seems worried. If Argentines believe the peso will end up in a
museum, its supply could outstrip demand, stoking inflation. It is also
unclear what would happen to the peso-denominated financial system. The
IMF instead enthuses about currency competition. Peru has such a system,
with the sol and dollars both used. If Mr Milei insists on his scheme, it
would surely be harder for his government to get new cash from the fund.

Mr Milei has done a remarkable job so far of discarding the fiscal baggage
that has been weighing Argentina down. But mess up the big
macroeconomic questions and that will count for little.■

Sign up to El Boletín, our subscriber-only newsletter on Latin America, to

understand the forces shaping a fascinating and complex region.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-
americas/2024/06/20/javier-milei-has-turned-argentina-into-a-libertarian-laboratory

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Asia
Vladimir Putin’s dangerous bromance with Kim Jong Un
Marriage of convenience :: Russia’s dictator visits Pyongyang and signs a new strategic pact

Thailand legalises same-sex marriage

Marriage of equals :: It comes at a time when other freedoms are being curbed

The army-backed establishment in Thailand goes after its

enemies
Banyan :: Thaksin Shinawatra’s case is just one of many

Why India should create dozens of new states

Governing 1.4bn people :: The success of Telangana, the youngest, shows the benefits

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Marriage of convenience

Vladimir Putin’s dangerous

bromance with Kim Jong Un
Russia’s dictator visits Pyongyang and signs a new strategic pact
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Seoul

KIM JONG UN has a new best friend. Out is Donald Trump, who
exchanged saccharine letters but spurned him at a summit in Hanoi in 2019.
In is Vladimir Putin, who has courted Mr Kim for weapons to fuel his war
in Ukraine. Mr Kim has made two trips to Russia’s Far East to meet Mr
Putin since 2019. On June 19th Mr Putin arrived in Pyongyang for his first
visit since 2000, the year he made his debut as president. Though he landed
at close to 3am local time, Mr Kim was waiting on a red carpet on the
tarmac to meet him. The two leaders later signed a strategic partnership
agreement, promising to come to each other’s aid when facing aggression.
The relationship has blossomed thanks to geopolitical shifts. Mr Kim turned
away from talks with America following the failed summit in Hanoi and
began making fresh overtures to Russia. The response was lukewarm—until
Mr Putin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine floundered and Russia came to
need munitions, one of the few things Mr Kim’s regime has in abundance.
But the implications of the realignment go beyond the weapons trade. “It’s a
mistake to think about it simply as an arms deal,” says Jenny Town of the
Stimson Centre, an American think-tank.

The new agreement is evidence of the deepening relationship, bringing the

two nations closer than at any time since the Cold War. Mr Putin spoke of a
pledge to provide “mutual aid” in case of “aggression” against either
country; Mr Kim said it amounted to “alliance relations”. According to the
text of the treaty published by North Korea’s official news agency, the
commitments echo the guarantees of immediate military assistance
enshrined in a treaty signed between the Soviet Union and North Korea in
1961.

Both leaders cast their partnership as a rebuke to an American-led world

order. For Russia, co-operation with North Korea helps to complicate
American strategy in Asia and to undermine multilateral institutions. Russia
earlier this year vetoed a United Nations resolution to extend the mandate
of the Panel of Experts, the main international body for monitoring
sanctions on North Korea; in Pyongyang Mr Putin called for an end to the
UN sanctions regime (which Russia once supported). Russia also aims to
deter further support for Ukraine, in particular from South Korea, a big
arms producer and American ally, which has so far refrained from providing
direct lethal aid. Mr Putin threatened deeper “military-technical”
partnership with North Korea if Ukraine continued to receive advanced
weapons systems.

Russia has proved a godsend in a time of need for North Korea. Mr Kim
was isolated abroad and diminished at home following the debacle in
Hanoi; years of sanctions and the covid-19 pandemic had not helped, either.
Summitry with Mr Putin has burnished Mr Kim’s image and improved his
diplomatic position. With both Russia and China behind it, North Korea has
little incentive to engage with America. It can also play the two powers off
against each other. “It is the biggest strategic opportunity for North Korea
since the end of the Cold War,” says Ankit Panda of the Carnegie
Endowment for International Peace, a think-tank in Washington. Trade with
Russia has also helped stabilise the North Korean economy. The new
agreement includes a range of economic and cultural measures, including
the construction of a bridge across the river that forms their border, the first
for cars.

In Mr Kim’s and Mr Putin’s discussions, munitions will have been front of

mind. American officials allege that North Korea has shipped 11,000
containers filled with arms to Russia since September. The goods include
artillery shells—South Korea’s defence minister suggests as many as 5m
rounds—as well as Hwasong-11 class ballistic missiles, which have been
linked to dozens of deaths across Ukraine. Much of the material is of
dubious quality, but it has nonetheless helped Russia buy time to ramp up
its own production, says a Ukrainian official. During their latest talks Mr
Kim promised Mr Putin “full support” in the ongoing conflict.

What Russia has given in return stirs much speculation. South Korea’s
government estimates that at least 9,000 containers have been sent from
Russia to North Korea since last September. North Korea’s wish-list
probably includes nuclear-weapons designs, re-entry vehicles for
intercontinental ballistic missiles, as well as technology related to satellites,
submarines and hypersonic weapons. Russia could also provide less flashy
but still important support for North Korea’s conventional forces, such as
spare parts for aircraft or ships, and more modern air defences.

South Korean officials say that Russia has yet to transfer sensitive
technology related to ballistic missiles or nuclear weapons. One area of
more immediate concern is space. Mr Panda reckons that a recent North
Korean satellite launch attempt may have deployed a variant of an engine
used in Russia’s Angara system, which Russia has at a cosmodrome that Mr
Kim toured last autumn. For now, food and fuel probably make up the bulk
of the trade. Mr Putin also gave Mr Kim a Russian-made limousine in
February, and a second one during his latest trip—in pointed defiance of
UN sanctions, which bar the export of luxury goods to North Korea.
Yet such seeming affection belies the limits to the friendship. While Russia
may flout international sanctions, that does not mean it will rush to help
North Korea expand its nuclear arsenal. Russia can extract concessions
without giving up its most sensitive technology; as its own production
ramps up, its need for North Korean shells may wane. South Korea, in turn,
can threaten more support for Ukraine to enforce its red lines.

The partnership will probably last as long as the war in Ukraine. But it may
not endure beyond it. In the long run, South Korea is a more attractive
economic partner; it was Russia’s fifth-largest export destination in 2021.
Russia seems keen to keep the door open: its ambassador to Seoul recently
said he expects South Korea to be “first among unfriendly countries to
return to the ranks of friendly countries”. Few Russians want to be
associated with North Korea, which they consider a synonym for
dysfunction, in contrast to the economic powerhouse that is China.

China itself can also shape how deep Russia’s and North Korea’s co-
operation grows. “It’s not a bilateral relationship—big brother is always
watching from Beijing,” says Fyodor Tertitskiy of Kookmin University in
Seoul. China’s feelings appear mixed. Its diplomats did not stop Russia
from killing off the UN sanctions panel. But during a recent summit with
South Korea and Japan, China endorsed a call for the denuclearisation of
the Korean peninsula, drawing a rebuke from Mr Kim’s regime. China’s
primary interests are to maintain North Korea as a stable buffer state
between itself and American-allied South Korea, as well as to retain
influence over Pyongyang; closer military ties between Russia and North
Korea could threaten these aims.

China also appears keen to avoid the appearance that the three belong to a
single bloc. “China wants to be a global leader, not a rogue,” says Lee
Sang-hyun of the Sejong Institute, a think-tank in Seoul. Mr Putin
reportedly wanted to travel on to Pyongyang earlier, immediately after a
visit to Beijing last month, but China suggested that he should wait. The
picture that emerges is less of a neat authoritarian axis and more of a messy
love triangle. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/asia/2024/06/16/vladimir-putins-dangerous-bromance-with-
kim-jong-un
| Section menu | Main menu |
 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Marriage of equals

Thailand legalises same-sex

marriage
It comes at a time when other freedoms are being curbed
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Bangkok

ON JUNE 18TH government bigwigs, LGBT activists and stars of popular

Thai television shows about gay love partied on the lawn in front of the
prime minister’s offices in Bangkok. Hours earlier the Thai senate voted
through a sweeping marriage-equality bill. Thailand will soon be the first
South-East Asian country to legalise same-sex marriage.

The attendees, some of whom left the party in a motorcade of rainbow tuk-
tuks, helped bring about comprehensive legislation. In Thailand’s civil code
marriage will be described as a pact between two persons, rather than a man
and a woman. Married LGBT couples will also get inheritance and adoption
rights. The Thai king is expected to endorse the bill soon; it becomes law
120 days later.

LGBT couples across Asia hope the Thai bill accelerates acceptance in their
own countries. Some are making strides towards pride. Australia, New
Zealand, Nepal and Taiwan have legalised same-sex marriage in the past
decade or so. India, Hong Kong and Singapore have repealed colonial-era
laws criminalising gay sex. But regional progress is uneven and often slow.

Thailand’s bill passed for several reasons. Most were on show at the
celebration. First is social acceptance, which is boosted in Thailand by
activists, social-media influencers and TV dramas about gay romance
dubbed “Boys’ Love”. Much of Thai society is conservative and
discrimination persists. But some 60% of people support same-sex
marriage, among the highest shares in Asia, according to Pew Research
Centre, a pollster.

Religious tolerance helps. Buddhism, dominant in Thailand, does not

prohibit same-sex relationships. In Indonesia, however, conservative
Muslim groups are powerful and oppose marriage equality. In South Korea
and Singapore, social conservatism is reinforced by influential evangelical
Christian lobbies.

Political will was crucial. Previous Thai governments considered legalising

civil partnerships rather than same-sex marriage. But the new bill, an
amalgam of proposals including one each from the ruling Pheu Thai party
and the liberal Move Forward Party (MFP), had strong bipartisan support.
Both parties campaigned for marriage equality during last year’s election.
Srettha Thavisin, who took office in September, recently became the first
Thai prime minister to march at Bangkok Pride. Most Thai MPs and army-
appointed senators backed the bill.

On the same day as the celebration, however, Thailand’s Constitutional

Court said it would consider a case to disband the MFP over its campaign to
reform the country’s lèse-majesté laws, which forbid criticism of the
powerful royals. The party won last year’s election, but conservatives
helped block it from taking power. Move Forward MPs have been
sentenced to lengthy jail terms. The army-backed establishment appears
intent on shutting down democratic representation, even as Thailand’s
social liberals celebrate a big win. Tunyawat Kamolwongwat, a gay Move
Forward MP, first proposed a same-sex marriage bill to Thailand’s
parliament in June 2020. Four years later, his party faces dissolution. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/asia/2024/06/20/thailand-legalises-same-sex-marriage

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Banyan

The army-backed establishment in

Thailand goes after its enemies
Thaksin Shinawatra’s case is just one of many
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN ONE OF a handful of politically charged cases passing through courts in

Bangkok on June 18th, Thaksin Shinawatra, a former prime minister who
was ousted in an army coup in 2006, was formally indicted for insulting the
monarchy. In ordinary circumstances, that ought not to be surprising. The
conservative establishment close to the monarchy and the army is notorious
for reaching for Thailand’s harsh lèse-majesté law, with sentences of up to
15 years in prison, to hound perceived enemies.

Even during long years in exile Mr Thaksin, at the head of his populist Pheu
Thai movement, has been enemy number one. The charge has to do with a
claim he made nearly a decade ago that the king’s powerful Privy Council
was complicit in yet another coup, in 2014, when his sister was prime
minister.

But the indictment is striking because only last year both sides made a
grubby-looking pact, following a general election in May 2023. The ex-
generals then running the country hoped to manage the election. But a more
liberal movement than Pheu Thai, the Move Forward Party, easily won the
most seats on a platform of breaking up monopolies, ending conscription
and reforming the lèse-majesté law. Pheu Thai came second, and the main
army-backed party a distant third.

Yet the army-controlled senate blocked Move Forward’s bright and

progressive leader, Pita Limjaroenrat, from forming a government. Instead,
the prime minister who emerged was Pheu Thai’s Srettha Thavisin, a
businessman-turned-politician with close ties to the Shinawatras. In August
2023 Mr Thaksin himself returned from exile to a rapturous reception.
Rather than go to prison to serve a long sentence for previous convictions
for corruption, he was allowed to move to a posh Bangkok hospital with
service on par with a resort. Within months Mr Thaksin was out. The bane
of the establishment had become its ally.

The deal made with Mr Thaksin has not been divulged. But his indictment
suggests that he has since crossed a line. Perhaps the establishment thought
he would steer clear of politics. Instead, he has eagerly re-entered political
life, travelling about the country as if campaigning. Meanwhile, a separate
case heard on the same day by the constitutional court was against his ally,
Mr Srettha, brought by a group of conservative senators. They claim that
Mr Srettha broke the law by appointing a convicted man (and another
Thaksin ally) to his cabinet. They call for the prime minister’s removal.

In the event, the courts granted Mr Thaksin bail and called for another
hearing on Mr Srettha for July 10th. That puts off, for now, an immediate
political crisis. Yet the cases, at the least, represent a warning to Mr Thaksin
and his allies that they should not take for granted the political space they
have carved out.
The outcome of a third case, against Move Forward, is perhaps the most
predictable, yet it offers the greatest reflection on the future of Thailand’s
dismal politics. In this case the election commission is seeking to dissolve
the party, on the grounds that its call to change the lèse-majesté law was
treason.

On June 18th the constitutional court appeared to agree. It is likely to rule in

the coming weeks. Move Forward faces dissolution. That would be the
same fate as its predecessor, Future Forward Party, following a strong
showing in the previous election, in 2019. Mr Pita faces the possibility of a
lifetime ban from politics. Other members of his party could also be
banned.

Dissolution would be a slap in the face for over 14m voters. The ban on
Future Forward was the catalyst for widespread student-led protests that
lasted months. Since then, democracy advocates have been hounded. Some
2,000 Thais have been charged or prosecuted, among them over 270 for
lèse-majesté. If not in prison, many activists lie low or have fled abroad.
Even so, others Banyan spoke to said they would continue to fight, largely
through grassroots campaigns for greater democracy and representation.

The establishment’s waging of “lawfare” is wearing for many of the targets,

says Mr Pita. The risks of taking peacefully to the streets are high when
protests become “an excuse for another military coup”. Yet, Mr Pita insists,
supporters of democratic, more accountable government are far from giving
up. Thais now have a taste of the ballot box. There is no going back—a
lesson a reactionary establishment going after its enemies has yet to take on
board.■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/asia/2024/06/20/the-army-backed-establishment-in-thailand-
goes-after-its-enemies

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Governing 1.4bn people

Why India should create dozens of

new states
The success of Telangana, the youngest, shows the benefits
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | HYDERABAD

A DECADE AGO the Union of India welcomed into the fold its newest
member: the state of Telangana. Of India’s then 29 states, it ranked 12th by
population, 11th by area and 10th by per-person income. One of those
rankings has since changed dramatically. By last year Telangana had shot
up to boast the highest per-person income of any decent-size state, behind
only tiny Sikkim and Goa.

That is not all. In the past decade the state’s GDP growth has outperformed
India as a whole. With just 2.7% of India’s population, its share of the
country’s annual output has increased nearly a fifth, to 4.8%. Hyderabad, its
economic powerhouse, is a multilingual, multireligious metropolis with an
abundance of high-tech jobs, including the largest Amazon office anywhere.
Microsoft and Google are expanding their already substantial presence in
the city. It is also a pharma hub. What is Telangana’s recipe for success?

The story of Telangana’s independence starts in 1956, when the region

became part of a new Telugu-speaking state called Andhra Pradesh, or AP
(see map). They shared a language, but the two had different histories,
cuisines and dialects. Tensions soon rose, as Telugus from coastal regions
came to dominate business and politics in Hyderabad, the capital.
Telanganites insisted they were being discriminated against. A decades-long
agitation for statehood culminated in its creation by an act of India’s
Parliament in 2014.

The very fact of being new is one benefit of state formation. In 2000 India
created three new states, hiving off chunks from unwieldy giants. For
several years the new entities did better economically than the rumps they
left behind. Yet that Telangana would thrive was not foretold (none of the
other newish states sustained their early momentum). It was the poorer part
of the state from which it was carved out. Unlike other prosperous southern
states, it is landlocked. It still has only one airport. With the exception of
Hyderabad, it lacks any cities of size. Many foresaw economic difficulties,
even unrest.

K. Chandrashekar Rao, better known as KCR, had led the movement for
statehood. But as the first chief minister of the new entity, he had to
transition to governing. “There were a lot of apprehensions,” says K.T.
Rama Rao, KCR’s son and a minister in that government (he is known,
inevitably, as KTR). People worried that “these guys were running amok in
the street… can they actually come govern?” The new government proved
practical, reassuring businesses that their interests were safe. There were no
reprisals against the Andhraite-dominated business community.

The moment of founding has a clarifying effect, says Suyash Rai of

Carnegie India, a think-tank in Delhi, causing elites to think: “We need to
get our act together…so the state becomes a stable political and economic
entity.” There is immense pressure on leaders to prove themselves, both to
voters and to their detractors. Having something to prove had “a lot” to do
with the government’s thinking, says KTR.

Another advantage of new states is that they may have greater leeway to
experiment. Upon creation, Telangana immediately set about making itself
attractive to investors. Many Indian states eager to rise up ease-of-doing-
business rankings promise “single-window clearance” for businesses to deal
with the bureaucracy. But the process is still a painful mess, with multiple
departments working to their own timelines. Telangana’s innovation was to
do away with many requirements and promise approvals within 15 days.
Such ideas were “only possible because we were a new state, and there was
no legacy to pull you down”, says Jayesh Ranjan, a senior bureaucrat who
was involved in drafting the policies. “Everything was a clean slate.”

Lastly, carving smaller chunks out of India’s bigger states—undivided AP

was the fourth-largest by area—allows politicians and officials to more
carefully tackle local issues. On a practical level, it also eases travel and
administration. In Telangana the government focused on long-standing
grouses: power, water and funds. Electricity generation capacity expanded
from 7.8GW to 19.5GW between 2014 and 2023. Several projects to boost
water for drinking and irrigation were put in motion. Welfare schemes for
farmers were rolled out.

To be sure, Telangana had an advantage: Hyderabad. N. Chandrababu

Naidu, chief minister of the undivided state between 1995 and 2004, had
positioned himself as a tech-savvy leader, earning the city the nickname
“Cyberabad”. KCR’s government doubled down on the tech-first strategy.
According to a state-government report, IT exports more than quadrupled to
2.4trn rupees ($29bn) between 2014 and 2023, and IT jobs nearly tripled to
900,000.

Yet the dominance of Hyderabad alienated rural voters. Per-person income

in its tech district is over twice the state average and five times that of its
poorest district. Undernutrition among children has risen. Telangana’s
voters showed the door to KCR at elections last year. He should have seen it
coming: 20 years ago undivided AP booted out the urbane Mr Naidu in
favour of a rival promising more evenly spread prosperity. (The rump of AP
also grew robustly since bifurcation but lavished spending on handouts. Its
fiscal deficit is nearly twice Telangana’s. This month voters brought Mr
Naidu back from opposition.)

Telangana’s new government, led by the Congress party, has made it a

priority to encourage growth elsewhere. It plans to promote investment
outside Hyderabad. At the same time it has signalled that it will not reverse
policies that are working well. Telangana’s record as a new state is
impressive. But the real work to ensure its long-term prosperity—and
strengthen the case for new states—is only beginning. ■
Stay on top of our India coverage by signing up to Essential India, our free
weekly newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/asia/2024/06/20/why-india-should-create-dozens-of-new-
states

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

China
China and Russia have chilling plans for the Arctic
Picking through the ice :: The two autocracies dream of creating a “polar silk road”

China wants to export education, too

School spirit :: It sees international schools as a service to expatriates—and a source of soft
power

China doesn’t want people flaunting their wealth

Leave the Hermès at home :: Especially not on the internet

China’s revealing struggle with childhood myopia

Chaguan :: Anxious parents don’t want to let children play outdoors and do less schoolwork

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Picking through the ice

China and Russia have chilling

plans for the Arctic
The two autocracies dream of creating a “polar silk road”
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | KIRKENES

FOUR HUNDRED kilometres north of the Arctic Circle, in the Norwegian

port of Kirkenes, there are still some who dream that this sleepy town will
one day become an important shipping hub. They see it as the western end
of a new, faster sea route from China to Europe, made possible by the
impact of global warming on ice-filled waters off the Siberian coast. With
war raging in Ukraine, this ambition now sounds fanciful. China’s support
for Russia is fuelling Western distrust of the Asian power’s “polar silk road”
plans. But China is not retreating from the Arctic. It still sees a chance to
boost its influence there, and to benefit from the area’s wealth of natural
resources.
Rising temperatures in the Arctic are slowly opening up new possibilities
for transport. But geopolitics are changing the region faster. Kirkenes feels
this strongly. It is just 15 minutes’ drive from the Russian border. Tourists
can enjoy a “king crab safari” that takes them by boat right up to it, with
eponymous crustaceans caught along the way and cooked for the visitors
(the massive non-native species was introduced by the Soviets). Russians,
though, no longer cross into Kirkenes for shopping and crab feasts. On May
29th Norway closed the border crossing to day-trippers from the other side.
The conflict in Ukraine has cast a chill over the town. There were “tensions
in the air” in October when Russia’s envoy in Kirkenes laid a wreath at a
monument to the Soviet troops who liberated the town from the Nazis
towards the end of the second world war, the Barents Observer, a local
online newspaper, reported. Politicians in Kirkenes had urged him not to do
so.
In such a climate it is hard to imagine how China’s Arctic silk-road project,
unveiled in 2017, might take off. It had sounded a great idea. By using the
Arctic’s Northern Sea Route (see map), shipments from Shanghai to
Hamburg could take a mere 18 days, compared with about 35 days needed
for the route via the Suez Canal—or ten days longer than that if rerouted
around the Cape of Good Hope to avoid attacks by the Houthi rebels in
Yemen (there have been dozens against ships in the Red Sea since the war
in Gaza began last year).

Kirkenes had hoped to sell itself as the first ice-free port that container ships
from China would reach after traversing the Russian segment. They could
use it as a place to offload cargo onto vessels that would sail on to other
ports in Europe. Or they could transfer their goods onto trains that would
take them much faster into European markets. Chinese businesspeople were
keen, says Rune Rafaelsen, who was the mayor of Kirkenes from 2015 to
2021. Were all this to happen, northern Europe would change from a mere
“end point” of the flow of goods from China into a “gateway” for them,
enthused Qiushi, the Chinese Communist Party’s main theoretical journal,
in 2019. The “silk road on ice” (as China calls its polar transportation plan
in Chinese) would become a “new platform” for the Belt and Road
Initiative, it said, referring to the country’s spree of port, railway, road and
other infrastructure-building around the world.

A big problem is that Kirkenes has no rail connection with anywhere in

Europe. There had been talk of building one with neighbouring Finland. Its
border is only 50km away; the line would join the Finnish rail network in
the city of Rovaniemi, “the official home of Santa Claus”, 500km to the
south. Even before the all-out Russian invasion of Ukraine the Finnish
government had got cold feet about this. In 2019 it published a report
expressing doubt that such a line could be profitable, let alone acceptable to
indigenous reindeer-herders, the Sami, whose land it would traverse. Now,
says the Barents Observer’s editor, Thomas Nilsen, the Finnish authorities
“don’t want to subsidise and build a railway line so close to the Russian
border”, given the area’s “geopolitical instability”.

Frosty relations

Western governments have long been cautious about China’s Arctic

activities, worrying that the country’s growing economic influence in the
region might give it political sway and open doors to a Chinese security
presence that would add to the Arctic challenge that Russia already poses.
RAND, a think-tank in Washington, notes that since 2018 China’s
“diplomatic activism” in Greenland, an Arctic dependency of Denmark, has
waned. That is probably a result of successful efforts by Denmark and
America to block Chinese attempts to invest in sensitive infrastructure and
mining there (Greenland hosts an American airbase with missile-warning
and space-surveillance systems).

The war in Ukraine has compounded Western scepticism about any big
project involving China, which calls itself neutral but also boasts a “no-
limits” friendship with Russia and is giving huge support to Russia’s
defence industry. The conflict has led to the freezing of activities of the
Arctic Council, a talking-shop involving the eight countries with Arctic
territory, which China joined as an observer in 2013. (In a white paper in
2018 China called itself a “near-Arctic state”, though its northernmost
provincial capital, Harbin, is on the same latitude as Venice.) All of the
council’s members, except Russia, are now members of NATO, Finland and
Sweden having joined the defence pact in the past 15 months. In Arctic
affairs, China finds itself even more of an outsider.

The frustration this has caused in China is clear. In Russian Studies, a

Chinese academic journal, two Chinese scholars, Yue Peng and Gu
Zhengsheng, wrote in February that Russia was growing weaker in the high
north. “The original balance of the Arctic has been disrupted, and the scales
in the Arctic region are tipping towards the Western countries.” China’s
image in the region, they said, faced “a significant risk of decline”. This
could have a “huge negative impact on China’s future participation in Arctic
affairs”, the academics suggested.

Russia controls about half of the Arctic’s shoreline and a huge share of its
oil and gas reserves. For now, Chinese ships may not be pushing to use the
Northern Sea Route (Russia charges stiff fees for the use of its icebreakers).
Shippers prefer predictable schedules: for all the Arctic’s warming, journey
times along that passage can vary as a result of ice and fog. Chinese firms,
however, see gains to be made in Russia as it turns to Asia to make up for
the loss of Western markets. They include involvement in port construction,
oil and gas projects and the building of ships for Russia to sail such
resources eastward (China is a big buyer of Russian energy). Russia may
once have been wary of getting China involved in developing its Arctic
coast. Now it welcomes Chinese help. “Russia is very keen to have them,
because they have no other options,” says Kjell Stokvik of the Centre for
High North Logistics in Kirkenes. “So in a way for China, they’re in a very
good seat.”

There are risks, as Messrs Yue and Gu noted, such as fallout from Western
sanctions. They urged China to be “cautious and low-profile” in its
approach to Arctic co-operation with Russia. However, during a visit by
Russia’s leader, Vladimir Putin, to Beijing in May the two countries vowed
to “promote the Arctic route as an important international transport
corridor” and encourage their companies to “strengthen co-operation in
increasing Arctic route traffic volume and building Arctic route logistics
infrastructure”. The silk road on ice is slippery, but it retains its allure. ■

Subscribers can sign up to Drum Tower, our new weekly newsletter, to

understand what the world makes of China—and what China makes of the
world.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/china/2024/06/19/china-and-russia-have-chilling-plans-for-
the-arctic

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

School spirit

China wants to export education,

too
It sees international schools as a service to expatriates—and a source of
soft power
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

ABOUT 500 PUPILS study at the Chinese School Dubai. Most are children
of Chinese expatriates who have moved to the United Arab Emirates for
work. At the school’s swish suburban campus, pupils follow much the same
curriculum they would at home. On one wall hangs a bland quote from
China’s leader, Xi Jinping, picked out in shiny gold. The institution, which
has more than doubled in size since its opening in 2020, is a pilot project:
the first of several international schools the Communist Party talks of
setting up in big cities. In 2019 officials said they had asked Chinese
diplomats in 45 countries, including Britain and America, to explore the
possibility of creating such institutions.

American, British and French schools are easy to find in most big capital
cities. But ones that teach the Chinese curriculum remain sparse, even
though more than 10m Chinese nationals are thought to live abroad. The
government fears this is discouraging Chinese from working for its
companies overseas. Children who swap domestic classrooms for foreign
ones, even for a bit, can struggle when they go back to China. That mattered
less when high-fliers all clamoured for spots in Western universities (which
are best won with Western qualifications). But clever kids are increasingly
competing for places in top Chinese colleges, so they seek out Chinese
credentials.

The party’s enthusiasm for international schools is also driven by a desire to

project soft power. Officials seem to believe the institutions might
eventually attract pupils from China’s diaspora and beyond. That is not a
wild idea. French citizens make up only about 40% of the students at their
country’s overseas lycées. Three-quarters of the youngsters at international
schools branded “American” hail from outside the United States. In 2020
the Chinese government said it was considering creating an “international
curriculum”, which might make Chinese schooling more relevant to people
with no plans to live in China. Should that happen, it would in theory
compete with existing degree programmes such as the International
Baccalaureate.

Government-backed projects such as the school in Dubai are just one of the
ways Chinese activities in international schooling are expanding, according
to a report by Venture Education, a consultancy. Lately overcapacity at
home has prompted companies that run private schools in China to invest
abroad, particularly in Asia. The schools they create tend to offer whichever
flavour of education is most in demand in their target markets. In time it
seems likely that these companies will run more experiments with Chinese-
language instruction or Chinese curriculums—especially if the party
encourages it.

All this means growing competition for existing international schools.

Many of them enroll a lot of Chinese pupils, says Julian Fisher of Venture
Education. There is no guarantee that the Chinese interlopers will play fair.
It is possible to imagine state-owned firms incentivising employees to
enroll their children in state-favoured institutions. If it were insinuated that
Chinese international schools offer privileged access to the best Chinese
universities, that might give them an additional boost.

The expansion of Chinese-curriculum schools will doubtless also provoke

fresh angst about the dismal propaganda China requires its teachers to
spout. To keep its hosts happy, the school in Dubai seems to have
downgraded some of the “patriotic education” that is usually foisted on
Chinese pupils. But there is a high risk that, under pressure from inflexible
apparatchiks in Beijing, new Chinese schools end up navigating such
flashpoints poorly. Expect some playground scraps. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/china/2024/06/20/china-wants-to-export-education-too

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Leave the Hermès at home

China doesn’t want people

flaunting their wealth
Especially not on the internet
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | BEIJING

MAO ZEDONG persecuted the rich. But his successor as paramount leader,
Deng Xiaoping, decided to “let some people get rich first”, as he launched
market-oriented reforms. Now a growing number of Chinese are rich—and
the pendulum has swung back, with the government cracking down on
ostentatious displays of wealth.

Online influencers are the state’s main target. Until recently, these (mostly
young) men and women flaunted their luxury goods to millions of
followers. In recent months, though, many have had their social-media
accounts suspended by China’s internet regulators.
Among the most famous of these personalities is a man called Wang
Hongquanxing. Known as “China’s Kim Kardashian”, he has reportedly
said that he would never leave his house without clothes, jewellery and
accessories worth less than 10m yuan ($1.4m). In May state media reported
that he had been banned from China’s top social-media platforms along
with dozens of other influencers.

This is not the first time that influencers have found themselves in the
government’s cross-hairs. They were also targeted in 2021, when China’s
leader, Xi Jinping, launched his “common prosperity” campaign. That effort
aimed to chasten the ultra-rich and reduce inequality. People and companies
with a lot of money were encouraged to contribute more to society. The
slapping down of Jack Ma, China’s best-known billionaire, was seen as a
warning to the country’s other plutocrats.

None of this is stopping people from getting rich in China, according to a

report by Knight Frank, a property consultancy based in London. It tracks
the number of “high-net-worth individuals” (defined as those with assets of
$1m or more). The global number is expected to rise by 28% between now
and 2028. But in China it is expected to increase by 47%. Big multinational
banks say they are increasing their wealth-management services for Chinese
clients.

Yet luxury brands are lowering prices as unsold inventory piles up. This
probably has little do with the crackdown on influencers. Amid a sluggish
economy, Chinese consumers are simply becoming more frugal, spending
less on Balenciaga bags and Gucci wallets.

Some luxury brands are putting on a brave face. Louis Vuitton, a French
fashion house, has just reopened its renovated boutique in the city of
Guangzhou. The CEO of Tissot, a Swiss luxury-watch company, was
recently in Shanghai for a product launch. Zegna, a stylish clothing brand,
has opened a posh new café in Shanghai. Don’t expect Chinese influencers
to do much promotion though.■

Subscribers can sign up to Drum Tower, our new weekly newsletter, to

understand what the world makes of China—and what China makes of the
world.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/china/2024/06/20/china-doesnt-want-people-flaunting-their-
wealth

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Chaguan

China’s revealing struggle with

childhood myopia
Anxious parents don’t want to let children play outdoors and do less
schoolwork
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

NO ETHICS COMMITTEE would let researchers trap millions of children

indoors for months, just to test the effects on their eyesight. Yet China’s
strict zero-covid rules—notably a nationwide lockdown that closed many
schools between January and May 2020, leaving children studying online
with few chances to leave their homes—created just such a natural
experiment.

The results are in and they are “dramatic”, says Lan Weizhong, an
ophthalmologist at Central South University in Changsha. After pandemic
lockdowns ended, mass eye tests in several Chinese cities detected spikes in
rates of childhood myopia, or fuzzy sight at a distance. That confirms the
widely held scientific belief that the healthy growth of young eyes is
impeded by too much “near work”, including time spent reading books or
watching screens, and by a lack of time outdoors, says Professor Lan.

The findings are being studied closely in China, where rates of myopia have
surged over the past quarter-century. More than half of Chinese children
and adolescents are short-sighted, with rates exceeding 80% among high-
school graduates, though numbers have dipped a bit of late. In 2018 Xi
Jinping, the supreme leader, declared myopia a “major concern” that
threatens children’s health and China’s strength (fighter pilots and
firefighters need perfect sight, state media noted).

Over the years many countries have treated short-sightedness as an

“inconvenience” that can be fixed by visiting an optician, says Wong Tien
Yin, an ophthalmologist and head of Tsinghua Medicine, a recently opened
health-care and medical school at China’s foremost science university. But
after three decades of urbanisation and academic pressure on school pupils,
China has as many as 800m people with myopia. Perhaps one-tenth of those
have “high myopia”. For now, such severe cases can manage with the help
of thick glasses or laser surgery. But as they age, a subset will be blinded by
complications from myopia. “This requires a massive public-health
response,” says Professor Wong.

In a familiar approach, central leaders have told provinces and local

governments to take myopia seriously and established a few core principles.
Since 2018 teachers have been told to reduce workloads, abolishing
homework for the youngest pupils in primary school. After-school tutoring,
once a gigantic industry, was banned in 2021. Chinese leaders have called
for children to spend more time outdoors and less time playing video
games. Otherwise, though, local governments are free to experiment.

It is hard to persuade busy, exam-obsessed Chinese parents to let children

play outside, alas. As a result, many places are resorting to technology.
Wenzhou, a prosperous commercial hub, has installed lamps that mimic
natural light in nearly 28,000 classrooms. A pilot scheme in Chengdu, a
western city, uses wallpaper in schools that mimics the complexity of
natural scenery. Some researchers are intrigued by special glasses and
contact lenses that train young eyes in helpful ways, or by atropine, a
medicine applied as eye drops that seems to slow myopia’s progression.

Feicheng, an agricultural city of just under a million people in the eastern

province of Shandong, stands out in two ways. For one thing, scientists
worldwide have cited a study based on eye tests given to tens of thousands
of Feicheng schoolchildren before and after the pandemic. These found that
myopia rates had tripled among six-year-olds during their months in
lockdown, though the vision of some of those children later recovered.
Seven- and eight-year-olds saw smaller but still significant spikes in
myopia. For another thing, in order to protect those eyes, Feicheng primary
schools are putting their faith in old-fashioned physical education. Children
are sent outside for two hours each day for gymnastic drills, skipping,
volleyball, tai-chi, dragon dancing and more.

A tree-shaded country town, Feicheng is known for growing tasty peaches.

It is also a fine place to see how, for public policy in China to advance, lofty
collective goals must align with individual incentives. Wang An, a section
chief from the Feicheng education and sports bureau, has established an
annual contest between the city’s primary schools for the best “Big
Sunshine Break Time”. He calls it “a very serious problem” that some
parents are wary of letting children join sports teams, fearing that it will
hurt their class rankings. In response he tells parents about talented student-
athletes with top grades. He also recruits fathers and mothers who work at
local hospitals to give talks about health to fellow parents.

An eye-opening visit

Lei Peng, the headmaster of Feicheng’s Shiyan Primary School, leaves little
to chance. Chaguan is welcomed by saluting security guards to the large
campus, with 2,800 pupils. Your columnist is shown a well-equipped
science block, complete with a drone-flying arena. He watches art and
music lessons, and is swiftly beaten at ping-pong by a small girl with a
killer top-spin. Not one of the children on show is wearing glasses: a
surprise given that over a quarter of Feicheng primary-school pupils have
myopia.
Pupils’ eyes are getting better and better, Mr Lei assures his foreign visitor,
smoothly. He credits Mr Xi with showing the way on eye health. Then he
offers a moment of candour, explaining how important it was when
authorities changed how schools, teachers and education officials are
evaluated. Shandong province was a pioneer when it included children’s
health—including eye health—in school-performance reviews. Now eye
health is a metric used nationwide. Only once exams are no longer the sole
basis for judging success will teachers, students and their parents “dare to
ease up”, says Mr Lei. It is a revealing comment from this shrewd 38-year
veteran of the teaching profession. Even in quiet spots like Feicheng, China
is a ferociously competitive place. Understand that and the country comes
into focus. ■

Subscribers can sign up to Drum Tower, our new weekly newsletter, to

understand what the world makes of China—and what China makes of the
world.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/china/2024/06/20/chinas-revealing-struggle-with-childhood-
myopia

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Middle East & Africa

Is a Palestinian state a fantasy?
From chaos to country :: Amid war in Gaza, the prospect is at once more relevant than ever
and more distant

Israel’s northern border is ablaze

War in the Middle East :: Can it fight Hamas and Hizbullah simultaneously?

Private firms are driving a revolution in solar power in

Africa
The light continent :: Unreliable grids and falling costs are persuading companies to go off-
grid

A remarkable new era begins in South Africa

The rainbow nation’s election :: A national unity government can save democracy and the
economy

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

From chaos to country

Is a Palestinian state a fantasy?

Amid war in Gaza, the prospect is at once more relevant than ever and
more distant
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN THE DIPLOMACY around the forever war between Israel and the
Palestinians, it is customary to describe a Palestinian state as a necessity.
Consider the latest Gaza ceasefire proposal, backed by America and all the
other countries on the UN’S 15-strong Security Council bar Russia, which
abstained. It outlines the global community’s “unwavering” commitment to
a two-state solution “where two democratic states, Israel and Palestine, live
side by side in peace”. It also insists that Gaza must be unified with the
West Bank under the authority of the Palestinian Authority (PA). Most
countries believe that Palestine should be recognised as a full-fledged state
immediately, before any peace deal is struck between Israel and the
Palestinians. On May 10th 143 countries at the UN supported this idea. On
May 28th they were joined by Ireland, Norway and Spain.

Some visions of this new state are inspiring. Palestine Emerging, a study by
100 experts released in April, foresees Gaza and the West Bank by 2050 as
a single entity of 13m people, up from around 5m today, connected by a
railway, replete with nature reserves and an airport. The devastation in Gaza
creates a clean slate on which a new city will be built, with a seaport on an
island linked to the mainland by a causeway. Palestine would prosper as a
trading entrepot, its currency pegged to the dollar, underwritten by the rich
Gulf states. Yet when you look away from such hopeful blueprints, the gap
between the dream and reality is crushingly large.

Palestinian statehood last seemed imminent a quarter of a century ago. The

Oslo accords signed between Israel and the Palestinians in 1993 and 1995
created a semi-autonomous body, the PA, in Gaza and the West Bank. Had
everything gone to plan, a final accord would have turned the PA into a
sovereign state with fixed borders in 1999. But the assassination in 1995 of
Yitzhak Rabin, Israel’s prime minister, by a Jewish extremist removed one
of the most forceful advocates of peace. The process unravelled further
amid a surge in bus-bombings and other terrorist attacks on Israeli and
Palestinian civilians and a rapid expansion of Jewish settlements in the West
Bank, which was meant to form the core of the new Palestinian state.

When talks brokered by America over a two-state deal broke down in 2000,
a second intifada (uprising) erupted, which burned until 2005 and saw
Israeli tanks return to Palestinian cities. Then in 2007, almost two years
after Israel had dismantled its settlements in Gaza and withdrawn its troops,
the armed Islamists of Hamas, who won a general election covering both
territories in 2006, took control of the coastal enclave. Yet the PA has
limped on as a political mutant, partly as a government and partly an
instrument of Israeli occupation, its remit limited to the West Bank. Many
countries recognise Palestine as a state, but the UN Security Council does
not. Without clear borders or its own army and police in sole charge of
security, it lacks some essential characteristics.

Since Oslo the Palestinian territories have changed a great deal, even before
the destruction of Gaza. In some respects these changes make it a more
credible state than it was in the 1990s. For example, Palestinians spend 2.4
more years in education than they did two decades ago, making them one of
the most literate populations in the Middle East. In the early 1990s Gaza
and the West Bank scored 0.53 on the UN’s Human Development Index
(one is the highest), based on health, wealth and education. By 2022 it had
climbed to 0.716, ahead of Morocco.

The share of imports that come from Israel has fallen from 79% in 1995-99
to 57% in 2022, making the West Bank less dependent on Israeli inputs. On
the ground and at international forums like the World Economic Forum in
Davos, the PA has acquired institutional heft. In May it marked 30 years in
existence. Its tenacity in the face of adversity has heightened its aspirations.
“The jacket [of Oslo] no longer fits us,” says Husam Zomlot, the
Palestinian ambassador in London. But 30 years after Oslo, the would-be
state faces glaring problems: a faltering economy, territorial fragmentation,
lack of security and autocracy.

Start with the economy. With a GDP of around $18.6bn in 2023 the
Palestinian territories are the world’s 127th biggest economy. In areas of the
West Bank under the PA’s control income per person is 43% of the global
average, on a par with Iraq. There are islands of prosperity. In Ramallah, the
seat of government, gated communities and shopping complexes abound
and plenty of new houses and apartment blocks have risen up. And however
flawed the PA has been, its economic performance far exceeds Hamas’s in
its besieged enclave of Gaza. On the eve of Hamas’s attack on October 7th,
incomes per person in the West Bank were five times higher than those in
Gaza. Unemployment in the third quarter of 2023 was 13% in the West
Bank, compared with 45% in Gaza.

Yet for all that, the economy is fragile and dominated by Israel. In a report
before the October 7th attacks the IMF described a “fiscal crisis” in which
the PA was massively in arrears. The Palestinian territories recorded a
current-account deficit of around 12% of GDP, with imports far exceeding
formal exports.

The Palestinian economy depends heavily on Israel. Though the PA has

improved its own tax collection, some 8% of its 15bn shekels ($4bn) of
annual revenue comes from foreign aid and 67% comes from taxes that
Israel gathers on its behalf. About 90% of exports go to Israel and more
than 180,000 Palestinians, around 23% of the West Bank’s workforce, were
employed there before October 7th. After the Hamas attack Israel cancelled
almost all the work permits previously granted to Palestinians, suspended
the transfer of tax revenue and tightly restricted movement out of and
within the West Bank. “It’s the Palestinians’ worst economic crisis since
1967,” says Yitzhak Gal, an Israeli economist. To these immediate hits
should be added the costs of rebuilding Gaza, which the UN reckons could
be $40bn (estimates vary widely), and providing for its people. Foreign
donors may pay for much of this. Even so, the PA’s finances might buckle if
it were to assume responsibility for Gaza.

Security is just as bad. The PA has survived in part because Israel needs it
to. In 1987, when the Palestinians unleashed their first intifada, Israel had to
send in lots of troops to suppress the unrest. For most of the past three
decades, however, the Palestinians have largely policed themselves and
maintained order in the West Bank.

Unsteady state

Yet if one definition of a state is determined by whether it has defined

borders and a monopoly on the use of force within them, then the PA may
be further away from statehood than it was in the years after Oslo. The
number of Israeli settlers living in the West Bank and East Jerusalem has
risen from roughly 250,000 to about 695,000 today. Maps show the West
Bank is far more densely peppered with settler outposts. Palestinians are cut
off from East Jerusalem, their putative capital, and from Gaza. They are
splintered by Oslo’s division of the West Bank into Areas A, B and C (see
map), denoting differing levels of control by Israel and the PA. “They’re
increasingly fragmented into bantustans,” says Alon Cohen Lifshitz,
director of an Israeli planning watchdog, Bimkom, referring to the
nominally self-governing territories under apartheid in South Africa.
Since the Hamas attack last October, Israel has killed over 500 Palestinians
in the West Bank and Israeli checkpoints have stifled movement around
Palestinian cities. Journeys that should take half an hour can take three.
Israel has suspended security co-ordination with the PA. And increasingly
Israel treats Area A, where the PA is supposed to have full control, as if it
were Area C, where Israel has it. Israel regularly sends troops on raids into
cities such as Ramallah and Jenin to suppress militant groups the PA has
struggled to control, including those loyal to Hamas. Palestinians say these
raids are intended to weaken the PA’s hold and erode public confidence in
it.

Then there is the PA’s autocratic leadership. Superficially the political

system is stable and looks more or less legitimate. “Of course partial
occupation is better than full occupation,” says a Palestinian official. Many
appreciate the sense of order that the PA brings. Yet there is a vast lack of
accountability and the legitimacy is questionable. In November Mahmoud
Abbas, the supine 88-year-old Palestinian president, will have ruled for 20
of the PA’s 30 years. Under Mr Abbas, Fatah, the main faction in the West
Bank, forsook the violence of the second intifada.

Yet Mr Abbas has turned a fledgling democracy into a dictatorship. In 2006,

a year after he was elected president, he held a parliamentary election which
Hamas won (getting 44% of the vote to Fatah’s 41%). But he dismissed a
Hamas-led government, dissolved parliament and has postponed all
subsequent elections ever since. He has purged his institutions of critics and
has repeatedly rejected proposals for a national unity government, which
might have reunified Gaza and the West Bank, for fear that a deal with
Hamas might cost him Western support. Detractors dub the PA “al-amila”,
the agent [of Israel].

Years of autocratic rule have entrenched cronyism. “Fatah has become a

company,” says a journalist in Ramallah. Corruption erodes public support.
The PA pays its bills selectively and stuffs its administration with party
cadres. Lamis al-Alami, a former education minister, says she sacked
thousands of politically appointed teachers. After she left office, she says,
they promptly resumed their posts.
Since the attacks of October 7th there have been changes. In March Mr
Abbas appointed a new prime minister, Mohammad Mustafa, a former
economics adviser. But America has backed away from trying to force Mr
Abbas to surrender some of his powers to his prime minister and
government. The prospect of elections is remote. Mr Abbas and his Arab
and Western backers are wary of democracy in the West Bank. In a survey
published on June 12th by PSR, a Palestinian research body, only 8% of
West Bankers say they have been satisfied by Mr Abbas’s performance in
this war; 94% want him to resign. Some 41% of respondents say they
support Hamas, a notably higher share than before the war, compared with
17% who support Fatah.

The economic fragility, insecurity and political weakness of the PA suggest

it would be able to play a limited role in Gaza if asked to take control
immediately. It retains a presence in Gaza’s hospitals and runs its registry of
births and deaths. It has 37,000 employees on its Gaza payroll, including
19,000 in the security forces, though most have stayed at home for almost
two decades under Mr Abbas’s orders not to co-operate with Hamas. The
PA mulls plans to train thousands of security people in Jordan and send
them to Gaza. But neither Israel nor Hamas has included the PA in ceasefire
negotiations or in providing aid. When the PA tried to distribute supplies
independently of Hamas, six of its men were killed.

The bigger question for many Palestinians is not whether the PA can
reimpose its rule in Gaza, but whether it can survive in the West Bank
without a political horizon and faced with Israel’s intransigence. Israelis
have steadily become more hostile to Palestinian rights. In May Pew, a
pollster, found that only 26% of Israeli adults said the Jewish state could
coexist peacefully with a future Palestine state, down from 50% a decade
ago.

For some Palestinians the status quo is a lesser evil than provoking their
foes. “It’s not the time for resistance,” says the owner of a new café in the
West Bank city of Nablus who was once a militant. “We’d just give the
settlers an opportunity to destroy what we’ve built.” For others, though, the
attractions of violence are rising. “If the result of peaceful resistance is
continued occupation, then we should reconsider our options,” says one of
Ramallah’s biggest businessmen. “It’s the first time anyone forced Israel
back from the border and got 200 soldiers to surrender,” says an Abbas
loyalist of the Hamas attack. The target of violence could be Israel, the
settlers or the PA. And the latest impulses of the Palestinian electorate are
alarming. A recent PSR survey found that 62% of West Bankers favoured an
armed struggle. Two-thirds of Palestinians thought the Hamas attacks were
“correct”; 91% denied that Hamas had committed atrocities against
civilians.

Some inside Fatah have considered marching on Mr Abbas’s fortress in

Ramallah to topple him. Jihadist notions of takfir, or excommunication, are
gaining ground, says a former member of Islamic Jihad, a militant faction,
in Nablus. Some shabab (young men), he says, are swayed by the idea that
the PA is an apostate regime. So they refuse to pay taxes and they clash
with the security forces. Small groups are plotting attacks on Israel and its
settlers.

If violence is one way for Palestinians to disrupt the status quo, another is
diplomacy and, in particular, the calls for the immediate international
recognition of a Palestinian state. Though three-quarters of the world’s
countries have recognised Palestinian statehood, America and most main
European powers have not. One argument for recognition is symbolic.
Governments also argue that by signalling support for the two-state plan
they can prevent extremists on both sides from killing off a two-state
settlement. It is less plausible that recognition will have any immediate
effect on the ground.

State of change

Michael Sfard, an Israeli lawyer, sees little changing. “Recognition of

Palestine doesn’t end the occupation or change the validity of the Oslo
accords,” he says. Yet others think it would have rapid effects, including on
the settlers. “All nationalities including Israelis would have to apply to live
in our state and abide by our laws. This can’t happen as a fait accompli,”
says Mr Zomlot. “The resources—land, water, minerals—are taken from
our state and must be taxed.” With clearer legal sovereignty, Palestinians
could seek to tap their own resources, like offshore gas, and sign defence
pacts. Some argue a new state could even seek to take control of the border
crossings with Jordan and Egypt.

Yet the interconnectedness of Israel with its settlements and the West Bank
means that a unilateral act of separation could be incendiary, provoking an
Israeli response. “If the UN [Security Council] recognises a Palestine state,
the Oslo accords would be rendered irrelevant because they deal with
something less than a state,” says Itzik Bam, a settler lawyer and ally of
Bezalel Smotrich, Israel’s ultranationalist finance minister. “We’ll stop
transferring tax money that we collect for you, cancel all your VIP cards for
freedom of movement and watch you collapse.”

As the war in Gaza drags on, the prospect of a Palestinian state is at once
more relevant than ever and yet more distant. Trust on both sides has been
shattered by the Hamas attacks and the Israeli response. The path towards
statehood would require new leadership of the PA (or a successor
organisation) and the rebuilding of its democratic credentials; a plan for
what to do in Gaza when Israel’s invasion ends and for its reunification with
the West Bank; and a new centrist government in Israel ready to negotiate
an end to the conflict with the Palestinians. Outsiders would have to apply
heavy pressure on both sides to work towards an agreement. Israel and the
Palestinians would have to compromise. The notion of a democratic
Palestinian state alongside Israel is still a dream. But the alternative, of
ceaseless Palestinian atrophy, is one that offers the region only misery,
extremism and war. ■

Sign up to the Middle East Dispatch, a weekly newsletter that keeps you in
the loop on a fascinating, complex and consequential part of the world.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/middle-east-
and-africa/2024/06/18/is-a-palestinian-state-a-fantasy

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

War in the Middle East

Israel’s northern border is ablaze

Can it fight Hamas and Hizbullah simultaneously?
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | KIRYAT SHMONA

RED BANNERS that hang across bridges above the main roads leading
north in Israel contain one word: “Abandoned”. It is repeated by the few
residents remaining in the near-deserted towns and villages near the border,
which have been under fire for eight months from Hizbullah, the Iran-
backed movement that controls much of Lebanon. It is also an accusation
levelled at the government of Binyamin Netanyahu, Israel’s prime minister,
which has failed to find a way to stop the barrage of missiles and drones
that Hizbullah began firing on October 8th, the day after Hamas’s attack on
Israel. Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of Hizbullah, recently vowed to
continue the attacks, insisting that his group is a “support front” for Hamas.
“We’re like ducks in Nasrallah’s shooting-range,” says Gidi Sayada, a
winemaker from Safsufa, a village that has not been evacuated. “My
daughters have been sleeping in the safe-room of our house for the past
eight months.” Hizbullah has shelled mainly targets close by the border and
military bases. Israel has responded with targeted strikes on Hizbullah
people, in some cases deep inside Lebanon.
Though neither side has unleashed anything near its full arsenal, the cross-
border fire has increased since mid-May and last week reached its most
intense level since the start of the war. Using data from a NASA satellite
system and a machine-learning algorithm to track war-related fires, The
Economist has counted the number of strikes occurring on both sides of the
border (see map and chart). In the week ending on June 16th there were 640
such strikes, 254 of them on June 13th alone.

Though a measure of calm has returned in recent days, perhaps due to Eid
al-Adha, a Muslim holiday, the fighting has upended lives in Lebanon and
Israel. Early in the war Israel evacuated people living within 2km of the
border. Some 60,000 have yet to return. Across the border in southern
Lebanon more than 90,000 have also fled.

In numerical terms, Israel has caused more damage to Hizbullah, killing

over 300 of its operatives during this period as well as around 100 civilians;
28 people have been killed in Israel. On June 12th an Israeli air strike killed
Taleb Sami Abdallah, a senior Hizbullah member in command of its forces
in southern Lebanon. But these strikes have not lessened the desperation
among Israelis in the north.
The continuing bombardment and the evacuation of civilians in Israel are
leading to increasing calls for Mr Netanyahu’s government to act more
forcefully against Hizbullah. “It’s hell here right now, so we may as well
have an all-out war with Lebanon,” says Danielle Levy, an exhausted police
volunteer from Safed. This is a sentiment widely heard in the region. The
political pressure on Mr Netanyahu is particularly intense because many of
the civilians most affected are among his core supporters. In Kiryat
Shmona, the largest border town, three-quarters of the electorate voted for
Likud, Mr Netanyahu’s party, or its allies in the last election, but it is now
impossible to hear a good word said about the prime minister. “We’re
totally abandoned and the government are a bunch of muppets,” says
Shimon Maimon, a retired painter. The prime minister is also being pressed
by his far-right coalition partners to escalate. But for now the leaders on
both sides want to avoid all-out war.

Still, with the fighting in Gaza being scaled down, some Israel Defence
Forces (IDF) units have been redeployed to the north where they are
preparing for a ground offensive against Hizbullah. On June 18th the IDF
announced that its general command had “authorised operational plans for
an offensive in Lebanon”. In such a scenario Israel would seek to occupy a
“security zone” that would put northern communities out of range of some
of Hizbullah’s missiles. But a ground incursion would almost certainly
trigger a fiercer response from Hizbullah, which would probably launch
long-range missiles that could hit targets deep within Israel. To prevent this,
Israel might strike the missile-launchers and Hizbullah’s headquarters first,
many of which are in civilian areas. Heavy civilian casualties in both
Lebanon and Israel are a certainty in such a war.

Israel’s American allies have been urging it to hold fire. Amos Hochstein,
an adviser to President Joe Biden, has been trying to craft a ceasefire
between Israel and Hizbullah. Mr Netanyahu seems open to this idea,
though he is less keen on agreeing to stop fighting in Gaza.

Israeli generals insist that the IDF can fight on two fronts. But they admit
that doing so would drastically stretch the army. “To take over southern
Lebanon we’ll need a lot more troops, but meanwhile most of the units are
in or around Gaza,” says one reserve commander who has been on exercises
preparing for such an operation. “The plans feel incomplete.”

The IDF would like to pause the war against Hamas, preferably through a
ceasefire that would also secure the release of the 120 hostages still in
Gaza. But a truce in Gaza would probably prompt Hizbullah also to stop
firing. That would leave Israel’s leaders with the dilemma of whether to
start a new war to push the group away from the border or to allow it to
remain in a position to threaten Israeli communities.
The consensus within Israel’s security establishment is that war with
Hizbullah is inevitable. But increasingly the view among the generals is that
it should not take place soon. Major-General Yitzhak Gershon, who served
recently as the second-in-command of the northern front, published an
article on June 13th saying that although he had been in favour of attacking
Hizbullah immediately on October 7th, he had since changed his mind.

“Israel should be headed to a diplomatic arrangement, not war, at this time,”

he wrote, adding that its strategy in the past eight months had amounted to a
“mad run with the head into a wall”. The country, he argued, needs a
ceasefire in both Gaza and Lebanon in order to take stock, elect a new
government and regroup. “We should choose the timing [of any war],” says
one veteran intelligence analyst, “and not be dragged into it by Nasrallah.”
■

Sign up to the Middle East Dispatch, a weekly newsletter that keeps you in
the loop on a fascinating, complex and consequential part of the world.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/middle-east-
and-africa/2024/06/17/israels-northern-border-is-ablaze

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The light continent

Private firms are driving a

revolution in solar power in Africa
Unreliable grids and falling costs are persuading companies to go off-grid
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | CAPE TOWN

AFRICAN POVERTY is partly a consequence of energy poverty. In every

other continent the vast majority of people have access to electricity. In
Africa 600m people, 43% of the total, cannot readily light their homes or
charge their phones. And those who nominally have grid electricity find it
as reliable as a Scottish summer. More than three-quarters of African firms
experience outages; two-fifths say electricity is the main constraint on their
business. If other sub-Saharan African countries had enjoyed power as
reliable as South Africa’s from 1995 to 2007, then the continent’s rate of
real GDP growth per person would have been two percentage points higher,
more than doubling the actual rate, according to one academic paper. Since
then South Africa has also had erratic electricity. So-called “load-shedding”
is probably the main reason why the economy has shrunk in four of the past
eight quarters.

Solar power is increasingly seen as the solution. Last year Africa installed a
record amount of photovoltaic (PV) capacity (though this still made up just
1% of the total added worldwide), notes the African Solar Industry
Association (AFSIA), a trade group. Globally most solar PV is built by
utilities, but in Africa 65% of new capacity over the past two years has
come from large firms contracting directly with developers. These deals are
part of a decentralised revolution that could be of huge benefit to African
economies.

Ground zero for the revolution is South Africa. Last year saw a record
number of blackouts imposed by Eskom, the state-run utility, whose
dysfunctional coal-fired power stations regularly break down or operate at
far below capacity. Fortunately, as load-shedding was peaking, the costs of
solar systems were plummeting. Between 2019 and 2023 the cost of panels
fell by 15%, having already declined by almost 90% in the 2010s.
Meanwhile battery storage systems now cost about half as much as five
years ago. Industrial users pay 20-40% less per unit when buying electricity
from private project developers than on the cheapest Eskom tariff. In the
past two calendar years the amount of solar capacity in South Africa rose
from 2.8GW to 7.8GW, notes AFSIA, excluding that installed on the roofs
of suburban homes. All together South Africa’s solar capacity could now be
almost a fifth of that of Eskom’s coal-fired power stations (albeit those still
have a higher “capacity factor”, or ability to produce electricity around the
clock). The growth of solar is a key reason why there has been less load-
shedding in 2024.

Other Africans often point out that they have had load-shedding for much
longer than South Africans. About half of African firms rely on diesel
generators; in Nigeria their capacity is almost four times what the grid can
reliably supply. But change is afoot: nearly two-thirds of mines in sub-
Saharan Africa produce renewable energy or are in the process of installing
renewables. In Nigeria, the phasing out of petrol subsidies last year
accelerated a shift to cleaner energy. In a symbolic acquisition in 2022,
Shell, an oil giant present in Nigeria since 1937, bought Daystar Power, a
startup that has provided solar-power systems to many large domestic
businesses.

Over the past decade the number of startups providing “distributed

renewable energy” (DRE) has grown at a clip. Industry estimates suggest
that more than 400m Africans get electricity from solar home systems and
that more than ten times as many “mini-grids”, most of which use solar,
were built in 2016-20 than in the preceding five years. In Kenya DRE firms
employ more than six times as many people as the largest utility. In Nigeria
they have created almost as many jobs as the oil and gas industry.

“The future is an extremely distributed system to an extent that people

haven’t fully grasped,” argues Matthew Tilleard of CrossBoundary Group, a
firm whose customers range from large businesses to hitherto unconnected
consumers. “It’s going to happen here in Africa first and most
consequentially.”

Ignite, which operates in nine African countries, has products that include a
basic panel that powers three light bulbs and a phone charger, as well as
solar-powered irrigation pumps, stoves and internet routers, and industrial
systems. Customers use mobile money to “unlock” a pay-as-you-go meter.
Yariv Cohen, Ignite’s CEO, reckons that the typical $3 per month spent by
consumers is less than what they previously paid for kerosene and at phone-
charging kiosks. He describes how farmers are more productive because
they do not have to get home before dark and children are getting better test
scores because they study under bulbs. One family in Rwanda used to keep
their two cows in their house because they feared rustlers might come in the
dark; now the cattle snooze al fresco under an outside lamp and the family
gets more sleep.

In April the World Bank and the African Development Bank launched a
flagship scheme to expand electricity access in sub-Saharan Africa to 300m
additional people by 2030. The World Bank suggests that under its most
cost-effective scenario roughly half of those would be connected via off-
grid, DRE systems. But since the costs of solar kits are still prohibitively
expensive for some of the poorest people in the world, the bank and donors
are planning to subsidise the upfront costs through programmes that pay
DRE firms to set up in remote rural areas. The bet is that this, together with
more policy certainty from governments (around, say, repatriation of profits
and future plans for the grid), can bring in more private investment.

Yet there is a limit to how much can be done by avoiding legacy utilities.
The World Bank reckons that the most cost-effective way to electrify the
other half of its 300m target is by extending existing grids. Many African
utilities have monolithic structures—in the jargon, they control the
generation, transmission and distribution of electricity—long “unbundled”
in other parts of the world. Most are, in effect, insolvent: more than half in
sub-Saharan Africa cannot cover their operating expenses, partly because
governments insist on setting consumer tariffs below the cost of supply.

The spread of solar may make things even worse for them. Some analysts
suggest Eskom could enter a “death spiral” as its best customers go off-grid.
Other utilities are perhaps even more vulnerable. Kenya Power receives
54% of its revenues from roughly 700 entities, less than 0.01% of its total
customers.

A few utilities are changing with the times. Namibia, one of the sunniest
countries, last year made it easier for private producers to sell electricity
into the regional power pool. It sees its future role as more of a platform for
the buying and selling of electricity than as a generator and distributor. But
others are resisting change. Senegal, Mozambique and Tanzania, for
instance, still tangle up DRE firms in red tape. Other countries are hoping
that the “geopolitics of solar” will mean that foreign powers seeking
influence in Africa will pay to build the solar plants that their bankrupt
utilities cannot otherwise afford, argues one industry veteran. In May Mali,
which last year welcomed the Wagner Group of Russian mercenaries,
announced that a subsidiary of Rosatom, a Russian energy giant, would
build west Africa’s largest solar plant. It is hard to see any purely
commercial investor having gone for such a project.

That is one eye-catching aspect of Africa’s solar revolution. But most of the
continent is undergoing a more subtle—and significant—experiment in
decentralised, commercially driven solar power. It is a trend that could both
transform African economies and offer lessons to the rest of the world. ■
Sign up to the Analysing Africa, a weekly newsletter that keeps you in the
loop about the world’s youngest—and least understood—continent.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/middle-east-
and-africa/2024/06/18/private-firms-are-driving-a-revolution-in-solar-power-in-
africa

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The rainbow nation’s election

A remarkable new era begins in

South Africa
A national unity government can save democracy and the economy
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | CAPE TOWN

Editor’s note (June 15th 2024): This article has been updated.

DESMOND TUTU once wrote that “we in South Africa…sell ourselves

short.” In a country with many problems it is easy to forget its “remarkable
achievements”, argued the late Nobel peace laureate. He felt that the world
had much to learn from the largely peaceful transition to democracy in
1994; the Truth and Reconciliation Commission he chaired that shed light
on the darkness of apartheid; and the forgiveness of ordinary black people
scarred by decades of white rule.
If Archbishop Tutu were still alive, he might have added the events of June
14th to his list of feats. Members of parliament re-elected Cyril Ramaphosa
as South Africa’s president at the head of a “government of national unity”.
The coalition, anchored by Mr Ramaphosa’s African National Congress
(ANC) and the erstwhile official opposition, the Democratic Alliance (DA),
was necessitated by the results of elections held on May 29th. The ANC
won just 40.2% of the vote, depriving it of its parliamentary majority for the
first time. To gain the support of most MPs Mr Ramaphosa could have
joined with dangerous populist parties. Instead he and his new partners have
swiftly opted for a government that adheres to the values of the 1994
settlement and has a chance of overseeing vital reforms. Its formation
reflects well on the rainbow nation’s fledgling democracy.

The outcome was not inevitable. In the aftermath of the result, many figures
in the ANC were against a deal involving the DA, which won 21.8% of the
vote. Gwede Mantashe, the powerful party chair, reportedly preferred a tie-
up with a few smaller parties and the “devil we know”: the Economic
Freedom Fighters (EFF), a race-baiting hard-left party run by former
leaders of the ANC’s Youth League, which won 9.5%. Others wanted to
work with uMkhonto weSizwe (MK), a new party led by the former
president, Jacob Zuma, which won a stunning 14.6%.

In characteristic style, Mr Ramaphosa trod carefully. On June 6th, after a

meeting of the ANC’s main decision-making body, he announced that the
party had chosen to form a government of national unity—and would talk
to every major party about potentially joining. At first this seemed a
ludicrous case of Mr Ramaphosa trying to have his cake and eat it.
Negotiators from other parties joked that the president was leaving it to his
opponents to decide on the coalition on his behalf.

If that was the case, it worked. Both MK and EFF made such unreasonable
demands that, in effect, they ruled themselves out. The EFF wanted the
finance ministry and insisted it would not be part of the same government
as the DA, which its deputy leader suggested was a puppet of the “white
capitalist establishment”. MK, which has been spouting Trumpian lies about
the election being rigged, demanded Mr Ramaphosa’s resignation—a
stipulation the ANC quickly ruled out.
Mr Ramaphosa was probably relieved by the hubris. He could tell his
caucus he had at least tried to talk to the populists. But while he never
publicly stated his preferences, they were strongly implied. After the ANC
meeting he spoke of coalition partners needing to respect the constitution
(ruling out at least MK, which wants to ditch the “colonial” document) and
non-racialism (excluding at least the EFF, whose leader has spewed vitriol
against whites and Indians). In a newsletter sent on June 10th he wrote of
the importance of Operation Vulindlela, a presidential initiative to
accelerate market-friendly reforms. It was an unsubtle nod: by this point
DA negotiators had already highlighted the same scheme as a priority.

To its credit the DA was conscious of the time constraints (the vote for
president took place just 12 days after the election results were formally
announced, a 54th of the time it took Belgium to form a government in
2018-20) and the gravity of the moment. Rather than get bogged down in
policy detail or demand specific cabinet jobs, the DA focused on ensuring it
would not be railroaded by the ANC. A coalition agreement hammered out
just before this crucial vote stipulates that government decisions need the
support of parties with 60% of seats in parliament. In effect this gives the
ANC and DA a veto. Another clause ensures that Mr Ramaphosa will have
to assign seats in his cabinet roughly in accordance with the vote shares of
the coalition partners.

Warrior deal

The third key partner is the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), a Zulu nationalist
party but one that believes in democracy and the constitution, unlike MK.
The involvement of the party, which won just 3.9% of the national vote, in
the coalition is an important nod to the interests of Zulus, the country’s
largest ethnic group. Velenkosini Fiki Hlabisa, the IFP’s leader, may get a
prominent cabinet job. On June 12th he spoke of how the coalition could
also heal wounds between his party and the ANC; the two fought an
undeclared civil war in the early 1990s that killed thousands. For the ANC
the presence of the IFP and a few tiny parties in the government is crucial
as it makes the coalition look less like just a tie-up between it and the DA,
which some of its base see as a “white party”.
The ANC, IFP and DA have also agreed to work together in the two largest
provinces, Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal, after no party gained a majority in
regional elections. In KwaZulu-Natal, where MK won 45.4% of the vote,
the coalition will have a wafer-thin majority: parties other than MK and
EFF have 41 of the 80 seats.

There is much that could go wrong. There will be tensions within the
administration. Moderates in the ANC share many of the same goals as
liberals in the DA. But they come from different political cultures: the
former sees itself as a movement, the latter more like a Western political
party. And they will not see eye to eye on issues such as race-based policies.
There is also the risk that the sheer dysfunction of the state will make it
hard for even well-meaning ministers to get results.

Then there are the challenges from outside the government. MK and EFF
will argue that—like 1994—this is a shady deal cooked up by black and
white elites who are the puppets of big business. Julius Malema, the EFF’s
leader, said he would work with MK to oppose the new government. He
called the DA “Zionists” and the “enemy”. Mr Zuma is showing himself to
be a Zulu Robert Mugabe, implying that his backers will turn violent unless
“satisfied” with the election. In KwaZulu-Natal, the epicentre of mass
unrest in 2021 encouraged by Mr Zuma’s henchmen, the police must be
vigilant. Even if things are peaceful, Mr Zuma will want to destabilise the
fragile coalition that will run the province.

Mr Ramaphosa will have the hard task of keeping the support of the ANC.
Some in the party blame him for its disappointing election result. Without a
majority he has fewer cabinet jobs with which to buy loyalty. If his
government’s policies threaten the interests of important constituencies,
such as civil servants and trade unions, he will come under pressure. Since
he is expected to step down as party leader at the next major ANC
conference, probably in 2027, senior figures will be biding their time before
trying to nudge him out of the presidency, too.

The DA will have to square its participation with its base. At present it can
make a convincing case that keeping EFF and MK out of power is worth it.
But as time passes, that threat will fade. If the DA does badly in its
stronghold of Cape Town in local elections due in 2026, the party might
have second thoughts.

Yet all these potential pitfalls are for the future. Whatever happens next, the
incoming government has already achieved something profound: it has kept
Mr Zuma and the EFF away from power. This coalition may not be imbued
with the optimism and idealism of the one Nelson Mandela ran with his
former enemies from 1994 to 1997. But it is also impressive proof that there
is a pragmatic and principled centre in South African politics. Thirty years
after the end of apartheid in 1994, the Rainbow Nation has shown it still has
lessons for the rest of the world in how to handle a multi-ethnic democracy .
■

Sign up to the Analysing Africa, a weekly newsletter that keeps you in the
loop about the world’s youngest—and least understood—continent.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/middle-east-
and-africa/2024/06/14/a-remarkable-new-era-begins-in-south-africa

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Europe
Emmanuel Macron faces heavy losses after a short
campaign
France’s parliamentary election :: The next French government may be led by the hard right or
hard left

A hard-right 28-year-old could soon be France’s prime

minister
The French parliamentary elections :: Jordan Bardella is poised, social-media savvy and
enigmatic

Hard-right parties are entering government across Europe

Crumbling firewalls :: Germany is among a dwindling number of holdouts

Russia’s latest crime in Mariupol: stealing property

The spoils of war :: It is seizing homes in order to consolidate control

Why southern Europeans will soon be the longest-lived

people in the world
Growing old together :: Diet and exercise, but also urban design and social life

Europe today is a case of lots of presidents yet nobody

leading
Charlemagne :: Your cut-out-and-keep guide to people who no longer matter in the EU

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

France’s parliamentary election

Emmanuel Macron faces heavy

losses after a short campaign
The next French government may be led by the hard right or hard left
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | PARIS

AS FRANCE’S FLASH parliamentary-election campaign officially got

under way this week, Emmanuel Macron’s centrist candidates were
pounding the streets, trying to put on a brave face. After days handing out
flyers, one deputy standing for re-election concedes that campaigning is
“extremely tough”. Another describes the president’s decision to call a snap
legislative election as “idiotic”. Many are preparing to pack their bags. “He
has thrown us under a bus,” says a minister.

The two-round vote for the National Assembly, on June 30th and July 7th,
has turned into one of the most crucial in post-war French history. At stake
is the serious possibility of a government led by either the hard right or hard
left. Marine Le Pen’s National Rally (RN) is the better known. But the
reconstituted left-wing alliance, the New Popular Front (NFP), is now hot
on its heels, with an equally drastic tax-and-spend programme.

Three main political blocs have emerged after Mr Macron’s decision on

June 9th to dissolve parliament, which took everybody by surprise. Even his
own government, including the prime minister, Gabriel Attal, was informed
only at the last minute. Voting at this election concerns only the lower house
of parliament; Mr Macron, short of a surprise resignation, remains president
until 2027.

Polls show the leading bloc to be the RN, which held only 88 seats out of
577 in the old parliament. Its candidate for the job of prime minister is Ms
Le Pen’s 28-year-old protégé, Jordan Bardella (pictured). The RN has been
joined by a scattering of candidates from the centre-right Republicans (LR),
after their leader, Eric Ciotti, jumped in with them. Ms Le Pen’s niece,
Marion Maréchal, has also lent her support, prompting her expulsion from
the ultra-right Reconquest party. Alone, the RN remains ahead in first-round
polls, on 33%, according to Ifop, a pollster, on June 18th. Its new LR
friends, running in 62 constituencies, could bring it a further 4%. (Anti-
Ciotti Republicans are putting up 400 of their own candidates.)

In a close second place, on 28%, is the NFP. Numerically it is dominated by

Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s Unsubmissive France (LFI), which is fielding 230
candidates, followed by the Socialists (175), Greens (92) and Communists
(50). The enduring influence of Mr Mélenchon, an anti-capitalist former
Trotskyite, was exposed when he deselected three of his leading outgoing
deputies and put in a close ally (who, convicted of domestic violence, then
had to stand down). Expediency, however, is trumping deep differences. At
the last minute, François Hollande, a former Socialist president, decided to
join, standing in his old rural heartland of Corrèze. Behind the scenes, a
battle for control rages.

The third bloc, Mr Macron’s centrist alliance Ensemble, trails far behind in
third place, with just 18%. It is hoping to find future allies for an anti-
extremist “republican front”, on the left and centre-right, by standing aside
in some 60 constituencies.
Given polling trends, the likeliest outcome currently looks to be a hung
parliament, with either the hard right or hard left in a position to try to form
a government. If either succeeded, France would then face an attempted
reversal of much of the economic agenda that Mr Macron has pursued since
he was first elected in 2017.

Mr Bardella has promised “immediately” to lower the level of VAT from

20% to 5.5% on energy bills and motor fuel, and to use tax breaks to raise
salaries by up to 10%. After the French stockmarket, the world’s sixth-
biggest, fell by 6% in the first five days after the election was called, Mr
Bardella took fright. Other measures, he suggested, could wait until the
autumn. These include his pledge to strike down Mr Macron’s pension
reform, which raised the minimum retirement age from 62 years to 64. Mr
Bardella also vows to restore a wealth tax and abolish the right to French
nationality for those born to foreign parents on French soil.

How such measures would be financed remains rather vague. Ludovic

Subran, chief economist at Allianz, an insurer, estimates the RN’s total new
annual spending costs, including a reversal of the pension reform, to be
€74bn ($79bn). Factoring in additional receipts from new taxes, Allianz
calculates a net yearly cost of about €18bn or 0.7% of GDP. That would
push France’s budget deficit from over 5% of GDP this year to 6.4% by
2026, it thinks.
The left-wing programme looks equally damaging. The NFP promises to
raise the minimum wage by 13%, bring back the wealth tax, cap energy
prices even though costs have now stabilised, and reverse Mr Macron’s
pension reform. Valérie Rabault, a Socialist outgoing deputy, puts its total
extra spending pledges at €35bn a year, not including the cost of lowering
the pension age to 60. The NFP programme, says one French business boss,
is “such madness” that it makes the watered-down RN wish-list look almost
reasonable.

Projecting seat numbers from first-round polling is tricky. Any candidate

backed by 12.5% of registered voters can go through to a run-off. But party
deals can prompt qualifiers to stand down. In 2022 there were only seven
three-way votes in the second round. What does seem clear is that Mr
Macron’s party is facing crushing losses. Voters give him no credit for
bringing down inflation and joblessness in France, nor for capping energy
bills during the pandemic. They are neither ashamed nor nervous about
backing the RN, and seem just to want “change”.

Whatever the outcome, France may be in for a period of extreme instability.

Any minority government risks being voted down in a no-confidence
motion. Even with a majority, a government that enters a period of
cohabitation with a president of a different party will generate tension. No
doubt taking note, Mr Bardella this week said that he would take the job of
prime minister only if his party won a majority.

The best hope for Mr Macron is that, after the vote, a union of moderate
parties might agree to work together under a technocratic leader. More
probable is that France enters the uncharted territory of parliamentary
instability: exactly what Charles de Gaulle sought to avoid when he
founded the modern French republic. ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/20/emmanuel-macron-faces-heavy-losses-
after-a-short-campaign

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The French parliamentary elections

A hard-right 28-year-old could

soon be France’s prime minister
Jordan Bardella is poised, social-media savvy and enigmatic
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | PARIS

A DECADE AGO Jordan Bardella was a mere teenager, spending hours

after school firing at enemy combatants on “Call of Duty” video games.
Today the 28-year-old leader of the hard-right National Rally may be weeks
away from becoming prime minister of France, and its youngest ever by a
long way. After a two-round legislative election on June 30th and July 7th,
his party could win enough seats to form a government. The ascent of
Marine Le Pen’s young protégé from obscurity to the cusp of high office is
one of the more improbable in modern French politics.
The son of an Italian-born mother and a father whose family arrived in
France from Italy, Mr Bardella grew up in social housing in Seine-Saint-
Denis, a multicultural northern banlieue (suburb) of Paris. What could have
held him back in life became his political selling-point. “I have my roots
there, a part of myself and my family’s history,” Mr Bardella told Le
Monde, recalling the drug dealers that hung out on a battered sofa on the
landing outside his flat. “I’m in politics for everything that I lived through
back there.”

This backstory, as well as his unusual poise, grabbed Ms Le Pen’s eye early
on. Both assets were politically valuable for a party that, under her
stewardship since 2011, has been trying to transform itself from a fringe
xenophobic protest outfit into a party that speaks for the people and
promises to govern on their behalf. At the age of 16, Mr Bardella joined the
party because of Ms Le Pen’s takeover. Seven years later—after he had
dropped out of a geography degree at the Sorbonne university and gone into
local politics—she picked him to lead her party into elections in 2019 to the
European Parliament. A year earlier, she had changed its name from the
tainted National Front she inherited from her antisemitic, xenophobic father
to the National Rally (RN), a name with more mainstream associations.

Not everyone within the party was happy with Mr Bardella’s hasty rise.
Rivals considered him too young, inexperienced and disconnected from
core party loyalists. Mr Bardella’s formal consecration came in 2022, when
he beat Ms Le Pen’s former romantic partner, Louis Aliot, to be elected
president of the RN. That freed Ms Le Pen from daily party affairs (she
remains head of its bloc in parliament, and will undoubtedly be its nominee
for the next presidential race, in 2027). Since then, Mr Bardella has earned
respect among a generation of younger RN figures. “He has an impressive
work ethic and maturity,” says Jean-Philippe Tanguy, an outgoing RN
deputy, adding that Mr Bardella’s asset is that he is open to criticism but
“ruthless with pointless whiners.”

To voters, Mr Bardella has lent the RN a presentable modern face and

unflappable style. A child of the screen era, Mr Bardella has in the past
posted clips on a YouTube channel in which he commentated on his video-
game performances. Today he has 1.6m followers on TikTok, and mixes
campaign clips with those of himself squeezing mayonnaise into a hotdog
or climbing aboard a fishing trawler in the fog. “He looks like a nice guy” is
a typical comment made by voters on the ground who have no ideological
link to the RN.

What lies behind that smooth exterior, though, remains something of a

mystery. In his short career, Mr Bardella has never held a job outside
politics. Fixated on the sanitisation of the party, he balks at any reference to
Jean-Marie Le Pen’s antisemitic era, or the unsavoury figures who linger in
party circles from that time. The young RN president owes his promotion to
Ms Le Pen, and colleagues say that his loyalty to her is absolute. But
politics is what it is; such fidelity has so far been untested. Differences
between them do exist. The party formerly borrowed money from a
Kremlin-linked bank, and deputies abstained at a parliamentary vote earlier
this year on France’s bilateral security agreement with Ukraine. Mr
Bardella, though, has recently sounded a somewhat more critical note about
Vladimir Putin, blaming escalation on the Russian leader; Ms Le Pen tends
to point the finger at President Emmanuel Macron, who has refused to rule
out putting boots on the ground in Ukraine.

If he is nominated as prime minister, Mr Bardella’s manifesto will be a mix

of economic populism and hard-right nationalism. He has promised “in the
first weeks” to tighten immigration rules to make it easier to expel “Islamist
foreigners”, and abolish the right to French nationality for those born in the
country. He also vows “immediately” to lower the level of VAT from 20%
to 5.5% on electricity and gas bills as well as on motor fuel, and to use tax-
breaks to raise salaries by up to 10%. Mr Bardella would cut benefits to
parents of underage repeat offenders, and turn the current mansion tax into
a financial-wealth tax. He has been more cautious, though, about promising
to overturn Mr Macron’s pension reform, which raised the legal minimum
retirement age from 62 years to 64; instead, he vows to enable those who
started work at the age of 20 to retire at 60.

How such measures would be financed remains alarmingly vague.

Renaissance, Mr Macron’s party, calculates that the VAT cuts on energy,
fuel and food bills alone would cost €24bn ($26bn) a year. The Institut
Montaigne, a liberal think-tank, estimates that, on the basis of Ms Le Pen’s
manifesto at the presidential election in 2022, the RN in government would
cost a net €100bn extra each year, equivalent to about 3.5% of GDP. That
would add to an already high budget deficit, which the government expects
to run at over 5% of GDP this year.

Yet the trouble for centrist voters hoping to obstruct his path to the
Matignon, as the French prime minister’s office in Paris is known, is that
Mr Bardella has so far managed to shrug off inconvenient details or
failings. That he grew up in Seine-Saint-Denis is widely known; less so,
that he attended a private Catholic school there, not the public lycée.

Voters seem no more bothered by his loose grasp of policy detail. During a
recent live debate against Gabriel Attal, Mr Macron’s 35-year-old prime
minister, Mr Bardella was forced to confess that he had not read the text of
a bill in the European Parliament that he had voted against. A poll the next
day, however, suggested that the debate had convinced more people to vote
for Mr Bardella’s party than Mr Attal’s. If Mr Bardella represents anything
in these populist times it is that reasoned argument and rational debate are
flimsy weapons against the force of simplistic promises and narrative
politics. ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/17/a-hard-right-28-year-old-could-soon-be-
frances-pm

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Crumbling firewalls

Hard-right parties are entering

government across Europe
Germany is among a dwindling number of holdouts
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN 2000 AUSTRIA’S conservatives invited the Freedom Party (FPÖ), a

hard-right outfit with Nazi roots, into government—and opprobrium onto
their own heads. Other EU governments suspended contacts. Scientific and
artistic boycotts were mooted. Louis Michel, Belgium’s foreign minister,
urged his compatriots to snub Austria’s ski slopes.

How quaint it seems now. When Mr Michel’s son Charles, who presides
over the European Council, scans the table at the EU summits he chairs, he
sees eight leaders from right-wing populist parties or dependent on their
support. Many of the 19 other countries have had a similar experience, or
could soon face it (Austria among them; the FPÖ may rejoin government
after an election in September). The cordon sanitaire is fraying even at EU
level. Mr Michel’s counterpart at the European Commission, Ursula von der
Leyen, has flirted with the Brothers of Italy, a post-fascist party, in her bid
for a second term.

Most countries with no prospect of far-right government are small, such as

Ireland, Malta, Portugal and Luxembourg. An interesting one is Belgium,
where in the 1980s the notion of the cordon sanitaire was born, against far-
right Flemish nationalists. In Wallonia, the French-speaking bit, far-right
politicians cannot even get a hearing in the media—even though many
voters may be receptive to their message.

But the most important exception is Germany. The hard-right Alternative

for Germany (AfD) came second at the recent European elections, with a
record 16%. Yet the AfD remains firmly beyond the Brandmauer
(“firewall”). It has never come close to power in any of Germany’s 16 states
and is shunned at federal level. Any hint that the centre-right Christian
Democrats (CDU) might consider working with it invites huge backlash.

The AfD conveys both rank amateurism and a whiff of brownshirtery,

making it easy to ignore. At national level, it remains small enough to work
around. True, it may come first in three east German state elections due to
be held in September. But although that will make forming centrist
coalitions in those states hard, the firewall is likely to hold. National
hostility to the AfD is such that, overall, the CDU stands to lose more by
working with it in the east than by holding the line.

The CDU does, though, hope to blunt the appeal of the AfD by talking
tough on irregular migration. Some find this upsetting. Mainstream parties
considering aping the populist right are warned that, in the words of Jean-
Marie Le Pen, founder of a xenophobic party in France, voters prefer the
original to a copy. In last year’s Dutch election the leader of the ruling
liberals tilted right, hoping to undercut Geert Wilders’s populist Party for
Freedom. The gambit backfired, and Mr Wilders won.

Yet in many countries the hard right has simply grown too big to disregard.
What to do? “This is the €1m question,” says Léonie de Jonge of the
University of Groningen. Of three possible tactics—ignore, demonise or
accommodate—none has consistently succeeded. Excluding far-right
parties bolsters their argument that they represent the only genuine
alternative. Little wonder many creep into government.

How that happens varies. In countries with proportional-voting systems

hard-right parties join coalitions (usually with the centre right), or prop
them up. Since 2022 Sweden, which once had one of Europe’s strongest
cordons sanitaires, has had a government backed by the hard-right Sweden
Democrats.

Elsewhere change can take more dramatic form. In France the “republican
front” against the hard-right National Rally (RN), led by Jean-Marie’s
daughter Marine, has so far kept the party from power. That may be about
to change as France heads into a snap parliamentary election. But even if it
doesn’t, Ms Le Pen has performed steadily better in presidential elections
over the past decade; in 2022 she took 41.5% of the run-off vote. If she
wins a majority at the next, in 2027, the game will be up. ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/20/hard-right-parties-are-entering-
government-across-europe

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

The spoils of war

Russia’s latest crime in Mariupol:

stealing property
It is seizing homes in order to consolidate control
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

OVER THE past few months, little white notices have appeared on
doorways to residential blocks all over Mariupol, a city besieged, wrecked
and then seized by Russia in May 2022. “An inventory of your block will
be carried out to identify ownerless property; the owner of the apartment
should be at home with documents and a Russian passport.” The print is
small, the implications large. Unless the apartments are re-registered with
the Russian occupying authorities and people are living in them, the
properties will soon be declared ownerless and sold.
Petro Andryushchenko, an adviser to the Mariupol municipal authority in
exile, says he knows his apartment has been broken into and his possessions
stolen. Like many of the other roughly 350,000 Mariupolans from a pre-war
population of 430,000 who have fled, he cannot risk going back to re-
register his flat in person. He expects someone else will soon be living
there. “It’s a normal story,” he says.

In May the website of the housing ministry of the Donetsk National

Republic (DNR), the separatist statelet overseen by Russia since 2014,
listed 514 ownerless apartments in Mariupol, complete with addresses and
square footage. Re-registration is being done throughout the occupied
territories to consolidate Russian control and also as a new phase of
economic exploitation. It is especially venal in Mariupol, where Russia’s
authorities are creating a new real-estate market in a city largely ruined by
their bombs.

Estimates suggest that over 90% of the housing blocks in central Mariupol
were damaged in the invasion of 2022. Some have been repaired, others
demolished. Some Mariupolans have been given flats in shoddy newly built
blocks. Leo, who doesn’t want to use his real name, says his parents’ new
apartment has wobbly door handles and a mouldy balcony, windows won’t
close properly and the bathroom fixtures had to be replaced after a month.
New commercial buildings have priority over social housing, though
developers are putting up residential blocks with big government grants and
loans. Russia’s government offers a cheap mortgage rate of just 2% to
buyers in the occupied territories, so local agents are touting for business.

A promotional video shows a young female agent walking through wrecked

Mariupol apartments with an upbeat pitch: “Investment is arriving from
Russian regions.” Mariupol, she assures, offers a valuable investment. She
shows a buyer around a damaged three-room flat, noting the “chic layout”
and the size of the children’s bedroom, where abandoned toys are strewn
about. “We see the owners left in a hurry,” she says. Mr Andryushchenko
reckons some 80,000 Mariupolans now live in the city alongside the same
number of incomers, almost all from Russia. As bombed-out
neighbourhoods are razed and new buildings go up, Mariupolans have been
pushed out of the city centre. Compensation for demolished apartments is
derisory.

Some Mariupolans who fled to Ukrainian-held territory or Europe are now

trying to go back, to get a Russian passport, re-register their property and
sell it—if they can. But Ukrainian passport-holders must go through a
filtration point at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport to be asked why they are
going there and what is their view of the “special operation” in Ukraine.
Plenty of Mariupolans have apparently been denied entry.

To get around the new rules, some have tried to transfer ownership (often to
relatives still in Mariupol) by getting documents notarised by Russian
embassies abroad. But the overlapping jurisdictions of the DNR and the
Russian Federation in Mariupol can snarl up the regulations.

Ultimately, says Mr Andryushchenko, “it doesn’t matter” that Russians are

buying confiscated Ukrainian property. Under international and Ukrainian
law, such transactions are “absolutely illegal”. If at some future date
Mariupol is returned to Ukrainian control, any contract disputed by an
owner citing Ukrainian records would be null and void. “Unofficially, our
recommendation as a Ukrainian municipal authority is: if you can sell your
property, do it,” he says. And what of Mariupolans who have bought flats in
new blocks with Russian mortgages, or have bought properties illegally but
unknowingly?

Mr Andryushchenko thinks such questions are moot. “We don’t know what
kind of condition Mariupol will be in after de-occupation,” he points out.
“It could be absolutely destroyed again.” ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/19/russias-latest-crime-in-mariupol-
stealing-property

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Growing old together

Why southern Europeans will soon

be the longest-lived people in the
world
Diet and exercise, but also urban design and social life
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Madrid

THE CALLE DE JORDÁN, a short street in central Madrid, encompasses

the entire cycle of human life. On one block is a fertility clinic, an
increasingly common sight in a country obsessed by its shortage of babies.
A block further down is a day centre for pensioners, advertising services
like memory training and help with mobility. It is common to see women in
their 60s gently leading their 90-something mothers up to the door.
The Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of
Washington recently issued projections for longevity by country in 2050.
Among the top 20 for living to a ripe old age are rich ones like Switzerland
and Singapore. East Asia is also represented by South Korea and Japan,
longtime longevity leaders.

But a geographic cluster of relatively poorer countries are also conducive to

longer lives: Spain, Italy, France and Portugal. (Three nearby microstates,
San Marino, Malta and Andorra, make the top 20, too.) The oldest person
alive is a Spanish woman, Maria Branyas Morera (117), who succeeded a
French one. Health and long life correlate unsurprisingly with GDP per
capita. Why does southern Europe outperform the usual link between
wealth and health, making the average lifespan in Spain (85.5 years in
2050) longer than that of the average Dane (83.5)?

Many point to the “Mediterranean diet”—fish, whole grains, fresh fruit,

vegetables and olive oil. Critics, though, point out that diets differ widely
from Portugal to Greece. Besides, researchers find that today’s
Mediterraneans do not stick to their namesake diet. Plazas in Spain are full
of people eating fried fish and salted ham, washed down with beer at hours
some might consider unseemly. Spaniards drink more booze and smoke
slightly more than the European average, and are among Europe’s biggest
cocaine users.

Dan Buettner, who has written several books on areas where people live
long, notes that to understand why people grow old one must look not at
today’s habits but at those of half a century ago, when people ate “peasant
food”, dominated by grains, beans and tubers. A recent study of the “blue
zone” (a designation for areas that feature many centenarians) in Sardinia
found that the diet included “famine foods”, such as bread made from
acorns and clay and a cheese made with insect larvae. The most notable fish
product was salted, dried mullet ovaries; inland shepherds rarely ate fresh
fish. Diets today increasingly include Western processed foods, but
“cultural inertia” keeps them somewhat healthier, says Mr Buettner.

That shepherding past points to another factor: movement. Spaniards lead

western Europe in steps per day at 5,936, according to a study from 2017.
(Italy, France and Portugal are less impressive.) The study found that
countries with “activity inequality”—a few prolific walkers but many couch
potatoes, as in America and Saudi Arabia—had the highest obesity rates.
Those where everyone moved a reasonable amount, as in Spain, had low
ones. That evidently reduced mortality from obesity-related diseases.

Why do Spaniards move so much? Spanish cities, and even tiny pueblos,
are densely populated; hit the city limits and you are often in empty
countryside. Neither culture nor regulation favour sprawling suburbs, so
even with abundant land, Spaniards live on top of each other. Paris and
other places aiming to create “15-minute cities”, where most necessities are
within walking radius, could learn much from Spain. The same study that
looked at “activity inequality” examined urban America, finding that dense
cities like New York and Boston had greater (and more evenly distributed)
levels of activity than sprawling places like Atlanta and Phoenix.

But stressing diet and exercise misses a piece of the puzzle. Spain’s
walkability is also good for social life. Cities are built around plazas where
friends, family and co-workers sit, eat, drink and talk. That turns out to be
good for you even if you sip vermouth and eat crisps at noon. Reams of
research show that social contact is critical for physical and psychological
well-being.

According to a recent survey by Gallup, a pollster, and Meta, a social-media

company, 76% of Spaniards say they feel “very” or “fairly” socially
supported. That is above average, though not top of the table. Jon Clifton,
head of Gallup, says his firm’s research shows that Spaniards are fairly
unhappy and disengaged at work. He quips that a headline in El País, a
newspaper, got it more or less right: Spain is “the best country to live in and
the worst to work in”.
But work is not everything. Spaniards are fourth in the world when asked
whether they have seen friends or family who live near or with them in the
past week (Greece was second). This may be the unexpected upside of the
fact that many young southern Europeans cannot get good enough jobs to
afford to move out of their parents’ homes. Family bonds remain tight,
including in trying times like the financial crisis and the pandemic.

Southern European countries do not score highest on happiness—that title

has long been held by Denmark and Finland. But happiness assessments
weight long-term life satisfaction more heavily than short-term smiling and
laughing. Those sorts of gleeful emotions are reported most often by Latin
Americans. And, metaphorically and physically, a line drawn from Helsinki
to Buenos Aires would pass through Spain. That country has European
levels of wealth (the best predictor of happiness) and health care (which
keeps people alive), while also sharing cultural traits with Latin Americans:
living for the moment and treasuring friendships and families. These are not
just good in themselves. They keep you going, too. ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/20/why-southern-europeans-will-soon-be-the-
longest-lived-people-in-the-world

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Charlemagne

Europe today is a case of lots of

presidents yet nobody leading
Your cut-out-and-keep guide to people who no longer matter in the EU
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

FOR SEVERAL years in the early 1990s Deng Xiaoping ran China despite
having no formal title other than Most Honorary President of the Chinese
Bridge Association. The European Union today is roughly the opposite: a
place crawling with presidents, yet nobody in charge. An unexpected power
vacuum has befallen the continent in the midst of ongoing war, a budding
trade spat with China and a nerve-jangling election in America. Whether in
Brussels or in national capitals, those on hand are otherwise engaged,
usually with their own domestic difficulties. Can someone—anyone—step
up to lead Europe?
It has long been hard to work out whom to call if you want to speak to
Europe. But that is in fact one of its charms. In centuries gone by,
establishing who had the upper hand on the continent used to involve
gauging whose troops had made the furthest inroads into its neighbours’
territory (Germany, often). After the second world war, when fighting gave
way to EU meetings convened to discuss the format of future EU meetings,
the question of “Who runs Europe?” usually gave rise to a cacophonous
answer. Federalists like to think it is the leaders of the bloc’s main
institutions in Brussels. Brits always suspected it was the Franco-German
axis, which they never managed to crack. The French think the EU is led
by, naturellement, the French; Germans stand knowingly in the corner,
happy to let them believe it. Nationalist types like Viktor Orban of Hungary
or Giorgia Meloni of Italy are quite sure their time has come, given a recent
rightward shift in European elections. Members of the European Parliament
are adamant it should be them. The correct answer is in permanent flux,
keeping Brussels-based journalists gainfully employed.

Alas, all the putative leaders are currently hobbled. The most swiftly
debased leader of Europe is Emmanuel Macron. Upon re-election to the
French presidency two years ago, he stood as the union’s standard-bearer.
Here was a national leader from a large country proud to stand in front of an
EU flag, always willing to opine (often at some length) about the future of
Europe. That his fading popularity at home would dent his credibility in EU
circles was always expected. But his calling of a snap parliamentary
election due on June 30th and July 7th has raised the prospect of a messy
“cohabitation” between Mr Macron and a prime minister from a rival party,
quite possibly from the hard right. What then for Europe? Nobody is quite
sure, given how much the EU has evolved since 1997-2002, when France
last split its top jobs. Although the president would maintain his purview on
foreign affairs and keep attending summits of European leaders, that is only
part of the story. The nitty-gritty of EU legislation is hammered out at
meetings of ministers, which would be attended by French representatives
from that rival team. France seems likely to export its domestic gridlock to
the continental level, even ahead of the presidential poll in 2027.

Who can pick up Mr Macron’s mantle? The German chancellor might

usually be expected to step up. But the current one, Olaf Scholz, lacks his
French counterpart’s visceral attachment to the EU. Overseeing a messy
coalition in Berlin made it difficult to act decisively in Brussels. All three
ruling parties got massacred in the recent European elections. A messy fight
over budget cuts will further test the stability of the government in coming
months. Soon enough the focus will turn to next year’s federal election.

Plenty of national leaders have tried to gatecrash the Franco-German axis;

adding a third party to a squabbling couple has a certain European feel to it.
Thus far nothing has worked. Poland, as the biggest central European
country, was once expected to turn the Franco-German duo into a
leadership triangle. But Donald Tusk, its newish leader, still has his work
cut out reclaiming the state apparatus from his hard-right predecessors. The
Dutch had a seasoned leader in the form of Mark Rutte, but he seems
destined to take over as head of NATO. Ms Meloni has had a brief stint as
putative “kingmaker” in the EU, whose support might be needed to install a
new team of leaders for the bloc’s central institutions after the European
elections on June 9th. As it turns out, political parties in the centre did well
enough to (probably) do without her backing, reducing her importance.

When leadership seeps away from national capitals, the EU machine in

Brussels can usually be trusted to attempt a power-grab. Not just now: the
bosses of the bloc’s institutions, notably the European Commission that acts
as its executive arm, are coming to the end of their terms. On June 17th the
EU’s 27 national leaders convened for dinner to appoint three “presidents”
(the term is used loosely in Brussels) to lead the commission, chair
meetings of EU leaders and preside over the parliament. They were
expected to give the nod to Ursula von der Leyen for another five-year term
heading the commission. Yet agreement proved strangely elusive. Most
probably she will be nominated when leaders meet again on June 27th. But
even assuming the parliament backs her next month—which is not yet
guaranteed—Mrs von der Leyen will spend much of the rest of the year
haggling with national capitals and MEPs to build a team of commissioners.

Who you gonna call? Viktor Orban!

When all else fails, one last figurehead for the EU can be counted on:
whoever leads the country holding the six-month rotating “presidency” of
the council, where national governments haggle. As luck would have it,
from July 1st the job falls to none other than Mr Orban. The cantankerous
Hungarian prime minister is the EU’s bête noire, always on hand to succour
Russia or champion Eurosceptic culture-warriors. On June 18th he unveiled
the council’s new tagline: “Make Europe Great Again”. That sounds like a
plan, if only anyone was on hand to implement it. ■

To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our
weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/europe/2024/06/20/europe-today-is-a-case-of-lots-of-
presidents-yet-nobody-leading

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Britain
Britain’s Conservatives rule the Thames Estuary. Not for
long
Britain’s general election :: Our constituency poll in Gillingham and Rainham shows Labour
on track for a thumping win

What taxes might Labour raise?

Filling the fiscal hole :: Growth alone will not fix Britain’s public finances

Child poverty will be a test of Labour’s fiscal prudence

Expectation management :: Its MPs, members and voters will want rapid action on a totemic
issue

Climate change casts a shadow over Britain’s biggest food

export
Death and salmon :: Scottish salmon farms endure a rising mortality rate

Jeremy Corbyn wants more nice things, fewer nasty ones

Oh, Jeremy Corbyn :: The former Labour leader, and poet, goes canvassing

The silence of the bedpans

Without a care :: Why is social care barely talked about in Britain’s election?

Britain’s Conservatives are losing as they governed.

Meekly
Bagehot :: UwU Conservativism, and the end of smol government

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Britain’s general election

Britain’s Conservatives rule the

Thames Estuary. Not for long
Our constituency poll in Gillingham and Rainham shows Labour on track
for a thumping win
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | GILLINGHAM

ON THE EVENING of June 13th, St Margaret’s Church in Rainham was

packed. At a long table in front of the altar, six would-be MPs answered
locals’ questions about schools, homelessness and the state of the high
street. The Labour Party went through the church beforehand, putting
leaflets on every pew, like orders of service. But despite the presence of so
many voters and a TV camera, the Conservative candidate and sitting MP
for Gillingham and Rainham, Rehman Chishti, did not turn up. He skipped
another hustings four days later. If he loses the seat on July 4th, it will be
partly for lack of trying.
Sir Keir Starmer launched Labour’s election campaign in Gillingham, east
of London in the Thames Estuary. He pronounced the name correctly (the
first G is soft) and cracked a lame joke about the local football team. A
constituency poll for The Economist by WeThink suggests he will be amply
rewarded. It puts Labour on 55%, the Conservatives on 23% and Reform
UK, an anti-immigration party, on 15% (see chart). If there is a glimmer of
hope for the Tories, it is that many undecided voters plumped for them in
2019.

That Labour has any chance is extraordinary. Mr Chishti won 61% of the
vote in 2019, against only 28% for Labour. Gillingham and Rainham is part
of an almost solid block of Tory seats east of London (see map). But this
part of England has seen violent political swings before. Its willingness to
abandon the Tories this year points to a problem with the government’s
regional strategy. It also hints at a change in the politics of immigration.
The Thames Estuary is not, to put it politely, the prettiest corner of England.
Things that London needs but does not want end up there: power stations,
wind farms, sewage-treatment works. Its flat grey-brown marshes are filled
with rotting boats and a rare creature known as a tentacled lagoon worm.
The opening scene in Charles Dickens’s novel “Great Expectations”, in
which Magwitch emerges from the marsh to terrify Pip, is set in the seat
next to Gillingham and Rainham.

Its abiding appeal is cheapness. Property values drop quickly as you travel
east from the capital. Semi-detached houses go for £346,000 ($440,000) in
the Medway local authority area compared with £640,000 in London,
according to the Office for National Statistics. As the expectation of
commuting five days a week crumbles, city workers are drifting out.
Spencer Fortag, the director of Dockside estate agents, says that about half
of the buyers in Kitchener Barracks, a new housing development just west
of Gillingham, are Londoners.
The Thames Estuary is a place without snobbery, where you can refashion
yourself superficially or profoundly. Gillingham is not short of nail and
tanning salons, and it contains so many barbers that some of the candidates
in St Margaret’s mused about limiting the numbers. Modified cars roar
along the roads. Mr Chishti, who was born in Pakistan, talks about arriving
at the age of six with only a few words of English, and succeeding through
education.
This rootless, ambitious culture might explain something about the politics
of the area. Gillingham voted for Labour when it was fashionable, in 1945
and 1997. As the country moved right after the millennium, so did local
voters, but more enthusiastically than elsewhere. A forthcoming book by
Jamie Furlong and Will Jennings, “The Changing Electoral Map of England
and Wales”, describes the Thames Estuary as peculiarly Conservative—
more than you would expect from looking at things like its age profile and
the jobs people do. It is like the rest of England, only more so.

Now it is poised to lurch again. Labour’s candidate, Naushabah Khan,

argues that the government has ignored pockets of deprivation in the
constituency: “They think it’s affluent because it’s in Kent.” Mr Chishti has
said much the same. When the constituency failed to win “levelling up”
funds last year, he questioned whether the process was fair. The
Conservatives’ ostentatious showering of money on northern English towns
has left southerners wondering where their share is.

Another unusual thing about the estuary is how fast its population is
changing. Of the five local authorities in England and Wales where the
proportion of white Britons declined most between the censuses of 2011
and 2021, three abut the River Thames. Jason Warner, a teacher who works
for a charity called Medway Culture Club, says that local schools are far
more diverse than the overall population, partly because ambitious black
and Asian parents in suburban London send their children to Kent’s
selective grammar schools.

Gareth Harris and Eric Kaufmann, two political scientists, have argued that
white Britons’ anxieties about immigration and ethnic change often take the
form of a “halo effect”. Those who live in ethnically diverse areas are
relaxed; those who live in more homogeneous areas nearby are not. They
may express their anxieties by voting for parties to the Conservative Party’s
right: the British National Party (BNP), the UK Independence Party
(UKIP), the Brexit Party and now Reform UK.

As the Thames Estuary grows more mixed, the zone of anxiety seems to be
concentrating to the east. Two decades ago the BNP won 12 council seats in
Barking and Dagenham, in east London. A decade ago UKIP won a by-
election in Rochester and Strood, next to Gillingham and Rainham. Now
Nigel Farage of Reform UK pins his hopes on Clacton, on the coast north-
east of the estuary. Anti-immigration fervour, like silt, has piled up
downriver. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/18/britains-conservatives-rule-the-thames-
estuary-not-for-long

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Filling the fiscal hole

What taxes might Labour raise?

Growth alone will not fix Britain’s public finances
6月 20, 2024, 12:07 下午

TO WIN BIG in general elections, the Labour Party needs to convince

fretful voters that it can be trusted with the economy. Clement Attlee sold
post-war nationalisations with the mien of a staid bank manager. Ahead of
the party’s landslide win in 1997, New Labour pledged to copy years of
restrictive Tory spending targets. Rachel Reeves, the shadow chancellor, has
adopted a similar tactic ahead of Labour’s widely expected election win on
July 4th.

Barring a few titbits of extra spending—worth around £10bn ($12.7bn, or

0.4% of GDP) annually and funded by taxes on private schools, home
purchases by foreigners and the like—she wants to stick to plans set out by
Jeremy Hunt, the chancellor, in March. She has also committed herself to
the fiscal rule that government debt must be projected to fall as a share of
GDP in the fifth year of five-year forecasts from the Office for Budget
Responsibility (OBR), a watchdog.

Squaring that with Labour’s pledge not to return to austerity will be tricky.
The commitments that New Labour inherited were a squeeze; those that Ms
Reeves has signed up to are suffocating. They imply hefty real-terms cuts to
frayed courts, policing and local government. The Institute for Fiscal
Studies (IFS), a think-tank, reckons that it would cost around £30bn extra
annually by 2028 to prevent them.

Labour says that growth, not tax, is the answer. But it takes time for growth-
enhancing policies to have an effect and the OBR’s GDP projections are
already bullish compared with those of other forecasters. Falling interest
rates could also help a little by pulling down debt-servicing costs. Year-on-
year inflation stood at 2% in May, back in line with the Bank of England’s
(BoE’s) official target. The IFS estimates that a one-percentage-point
decline in gilt yields would boost fiscal headroom by £12bn. But rates will
not reliably fall.

That leaves two other options: more borrowing or higher taxes. Labour is
likely to opt for a bit of both. Britain’s fiscal rules are pretty loose for those
willing to stretch them. The binding fiscal rule governs borrowing only in
the last year of the OBR forecast. A short-term borrowing spree spent on
public investment would comply with the rules Ms Reeves has committed
to. A more radical option would be to change how the BoE books its
quantitative-easing (QE) losses, which are projected to cost around £20bn
per year until 2032. Most rich countries realise them more gradually,
reducing their fiscal impact.
Still, too large a borrowing splurge would be foolish when interest rates are
so high. Labour will also be especially wary of denting its aura of fiscal
credibility. That leaves taxes. Post-election tax hikes are a well-worn
political formula. Within a year of being elected British governments have
raised taxes by 0.5% of GDP on average since 1979, The Economist
calculates (see chart). That would be around £14bn today.
Small increases to broad-based taxes like income tax, national insurance or
VAT would be best. But Labour has ruled out raising the headline rate of all
three, as well as of corporation tax (though it may have left some room in
its manifesto wording to fiddle with income-tax thresholds).

Capital-gains tax (CGT) looks a more likely target. Labour has said it has
no plans to raise CGT but ruled it out firmly only for primary homes.
Secrecy here has a valid economic rationale: asset-holders could cash out
early if an increase were pre-announced. And there are also some grounds
for raising it: capital gains are taxed at a much lower rate than salary or
dividend income. But Labour should tread lightly; capital can be flighty and
a high CGT rate may deter investment. Increases should also be coupled
with reforms to ensure that only returns above inflation are taxed. Fully
equalising CGT with income taxes, and taxing only non-inflationary gains,
would raise £16.7bn annually, says Arun Advani of Warwick University.

Labour will probably opt for a jumble of smaller levies, too. “The Treasury
is quite creative,” says Thomas Pope of the Institute for Government,
another think-tank; mandarins won’t struggle to conjure up new taxes. The
challenge is doing so without further distorting the economy and
complicating the tax code.

Updating out-of-date council-tax valuations would be sensible but

politically unpopular, as would other reforms like widening the VAT base.
Labour may opt for smaller fiddles: narrowing inheritance-tax reliefs for
small-cap equities, farms and the like; raising sugar taxes; or lifting tinier
levies like insurance-premium tax. Stealth taxes will have obvious appeal.
Income-tax and national-insurance thresholds are frozen until 2028, quietly
pulling more people into higher tax bands as wages rise. Labour could well
extend that freeze.

Thankfully, however, Ms Reeves has ruled out another stealth tax: tiering
Bank of England reserves so that banks are paid interest on only a fraction
of them. That proposal is central to the economic plans of Reform UK,
Nigel Farage’s populist outfit. It is in effect a tax on banks, but far more
convoluted than a direct levy. It risks gumming up the transmission of
monetary policy as well as turning QE into a reliable money-spinner for the
Treasury.
It looks likely that a Labour government would try to muddle through with
a bit more borrowing, a sprinkling of tax rises and a little trimming to
spending, in the hope that growth will eventually change the fiscal picture.
But it will struggle to skirt tougher choices. If Labour wants to make swift
progress on improving public services and alleviating poverty, more money
will be needed. And although the forces squeezing the British state—most
obviously, the impact of an ageing population—have featured only
sporadically in the campaign, they will be inescapable in government. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/20/what-taxes-might-labour-raise

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Expectation management

Child poverty will be a test of

Labour’s fiscal prudence
Its MPs, members and voters will want rapid action on a totemic issue
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

FOR A TASTE of the pressures that Labour will almost certainly soon be
grappling with, watch a recent interview with Sir Keir Starmer on Sky
News, a broadcaster. Pushed on how he would help families struggling with
rising taxes and high energy bills, the Labour leader asked voters to trust his
instincts: “It’s about who do you have in your mind’s eye?” The interviewer
moved swiftly onto child poverty: could Sir Keir pledge to remove the two-
child limit, which means families on benefits get no extra support beyond
their second child? “I’m not going to make promises that I can’t keep,” he
said.
Sir Keir and his shadow chancellor, Rachel Reeves, have spent years
building a reputation for fiscal prudence. As a result they now face the
prospect of being elected by millions of voters they are bound to disappoint.
Tackling poverty would not be the only let-down but it is a good case study
of how a Labour government would struggle without money. There are few
more urgent causes for the party’s core voters, many of whom work in
public services and charities. It is the reason many activists and MPs—and
several members of the shadow cabinet—got involved in politics. But the
best the party can offer, at least for now, is modest change.

It is true, as Sir Keir likes to point out, that the last Labour government was
successful in reducing poverty, particularly among children and pensioners.
But that government made little progress in its first term between 1997 and
2001 because, as now, it had committed to tight Conservative spending
plans. When it did start lifting people out of hardship, it was due to a
booming economy spurred by global tailwinds. That allowed it to “throw
money at the problem”, says Mike Brewer of the Resolution Foundation, a
think-tank.

The picture now is worse. The overall level of poverty, defined as

households with income below 60% of the median, has hardly budged since
2010, hovering at around a fifth of the population. But poverty has
deepened. There are now some 6m people “far below the standard poverty
line”, according to the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, another think-tank. In
2022 around 4m experienced destitution—meaning they struggled to stay
warm, dry, clean and fed—more than double the figure from 2017. In
another change, hardship is now predominantly experienced by those in
work, often owing to high rents.

Set against this backdrop, Labour’s proposals are timid. None of its five
missions focuses on poverty. Its manifesto calls the mass dependence on
food parcels a “moral scar on our society” but says little about fixing it. The
party wants to develop an “ambitious strategy to reduce child poverty” but
so far it has pledged an extra £315m ($400m) for free breakfast clubs
(around 90p per pupil per day, depending on take-up). It will review
Universal Credit, a welfare payment, so that it “makes work pay and tackles
poverty”. Even if growth does tick up, there is little prospect that Sir Keir
will find himself atop a government flush with cash, as happened in the
2000s.

The manifesto does offer one clue about how Labour may be thinking about
squaring this circle, although it is not a promising one. The party says it will
enact the socio-economic duty in the Equality Act of 2010, which would
require public bodies to “have due regard” to the outcomes of all their
decisions on inequality. That is more likely to gum up decision-making than
to tackle poverty. A review of its implementation in Scotland and Wales
found it had just created more paperwork.

In the near term the two-child limit is likely to become a totemic issue.
There is plenty of evidence that this policy, which came into force in 2017
and was designed to encourage parents on low incomes to work more or
have fewer children, has simply pushed children in large families into
poverty. That ends up costing the state more. According to the Institute for
Fiscal Studies, another think-tank, scrapping it would lift around 500,000
children out of poverty and cost £3.4bn per year by the end of the
parliament. For now Sir Keir is making no promises. It is hard to see that
position being tenable for long. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/20/child-poverty-will-be-a-test-of-
labours-fiscal-prudence

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Death and salmon

Climate change casts a shadow

over Britain’s biggest food export
Scottish salmon farms endure a rising mortality rate
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

SPEND TIME on the west coast of Scotland and it won’t be long before
you spot them. Dotting the region’s lochs and bays, salmon farms are big
business. Tourists and locals grumble that they spoil the views. But
according to the Scottish government, the industry is worth more than £1bn
($1.3bn) annually and supports around 12,000 jobs. Last year salmon—
almost all of it reared in Scotland—was Britain’s biggest food export, well
ahead of cheddar and lamb.

Sir James Maitland, the eccentric owner of a Victorian hatchery in

Stirlingshire, was probably the first Scot to breed the fish in captivity. (His
recommended diet for salmon fry—horse meat and eggs—did not catch on.)
But the industry took off only in recent decades. Technology from Norway,
where the business was pioneered, combined with investment from
Unilever, a consumer-goods firm, to yield Scotland’s first salmon harvest in
1971. Production has exploded. In 2016 Scotland produced twice as much
salmon as it did in 1996; the brand has cachet worldwide.

A shadow lies across the industry, however. Data from Scotland’s Fish
Health Inspectorate show a sharp increase in the number of premature
salmon deaths in saltwater farms in recent years. More than 10m farmed
salmon died offshore in both 2022 and 2023, well above the average for the
previous six years. (Include freshwater farms, where vulnerable juveniles
are reared, and the figure is higher.) Figures from Salmon Scotland, a trade
body, show that the mortality rate roughly doubled between 2018 and 2023,
from 1.18% to 2.35%. Mass die-offs, in which many salmon perish in a
short period, play a big role in boosting these numbers; last autumn one
farm near the Isle of Colonsay reported more than 200,000 deaths in a
week.

Warming oceans are partly to blame. Higher temperatures aren’t themselves

a problem for salmon, explains Iain Berrill of Salmon Scotland. But the
heat can foster blooms of algae, jellyfish and some kinds of plankton that
damage their gills and cause fatal illnesses. Critics of the industry also point
to overcrowding, which spreads sea lice and viral infections. These risks
can compound, too. Sickly fish might find it harder to cope with lower
oxygen levels in warming waters, for example.

Salmon farmers are trying out a variety of solutions. Some are putting
sturdier enclosures further offshore. Deeper, cooler waters and stronger
currents could offer fish a healthier environment, though these sites are
harder to monitor. One firm is trying to build huge underground tanks on
the Isle of Lewis for farming salmon onshore, but such projects are costly.
Other methods—such as placing nets in protective mesh sacks—have had
mixed results.

Scottish salmon farmers are not the only ones hit by rising mortality rates.
Gerald Singh, the co-author of a new paper on salmon deaths, says that
mass die-offs are occurring elsewhere. Everywhere he and his fellow
authors looked, they “saw these increased trends, both in terms of the
frequency of these major events and the increased scale of them”. But few
countries have as much riding on the health of the industry, and of the fish
within it. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/17/climate-change-casts-a-shadow-over-
britains-biggest-food-export

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Oh, Jeremy Corbyn

Jeremy Corbyn wants more nice

things, fewer nasty ones
The former Labour leader, and poet, goes canvassing
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Islington

JEREMY CORBYN is a good man. You can tell because he has a beard and
sandals and he writes poetry. His writings brim with goodness. In his
manifesto he preaches “compassion”, “peace”, “equality”, “democracy” and
other nice abstract nouns. But he has a stern side: he does not like
“injustice”, “cruel” things or “greed”. He is stalwart: such feelings have
made him again run for election to be the MP for “the people of Islington
North”, though presumably not for the greedy ones.

Mr Corbyn used to stand not just for abstract nouns but also—though his
manifesto falls a little quiet on this point—for the Labour Party, which he
led between 2015 and 2020. In that time he presided over not only Labour’s
worst election defeat by number of seats since 1935 but also an alleged rise
in antisemitism, which critics felt smacked less of “equality” and
“compassion” than of rather nastier things. Under his successor, Sir Keir
Starmer, Labour first banned him from being a candidate and later booted
him out of the party. In this election, Mr Corbyn is offering himself as an
independent. He is also offering “hope”, for hope is “very precious”. Which
is a little piece of poetry in itself.

George Orwell wrote that at one point all socialist thought was Utopian.
You can see the sunlit uplands gleaming in Mr Corbyn’s prose. But for most
Britons the far-leftie who might have been prime minister feels dystopian, a
token of quite how unhinged British politics became in recent years. Other
reminders lurk. Liz Truss is still standing for election; Boris Johnson still
writes a weekly newspaper column. There is nothing in the rules to stop
them, save perhaps a sense of embarrassment. As Pericles wrote, unwritten
rules bring “undeniable shame to the transgressors”.

But then Pericles hadn’t encountered Mr Corbyn. And so, on a brisk June
day, a small gaggle of supporters has gathered in north London to canvas
for him. There are elderly men with grey beards and fleeces, and elderly
women with low heels and high principles. When Mr Corbyn arrives, they
clap. Jeremy, one says, has a “good heart”.

As he rarely hesitates to make clear. A recent poetry anthology he edited is

dedicated “to all those suffering from miscarriages of justice” (you might
have thought they’d suffered enough). In it, he promises that there is “a poet
in all of us”. The anthology offers verses on war, imperialism and racism,
before brightening up for a poem titled “Death of a Financier”. It ends with
a poem by Mr Corbyn himself about refugees in Calais (“The setting sun
gleams on the Hotel de Ville…”).

His goodness is also evident in the things for which he campaigns, such as
“our NHS”, “our schools” and “our ticket offices”. A politician of the
possessive pronoun, he speaks of “our” this and “our” that a lot. (“The rich”
are not embraced in this way; they possess enough already.) He is
campaigning for democracy, which brings “inclusivity” and “co-operation”.
Though when The Economist arrives, his reaction—“Could you stand back,
please?” and “Can you leave it then?”—doesn’t feel that inclusive. The
whole of the press, says a canvasser, is against Mr Corbyn. Which is
unfathomable. As he is a good man. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/19/jeremy-corbyn-wants-more-nice-things-
fewer-nasty-ones

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Without a care

The silence of the bedpans

Why is social care barely talked about in Britain’s election?
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN 2016, 6% of over-65s in Britain received publicly funded long-term

care. By 2023 this proportion had fallen to 5%. That is not because Britons
are getting healthier. Quite the opposite. Local councils, which fund social
care only for those with the greatest need and the fewest assets, have faced
real-terms cuts of 18% per person to their budgets since 2010. Less than
half of the elderly who need care receive any support; overcrowded hospital
wards in the National Health Service (NHS) end up taking much of the
strain.

Some politicians have made efforts to fix the problem. The last prime
minister but one, Boris Johnson, deserves rare credit for introducing a
health and social-care levy to raise money for the ailing sector. He also
pledged a cap on the costs of care that people bear for themselves—one in
seven over-65s face bills of more than £100,000 ($126,700). But in this
election, social care is conspicuous mainly by its absence.

The Conservative Party, having delayed the cap and scrapped the levy at the
same time as they jettisoned Mr Johnson, would rather avoid the subject.
Labour’s “Ming vase” strategy involves treading as cautiously as if carrying
priceless porcelain across a slippery floor. The silence around social care is
a good way to understand the shortcomings of the campaign as a whole.

Self-imposed fiscal constraints are one reason why the topic is being
dodged. Both big parties pledge not to raise broad-based taxes; the
Conservatives are committed to further cuts to national insurance, the
payroll tax that Mr Johnson had wanted to raise. As a result neither party
promises lots of extra spending on adult social care, even though the
outgoing Tory government’s spending plans would probably mean further
cuts for local councils and an ageing population will only increase demand
for care.

Then there is the question of the social-care workforce, which is stretched

thin. In 2023 the vacancy rate in adult social care was around 10%—two
percentage points higher than in the NHS. But a fifth of social-care workers
are foreign-born, and importing more of them is awkward for parties that
want to appear tough on immigration. Labour is proposing a collective-
bargaining agreement for workers in the sector, in part to make the pay
more attractive to Britons. But jacking up wages without boosting funding
is a recipe for trouble: the Tory government’s most recent rise in the
national minimum wage is already increasing financial pressures on
residential homes and home-care agencies.

Previous elections have also left scars. In 2010 Labour considered

introducing a compulsory inheritance levy, whereby £20,000 would be
taken from each estate after death to fund social care. The press promptly
branded the policy a “death tax”. Seven years later Theresa May threw
away a 20-point lead in the polls, in part because of a cobbled-together
policy in which all but £100,000 of assets, including a person’s home, could
be used to pay for care. That was christened a “dementia tax”. In both cases
shoddy policymaking caused a lot of the problems, but the lesson that stuck
was that social care is a banana skin.

Public ignorance about how the system works also enables the parties to
paper over the subject. Since no one knows how long they will live or how
great their needs will be, the current system is like “standing in a road with
a lorry driving towards you and hoping you die before the lorry hits you”,
says Andrew Dilnot, an economist who first proposed a cap on care costs
way back in 2011. Most Britons do not realise—or do not care—how much
financial risk they are running until they or a relative has to navigate the
system.

These factors explain why the Conservatives and Labour have given social
care only cursory attention. The Tory manifesto offers a paragraph with no
new commitments, though it does repeat the promise to implement Mr
Dilnot’s cap on care costs. Labour’s manifesto is similarly flimsy; Wes
Streeting, the shadow health secretary, admitted on June 16th that it could
have been “more ambitious”. Among other things it promises to crack down
on poor-quality providers as part of a vaguely defined “National Care
Service”. It is offering “a plan for a plan”, says Simon Bottery of The
King’s Fund, a think-tank.

The Liberal Democrats, whose leader, Sir Ed Davey, is himself a carer for
his disabled son, are the only party aside from the Greens to have offered a
substantive plan. But the Lib Dems’ proposal for free personal care would
require much more funding than the £2.7bn (0.1% of GDP) they have set
aside; in Scotland, which has already implemented a similar policy,
personal care appears to be being rationed. And smaller parties can in any
case afford to be bolder.

The bigger parties have a different electoral calculus. On social care, as on

other awkward issues related to the state of the public services or the
damage done to the economy by Brexit, Labour and the Tories have both
concluded that it is better to sweep problems under the carpet than risk
confronting them. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/20/the-silence-of-the-bedpans

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Bagehot

Britain’s Conservatives are losing

as they governed. Meekly
UwU Conservativism, and the end of smol government
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

SQUINT A LITTLE and the letters “UwU” resemble someone with large,
cartoonish eyes and a serene smile. The cutesy emoticon is a staple of a
certain corner of the internet, in which grown-ups speak to each other in an
infantile tone (“I’m just a smol bean”) and adopt feigned helplessness.

What is grating enough online is much worse coming from a G7

government. The Conservatives, who have spent 14 years running Britain,
increasingly subscribe to a narrative that they were a mere bit-part player,
rather than its main actor. Gazing upon a dying Conservative administration
in 1993, Lord Lamont, who had recently been sacked as chancellor, accused
Sir John Major’s government of being “in office but not in power”. What
was once an attack has now become the party’s principal defence: the
Conservatives may have been in office, but they were never in power. Call
it UwU Conservatism.

Buck-passing starts with the historiography of the Tories’ many years in

government. Sure, the histories will say that the Conservative Party entered
power in 2010 and, almost certainly, left it in 2024. But between 2010 and
2015, the Conservatives had to share power with the Liberal Democrats. A
brief interlude with a 12-seat majority was interrupted by the Brexit
referendum in 2016. After a botched election, Theresa May struggled on
with a hung parliament. True, Boris Johnson won a mighty majority of 80
seats in 2019 but a pandemic and the invasion of Ukraine stymied what he
could do with it. That the errors of each era—undermining public services
via austerity, leaving the European Union or putting Mr Johnson in charge
during a time of national emergency—were Conservative-made is ignored.
UwU.

Helplessness has now become an electoral strategy. Some polls suggest that
Labour could end up with a majority bigger than any in the modern era.
Grant Shapps, the defence secretary, has worried aloud about the threat of a
Labour “supermajority”. “It doesn’t do the country any good to have that
kind of size majority,” he chided. Party elders joined in. “It would be
parliamentary democracy in its weakest form since the 1930s,” warned
Lord Hague, a former party leader turned columnist. Pwease halp.

Talk of a “supermajority” is constitutional nonsense. No magic thresholds

exist in the British system. In some countries, a two-thirds majority bestows
a host of constitution-shredding powers upon the holder. In Britain a
majority of one carries as much legal force as one of 180. Whining about a
supermajority provides the perfect cover for the Conservatives’ lack of
achievements in the past five years. If only the Conservatives had enjoyed a
bigger majority than 80 seats, the government would have more
achievements to its name. The majority was just too smol.

If the Conservatives are puny in their own minds, then Labour is mighty.
The Conservatives have taken to warning of two decades of socialist
imperium under Sir Keir Starmer’s Labour Party. Fears that a government
will go wild with executive power, gerrymandering the voting system and
stacking the House of Lords, are as much projection as anything else. The
Conservatives repeatedly tried to drag authority to the centre. Brexit-related
legislation, for example, was littered with “Henry VIII” powers, designed to
allow government ministers to hack away laws at will. But they have gone
largely unused by the Conservatives. A new government may be more
ruthless. If Labour does decide to run amok, the Tories will be partly to
blame.

Even the lightest legislation proved too heavy for a smol government. A
proposed ban on foie gras never became law. Limits on plastic wet wipes
also went nowhere. When asked about his legacy, Rishi Sunak, the prime
minister, alighted on his plan to ban smoking for anyone born after January
1st 2009. Yet the smoking bill is not law because Mr Sunak himself
abruptly halted its progress by calling an election he will surely lose.
“That’s the type of leadership that I bring,” he said, altogether too
accurately. This lack of legislative legacy is, naturally, someone else’s fault.
“Blairite legislation has tied the hands of the government,” complained
Miriam Cates, a backbench Tory MP. Less UwU, more (>_<).

Meekness infects the immediate political ambitions of the Conservative

Party, too. It is petrified about Nigel Farage and Reform UK hoovering up
voters to its right, yet seems to assume that winning voters to its left is
impossible. The election result would have to turn out only slightly worse
than the most damning polls for Sir Ed Davey, the leader of the Liberal
Democrats, to be the one facing Sir Keir during Prime Minister’s Questions.
But when it comes to liberal Britain—or indeed anyone who is not a
pensioner in a town on England’s eastern seaboard—the Conservatives have
all but given up.

UwU Conservatism has many weaknesses. Mr Sunak’s early departure from

a D-Day anniversary memorial in France earlier this month played badly
enough. But journalists at ITV, a broadcaster, made it worse by showing Mr
Sunak moaning that the event “ran over” when apologising for being late
for his interview with them. Idle chit-chat before an interview would
usually be off-limits for an all-powerful prime minister. But for one on the
way out, it is fair game. In politics, smol beans get trod on.
C’maahn I’m a little guy, I’m just a little guy

Pretending to be puny is the government’s only defence. A government that

pledged to cut taxes and cut immigration has done the opposite. Austerity
hollowed out the state, rather than slimming it. The Conservative Party’s
one definitive achievement—leaving the EU—was a bad idea, badly
executed and is, understandably, barely mentioned in the campaign. Rather
than stand by this record, the Tories ask for pity. Big government is rarely a
good idea, but smol government is much worse. UwU. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in Britain, sign up to Blighty,
our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/britain/2024/06/19/britains-conservatives-are-losing-as-
they-governed-meekly

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

International
Brainy Indians are piling into Western universities
Attending university abroad :: Will rich countries welcome them the way they did Chinese
students?

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Attending university abroad

Brainy Indians are piling into

Western universities
Will rich countries welcome them the way they did Chinese students?
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

OVER THE past two decades the number of people studying in countries
other than their own has tripled, to more than 6m. International students
from China have caused most of that increase. Youngsters flocked to
universities in English-speaking countries to expand both their minds and
their opportunities. In return they brought valuable brainpower and large
piles of foreign cash. Governments have sometimes viewed this bounty as a
reason to put less of their own money into higher education. Institutions in
Australia, Britain and Canada have grown increasingly reliant on foreign
flows to subsidise research and to cover the costs of educating local
scholars.
Now the market for international study is about to undergo a huge change.
Chinese school-leavers are growing gradually less keen to travel; in their
place, Indian students are becoming the main engine of growth. In 2022
Britain issued more student visas to Indian citizens than they doled out to
Chinese ones (see chart 1). So did America. In both countries, it was the
first time in years that had occurred.
These newcomers have different demands from their East Asian
forerunners. For one thing, Indian students as a group are much more likely
to want to carry on living and working in their host countries even after
their courses end. Economically this could be a boon to labour markets.
Politically it could provoke more heated reactions about foreign students in
countries already riven by immigration debates.

India’s student exodus is driven by youthful demography and fast-

increasing wealth. Given it is home to 1.4bn citizens, the country has more
university-aged people than anywhere. Every month, a million more Indians
turn 18. Their families are much richer than they used to be: India’s GDP
per person rose from $469 in 2002 to $2,410 two decades later, according to
the World Bank. The number of middle- and high-income households in
India is expanding by around 10% each year, reckons Oxford Economics, a
British consultancy.

As aspirations rise, enrolment in India’s own universities and colleges is

shooting up. In 2001 some 9m Indians attended higher-education
institutions. Now the student body numbers about 43m, having long ago
passed America to become the second-largest in the world after China.
More growth seems certain: enrolment in tertiary education (the total
number of students as a share of the college-aged population) remains
below 30%, less than half the rate in China. The government wants this to
reach 50% by 2035, which would bring total enrolment to near 75m.

Yet swift expansion has done nothing to improve the poor quality of
teaching and research in many Indian institutions. No Indian university
ranks among the world’s top 100, judged by any of the most rigorous league
tables. These take into account things like the quality of research output.
The higher-education system has “islands of excellence”, says N.V.
Varghese of the National University of Educational Planning and
Administration in Delhi. But it also has an “ocean of mediocrity”.
Competition for spots at the best places is furious. Several Indian
institutions have rejection rates higher than America’s Ivy League,
including the formidable Indian Institutes of Technology.

Many Indian students see better prospects abroad. They are finding it ever
easier to finance their ambitions. Banks are growing more willing to issue
student loans for foreign study. This is in part because of examples set by a
fast-expanding gaggle of non-bank financial firms, says Aman Singh of
GradRight, which helps students pick between them.

These new outfits are less likely to require collateral. Instead they are more
inclined to make lending decisions using data about a student’s chosen
subject and destination, rather than seeking out information about their
family wealth. But plenty of people still end up making big sacrifices.
Farmers sometimes sell fields to fund their children’s travels, says Saif
Iqbal of ApplyBoard, a Canadian edtech firm.

Driven by these factors—and by overhang from the pandemic years, when

many youngsters put their educational dreams on hold—the number of
people leaving India for study has lately surged. In the first ten months of
2023 some 760,000 Indians went abroad for foreign study of some sort,
reckons the government. That is roughly 30% more than in 2019. In total
some 1.5m Indian students reside overseas, it guesses, about 38% higher
than before covid-19. America estimates that the number studying at its
colleges and universities has grown by some 37% in five years, to 270,000
(see chart 2).

Balancing the books

The exodus is good news for India and for the countries to which its
students head. In public, Indian politicians are inclined to bemoan the
departures. But behind the rhetoric everyone knows that students who go
abroad generally do well, and “better than they would do at home”, says Mr
Varghese. Those who return bring back valuable skills: India’s best
universities are full of foreign-educated academics. Those who stay away
are seen as flag-fliers for India abroad. The country is proud of former
foreign students such as Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai, the bosses of the
American tech giants Microsoft and Alphabet, both of whom were born in
India.

Meanwhile, receiving countries—notably America, Australia, Britain and

Canada—see a chance to grab talent, particularly in engineering, computer
science and maths. Such skilled workers can boost research, innovation and
more. According to analysis from 2022 by the National Foundation for
American Policy, a think-tank, a quarter of billion-dollar startups in
America had founders who came to the country as international students.

Western universities also think Indian students may help to maintain

demand for their expensive degrees even as migrations from China plateau.
For years analysts have warned that a decades-long boom in Chinese
arrivals might be nearing its peak; the pandemic may well have accelerated
that. China’s youth population is shrinking. Its own universities are
improving fast. And as relations with the West grow more tense, Chinese
students abroad may no longer feel as welcome as they once did. There are
also related concerns that Chinese employers will stop seeing Western
degrees as an asset.

Yet if the newcomers bring opportunity, they also present new risks. The
single largest threat is that shifts in the countries that send international
students affect how willing voters in receiving countries are to accept them.
Debates about immigration in rich countries are increasingly toxic. As the
numbers of international students rise, the more often they are drawn into
these rows.

Indeed, Indian students differ from their Chinese counterparts in ways that
seem likely to inflame these fights. The Indians are far less wealthy, for a
start. They usually favour more affordable, lower-tier universities and
incline towards shorter courses. They are much more likely, for example, to
study at postgraduate level than as undergraduates. That is because funding
a one- or two-year master’s is more manageable than funding a full
bachelor’s degree overseas. In Britain, a typical Indian student spends only
about half as much on tuition fees as a Chinese one.

Indian students are also much keener than Chinese ones to remain in the
countries where they have studied after graduation. Most big destination
countries operate some kind of “post-study” visa scheme, which permits
youngsters to stay on for a few years after they graduate, often with few
strings attached. The Chinese, who tend to head home quickly, did not make
great use of these. Indians, by contrast, are very keen on them. They look
for these schemes when deciding where in the world to study. Their terms
can affect how willing lenders are to give Indian students the money they
need to pay course fees.

All these differences create complications. Postgraduate students are much

more likely than undergraduates to request additional visas for spouses or
children. “Post-study” visa schemes, previously little noticed by the public,
are growing more controversial. Lower spending per student means that
countries have to welcome more newcomers to bank the same amounts of
cash. The low- and middle-tier universities that benefit most from Indian
arrivals do not have a loud voice in forums where these policies are
discussed.

In recent months governments in Australia, Britain and Canada have all

tightened rules around foreign students. Canada is temporarily capping
foreign enrolment on undergraduate and non-degree courses over worries
about housing and visa abuses. Australia has just cut the amount of time it
will permit international students to remain in the country after they
graduate, and Britain has barred all but a sliver of foreign students from
bringing dependants. America is not tightening for the moment. But its
universities complain that immigration officials are rejecting a high share of
Indian applicants. Last year they turned down 36% of all requests for
student visas, up from 15% in 2014.

Class action

Such measures are not unprecedented as governments frequently blow hot

and cold about international students. Some think the latest round of
tightening is simply another swing in that same old cycle. But Matt Durnin
of Nous, a consultancy with offices in Australia, Britain and elsewhere,
reckons something more fundamental is afoot. For years Western countries
grew accustomed to students who were cash rich, and who headed home the
day after graduation. Now they are realising that “the game is completely
different”.

The risk is that rich countries will increasingly shun their opportunities to
snaffle bright young things. And, worse, that they do so without revisiting
the funding settlements that have made their universities ever more reliant
on income from overseas. Given the growth-boosting power of big, zingy
universities, that would be a foolish mistake. ■

Stay on top of our India coverage by signing up to Essential India, our free
weekly newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/international/2024/06/20/brainy-indians-are-piling-into-
western-universities
| Section menu | Main menu |
 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Business
China’s giant solar industry is in turmoil
Solar coaster :: Overcapacity has caused prices—and profits—to tumble

Floating solar has a bright future

Dam good :: The technology is now ready to shine

India’s electronics industry is surging

Powering up :: Foreign and domestic firms are investing in local manufacturing

The cautionary tale of Huy Fong’s hot sauce

Hot mess :: What went wrong for America’s favourite sriracha brand?

European airlines are on a shopping spree

Flying off the rails :: Lufthansa and IAG are pursuing big acquisitions

Nvidia is now the world’s most valuable company

Nvidia :: Tech giants can’t get enough of its chips

Are manufacturing jobs really that good?

Bartleby :: The nostalgia of politicians is misplaced

Palmer Luckey and Anduril want to shake up armsmaking

Schumpeter :: The 31-year-old flip-flop-wearer should not be underestimated

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Solar coaster

China’s giant solar industry is in

turmoil
Overcapacity has caused prices—and profits—to tumble
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Shaanxi

IN A FACTORY in a smoggy corner of China’s inland Shaanxi province,

the country’s world-leading solar industry is on display. Robots scoot
around carrying square slices of polysilicon, a substance usually made from
quartz. The slices, each 180mm across and a hair’s breadth thick, are called
wafers. They are bathed in chemicals, shot with lasers and etched with
silver. All that turns them into solar cells, which convert sunlight into
electricity. Several dozen of these cells are then bundled together into a
solar module. The factory, which is owned by LONGi Green Energy
Technology, a giant of solar manufacturing, can churn out about 16m cells a
day.
China’s solar industry is dominant across every stage of the global supply
chain, from the polysilicon to the finished product. Module production
capacity in the country reached roughly 1,000 gigawatts (GW) last year,
almost five times that of the rest of the world combined, according to Wood
Mackenzie, a consultancy. What is more, it has tripled since 2021,
outgrowing the rest of the world, despite efforts by America and others to
boost domestic production. China is now able to produce more than twice
as many solar modules as the world installs each year.

This massive expansion in supply has helped drive down the cost of
renewable energy for consumers, acting as a counterweight to the rising
cost of capital needed to develop solar farms. During the covid-19
pandemic the price of solar modules spiked owing to a shortfall in the
supply of polysilicon. Since then, however, the global price has fallen to a
record low of less than 10 cents per watt, according to PVInsights, a data
provider (see chart 1).
Yet the rapid growth of Chinese capacity, which has outpaced global
demand, has also squeezed much of the profit out of the industry.
Polysilicon, wafers, cells and finished modules now sell below their
average production cost. Collapsing prices caused Chinese solar export
revenues to fall by 5.6% last year, according to Wood Mackenzie, even as
volumes soared. LONGi’s share price has slumped by some 60% since the
start of 2023. In March the company said it would fire 5% of its workers,
citing an “increasingly complex and competitive environment”. The share
prices of other Chinese solar giants, including Trina Solar, JA Solar and
Jinko Power, have also been battered (see chart 2).

Smaller companies have been hit even harder. Yana Hryshko of Wood
Mackenzie explains that the big firms are typically diversified, helping
them weather the collapse in solar prices. Others are not so lucky. Lingda, a
smaller manufacturer of solar cells, recently cancelled plans to build a
$1.3bn factory. An executive at one Chinese solar company reckons that at
least half of the businesses across the supply chain will go under.
So far, however, there are few signs of an end to China’s overcapacity
problem. Despite financial pressure from falling prices, the industry’s
largest companies continue to upgrade their technology and expand their
output in an effort to keep their marginal costs below those of their
competitors. Wood Mackenzie forecasts that China’s solar industry will
expand capacity to nearly 1,700GW by 2026.
State support for the industry is contributing to the supply glut. For decades
leaders of municipal and provincial governments in China have sought to
build local solar industries that hire from their populations and contribute
taxes. Support comes in a variety of forms, including free land, free
electricity, interest-free loans and access to cutting-edge technologies, notes
Usha Haley of Wichita State University. She reckons all this adds up to
about 35% of a solar company’s costs, on average, but could be as high as
65% in some cases.

There are signs such support has been growing more generous, notes Ms
Haley. Some local governments are financing and building solar factories
that they then lease and later sell to companies. Many will be tempted to
step in to prevent local solar champions from going under. That is
especially so given the downturn in China’s property sector, which has
strained the finances of local governments that relied on selling land to
developers to generate income. One industry insider in the inland city of
Zhengzhou notes that officials there have grown more willing to aid solar
companies that run into trouble.

That support may dry up. Many of China’s provinces are struggling to
service their debts. Solar companies must also compete for government
largesse with firms in other industries that are grappling with overcapacity
as China’s economy slows. More than a fifth of Chinese industrial firms
were unprofitable last year, according to analysis by Rhodium, another
consultancy. Efforts to export away China’s overcapacity problem are
encountering resistance abroad. Last month Ursula von der Leyen, the
European Commission’s president, declared “the world cannot absorb
China’s surplus production.” On June 12th the EU announced it would slap
provisional tariffs of between 26% and 48% on Chinese electric vehicles
(EVs).
China’s cut-price solar modules could come in for similar treatment.
America has levied anti-dumping duties on Chinese solar manufacturers
since 2012. Although the EU abandoned similar measures in 2018, some
fret over the continent’s dependence on Chinese solar companies (see chart
3). In April the bloc agreed to expand subsidies and other support for local
solar manufacturers that have been pummelled by Chinese imports.

Although China’s leaders have contested claims that the country is

grappling with excess supply, there are signs they are aware of it. In a
meeting with business executives and economists last month, Xi Jinping,
China’s ruler, cautioned against focusing resources solely on EVs, batteries
and solar modules—or, as a recent slogan describes them, “new quality
productive forces”—and noted that investments must “have their own
merits”.

All this suggests a period of consolidation looms for China’s solar industry.
Jenny Chase of BloombergNEF, a research group, has seen this play out
before. “There are slight profits, then longer periods of terrible margins,
then bankruptcies and exits. We call it the solar coaster.” Demand may
eventually catch up with supply, as lower module prices encourage
developers to install more solar power. In the meantime, China’s solar
industry should prepare for a bumpy ride. ■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/17/chinas-giant-solar-industry-is-in-
turmoil

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Dam good

Floating solar has a bright future

The technology is now ready to shine
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | ALQUEVA

DRIVE A FEW hours from Lisbon towards Spain, past the olive farms, and
you will arrive at Europe’s largest artificial lake, at the Portuguese town of
Alqueva. The first thing that catches the eye is the large hydroelectric dam.
But look closer and you will also spot a bright patch of floating glass. It is
the floating solar-power plant built by EDP, a Portuguese utility that is one
of the world’s biggest developers of renewable energy. Critics have long
dismissed such projects as a costly and trouble-prone experiment. The
technology, however, is now ready to shine.

In this first phase of the project at Alqueva, engineers have stationed some
12,000 photovoltaic (PV) modules on floating pontoons made from
partially recycled plastic and locally sourced cork. These are connected to
an energy-storage system incorporating lithium-ion batteries and integrated
with the hydroelectric dam’s power station.

Floating solar projects like this one do face plenty of challenges. The kit has
to be water-, wave-, wind- and storm-resistant, which adds complexity and
cost. When located on salt water, corrosion can be a problem, though inland
projects in fresh water fare better. The fish in lakes attract plenty of birds,
whose droppings can block the sun. To deal with this, engineers for the
project at Alqueva have developed remote-controlled cleaning robots and
are working on autonomous ones. “Like a Roomba for the panels,” explains
one.

Yet floating solar projects also enjoy several advantages. When they are
located at existing hydroelectric dams they do not require any additional
land, thus evading NIMBY opposition, and can be connected to the grid
without the multi-year wait common for solar projects. The cooling effect
of being on water boosts the efficiency of the modules, with studies
suggesting gains of between 5% and 15% over land-based PV, while the
shade they produce slows the evaporation of the reservoir.

EDP considers floating solar one of its “biggest bets”. The five megawatts
(MW) of capacity built in the first phase of its project at Alqueva is,
admittedly, tiny. The company, however, is planning a second phase that
would add 70MW more by 2025. Wood Mackenzie, a consultancy, reckons
the technology could provide 60 gigawatts of renewable-power capacity
globally by 2031. That may not seem much next to the 1.6 terawatts of solar
capacity installed as of last year. But every bit counts.■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/floating-solar-has-a-bright-future

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Powering up

India’s electronics industry is

surging
Foreign and domestic firms are investing in local manufacturing
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Bangalore

TO WITNESS INDIA’S growing role as a manufacturing hub, dodge

Bangalore’s notorious traffic and head north. Around 45km outside the city,
amid the dust and debris of construction, Foxconn, a Taiwanese contract
manufacturer, is turning 120 hectares of farmland into a factory that will
produce around 20m iPhones a year. Foxconn’s plant will be the third
facility near Bangalore dedicated to churning out phones for Apple, an
American tech giant. The other two are run by Tata, India’s largest
conglomerate.
Bangalore, home to many of India’s IT giants, is better known for its
software than its hardware. However, the new factories suggest that, in one
industry at least, India’s efforts to transform itself into a manufacturing
powerhouse are bearing fruit. Electronics manufacturing—the business of
building mobile phones, televisions and other gadgets—is thriving in India.
The value of electronics it produced rose from $37bn to $105bn (3% of
GDP) between the fiscal years ending in March 2016 and March 2023 (see
chart). The government wants to triple this again by fiscal 2026. Although
India’s production of electronics accounts for just 3% of the global total, its
share is growing faster than any other country’s.
Nowhere is this boom more evident than in the production of phones, which
makes up nearly half of India’s electronics industry. The country is the
world’s second-largest maker of the devices, trailing only China. In fiscal
2015 India imported almost four-fifths of its phones. It now imports barely
any. Apple sources about one in seven of its iPhones from India, double
what it did a year ago. Samsung, a South Korean rival, has its largest
phone-making facility in the country.

Contract manufacturers, which build products on behalf of other companies,

have been rapidly expanding in India. Foxconn, which assembles nearly
two-thirds of Indian-made iPhones, now has more than 30 Indian factories
and employs 40,000 Indian workers. Although its Indian operations account
for less than 5% of its total revenue, the company is steadily increasing its
investments. It has set aside $2.6bn for its Bangalore factory. Last year Liu
Young, Foxconn’s boss, told investors that the several billion dollars it had
invested in India so far was “only the beginning”. A steady stream of
foreign suppliers to Foxconn and its peers have also set up shop in India.
PwC, an advisory firm, estimates that the share of value India added to
phones produced in the country increased from 2% in 2014 to 15% in 2022.

It is not only foreign firms that have piled in. Tata first entered phone-
making in 2021 by building parts for older models of the iPhone. After
initial issues with quality control, the company has found its footing. In
November it acquired the Indian operations of Wistron, a Taiwanese firm,
and began assembling iPhones. Tata now plans to expand its factories to
nab a larger share of business with Apple.

Another Indian company benefiting from the device-making bonanza is

Dixon Technologies, India’s largest domestic electronics manufacturer. The
company, which began making gadgets for the local market three decades
ago, has jumped into producing smartphones for foreign companies. It now
employs 27,000 people, up from 2,000 a decade ago. Over the past year its
share price has risen by 150%.

India’s electronics boom reflects a combination of the desire of Western

tech firms such as Apple to reduce their reliance on China and the vast
appetite of India’s 1.4bn people for whizzy devices such as smartphones.
Generous handouts from the government have sweetened the deal for
companies mulling production in India. In 2020 the government announced
a programme of “production-linked incentives” for manufacturers in
various industries, including electronics.

Sunil Vachani, Dixon’s boss, credits the government for its belief in India’s
manufacturing potential, which he says has brought about “a change in the
mindset” of the country. India’s government has certainly been busy wooing
foreign manufacturers. In January it awarded the Padma Bhushan, the
country’s third-highest civilian award, to Mr Liu of Foxconn. Pranay
Kotasthane of the Takshashila Institution, a think-tank in Bangalore, says
the government has been courting companies such as Foxconn to lure in
“anchor investors” around which supply chains can form.

The hope is that India will one day be able to dislodge China as the world’s
electronics factory. Narendra Modi’s electoral setback earlier this month, in
which the prime minister lost his parliamentary majority, does not appear to
have dampened enthusiasm for that goal. His new government has signalled
continuity in its support for manufacturing.

India’s progress certainly looks promising. In the 12 months to the end of

March, its electronic exports reached $29bn, up by 24%, year on year. Still,
that is a far cry from the almost $900bn of electronics China exported last
year. There is, then, plenty more to do. Naushad Forbes, an Indian
businessman, argues that unless Indian firms invest in deepening their
technical know-how, they will struggle to compete in more advanced areas
like chipmaking. India’s reluctance to lower trade barriers with its Asian
neighbours is also a hindrance. Import duties for the raw materials and
components needed to produce electronics are typically higher than in other
countries that are vying to steal production away from China, such as
Vietnam.

For his part, Mr Vachani of Dixon is bullish. He believes that “this a Y2K
moment” for India’s electronic manufacturing, a reference to the panic over
a computer bug at the turn of the century that put the wind in the sails of
India’s IT industry. Perhaps, in time, the term “Bangalored” could refer not,
as today, to the draining of white-collar jobs away from America, but of
blue-collar ones from China. ■
To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to
the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/indias-electronics-industry-is-surging

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Hot mess

The cautionary tale of Huy Fong’s

hot sauce
What went wrong for America’s favourite sriracha brand?
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

SWEET AND spicy with a sour tinge, sriracha sauce was an instant hit
when David Tran, a Vietnamese refugee, brought it to America in the 1980s
under the brand Huy Fong Foods. Asian eateries were the first to snap up
Mr Tran’s hot sauce, but before long the green-nozzled bottle, with its
distinctive rooster logo, had become a staple in restaurants and pantries
alike. Within just a few years Mr Tran went from hawking his wares out of
a Chevy van in Los Angeles to walking the floor of a 20,000-square-metre
factory. By 2020 his business was worth $1bn.
Since then, however, it has suffered a meltdown. First came grumblings by
fans that the condiment had lost its vibrant crimson colour and peppery
punch. Next came the shortages. Enthusiasts soon panicked and began to
hoard the stuff. At one point last year resale prices for Huy Fong’s sauce on
eBay, an e-commerce site, reached as high as $150 per bottle. To cap it off,
last month the company announced it was halting production until at least
September.

For decades Huy Fong set its sriracha apart with fresh jalapeños reddened
on the vine, a difficult commodity to grow at scale. Competitors turned to
dried chillies. Mr Tran turned to Craig Underwood, a Californian with a
penchant for peppers. For 28 years Underwood Ranches, his company, met
all Huy Fong’s jalapeño needs, at one point producing close to 45,000
tonnes a year. To fill Huy Fong’s bottles, Underwood Ranches expanded its
acreage ten-fold. The two men became chums. In 2017, however, the
relationship soured following a disagreement between Mr Tran and Mr
Underwood over financial terms.

Although Mr Tran scrambled to find new growers, turning south to Mexico,

none has been able to reliably meet his exacting requirements. “It wasn’t
easy to put together that supply chain,” Mr Underwood explains. Huy
Fong’s woes began in earnest once its reserves began to run out in 2020.

Competitors have been all too willing to step into the gap left by the
sriracha pioneer. McIlhenny, which makes Tabasco, a rival hot sauce, began
peddling its own sriracha product with a campaign promising “no shortage
of flavour inspiration”. In the second half of last year its condiment was the
bestselling sriracha sauce in America. Other brands have had a boost, too.
Even Underwood Ranches has piled in with its own product, trading on its
reputation as Huy Fong’s erstwhile supplier. If there is one lesson from Mr
Tran’s debacle, then, it is to keep your friends close—and your jalapeños
closer.■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/the-cautionary-tale-of-huy-fongs-hot-
sauce
| Section menu | Main menu |
 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Flying off the rails

European airlines are on a

shopping spree
Lufthansa and IAG are pursuing big acquisitions
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | BERLIN

SOME CORPORATE tie-ups delight investors. Others make them groan.

The purchase of a 41% stake in ITA, Italy’s national airline, by Lufthansa, a
German carrier, for €325m ($350m) is an example of the latter. Rumours
that the EU is close to blessing the deal have contributed to a slump in
Lufthansa’s share price.

ITA, once called Alitalia, is hardly a crown jewel. Since its founding in
1946 it has turned an annual profit only three times. The Italian government
privatised the company in 2009—then renationalised it in 2020, rebranding
it as ITA in the hope of a fresh start. Air France-KLM and Etihad, two
airline businesses that had taken minority stakes in the carrier, wrote off
their investments. The Italian government spent around €3.5bn during the
covid-19 pandemic to keep the company aloft, equivalent to roughly
€300,000 per employee.

Turning around a business with such an impressive history of financial

disaster seems like a tall order. The Italian carrier has been pummelled by
low-cost rivals, including Ryanair and Wizz Air, that have expanded in Italy
to capitalise on the turmoil at the company. “Acquiring ITA is one of the
most challenging propositions in European aviation,” says Tobias Fromme
of Bernstein, a broker.

Why, then, is Lufthansa pursuing a deal? It argues that Italy is one of the
company’s biggest markets, and that ITA’s routes to Africa and South
America complement Lufthansa’s routes to North America and East Asia. It
adds that it already owns another small Italian airline, Air Dolomiti, which
means it is familiar with the market. A further motivation may be
Lufthansa’s fear that ITA could fall into the hands of a rival.

European aviation is in the midst of what may be its final wave of

consolidation. Six companies—Air France-KLM, EasyJet, IAG, Lufthansa,
Ryanair and Wizz Air—already account for 71% of capacity on flights
within the continent. IAG, which owns Aer Lingus, British Airways and
Iberia, is planning to buy 80% of Air Europa, Spain’s third-biggest airline,
subject to EU approval. A large stake in SAS, a Scandinavian carrier, is
being sold to Air France-KLM and Castelake, an American private-equity
firm. Air France-KLM and IAG are expected to bid for TAP, Portugal’s
state-owned airline, which is up for sale. After that there will be little else
left to buy. Finnair, of Finland, is unlikely to attract much interest from
buyers, owing in part to the country’s proximity to Russia.

All this worries the European Commission, the EU’s executive arm. It is
concerned that consolidation will lead to higher fares and less choice for
European consumers, which is why it has been probing the ITA and Air
Europa deals. A decision on the first of these is expected by July 4th, and on
the second by August 20th. Both IAG and Lufthansa have been dangling
concessions. IAG has offered to relinquish just over half of Air Europa’s
landing slots. Lufthansa has reportedly said it will cede around 40 slots at
Linate airport in Milan to EasyJet and Volotea, another low-cost airline. It
has proposed to keep a number of ITA’s short-haul flights to Austria,
Belgium, Germany and Switzerland that compete with its own flights. And
it plans to delay integrating ITA into its transatlantic joint venture with
United Airlines, an American carrier, for two years.

Such concessions will only make the ITA deal worse for Lufthansa’s
investors. The German carrier looks to be buying itself a giant headache.
Although ANPAC, the Italian pilots’ union, is supportive of the deal, it is
notoriously difficult to work with. What is more, Italy’s government will
remain the largest investor in the Italian carrier after the deal, at least
initially. Lufthansa will have the option to buy the rest of the company at a
later date. Its investors may pray it doesn’t. ■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/european-airlines-are-on-a-shopping-
spree

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Nvidia

Nvidia is now the world’s most

valuable company
Tech giants can’t get enough of its chips
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午
ON JUNE 18TH Nvidia overtook Microsoft as the world’s most valuable
company. Its market capitalisation of $3.3trn is more than 20 times what it
was in January 2020. Investors are buying its shares as greedily as tech
giants are buying its artificial-intelligence chips. Nvidia’s revenue in the
quarter ending in April rose by 262%, year on year. Its net income rose by
628%.■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/nvidia-is-now-the-worlds-most-
valuable-company

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Bartleby

Are manufacturing jobs really that

good?
The nostalgia of politicians is misplaced
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IF THERE IS one thing politicians agree on these days, it is that

manufacturing jobs are “good” jobs. Joe Biden is betting that huge
subsidies for new factories will transform the outlook for America’s
workers—and November’s election. His acting labour secretary recently
embarked on a jolly-sounding “Good Jobs Summer Tour” to trumpet the
president’s plans. Donald Trump, Mr Biden’s rival, is just as eager to get
more wrenches into the hands of American workers, mostly by slapping
tariffs on foreign goods. Politicians across the rich world believe that
reversing the decades-long decline in manufacturing employment would
leave workers better off.
Your guest Bartleby is not convinced. He has, admittedly, never worked in a
factory, and thus feels no nostalgia for hard hats and high-vis vests. Still,
the idea that deindustrialisation has made work worse is hard to square with
the fact that data on worker satisfaction have been steadily improving for
years.

The argument that manufacturing jobs are better than other sorts has a long
pedigree. Adam Smith believed that manufacturing was “productive”,
unlike services such as banking, retail or hospitality. The factories of the
Industrial Revolution transformed living standards in Europe and America
in the 19th century. Yet they were also awful places for workers, managing
to be both horribly dangerous and tremendously boring. Things did not get
much better with the rise of mass-production in the early 20th century.
Workers in Henry Ford’s carmaking plants, though relatively well paid,
complained that work was stultifying. As one Ford worker noted, “If I keep
putting on Nut Number 86 for about 86 more days, I will be Nut Number 86
in the Pontiac bughouse.”

Even during the post-war period—paradise lost, in the eyes of many

Western politicians—people were hardly thrilled about working in factories.
In 1970 Fortune magazine coined the phrase the “blue-collar blues” to
describe the alienation many manufacturing workers felt in an impersonal
industrial system. One pundit noted that such a worker would be “easy prey
for demagogues who appeal to his resentment and his desire for revenge”,
which sounds familiar.

Manufacturing enthusiasts will no doubt counter that jobs in the sector are
much better today. Workplace accidents occur a fraction as often as they
once did. Most factories are air-conditioned. Robots do many of the
heaviest and most repetitive tasks. And around a third of those who work in
manufacturing never go near a rivet, performing white-collar roles such as
design and engineering.

All that may be so, but compare workers of a similar education level and
there is little evidence they would gain by moving from services to
manufacturing. One paper by statisticians at America’s Bureau of Labour
Statistics found that, across a variety of measures including pay, benefits,
job security and safety, “many industries within services equal or exceed
manufacturing.” This Bartleby’s analysis of British data similarly shows
that job quality in the manufacturing sector is no better than average.

For decades economists observed that manufacturing workers enjoyed a

wage premium over comparable workers in other industries. A recent paper
published by the Federal Reserve, however, shows that this premium has
“disappeared” in recent years. Those who point to the insecurity of gig jobs,
such as delivering takeaway meals, would do well to remember that
manufacturing jobs are often more cyclical than those in services. They are
also more likely to be automated away. It is not immediately obvious that a
job tending to an industrial robot is more satisfying than one operating an
espresso machine at Starbucks, especially for workers who enjoy some
human interaction.

According to Mr Biden, “A job is about a lot more than a pay cheque. It’s
about your dignity. It’s about respect.” That is true. Yet dignity and respect
should be available for workers wherever they are employed. If not,
politicians should focus their attention on ensuring the right regulations are
in place, instead of spending billions of dollars trying to recreate a past that
was far less rosy than they imagine.

Companies, of course, have a role to play as well, with plenty of evidence

demonstrating that bosses who treat their employees well reap the rewards.
And workers themselves need to face the fact that nostalgia misleads. Yes,
work can be a drag. But it is probably the best it has ever been.■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/are-manufacturing-jobs-really-that-
good

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Schumpeter

Palmer Luckey and Anduril want

to shake up armsmaking
The 31-year-old flip-flop-wearer should not be underestimated
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

PALMER LUCKEY owns six helicopters. He would like a seventh: a

Chinook, the workhorse of Western armed forces. When your guest
Schumpeter, meeting Mr Luckey in London, suggests that the British Army
might sell him one, he laments that “eccentric US civilians” are low on the
priority list of buyers. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, “I need to maybe hit up
the Taliban.”

Mr Luckey, who co-founded Anduril, a defence-technology company, in

2017, is joking. Still, coming from a mulleted 31-year-old in a Hawaiian
shirt and flip-flops, who made his fortune selling a virtual-reality company
to Facebook and has now branched out into Game Boy replicas, it sounds
plausible. Despite his eccentricities, Mr Luckey is not a man to be taken
lightly. Anduril is now nipping at the heels of America’s biggest
armsmakers.

A breakthrough came in April when the US Air Force awarded the firm a
contract for the Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCA) programme, which
will eventually consist of more than 1,000 advanced drones supporting
American fighter jets. For the Pentagon to hand a flagship programme to a
startup, and to jettison the traditional prototype phase, is “extraordinary”, he
says. The war in Ukraine has been a proving ground for these sorts of
weapons—and for Mr Luckey’s company. He visited Kyiv two weeks into
the war. “What we’ve been doing was tailored for exactly the type of fight
that’s going on and exactly what we predicted was going to happen,” he
argues, pointing to three lessons.

One is the importance of drones that can navigate and strike autonomously,
even in the face of heavy jamming of their signals and obscurants like
metal-filled smoke clouds. Many existing drones have struggled with this,
says Mr Luckey, because they lack “multi-modal” sensors, such as optical
and infrared cameras, to substitute for GPS, and do not have enough built-in
computing power to use the latest object-recognition algorithms.

Second is the observation that software is eating the battlefield. Imagine

that Russia begins using a new type of jammer. Mr Luckey says that the
data can be sent back immediately to generate countermeasures, which are
then remotely installed on weapons at the front line without having to
change any hardware. A recent study by the Royal United Services Institute,
a think-tank in London, noted that drones in Ukraine needed to have their
software, sensors and radios updated every six to 12 weeks to remain
viable. Anduril, claims Mr Luckey, is “literally pushing new updates…
every single night”.

His third lesson from Ukraine is that weapons must be built in vast
quantities—and therefore cheaply. He laments that Russia produces shells
and missiles far more cheaply than America does: “The US is now on the
wrong side of an issue that we were on the right side of during the cold
war.” Anduril makes much of the fact that its production processes are
modelled not on big aerospace firms, but automotive ones. Its head of
manufacturing is a veteran of Toyota and Tesla, two carmakers. Its
submarine drones are made using welded metal plates rather than a pressure
vessel “because that can be made in something that looks a lot like a
General Motors plant rather than a Lockheed Martin aircraft-assembly
facility or a naval shipyard”.

For years defence-technology startups argued that the Pentagon’s byzantine

procurement rules were rigged in favour of the big “prime” contractors.
Anduril initially had to hire more lawyers and lobbyists than engineers, says
Mr Luckey. The tide has now turned, he reckons, pointing to a flurry of
defence contracts handed out to startups like Saronic, which makes naval
drones. “At a very high level…there’s a belief that things can be done
differently.” Investors increasingly agree. At its last funding round in
December 2022, Anduril was valued at around $8.5bn. According to the
Information, a news site, the firm hopes a new round will push that to
$12.5bn. Still, that figure is only around a tenth of the value of Lockheed
Martin, an industry giant. Mr Luckey notes that, besides Anduril, there have
only been two defence “unicorns”, Palantir and SpaceX. More have made
mattresses, he exaggerates.

The CCA contract is a huge boost, but it covers only the first, limited
tranche of the project. Moreover, some Ukrainians grumble that software
updates have been slow to arrive, leaving Anduril’s high-end Altius drones
bamboozled by jamming, like other American offerings. Another person
familiar with the firm’s products in Ukraine says that although the
company’s software is impressive, its hardware is less so. Some in the
Pentagon are keen to separate the two so that Anduril’s software can be
plugged in more easily to competitors’ kit. For his part, Mr Luckey
complains that America’s government retains a “caveman mentality” in
which it will spend wodges of money on a high-tech product with
remarkable built-in software, but will recoil in horror at the notion of
paying far smaller sums for “just some code”.

Not droning on
Behind that frustration is a sense of urgency. Many defence bosses revert to
euphemistic blather when asked about their products. Mr Luckey is one of
the rare ones who embraces the fact that they exist to blow things up. He
points to the slogan of one of his teams, “China 27”: products or features
that are not ready for a conflict with America’s rival in 2027 are cast aside.

Mr Luckey’s vision of the future of war fuses two ideas: the centrality of
technology and the need for vast numbers of weapons. “Fifty years from
now the seas are going to be transparent. The skies are going to be
transparent. We’re going to know where every sub is, every airplane is,” he
says. “So then it’s a matter of: who’s going to make enough stuff to beat the
other guy’s stuff.” America is not in a good place, he concludes. “We’re
quite screwed.” Anduril, however, stands ready to help. ■

To stay on top of the biggest stories in business and technology, sign up to

the Bottom Line, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/business/2024/06/20/palmer-luckey-and-anduril-want-to-
shake-up-armsmaking

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Finance & economics

Why house prices are surging once again
The great escape :: In America, Australia and parts of Europe, property markets have shrugged
off higher interest rates

How bad could things get in France?

Bardella’s potential burden :: The country’s next prime minister faces a brutal fiscal crunch

Europe faces an unusual problem: ultra-cheap energy

Gridlock :: The continent is failing to adapt to a renewables boom

Indian state capitalism looks to be in trouble

Leviathan bound :: A weakened Narendra Modi is bad news for investors in government-
controlled firms

America’s rich never sell their assets. How should they be

taxed?
Sweet gains, bro :: It is tempting to tax them during their lives. It is wiser to do so after their
deaths

Think Nvidia looks dear? American shares could get

pricier still
Buttonwood :: Investors are willing to follow whichever narrative paints the rosiest picture

Is America approaching peak tip?

Free exchange :: The country’s gratuity madness may soon calm, so long as Donald Trump
does not get his way

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

The great escape

Why house prices are surging once

again
In America, Australia and parts of Europe, property markets have shrugged
off higher interest rates
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | San Francisco

IS A FRESH housing boom under way? In April a house-price index for the
world, excluding China, rose by more than 3% year on year (see chart 1 ).
American house prices are 6.5% higher than a year ago, Australian ones
have increased by 5% and Portuguese ones are soaring. In other countries,
the market looks surprisingly strong given years of high interest rates (see
chart 2).
These figures follow a tough period. Adjusted for inflation, prices have
fallen by 20% in Canada, Germany and New Zealand. They are well off
their peaks in some American cities, including San Francisco and Phoenix.
In Boise, Idaho, where prices soared during the covid-19 pandemic as
people sought living space, values are down by over a tenth. Meanwhile,
higher interest rates, and mortgage costs, have made people worried about
their spending on housing: the share of Britons who say they find it “very”
or “somewhat” difficult to make rent or home-loan payments has risen from
24% in early 2022 to 41%.

Yet it is surprising that things have not been more difficult still. Since a
trough in 2021, the rate on a typical 30-year mortgage in America has risen
by about four percentage points. Rules of thumb derived from the academic
literature indicated that nominal house prices would fall by 30-50%. In fact,
they have hardly fallen at all in nominal terms. In real terms (ie, adjusted
for inflation) global house prices are down by 6% from their peak—but that
puts them in line with their pre-pandemic trend. The downturn also claims
the crown as the shortest ever, lasting just a few months.

Some worry that high rates will eventually cause a proper crash. Rohin
Dhar, a housing expert, has pointed out that many listings in Florida feature
the phrase “motivated”, which implies people are selling in a hurry. But in
America as a whole, the share of mortgages in delinquency has never been
so low, at 1.7%, compared with more than 11% at the height of the global
financial crisis of 2007-09. Elsewhere the situation appears to be similarly
benign. In New Zealand, the rich country that was hit hardest by the
housing downturn, arrears are in line with the pre-covid norm. With the
exception of Germany, there is less distress in the euro zone, too.
American observers typically credit the country’s mortgage system, which
relies heavily on long-term fixed rates, for its impressively resilient housing
market. Other countries have recently moved in a more American direction.
Fixed-rate mortgages protect homeowners from higher rates, meaning fewer
fire sales that can drag down house prices. They also give homeowners a
strong incentive not to move, because they would need to obtain a new
mortgage, possibly at a higher rate.

But fixed-rate mortgages are not the only reason for housing-market
resilience and recent price growth. After all, applications for new mortgages
remain reasonably strong across much of the world, even if they have fallen
from pandemic highs. And the National Association of Realtors, an
American lobby group, finds surprisingly little evidence that higher rates
are dissuading people from buying a first home or moving into a new one.
According to its recent research, only 8% of people said that “getting a
mortgage” was one of the “most difficult steps” of the home-buying
process, marginally up from 7% in 2021.

Three further factors may explain why house prices are once again rising:
immigration, sacrifices by mortgage-holders and the strength of the
economy. Take immigration first. The rich world’s foreign-born population
is rising by about 4% year on year, its fastest on record. Official figures on
which such calculations are based probably understate the shift, since illegal
immigration has also surged, especially in America. This, in turn, is pushing
up both house prices and rents, argues Mark Zandi of Moody’s Analytics, a
consultancy, as the new arrivals need somewhere to live. Estimates by
Goldman Sachs, a bank, imply that Australia’s current annualised net
migration rate of 500,000 people will raise house prices by around 5%.

The second factor concerns sacrifices. People in the rich world are dealing
with higher mortgage costs by cutting back on other sorts of expenditures.
A recent survey by YouGov, a pollster, found that one in five variable-rate-
mortgage holders in Britain say they are making “large” cuts in household
spending, even as those on fixed-rate deals are less perturbed. Others are
reaching behind the sofa. A recent report by the Norwegian central bank
noted that many households “have drawn on accumulated savings” to
service debt.
Longer mortgages are helping borrowers to spread out repayments,
sacrificing wellbeing in the future to reduce mortgage payments today. The
Canadian government recently announced that it would extend the payback
period on some state-backed loans from 25 to 30 years. According to
Centrix, a credit-reporting agency, 6.4% of New Zealand mortgages
originated last year will last for more than three decades, compared with
2.3% in 2020. The Bank of England recently noted that in Britain “the trend
towards longer-term mortgages had continued”, such that for 40% of new
mortgages “borrowers would be past the current state pension age at the end
of their mortgage term.”

Mortgage moaners

The most important factor relates to the economy. True, households are
paying out more in interest, but there is also more coming in. Some benefit
from higher interest income on their savings, which in the EU has risen by
nearly ten times as much as interest payments have since 2020. Unlike in
the housing crash of 2007-09, the labour market is also helping (and the
banks have not imploded). Since 2021 average wages across the rich world
have gone up by about 15%, while unemployment remains close to an all-
time low. In every country for which we can find data, the increase in
households’ labour income in recent years dwarfs increases in interest costs.
No one likes higher mortgage payments, but the vast majority of people can
afford them.

Do not be surprised, therefore, if house prices continue to rise. Some central

banks have already started to cut interest rates as inflation declines;
America’s Federal Reserve is set to follow before the year is out. Across the
rich world, wage growth remains in pretty good shape. Falling inflation will
give mortgage-holders extra breathing room. And any increase in demand
for housing will run up against constrained supply. Unless something
drastic changes, the world’s biggest asset class is about to get bigger still. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/16/why-house-prices-are-surging-once-again
| Section menu | Main menu |
 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Bardella’s potential burden

How bad could things get in

France?
The country’s next prime minister faces a brutal fiscal crunch
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IT WAS A French politician, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, who coined the term
“exorbitant privilege” in the 1960s. He was referring to benefits received by
America as issuer of the world’s reserve currency—namely, the ability to
run high deficits comfortably. These days France is reminded it has no such
privilege. Ahead of parliamentary elections on June 30th and July 7th, its
hefty deficit and growing debt are central to the campaign. On June 19th the
European Commission said it was preparing to put France into an
excessive-deficit procedure, the EU’s fiscal torture chamber, meaning the
country’s politicians will have to come up with a plan to fix things.
The commission’s officials have reason to do so. France has an American-
style deficit of 5% of GDP, which its central bank expects to come down
only slowly. The country’s debt-to-GDP ratio of 111% is similar to Italy’s
before the euro crisis in the early 2010s, and is set to rise. S&P Global, a
ratings agency, downgraded France’s sovereign-debt rating from AA to
AA- on May 31st, before Emmanuel Macron, France’s president, gambled
on elections that may bring the hard-right National Rally (RN) or the left-
wing New Popular Front to power, under his continuing presidency.
Now markets are worried. The yield on French debt is similar to that on
Portugal’s and its spread over German bunds, Europe’s benchmark, has
widened to 0.7 percentage points. France’s stockmarket is down by 5%
since the European Parliament elections on June 9th, which prompted Mr
Macron to gamble. Share prices of companies focused on the domestic
market have been hit especially hard. France’s two largest banks, BNP
Paribas and Crédit Agricole, have lost 11% of their value.

How bad will things get? No big political party wants to quit the euro or the
EU. Nor, as French analysts rush to point out, is the country on the brink of
a “Liz Truss moment”, referring to the blowout of British gilt yields after a
mini-budget in September 2022. Foreign buyers of sovereign and corporate
French bonds are staying put. Contrary to warnings from Bruno Le Maire,
the finance minister, even a victory for the hard right or left would be
unlikely to prompt a crisis. France benefits from decent economic growth,
which the OECD expects to be 1.3% next year, and manageable debt-
servicing costs, at 2% of GDP.

The problem is that, without spending cuts, France’s deficit will widen to
5.7% this year and 5.9% next, according to the French senate’s finance
committee. Even if this is not crisis-inducing, it is a large and growing
problem. Mr Le Maire has already cut around €20bn (0.7% of GDP) from
state spending this year, reducing outgoings on things such as energy
subsidies and state aid. Further reductions were put off until after the
European elections.

Both the RN, polling in first place with over 30% of voters, and the left
bloc, at just under 30%, are far ahead of Mr Macron’s centrist alliance, and
have spending plans that would add to the deficit. The right-wingers want to
cut levies on electricity and petrol, and exempt employers from paying
taxes if they raise salaries. The leftists’ ideas are strikingly similar: they
want to raise the minimum wage and bring down energy and food prices.
Both groups also want to repeal Mr Macron’s pension reforms that raised
the age of retirement to 64 from 62, although the RN has rowed back on
plans to do so straight away.

This could lead to a clash with the European Commission and the markets.
Yet if the RN is victorious it might be reined in by the need to attract centre-
right voters, who tend to favour lower deficits, at the crucial presidential
election in 2027. It would also have to negotiate the EU’s next budget, and
would want to keep generous agricultural subsidies, for which it would
need the support of allies. The hope is that, once in power, the RN would
mellow in the manner of Giorgia Meloni, Italy’s hard-right prime minister.

A clash with the commission is thus likely, but also likely to end in
compromise, says Jeromin Zettelmeyer of Bruegel, a think-tank. More
problematic is the fact that even if a party wins a majority in the
forthcoming elections, it will inherit a poisoned chalice. The victor will
have to oversee spending cuts that will harm growth and prove unpopular,
or risk chaos. Although there is no such thing as a bad election to win, the
celebrations of France’s next prime minister may not last long. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/18/how-bad-could-things-get-in-france

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Gridlock

Europe faces an unusual problem:

ultra-cheap energy
The continent is failing to adapt to a renewables boom
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

OWING TO THE rapid spread of solar power, Spanish energy is

increasingly cheap. Between 11am and 7pm, the sunniest hours in a sunny
country, prices often loiter near zero on wholesale markets (see chart). Even
in Germany, which by no reasonable definition is a sunny country, but
which has plenty of wind, wholesale prices were negative in 301 of the
8,760 tradable hours last year.

As solar panels and wind farms take over Europe, the question facing the
continent’s policymakers is what to do with all the power they produce.
Ultra-low—and indeed negative—prices suggest that it is not being put to
good use at present, reflecting failures in both infrastructure and regulation.
There are three main ways that firms and regulators could establish a more
efficient market: sending energy to areas where there is no surplus, shifting
demand to hours when energy is plentiful, and storing energy as electricity,
fuel or heat.

The need to make such shifts will only become more pressing. Europe’s
renewables boom is bigger than elsewhere in the rich world. Last year the
continent installed roughly twice as much fresh capacity as America, with
56 gigawatts (GW) of new solar power and 17GW of new wind power,
which the latest figures suggest will be exceeded this year. By 2030, 43% of
the EU’s total energy consumption will have to come from renewables,
according to the latest rules, up from 23% in 2022.

Sending energy to places without surpluses would require a better

connected grid. ENTSO-E, a club of European grid operators, estimates that
improved international links would ensure that 42 terawatt-hours a year of
otherwise wasted electricity would be put to use in 2040. That is more than
Denmark’s current annual consumption. According to Bruegel, a think-tank,
such a grid would also need 20-30% less storage and backup capacity.

The problem is that grid extensions take time and meet local opposition. As
a result, energy firms have resorted to putting them underground, which
raises costs. Extensions also prompt arguments. When a connection is
established, the market with lower electricity prices will inevitably export
power to the one with higher prices. Even if both sides benefit from the
transaction overall, on one side the beneficiary may be electricity producers
and on the other side it may be consumers, with the other group losing out
in both places. On June 18th Sweden cancelled the Hansa PowerBridge, a
700-megawatt connection to Germany, over fears it would raise electricity
prices for domestic consumers.

The next option for policymakers is to shift demand. This does not mean
persuading everyone to take showers during their lunch breaks, when the
sun is at its brightest. Instead, the idea is to move flexible sources of
demand, such as electric-vehicle (EV) charging and district-heating buffers,
into hours of abundant energy. Doing so requires smart meters that measure
not only how much energy is used, but also when it is used, and which thus
allow prices to vary accordingly. So far, however, countries are making
slow progress installing these devices. Although almost everyone has a
smart meter in Spain, hardly anyone does in Germany.

Existing grid-pricing regimes are another obstacle when it comes to shifting

demand. Consider Karoline, a giant kettle in Hamburg, Germany, that
stands ready to transform surplus electricity into heat for as many as 20,000
households. It must pay full monthly network charges, even if it is
employed only briefly, which makes it too costly to switch on most of the
time. As a consequence, it often sits idle, even as local wind turbines are
turned off to prevent the grid from overloading. Meanwhile, consumers face
similar problems. They tend to pay network charges at fixed rates,
regardless of when energy is taken from the grid. The EU is pushing
member states and markets in a more flexible direction, but upgrading
regulations, pricing methods and grid technology takes time.

Could better storage solve the problem? In Vantaa, Finland, the local energy
company is about to dig a hole the size of 440 Olympic swimming pools
into the bedrock beneath the town. This will be filled with water heated to
140°C, which will store 90 gigawatt-hours of heat, an amount sufficient to
keep the town toasty for a year. Other firms are making greater use of
batteries for shorter-term storage. Unfortunately, such schemes are once
again hindered by existing energy-market structures. When it comes to
things such as congestion management and frequency control, markets are
typically built on the expectation that backup capacity will arrive from
conventional gas-fired plants. “The efficient use of surplus electricity is not
considered and not encouraged in Europe,” sighs Julian Jansen of Fluence,
which makes energy-storage products.

With better incentives, policymakers would also be able to bring household

batteries into play. Jochen Schwill of Spot My Energy, a startup, reckons
that a German home with batteries might receive €600 ($650) a year if it
was able to store energy for the grid. EVs could also play a part. They are,
in essence, two devices in one: a car and a battery. Octopus, a British
energy provider, recently rolled out a tariff that offers free charging if the
firm can decide when the car charges and sometimes feed energy from its
battery into the grid. Used more widely, such tariffs would both help soak
up surplus energy and by cutting costs make EVs a more attractive
purchase.

Without better incentives, Europe will struggle to use growing amounts of

surplus energy. That, in turn, will lower profits for investors in renewables.
In May the “capture rate” of German solar panels—the share of the average
daily energy price that they earned—dropped to 50%, down from 80% three
years earlier, according to calculations by Julien Jomaux, an energy
consultant. Ultra-cheap power is something to be celebrated. But as Europe
is now discovering, it can be tough to exploit. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/20/europe-faces-an-unusual-problem-ultra-cheap-energy

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Leviathan bound

Indian state capitalism looks to be

in trouble
A weakened Narendra Modi is bad news for investors in government-
controlled firms
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Mumbai

INDIA’S STOCKMARKET swooned upon the news that Narendra Modi,

the country’s business-friendly prime minister, would return to power
diminished and in a coalition after a recent general election. One
benchmark, though, fell especially sharply and has yet to recover: the
Bombay Stock Exchange’s index for Public Sector Undertakings (BSE
PSU). It comprises 56 companies that have some private ownership but
remain mostly owned, and entirely controlled, by the state.
This curious corporate structure dates back to India’s independence from
Britain in 1947 and the country’s subsequent embrace of state planning,
which was extended to encompass, in the Marxist-infused language of the
time, “the commanding heights of the economy”. This came to include
companies in everything from aviation and insurance to artificial limbs and
banking. Only when India’s economy opened to the world in the 1990s did
the approach change. Since then, politicians have tried, with varying
degrees of enthusiasm, to put firms under private control.

Killing off the leviathan has proved difficult, however. When Mr Modi
entered office in 2014, he vowed to accelerate divestment. His signature
achievement has been the sale in 2021 of Air India to Tata, a vast
conglomerate from which the airline had been expropriated in the 1950s.
More often, deals have stalled owing to suspicion the buyer will be ripped
off by the state or because of objections from vested interests, including
powerful unions, employees who receive benefits such as housing from the
firm in question and politicians who like being able to influence hiring at
state-controlled companies.
The consolation, at least until the election, has been the excellent
performance of many state-owned firms (see chart). Profits at the dozen
state-run banks that are included in the broader PSU index have risen from
$123m in the fiscal year that concluded just before the covid-19 pandemic
to $18bn in the most recent one. Half have a return on equity in excess of
15%, a rate better than many big global banks, reflecting government-
prompted consolidation and reforms to bankruptcy procedures. Other state-
owned companies have also been run more efficiently.
Why are the stocks now suffering? In part it is because investors fear
India’s new government will be less likely to impose reforms and to
insulate the companies from regional political pressures on matters such as
hiring, lending, factory openings and closings, and even the pricing of
sensitive commodities like electricity, gas and petrol. More voices in
government may also slow down further privatisation.

State-controlled firms in industries such as defence, infrastructure and

technology saw their valuations rise as Mr Modi’s previous government
focused on boosting economic growth. Now they may receive less support
as state spending and attention shifts to social programmes. This reflects a
particularly damaging aspect of state capitalism: even if businesses are for a
time well run, they remain vulnerable to changes in the political weather. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/20/indian-state-capitalism-looks-to-be-in-trouble

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Sweet gains, bro

America’s rich never sell their

assets. How should they be taxed?
It is tempting to tax them during their lives. It is wiser to do so after their
deaths
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Washington, DC

Editor’s note (June 20th 2024): The Supreme Court has ruled in Moore v
United States, upholding the tax at issue (the “mandatory repatriation
tax”). The court declined to weigh in on the constitutionality of a tax on
unrealised gains.

WHAT IS INCOME, really? Ask an economist and they might describe

“Haig-Simons” income—the value of a person’s consumption of goods and
services, plus the change in their net worth over a certain period. A lawyer
might refer to Section 61(a) of the IRS Code 26, which defines “gross”
income as “all income from whatever source derived”, including but not
limited to commission, interest, property deals and wages. An accountant
might talk about how to reduce that gross income, via deductions or carve-
outs, to a skinnier “taxable income base”.

The answer matters. Whether governments should levy taxes on unrealised

capital gains, as well as realised ones, is a topic of hot debate. In March,
during the State of the Union address, Joe Biden reiterated his commitment
to imposing a “billionaire minimum income tax” if re-elected. This would
include a 25% tax on unrealised capital gains for Americans with more than
$100m in assets, which he expects would raise $500bn (2% of GDP) over a
decade. The Supreme Court is also considering the question. Its justices are
poised to issue an opinion in Moore v the United States, a case in which the
plaintiffs are arguing that a one-off tax on gains from an overseas
investment was unconstitutional, since the 16th amendment, which
enshrines in America’s constitution the federal government’s right to
impose income taxes, does not apply to unrealised income.

A large portion of ultra-rich Americans’ wealth is in unrealised gains. Since

the release of the “Secret IRS Files” by ProPublica, an investigative-
journalism outfit, in 2021, a strategy known as “buy, borrow, die” has come
under particular scrutiny. It allows those who employ it to avoid income and
capital-gains taxes altogether.

Say you own a successful business—so successful that your stake in it is

worth $1bn. How should you fund your spending? If you pay yourself a
wage of $20m a year, the federal government will collect 37%, or some
$7.4m. So perhaps you should take a salary of $1 and sell $20m-worth of
shares. If these were gifted to you upon founding the firm, the entire sum
represents capital gains and will be taxed at 20%, which would mean a $4m
hit. What if, instead, you called up your wealth manager and agreed to put
up $100m-worth of equity as collateral for a $20m loan. In 2021 the interest
rate on the loan might have been just 2% a year, meaning that returns from
holding the equity, rather than selling it, would easily have covered the cost
of servicing the borrowing. Because the proceeds of loans, which must be
eventually repaid, are not considered income, doing so would have incurred
no tax liability at all.
The strategy is even more compelling once the “stepped-up basis” is
considered. When the holder of an asset dies, the value for capital-gains
assessments is “stepped up” from its purchase cost to its value at the time of
death. In this way, “buy, borrow, die” does not simply defer capital-gains
taxes—it can eliminate them entirely. Nothing is paid on gains made
between the original purchase of an asset and the value at the death of the
original holder.

Taxman confounded

Low interest rates and booming stockmarkets make a “buy, borrow, die”
strategy particularly attractive. At Morgan Stanley and Bank of America
(BoA), both of which run large wealth-management businesses, the total
value of securities-backed loans to clients leapt from around $80bn in 2018
to almost $150bn in 2022. Banks are more than happy to make such loans.
As lending tends to be collateralised by securities that can be easily seized
and sold, it is treated as low-risk by regulators.

During the past few years of high interest rates, however, borrowing against
assets has become a riskier proposition. At Morgan Stanley such loans are
structured as revolving lines of credit; three-quarters of them appear to have
floating interest rates. If borrowing adds up to, say, 50% of a portfolio at a
lofty valuation then a rout in the market can leave debtors with nothing. In
2022, after the share price of Peloton collapsed, John Foley, founder of the
exercise-bike firm, ended up scrambling to restructure his loans, selling a
$55m house in the Hamptons just months after he had bought it. At BoA
and Morgan Stanley the value of loans secured in such a manner had crept
down by the end of 2023.

Yet politics, rather than high interest rates, represents the biggest threat to
the strategy. There are three arguments against Mr Biden’s proposal: that it
is unfair, that it is unconstitutional and that it would be an administrative
burden. The fairness argument rests on the idea that unrealised gains are, in
many ways, unreal. After all, the value of assets could change the day after
a tax is paid. This perhaps explains why a survey by academics at New York
University in 2021 found 75% of Americans oppose such taxation.
A clue as to whether the Supreme Court believes that wealth taxes are
constitutional will arrive in the coming days, when justices opine on Moore.
The plaintiffs were taxed under the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, which was
passed in 2017 and imposed a mandatory repatriation tax on the earnings,
since 1986, of foreign corporations in which American shareholders own at
least 50% of the stock. The levy applies regardless of whether the earnings
were distributed to shareholders.

If the justices side with the plaintiffs, they may stop the push for an
unrealised-gains tax in its tracks. But they seem unlikely to do so. Sonia
Sotomayor, speaking for the court’s liberals, has noted that the concept of
“realisation” was “well established” when the relevant constitutional
amendment was ratified in 1913. As such, the early-20th century lawmakers
could have specified that unrealised assets were to be left alone had that
been what they intended. On top of this, at least two conservative justices
have suggested they will not weigh in on the constitutional point.

As for the idea that wealth taxes on private assets are unworkable, that is
too simplistic. Versions of them are already widely used in America,
undermining arguments that they are impossible to administer in the
country. Levies on property at the local or state level in effect act as taxes
on unrealised capital gains. Every single American state has property taxes,
which range from 0.3% to 2.3% of the property value each year. In more
than half of states, property values are reassessed annually. Mr Biden’s plan
also seeks to minimise headaches. It includes measures to smooth volatility
so that losses incurred in one year can be offset against gains in another.

Still, the bureaucratic effort to levy a new countrywide tax, on a small pool
of people, on every kind of asset they might hold, would be wince-inducing.
Valuing assets such as bonds and stocks is relatively straightforward. But
private assets, whether a Picasso or an investment in a startup, would be
another matter entirely. Adam Michel of the Cato Institute, a libertarian
think-tank, points out that it took 12 years for the IRS and Michael
Jackson’s estate to reach a court-mediated agreement on the value of the
late pop star’s assets. “Going through such a process every year for all
taxpayers with assets near some threshold is unworkable,” he argues.
Several European countries that have tried to levy wealth taxes and
ultimately abandoned the effort have described administrative costs as a
reason why.

Thankfully for Mr Biden, there is a less radical alternative that would have
much the same effect as going after unrealised assets. Eliminating the
stepped-up basis, which Mr Biden also hopes to do, would remove lots of
the incentive to buy, borrow and die. It would also probably avoid a serious
legal challenge and be easier to administer. Such a move would raise a
quarter of the sum the president expects his grander plan to fetch. Taxing
capital gains at death would raise another hefty chunk. And closing a few
additional loopholes would just about cover the rest. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/20/americas-rich-never-sell-their-assets-how-should-they-be-taxed

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Buttonwood

Think Nvidia looks dear?

American shares could get pricier
still
Investors are willing to follow whichever narrative paints the rosiest picture
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

HOW CAN you tell it is time to get out of the market? In 1929 Joseph
Kennedy, an American businessman and politician, supposedly realised the
party was over upon hearing a shoeshine boy dispensing stock tips. In 2000
the exit doors beckoned after 17 “dotcom” firms paid millions of dollars
each for brief advertising slots during the Super Bowl, an American-football
extravaganza.
And so to a sell signal fit for 2024: Keith Gill is back on social media. Mr
Gill was an architect of the meme-stock frenzy of 2021, exhorting retail
traders to buy shares in GameStop, a struggling chain of video-game shops.
After a three-year absence he is posting once again, now apparently in
possession of a stake in the firm worth a few hundred million dollars.
GameStop’s share price has resumed a gut-churning roller-coaster ride and
is up by more than 40% since Mr Gill’s return; the ailing company has
made use of the excitement to issue some $3bn-worth of new shares. If you
are looking for signs of speculative excess in markets, this is Exhibit A.

America’s benchmark S&P 500 share index is hitting new highs every other
week, fuelled by enthusiasm about artificial intelligence (AI). On June 18th
this made Nvidia, a chip designer, the world’s most valuable firm. The
cyclically adjusted price-earnings ratio, popularised by Robert Shiller of
Yale University, is at nearly 36. It has been higher only before the crashes
of the early 2000s and 2022—and even then, not by much. That a correction
will arrive at some point seems a racing certainty, but in the meantime there
is a still more worrying prospect. As far as it has come, the rally may yet
have further to go.

After all, pricey shares can always get pricier if investors keep bidding them
up. To see why they may now be especially prone to a melt-up, consider the
concept of “duration”. This is typically applied to bonds, and is similar to
their maturity. It is the average time until a bond’s future payouts, including
both coupons and repayment, weighted by the size of each payout.
Unusually in financial maths, which tends to be messy, duration has a rather
elegant meaning: it is the sensitivity of an asset’s price to changes in interest
rates. A long-duration asset—a 50-year bond, say—is hammered by rising
interest rates, and appreciates a lot if they fall. Cash, the value of which is
invariant under such changes, has a duration of zero.

What about shares? Intuitively, those that derive much of their value from
earnings in the distant future must be closer in duration to the long-maturity
bond than to cash. So must stocks with a high price-to-earnings ratio, since
it will take many years of profits to repay their initial cost. In other words,
America’s stockmarket—expensive overall, and led by tech behemoths
promising an innovation-fuelled bonanza—has a very long duration.
Interest rates, meanwhile, are now poised to fall. True, at the last meeting of
the Federal Reserve’s rate-setting committee, which finished on June 12th,
the median member expected only one cut before the end of 2024, down
from three. But more significant was the fact that share prices rose on the
news, suggesting investors had anticipated hawkishness rather than (as so
often in recent years) underestimating it. Rates traders also expect the Fed’s
short-term rate to finish the year in line with its officials’ projections.
Markets have tended to be more doveish than the Fed, leaving scope for
surprises that send bond yields up and long-duration assets down. Now,
provided the Fed’s next move really is down, the shoe is on the other foot.

There is an obvious counter to all this: that the recent buoyancy of share
prices, in spite of rising bond yields, shows duration analysis to be drivel
when applied to the stockmarket. A theoretician might reply that share
prices have soared in spite of the downward pressure from interest rates,
with expected future earnings being marked up by more than enough to
compensate.

It would probably be closer to the truth to say that just now, for whatever
reason, investors seem willing to buy whichever narrative paints the rosiest
picture. At the end of 2023 this was that bond yields were falling and
monetary policy would soon follow. This year, as such hopes have faded, it
has concerned AI and the resilience of America’s economy. Do not be
surprised if duration is soon back in the spotlight once a good-news story
can be spun around it. Mr Gill’s first appearance did indeed herald a crash,
but only after plenty more euphoria. The shoeshine boys, your columnist
hears, are not yet all-in.■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/19/think-nvidia-looks-dear-american-shares-could-get-pricier-still

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Free exchange

Is America approaching peak tip?

The country’s gratuity madness may soon calm, so long as Donald Trump
does not get his way
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

THINGS ARE big in America. That is true of houses, cars and food
portions. Perhaps most shocking of all is the size of tips. In much of the rest
of the world, gratuities are a small gesture for good service. In American
restaurants they are de rigueur. And they are becoming more generous and
more common. For workers who already get them, tips are growing; for
those who do not get them, tips may be coming their way. But this cannot
go on for ever. Look closer at the tipflation gripping America and a
surprising conclusion emerges: the country may be approaching peak tip.

As with so much these days, Donald Trump has a hand in this. At a recent
rally in Las Vegas, he casually inserted a radical proposal about halfway
through his speech. “For those hotel workers and people that get tips,
you’re going to be very happy. Because when I get to office we are going to
not charge taxes on tips,” he said. It was, he argued, only right to stop the
government from going after the earnings of people who provide good
service.

This looks like smart politics. Mr Trump’s pledge appeals to employees in

the food industry, about a quarter of whom are Hispanic, a crucial group of
voters. The fiscal implications are, however, ominous. In 2018, the most
recent year for which data are available, Americans in hospitality jobs and
the like reported about $38bn in tipped income. Losing taxes on that—
worth some $10bn—would create a noticeable hole in the federal budget.

More worryingly, a tax exemption for tipping would alter incentives.

Workers and employees in any tippable job would switch to lower base pay,
leaving more to be covered as tips. Service jobs beyond restaurants, from
car repairs to dentistry, would probably adopt tip-heavy wage structures.
The Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget, a research group,
reckons that tax losses could grow to about $50bn a year. Congress would
have to be punctilious in drawing up rules to forestall tax evasion.

What makes Mr Trump’s proposal so intriguing is that it comes at a time

when Americans have become frustrated with paying extra. The history of
tipping, documented by Michael Lynn of Cornell University, is of steady
rises. In the 1950s tips ran to about 10% of bills. By the 1980s they rose to
15%. In recent years they have hit 20%. Whereas tipping used to be
reserved for table service at restaurants, now buying a coffee or a muffin is
likely to involve the employee flipping around a tablet screen to the
customer to solicit a tip. That can be hard to refuse when the person behind
you in line is peering over your shoulder. And these screens typically give
three options—of, say, 18%, 20% or 23%—making it difficult to opt for
something smaller. A recent survey by Bankrate, a financial firm, found that
35% of Americans felt tipping culture was getting out of control, up by five
percentage points from a year earlier.

So why do Americans persist with hefty tips? The conventional explanation

is that it encourages good service. Anthony Gill of the American Institute
for Economic Research, a think-tank, explains it as a solution to a principal-
agent problem. Restaurant managers want good waiters, but struggle to
monitor performance. Tipping in effect outsources supervision to the
customer. Mr Lynn has found that when restaurants have eliminated tipping
and instead charged higher prices, online customer ratings have suffered.

There is also a psychological element, according to Ofer Azar of Ben-

Gurion University in Israel, another big-tipping country. People feel good
about themselves when they leave extra, deriving a sense of generosity.
Perversely, this may plant the seeds of tipflation: customers need to give a
little more than the social norm in order to maintain their good feeling. As
20% becomes the norm, the next threshold, in a decade or so, may be 25%.

Yet there is reason to think America is approaching peak tip, so long as Mr

Trump does not get his way. First, consider the sheer numbers. Tipflation is
a form of super-inflation. If tips were a fixed percentage, they would rise at
the rate of general restaurant inflation. Since the percentage actually
increases over time, tipflation is bound to outstrip restaurant inflation. This
matters because, following the price surge of the past few years, spending
on meals out has hit 5.6% of post-tax incomes in America, up from the 4.5-
5% typical in the previous half-century. People have long grumbled about
tipping. Now complaints are more forceful.

The legal landscape is also in flux. Whereas Mr Trump’s pledge raises the
prospect of yet more tipping, state officials are pushing in the opposite
direction. Many restaurants in America pay what is known as a tipped
minimum wage, which can be as low as $2.13. The rest—to get to the state
minimum wage—is meant to be derived from tips. In practice many servers
earn well above that. Restaurant owners like this system because it gives
them flexibility to hire more workers and to keep menu prices down,
knowing that customers will directly cover wage costs through tipping. But
little by little cities and states are applying their true minimum wages to all
workers, whether tipped or not. That is currently the case in a handful of
states such as Minnesota and Oregon. Chicago and Washington, DC, have
recently started down this path; Connecticut, Massachusetts and Ohio may
be next.

A little gratuitous
Higher minimum wages raise labour costs for restaurants. Some
establishments have responded by cutting staff or shutting during slow
hours, while others have added mandatory service charges or raised prices.
From a broader economic perspective, the impact need not be quite so
dramatic: the main effect for customers will be to see some of the cost of
their meal migrating from the tip line on their receipts to the upfront food
price. This does not mean that gratuities will go away—they are too deeply
entrenched in American life. But the eye-watering amounts may start to
recede. The country is at a tipping-point. ■

For more expert analysis of the biggest stories in economics, finance and
markets, sign up to Money Talks, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/finance-and-
economics/2024/06/20/is-america-approaching-peak-tip

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Science & technology

The dominant model of the universe is creaking
Dark secrets :: Dark energy could break it apart

The secret to taking better penalties

Sweet spot :: Practise with an augmented-reality headset

A flower’s female sex organs can speed up fertilisation

Flower power :: They can also stop it from happening

How physics can improve image-generating AI

Paint by numbers :: The laws governing electromagnetism and even the weak nuclear force
could be worth mimicking

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Dark secrets

The dominant model of the

universe is creaking
Dark energy could break it apart
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

IN ARIZONA, AT Kitt Peak National Observatory, a telescope has spent

three years building a three-dimensional map of the heavens. In examining
the light from tens of millions of galaxies, the Dark Energy Spectroscopic
Instrument (DESI) may have found something astounding.

DESI, as its name suggests, is a tool to investigate the nature of dark

energy, a mysterious entity that accounts for 68% of everything in the
universe and which pushes space apart in a repulsive version of gravity.
Though they do not know what it is, scientists have hitherto assumed that
the density of dark energy has been the same since the start of the universe,
13.7bn years ago. But DESI’s initial results suggest that this assumption
may have been wrong. Perhaps, say DESI’s scientists, the density has been
changing over time. “It’s so bizarre,” says Dragan Huterer from the
University of Michigan, who was involved with the work. If the findings
prove true, it would catapult cosmology into a crisis.

The study of dark energy is surprisingly new. Direct evidence for its
existence was not detected until 1998, when scientists discovered that
extremely bright exploding stars called supernovas were moving away from
Earth much more quickly than they ought to. Their conclusion: not only
was the universe expanding, but that expansion was accelerating. “People
did not expect that,” says Adam Riess of Johns Hopkins University, who
shared a Nobel prize in physics for the discovery in 2011.

Because it is hard to study directly, the true nature of dark energy remains
poorly understood. The leading hypothesis is that it is energy intrinsic to the
vacuum of empty space. Per quantum theory, a vacuum is not really empty,
it fizzes with countless pairs of particles and antiparticles that emerge from
nothing, only to annihilate each other. These interactions produce a
“vacuum energy” that, over the scales of the cosmos, could push space
apart. This idea is not without its problems—when physicists try to
calculate what this vacuum energy density would amount to, they get a
value between 60 and 120 orders of magnitude larger than what
observational evidence currently supports—a fiasco known as the vacuum
catastrophe. “The general consensus is that resolving the [catastrophe] will
require fundamental new insight,” says Dr Huterer.

Vacuum catastrophe aside, dark energy now forms one of two central pillars
of the standard model of cosmology, the best scientific description of the
universe’s evolution. The other pillar is dark matter, an invisible form of
matter that makes up 27% of the universe. Regular matter, which constitutes
stars and galaxies, accounts for a measly 5%. The standard model says that,
after the Big Bang set the universe’s expansion in motion, the gravitational
attraction between atoms first led to the formation of stars and galaxies,
while also acting as a brake on the universe’s overall growth. As the amount
of empty space increased, however, so did the amount of dark energy and,
eventually, it took over as the primary influence on the evolution of the
cosmos, driving the accelerated expansion that Dr Riess observed a quarter
of a century ago.

This expansion of the universe is expected to go on for ever, with galaxies

eventually drifting out of each other’s sight, a fate known as the Big Freeze.
But if, as DESI suggests, the density of dark energy can change, other
scenarios come into play: ever-denser dark energy could one day cause
atoms and even the fabric of spacetime itself to burst apart, a scenario
known as the Big Rip. Conversely, a dark energy of decreasing density
could cause matter and gravity to take over the universe once again,
recollapsing the cosmos into an inverse Big Bang, known as the Big
Crunch. (Earthlings need not worry overmuch—the Sun will swallow up
the innermost planets of the solar system long before either fate occurs.)

DESI’s preliminary findings were announced at the American Physical

Society’s annual meeting in California in April, swiftly after a series of
papers were published on arXiv, a preprint server. The papers contained the
data from the first year of DESI’s five-year survey. Tasked with capturing
an invisible target, DESI has had to find creative, indirect methods to hunt
for the signs of dark energy. The instrument’s main task is to map the
distribution of galaxies in space. Buried in this map are imprints of sound
waves that travelled through the early universe. These patterns have grown
as dark energy has caused the universe to expand. Analysing the most
distant imprints in effect gives cosmologists a way of looking back in time,
allowing them to chart the evolution of dark energy over the course of
billions of years.

Big crunch time

DESI’s results suggest not only that dark energy’s density has changed over
time. According to Dr Huterer, what happened is even stranger than that:
the density increased until around 4bn years ago and then it began
decreasing (see chart). Nobody can explain why.
If the DESI team’s results are right, it would mean a complete re-evaluation
of what dark energy could be. “The moment [dark] energy changes in time,
it is no longer vacuum energy,” says Bhuvnesh Jain, a cosmologist at the
University of Pennsylvania. Alternative proposals already exist, centring on
a dark-energy field called quintessence, which pervades all space and can
change with time. However, Dr Jain says, the DESI results as they stand
now indicate something more complex than the simplest quintessence
models.
It would also mean that the standard model of cosmology, in its current
form, is toast. It is no wonder, then, that DESI’s results are causing
consternation. But these are not the only vexing cracks in the model. For
example, some astronomers have observed that matter in the nearby
universe clumps together less than the standard model says it ought to and
that the early universe does not seem to have been as uniform a place as the
standard model’s predictions say it should have been.

What’s more, over the past decade different teams have measured differing
values for the Hubble constant, the rate at which the universe is currently
expanding (named after Edwin Hubble, an American astronomer, who
worked out that galaxies were moving away from Earth at a velocity
proportional to their distance from it). This would imply that cosmologists
do not really understand the universe’s historical expansion—or, by
extension, how dark energy has behaved in that time. Recent observations
from the James Webb Space Telescope, however, collected by Wendy
Freedman of the University of Chicago and her team, seem to suggest these
values can be reconciled, implying nothing unexpected in dark energy’s
behaviour. The results have yet to be published in a scientific journal,
though, so not all sides in the debate are convinced.

All these problems have led some cosmologists to advocate for radical
solutions—adopting more flexible notions of dark energy, for example, or
working on an alternative to the standard model of cosmology. Some even
go so far as to suggest that Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, on
which the model is based, may have reached its limits. “We know that
sooner or later, it will fail. It happened to Newton, it will happen to
Einstein,” says Andreu Font-Ribera, a cosmologist at the Institute of High
Energy Physics in Barcelona and another member of the DESI team. That
would not mean that Einstein was wrong but only—small consolation
though it may be—incompletely right. Just as Isaac Newton’s law of
universal gravitation was shown to be an approximation of general
relativity under the right conditions (ie, across the relatively small distances
and low gravitational fields on and around Earth), general relativity may
also turn out to be the limiting case of some deeper, as-yet-undiscovered
theory.
For now, all talk of replacing the standard model of cosmology, let alone
general relativity, is motivated by hints and guesswork. But as the next
generation of telescopes and observatories begins to generate data, a new,
more complete picture of dark energy’s role in the universe may emerge.
The Vera Rubin Observatory in Chile, for example, will also chart the
universe’s expansion over time and map the universe’s evolution over the
past several billion years. That will start watching the heavens next year.
The European Space Agency’s Euclid, a space telescope, is already in orbit
and building its own map of galaxies. It is likewise aiming to track dark
energy through measurements of the universe’s expansion. “You feel like
the clues are almost there,” says Dr Riess. “I keep waiting for a really smart
person to put these puzzle pieces together.” ■

Curious about the world? To enjoy our mind-expanding science coverage,

sign up to Simply Science, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/science-and-
technology/2024/06/19/the-dominant-model-of-the-universe-is-creaking

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Sweet spot

The secret to taking better penalties

Practise with an augmented-reality headset
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

ARE YOU reading, Gareth Southgate? As the England football manager

prepares for this year’s European championship, a Swiss neuroscientist is
offering some help with the England team’s Achilles heel: penalty shoot-
outs. (As a player, Mr Southgate is perhaps best remembered for missing a
decisive spot-kick in a shoot-out against Germany in 1996.)

Penalty kicks are used at the knockout stage of major tournaments to

determine the outcome of drawn games. They have decided the winner in
more than 20% of World Cup matches, including the final in 2022, when
France lost to Argentina. More than 30% of shoot-out kicks are missed, but
pros and pundits disagree on the value of practising them.
In March Didier Deschamps, the manager of the French team, railed against
suggestions from the national football federation that his players could
prepare better. “I find it inappropriate, and I would even say disrespectful,”
he said. “It is impossible to recreate a real penalty shoot-out on a
psychological level.”

That may be true, but trials of a new augmented-reality system developed at

the University of Fribourg, in Switzerland, suggest that penalty technique
and success can very much be improved—even in the case of elite players.
In a paper published in The Innovation, a journal, earlier this year, the
researchers showed that just ten sessions of 20 kicks each were enough to
increase by 35% the chance that international-level youth players score a
penalty.

“I cannot say we would get the same effect with Cristiano Ronaldo, because
I haven’t tested him. But I can say over all the players we tested it works,
and it really works,” says Jean-Pierre Bresciani, a neuroscientist who leads
the research.

The technology focuses on the type of penalty favoured by three out of four
professional penalty-takers, in which the kicker waits for the goalkeeper to
move before propelling the ball into the empty part of the goal. (Those
players who simply blast it as hard as they can should seek help elsewhere.)
The idea is to speed up the kicker’s reaction time in cases when the
goalkeeper fails to move in the expected direction, increasing their chances
of switching tactic mid-stride.

Working with players from the under-18 teams of FC Luzern and FC Basel,
two Swiss clubs, the scientists got penalty-takers to wear a headset that
projected the avatar of a goalkeeper into the centre of a real goal. Each
player was then asked to kick a real ball into one or other side of the goal,
but to switch if the simulated goalie moved in that direction. The headsets
were also connected to an algorithm capable of adapting the speed of the
goalkeeper’s movements.

Dr Bresciani says that such tests offer several advantages over other
penalty-taking drills. First, the avatars are programmed to move in
consistent ways each time, which makes the results more reliable and useful
for analysis than those using a real goalkeeper. And second, no human
goalkeeper needs to get their shirt muddy.

Use of the headset significantly improved how quickly players reacted to an

unexpected goalkeeper movement, shaving an average of 120 milliseconds
off their response time. That is 28% faster than before the training, which
the scientists say would correspond to a third more penalties scored.

With this year’s European championship taking place just across the border
in Germany, Dr Bresciani says he is eager to help any team that asks. All
they need to pack is a headset and laptop. But with the knockout rounds
beginning on June 29th, time is running out. ■

Curious about the world? To enjoy our mind-expanding science coverage,

sign up to Simply Science, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/science-and-
technology/2024/06/14/the-secret-to-taking-better-penalties

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Flower power

A flower’s female sex organs can

speed up fertilisation
They can also stop it from happening
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

ANY BIOLOGICALLY aware parent who has started talking about the
birds and the bees will have realised halfway through that what they are
really discussing is flowers. Bees carry pollen grains from one plant to
another, enabling fertilisation; birds digest and excrete the resulting seeds,
allowing new blooms to grow.

The role that flowers themselves play in their own reproduction, however,
remains imperfectly understood. In a new paper published recently in
EMBO Reports, Mizuta Yoko at Nagoya University and her colleagues
unveiled the secrets of this process with unprecedented detail. Among the
revelations that arose from her 13-year-long investigation was the degree of
control that a flower’s female sex organs have over the fertilisation process.
Not only do they have the power to attract male reproductive cells, but they
can also repel them once fertilisation has begun.

The vocabulary of reproduction is, fortunately for parents, the same across
the animal and plant kingdoms. A male reproductive cell is a sperm, a
female reproductive cell is an egg. When the two meet under the right
conditions, an embryo forms. Such conditions, always tricky to engineer,
are even more complex for flowering plants as their sperm cells cannot
move. To overcome this limitation, their sperm cells are packaged in
microscopic grains of pollen. When the wind blows, say, or a bee visits,
these pollen grains can then come into contact with another flower’s pistil,
the rod-like structure typically located in its centre that contains the ovules,
each of which in turn contains an egg cell.

To penetrate the surface of the pistil and reach a flower’s eggs, a grain of
pollen must create a pollen tube. The tube grows out of the pollen much like
a seedling emerges from a seed. But if several pollen tubes converge on one
ovule—a phenomenon known as polytubey—the offspring may contain too
many copies of the paternal DNA and not form viable seeds. Yet polytubey
rarely happens, despite the large numbers of pollen tubes and ovules
involved. (A typical fertilisation event of Arabidopsis thaliana, botanists’
favoured guinea pig, involves an average of 60 ovules and pollen tubes,
each of which somehow finds a one-to-one match.)

To better understand why things run so smoothly, Dr Mizuta and colleagues

developed a new microscope technique to observe inside a living pistil of A.
thaliana in real time. Perfecting their technique took three years of
painstaking, repetitive labour. Getting good footage took ten more. The
results are the first such videos capturing the movement of individual pollen
tubes within a pistil.

It has been worth the wait. In previous studies, researchers had shown that
ovules send chemical signals which attract pollen tubes. These attractive
signals were thought to disappear once an ovule is fertilised. The first thing
the research by Dr Mizuta and her team confirms is that they do indeed
vanish. It also adds valuable information about where and when fertilisation
occurs. For example, they observed that pollen tubes fertilise a pistil’s
ovules more or less at random, rather than in an orderly fashion—from the
top of the pistil to the bottom—as some had hypothesised.

The videos also revealed a new aspect of the mechanism that blocks
polytubey. When Dr Mizuta and her team looked through their videos, they
observed some pollen tubes seemingly trying to enter an ovule before
suddenly turning away. That led the team to conclude that the ovule is
capable of repelling unwanted pollen tubes once fertilisation has begun.
They suspect that this repulsion arises when proteins in the ovule come into
contact with receptors on the pollen tube (or, perhaps, vice versa), somehow
inducing it to change direction.

Many will be watching the team’s work closely. As important crops like
rice, wheat and corn all reproduce in a similar way to A. thaliana, says
Mark Johnson, a cellular biologist at Brown University who was not
involved in the research, a better understanding of the mechanisms involved
could help farmers boost future yields. Dr Mizuta and her colleagues hope
to keep expanding that understanding. ■

Curious about the world? To enjoy our mind-expanding science coverage,

sign up to Simply Science, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/science-and-
technology/2024/06/20/a-flowers-female-sex-organs-can-speed-up-fertilisation

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Paint by numbers

How physics can improve image-

generating AI
The laws governing electromagnetism and even the weak nuclear force
could be worth mimicking
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Boston

TODAY’S BEST image-generating artificial-intelligence (AI) models are

remarkable. Ask OpenAI’s DALL-E 3, or its counterparts Midjourney and
Stable Diffusion, to draw a penguin sipping on a vodka martini on the
French Riviera and they will do so with aplomb. Ask them to replicate it in
the style of Rembrandt or Caravaggio and they will speedily oblige.

These abilities all depend on a family of physics-inspired algorithms known

as diffusion models. For now, they reign supreme. But that may not always
be the case. A team of physicists and computer scientists at the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) has been taking inspiration
from the laws of nature to come up with a series of increasingly
sophisticated algorithms that can generate higher-quality images faster, and
with smaller training data sets, than diffusion models.

Diffusion models mimic the maths of the physical process of diffusion, the
flow of particles from areas of high to low concentration as they are
randomly jostled about in space. The MIT team’s more advanced
algorithms make use, instead, of the equations of electromagnetism—and
may one day even use the mathematics that govern the forces at play in the
atomic nucleus. This work suggests that computer scientists have barely
scratched the surface of how generative algorithms can work. A new school
of AI art is emerging.

The goal of a good generative algorithm is, ultimately, to create bespoke

images from scratch. One growing class of models, to which DALL-E 3
and its counterparts belong, does this by taking vast data sets of training
images and distorting them, pixel by pixel, until they are indistinguishable
from visual static. As the patterns underlying these distortions are
identified, the algorithm can run combinations of them in reverse, allowing
entirely new images to be born out of nothing more than background noise.

This means that mathematical ways of inducing distortion are in high

demand. Enter diffusion. Imagine, for simplicity’s sake, a monochrome
picture consisting of a single pixel. To a computer scientist, that picture can
be represented by a point on a single axis running from white to black. Or,
in other words, as a point in one-dimensional space. For every pixel that is
added to the picture, the number of dimensions increases by one—and the
picture is now represented by a point in multidimensional space. If random
noise is added to that point (by changing the colour of the image’s
constituent pixels), it will then move randomly in its multidimensional
space—a process mathematically identical to that of a particle undergoing
diffusion.

The fact that mimicking such simple physical processes has had such
profound computational benefits caught the attention of Max Tegmark and
Tommi Jaakkola, two physicists at MIT, and their graduate students, Yilun
Xu and Ziming Liu, in 2022. Together, they set out to explore whether
models trained on more complex processes might do an even better job of
image generation. They started by toying with the physics of electrically
charged particles. Unlike in standard diffusion, the journeys of charged
particles are not truly random. Repelled and attracted by their neighbours,
they are governed instead by the electric field in which they exist.

It’s electrifying

This behaviour can be emulated in the way that noise is added to a digital
image. Recall that images can be represented as points in a
multidimensional space defined by the colours of each pixel. If these points
are treated like particles with identical electric charge, they ought to repel
one another, moving in opposite directions until the system reaches
electrostatic equilibrium. Or, in other words, each image will change in
response to every other image until all have been sufficiently distorted.

It turns out that a machine-learning model trained to reverse this process

can have considerable advantages. This is because the distorting noise is not
merely random, as in diffusion models, but carries additional information
about the training data. That makes for a more efficient algorithm. Mr Xu,
Mr Liu and their colleagues then published a preprint outlining this new
class of models. They called them “Poisson flow generative models”
(PFGMs), named for Poisson’s equation, which describes the electric field
created by static electrical charges. Judged by industry standards, PFGMs
generate images of equal or better quality than state-of-the-art diffusion
models, while being less error-prone and requiring between ten and 20
times fewer computational steps.

The researchers were not done yet. They also turned their attention to
Coulomb’s law, the equation that governs the strength of the electric field
which exists between two charges (and from which Poisson’s equation can
be derived). The researchers found that changing the number of dimensions
in which Coulomb’s law operates has implications for a PFGM’S
behaviour. Fewer dimensions result in models that require more data to
train but that need fewer parameters, make fewer errors and produce more
consistent images. More dimensions result in models that require less data
to train but are bulkier, more error-prone and less consistent.
In a subsequent preprint, the team called this broader family of electrostatic
models PFGM++. They also made a surprising discovery. When the number
of dimensions in the equations is taken to infinity, the distortion algorithm
behaves like a standard diffusion model. This means that PFGM++ folds all
the current physics-inspired generative models into one family.

Still more complex distortion mechanisms beckon. The next target for
Messrs Xu and Liu is the weak interaction, which, alongside
electromagnetism, gravity and the strong interaction, is a fundamental force
of nature. (Imperceptible at human scales, it is responsible for certain types
of radioactive decay.) Conveniently, its equations are almost identical to
those used in the PFGM++ family of models.

The weak force, however, has special properties that the electromagnetic
force does not. For one thing, it does not need to conserve the number of
particles. Pairs of particles can mutually annihilate, and new ones can pop
into being. If this physics is translated into an algorithm, it may unlock new
behaviour: compressing data with record efficiency, for example, or
offering applications in cell biology where objects multiply or die out. How
well it can draw a penguin, though, remains to be seen. ■

Curious about the world? To enjoy our mind-expanding science coverage,

sign up to Simply Science, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter.
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/science-and-
technology/2024/06/20/how-physics-can-improve-image-generating-ai

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Culture
Wine collectors are at last taking champagne seriously
Bottles up :: Prices have, in turn, been bubbly

Theories of pre-history are a mirror on their times

Who are you calling a Neanderthal? :: What humans’ perspective on the past says about them

What a row over sponsorship reveals about art and

Mammon
Back Story :: It betrays childish misconceptions about money, morality and power

Los Angeles is the capital of film noir

No city of angels :: 50 years after “Chinatown”, the city is still inspiring new takes on the
genre

Technology has changed money-laundering

When screens clean the green :: This will confound government enforcers for years to come

How games and game theory have changed the world

Everything to play for :: A provocative history of gaming’s influence calls for a change in the
rules

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Bottles up

Wine collectors are at last taking

champagne seriously
Prices have, in turn, been bubbly
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Paris

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE was a champagne enthusiast. He became

friends with the heir to Moët & Chandon, now the world’s largest seller of
French bubbly, while studying at a military academy. Later, as emperor,
Napoleon stopped in Épernay on his way to, and back from, war. “In
victory, you deserve champagne; in defeat, you need it,” he said.

Champagne now merits its own victory tour. The value of sales of
champagne hit €6.4bn ($6.9bn) in 2023; 2021-23 were the best years on
record, even after accounting for inflation (see chart). Over the past five
years the “Champagne 50” index, which tracks the value of the top brands
traded on Liv-ex, a wine-buying platform, has surged by 47%, more than
any other regional index worldwide, including Bordeaux (up by 1.3%),
Burgundy (25%) and Italy (29%). In the past half-decade the Wine Advocate
has published more articles and reviews devoted to champagne than it did
in the preceding 41 years since its founding, says William Kelley, the
editor-in-chief. (Bottles can bear the “champagne” name only if they hail
from that region of north-eastern France near Épernay.)
On June 20th in Paris Sotheby’s is holding the world’s first champagne-only
auction, which is expected to raise €1.5m-1.9m. From 2022-23 the volume
and value of champagne sold by Sotheby’s nearly tripled. Last year a
champagne producer, Krug, ranked in the top ten wine producers sold by
the auction house for the first time.

The fact that wine aficionados have only lately lapped up champagne may
be a surprise. Champagne has long been a luxury brand in its own right, a
global symbol of celebration and splurging. LVMH, a French luxury-goods
juggernaut, has collected champagne companies like a tippler acquiring
bottles: it owns seven, including Dom Pérignon, Krug, Moët & Chandon
and Veuve Clicquot. Together, they account for an estimated 46% of global
champagne sales by value and 23% by volume, according to Edouard Aubin
of Morgan Stanley. (The disparity arises because LVMH sells a lot of
“prestige cuvées”, an elegant-sounding term for expensive bottles.)

Big champagne houses can afford Balthazar-size advertising budgets. For

much of modern history champagne has been “pushed as a bubbly drink for
bubbly people”, writes Robert Walters in “Bursting Bubbles” a book about
champagne. It has been drunk by rappers and those wrapping up their
evenings at night clubs. This “double-edged marketing…has both led to
champagne’s incredible popularity and diminished its reputation” among
connoisseurs, according to Mr Walters. Oenophiles did not take it very
seriously. “Champagne was considered a fine thing, but not necessarily a
fine wine,” explains Justin Gibbs of Liv-ex.

Wine-lovers, however, have started to look at their champagne flutes

differently. “People now view champagne as a wine and not just a
celebratory drink,” says Jamie Graham of Brunswick Fine Wines and
Spirits, a British merchant. Instead of being regarded as a mere aperitif to
be sipped before moving on to something more serious, champagne is now
being savoured and paired with food more often.

Two things changed. One was covid, which gave wine-lovers more time at
home to research and try new bottles. It may seem odd that a festive drink
flourished at such a bleak time. But well-off people who were not going out
to dine in restaurants sought pleasures at home, sometimes bidding in
online auctions for new bottles. They also had more time to study the
terroir of champagne and producers’ different methods of blending and
adding dosage (a mixture including cane sugar that sweetens it before
bottling). In other words, drinkers started to “understand there is a wine
behind the bubble”, says Arthur Larmandier of Larmandier-Bernier, a
champagne house. At first Mr Larmandier thought it would take five years
for champagne to bounce back from covid; instead, demand surged, and it
“took six months”.

The second factor is more appreciation for the smaller houses that produce
limited quantities of high-quality bubbly. Prices for these “grower”
champagnes have rocketed on the secondary market: the Wine Market
Journal’s grower-champagne index has more than doubled in value since
2019. Oenophiles now invoke these winemakers’ last names with the
fondness that football players refer to their teammates: Selosse, Prévost,
Collin, Bouchard, Egly-Ouriet. (Selosse, at around $650 a bottle, is the
Lionel Messi of grower champagne.)

Growers have brought artisanal winemaking techniques to champagne,

relying more on ripe, carefully tended grapes than on dosage; this leads to a
lower sugar profile and greater complexity. Appreciation of grower
champagne connects with a broader trend in culture, including gastronomy,
whereby people are seeking out local, authentic producers and tastes, says
Mr Kelley of the Wine Advocate. More reviews of champagne by Mr Kelley
and fellow critics piqued the interest of collectors and investors, who found
even the highest-quality champagne undervalued, relative to top wines from
Burgundy and Bordeaux.

The grower-champagne producers are disrupters, changing not only

oenophiles’ minds about French bubbly but also the viticulture practices of
some of the largest houses. Recently the grandes marques have been
investing more in releases from specific vineyards, which can compete
better with grower champagne. They have also altered their marketing, no
longer showing photos of suit-clad cellar masters in wine caves but instead
featuring them in humble attire in vineyards, closer to the vines.

This is not champagne’s first transformation. In the 17th century, when

Dom Pérignon, a monk, was making it in his abbey, bubbles were seen as a
flaw: champagne then was a still wine. (Though Pérignon is credited with
being the “inventor” of champagne, that is just marketing; his famous
remark “Come quickly, I am drinking the stars!” first appeared in a 19th-
century advert.) It was only in the 18th century that the Champagne region
embraced bubbles, as both a source of differentiation and a justification for
higher prices.

Flights of fancy

What does the future hold? France used to buy most champagne, but that
changed in 2012. Now America and Japan are important growth markets,
says Stéphane Dalyac, chief executive of Laurent-Perrier, a prominent
house. Unlike many firms peddling well-known luxury brands, bubbly-
makers are not optimistic in the near term about China, where buyers over
40 tend not to gravitate to the cold fizziness of champagne, Mr Dalyac says.

But the sun is shining on champagne in many ways. Climate change is

helping the region’s wine by ripening grapes naturally, therefore requiring
less dosage, says Peter Gibson of the Wine Market Journal,. Many think the
effect of grower champagne will endure, elevating the whole region’s
quality for years to come.

Recently champagne houses, thirsting for greater profits, decided to raise

prices heftily to exploit the boom, thinking drinkers would tolerate it.
However, demand for some fine wines has sputtered, sending wine indexes
down. Inflation more broadly and economic uncertainty have also caused
consumers to pull back. Champagne houses may be forced to adjust prices
downward slightly, to keep demand high. Call it a champagne problem. ■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/20/wine-collectors-are-at-last-taking-
champagne-seriously

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Who are you calling a Neanderthal?

Theories of pre-history are a

mirror on their times
What humans’ perspective on the past says about them
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

The Invention of Pre-history. By Stefanos Geroulanos. Liveright; 512

pages; $29.99 and £22.99

THERE IS NO doubt that the past can shape the future in profound ways:
consider climate change, for instance. It is also true that imagined pasts can
influence real-world events. Vladimir Putin invokes history to justify his
invasion of Ukraine, picturing it as a child that was snatched from Mother
Russia and should be returned. Ukrainians see things differently. This clash
of visions underpins the bloodiest war in Europe since 1945.
Imagined histories can shape the present in subtler ways, too. Take pre-
history, the 3m or so years of human evolution before the invention of
writing (thought to be in the fourth millennium BC). A new book by
Stefanos Geroulanos, a professor of European intellectual history at New
York University, offers a sweeping exploration of Western ideas about early
humankind. He shows that theories about the ancient past have exerted a
strong and sometimes pernicious influence on the modern world. “Pre-
history is about the present day,” Mr Geroulanos writes. “It always has
been.”

Interest in pre-history grew in the 18th century. The discovery of new

continents and rising disillusionment with religious creation myths
encouraged thinkers to devise new theories about human origins. Yet the
Enlightenment belief in the scientific method did not guarantee its
application. The idea of “stages” of human development, typically divided
into three—savage, barbarian and civilised—persisted.

Indigenous people were excluded from this concept of progress. European

thinkers considered them to be much like humans’ long-ago forebears. After
the publication of “On the Origin of Species” in 1859, the concept of the
“struggle for existence” took hold. Travelling in Africa, the Americas and
beyond, Charles Darwin observed that “The varieties of man seem to act on
each other; in the same way as different species of animals—the stronger
always extirpating the weaker.” As such, the slaughter of native peoples was
seen to be in line with a ruthless natural instinct.

Archaeological evidence has sometimes reinforced misguided judgments

rather than rectified them. In 1908 a French scholar examined a
Neanderthal skeleton, but downplayed signs of arthritis. Its bent spine was
subsequently thought to be a typical trait of the species rather than one
man’s affliction. Partly thanks to this, Neanderthals were for decades
depicted as dark, hunched, hairy and often miserable-looking brutes.

There are plenty of villains in this story, many of them respected sages in
their own time. In 1925 Raymond Dart, an anthropologist working in South
Africa, wrote about his discovery of a child Australopithecus africanus. The
species would come to be understood as the direct ancestors of Homo, the
genus of modern humans, and the region known as “The Cradle of
Humankind”. But Mr Geroulanos suggests that racial prejudice coloured
Dart’s attitudes. In the 1950s he offered almost ghoulish descriptions of
imagined prehistoric savagery; Dart’s argument “certainly hinted that the
brutality of Africans’ origins influenced Africans in the present day”, Mr
Geroulanos observes. The theories thus appealed to supporters of apartheid.

Historians today are more meticulous, though the author gently chides
Yuval Noah Harari, a popular writer, for asserting on thin grounds that
civilisation started with cooking. Recent scientific advances—such as the
Nobel-prizewinning work done by Svante Paabo, a Swedish geneticist, on
sequencing the Neanderthal genome—have unlocked new areas of inquiry.
But Mr Geroulanos insists that “However much we may ‘know’” about
Neanderthal man and his predecessors, “he continues to say more about us.”
■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/20/theories-of-pre-history-are-a-mirror-
on-their-times

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Back Story

What a row over sponsorship

reveals about art and Mammon
It betrays childish misconceptions about money, morality and power
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

TRY AS HE might, Joe Biden struggles to restrain Binyamin Netanyahu.

So it is doubtful that a British literary collective can have much sway over
Israel’s prime minister. But though the group may not halt the war in Gaza
—or mitigate climate change, its other avowed mission—it has performed
one useful service. It has exposed the deep misconceptions that often
feature in clashes over cultural funding: about power, morality and the
exigencies of art.

The collective, Fossil Free Books (FFB), has set its sights on Baillie
Gifford, a Scottish asset manager, which until recently sponsored ten
literary festivals in Britain. The firm, charge the activists, invests in fossil-
fuel producers and companies tied to Israeli security. (“Solidarity with
Palestine and climate justice are inextricably linked,” FFB questionably
maintains.) Their convoluted strategy involved pressuring the festivals and
urging authors to withdraw from them, in the hope of pushing Baillie
Gifford to divest from these holdings. “Disruption” and “escalation” were
promised.

Cue protests, cancellations and a social-media pile-on. The upshot is that

Baillie Gifford has indeed divested—from the festivals. After this year it
will no longer sponsor any, nor the associated programmes for children that
were its charitable focus. Three galleries (and counting) will forgo its help
too. When the Hay book festival, Britain’s most prestigious, cut ties with
the firm, FFB crowed: “This announcement shows the power we have when
we unite.”

This statement is accurate. The episode shows exactly the sort of power
such campaigns have—and the kind they don’t. The butterfly effect does
not apply: boycotting a book festival in Wales will not prevent extreme
weather events, nor drive back Israeli tanks to their barracks. These antics
cannot force Baillie Gifford to dispose of any holdings, since it can do that
only on its customers’ say-so. Rather than damaging its brand, the fuss has
shown that it prioritises clients’ interests. None has withdrawn their money.

The activists do, however, have the power to hurt Britain’s book festivals,
which must cobble together funding at a time of shrinking state subsidy.
Some may have to put up prices for punters; others may fold. Perhaps that
is a sacrifice worth making to achieve what FFB calls “a literary industry
free from fossil fuels, genocide and colonial violence”. This smells like
activism aimed less at global warming than the warm glow of moral
smugness, more concerned with seeming good and feeling good than doing
it.

In a second misconception, the likes of FFB fail to face the moral realities
of a globalised world. By any sane measure, Baillie Gifford is no villain.
Only 1% of the £225bn ($287bn) it manages is invested in fossil-fuel
producers; it invests far more in green technologies. As for its alleged stake
in “Israeli apartheid, occupation and genocide”, it mostly consists of shares
in tech giants like Amazon and Nvidia.

The idea that any investment outfit, or indeed any person, could sever every
remote and indirect link to fossil fuels or Israel, an important tech hub, is an
adolescent fantasy. British authors ought to know that: their books are sold
on Amazon and in Waterstones, a bookshop chain owned by Elliott, a hedge
fund that trades oil. In a spider’s web of global connections, moral lines and
prohibitions are bound to be drawn imperfectly. That is one reason to
hesitate before imposing yours on others.

The third delusion is that pristine art and filthy Mammon can ever be
separate realms. Like everyone else, writers and artists must make ends
meet; they have always made compromises to do so, whether in blithe
ignorance, embittered hypocrisy or emasculating gratitude. In bygone eras
they relied on patrons, from Roman emperors to the feudal overlords and
corrupt prelates of the Renaissance. “I should be Employ’d in Greater
things,” William Blake groaned in 1802 as he churned out hack work for a
benefactor.

In the modern age of mass literacy and commercial entertainment, the

moral hazard has been dispersed rather than eliminated. Now the
compromises are over how much creative folk charge, which fads they
pander to, which middlemen they employ and so on. Even today, some
artistic endeavours tend to require munificent patrons. These include full-
scale opera, museum construction—and book festivals.

Artists who repudiate support from the likes of Baillie Gifford are naive
about power and childish about morality. More than that, if it’s purity they
covet, they are in the wrong business.■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/14/what-a-row-over-sponsorship-reveals-
about-art-and-mammon

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

No city of angels

Los Angeles is the capital of film

noir
50 years after “Chinatown”, the city is still inspiring new takes on the
genre
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午 | Los Angeles

“MIDDLE OF A drought and the water commissioner drowns,” the

mortician remarks drily to Jake Gittes, a private investigator played by Jack
Nicholson (pictured): “Only in LA.” Indeed. June 20th marks the 50th
anniversary of the release of “Chinatown”, the film truest to the Los
Angeles of the countless noirs set in America’s second-most-populous city.
Other films revolve around Hollywood—or at least its dark, gritty edges—
where every millionaire, wannabe actor and insurance agent has a secret
worth killing for. But Gittes was fixated on water, or the lack thereof, a
perennial problem in a city that is otherwise constantly changing.
Film noir was so named by French critics after the second world war. It is a
style of film-making that often features a cynical anti-hero who either
sleuths for a living or finds himself accidentally drawn into an
investigation. Think of Humphrey Bogart as Philip Marlowe in “The Big
Sleep” (1946), a film based on Raymond Chandler’s novel. Or of Barton
Keyes, an insurance claims investigator, hellbent on sniffing out fraud in
“Double Indemnity” (1944). There is a good chance that crooked cops,
cover-ups, pretty blondes and business tycoons will turn up at some point in
the story. The closest thing to a happy ending is that not everyone will end
up dead.

“Chinatown” was released several decades after the genre’s heyday in the
1940s-50s. The film, and the “neo noirs” that followed it, tried to strike a
balance between paying homage to the classics and turning the genre on its
head. In 1982 “Blade Runner” transported viewers to the futuristic Los
Angeles of 2019. Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) searches for bioengineered
humans who are not supposed to be on Earth, let alone in the City of
Angels.
Crime flicks can be made about any city. But Los Angeles cornered the
market back when Chandler was writing screenplays. Many great crime
novelists have lived there, including Chandler and, later, James Ellroy. But
their novels need not be adapted faithfully. “Double Indemnity”, after all,
was based on a murder in Queens.

Why does Los Angeles continue to play a leading role in film noir? Its
status as America’s long-reigning film capital is part of it. The city also
lends itself to film noir because it is such a study in contrasts. The relentless
sunshine and skinny palm trees jar with the genre’s violence and corruption.
LA is where people come to make it, and only a few succeed.

What happens to those who are disappointed? Wannabe starlets become call
girls. Men who cannot pay their mortgage become muscle for mobsters.
Danny DeVito, who plays a smarmy tabloid journalist in the neo-noir “LA
Confidential” (1997), based on a novel by Mr Ellroy, gives an oleaginous
monologue that encapsulates the duality of LA noir. “You’d think this place
was the garden of Eden,” he says, “but there’s trouble in paradise.”
A newer spate of LA noirs fetishise the genre even while challenging its
conventions. In the television series “Lucifer”, the lord of Hell solves
murders alongside a city detective. There are sometimes musical numbers
to offset all the killing. In “Sugar”, which premiered on Apple TV in April,
John Sugar, a private investigator, is a cinephile. He wears a suit and drives
an old Corvette in the mould of Marlowe or Gittes. A girl goes missing, and
as Sugar investigates, he finds each member of her family to be corrupt in
their own way. Sugar, too, loses sight of himself the more he obsesses over
the case. The series even begins in black and white and features old film
clips throughout.

But unlike the classics, Mr Sugar is no sarcastic anti-hero. In fact, he is

nice. He does not sneer, antagonise police or hit women. He does not like
guns. He helps the homeless and even adopts a dog. It is a far cry from the
blood-soaked impunity of “LA Confidential”, in which almost everyone is
unlikeable and gets shot. He solves his case and saves the girl.

Gittes is not so lucky. His efforts, like many a private investigator in film
noir, prove futile. “Forget it, Jake,” his partner says when the woman he
wants to protect is killed. “It’s Chinatown.” ■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/20/los-angeles-is-the-capital-of-film-noir

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

When screens clean the green

Technology has changed money-

laundering
This will confound government enforcers for years to come
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Rinsed. By Geoff White. Penguin Business; 288 pages; £20. To be

published in America in August; $38.99

ON JUNE 2ND Bill Guan, the chief financial officer of the Epoch Times, a
right-wing newspaper, was arrested. Prosecutors in New York charged him
with laundering $67m, allegedly buying pre-paid debit cards using
cryptocurrency. (Mr Guan has pleaded not guilty.) Chainalysis, a
blockchain-analysis firm, estimates that $22.2bn in illicit funds were
laundered globally using cryptocurrencies in 2023. Despite Western
sanctions, Iran, North Korea and Hamas, a terrorist group, all launder funds
with crypto.

As Geoff White, a journalist, makes clear in a gripping new book, money-

laundering can seem bloodless and abstruse, but it is going to become only
more relevant and widespread. That is because technology is making this
kind of crime easier—and much harder to detect.

Cleaning dirty money involves three steps. The first is “placement”, getting
it into the financial system so it does not sit unproductively under a
mattress. During the heyday of Pablo Escobar, a notorious Colombian drug
kingpin, in the 1980s, couriers travelled with briefcases stuffed with cash to
Anguilla, a Caribbean island with appealing banking-secrecy laws, and
deposited it in local banks. Now people can get intermediaries to change
stolen funds into bitcoin—or do it themselves—without the need for an
aeroplane ticket.

The second step is “layering”, which means bouncing money around to

sever its connection from its predicate crime. This has often involved
routing funds through foreign banks and shell companies with stand-in
owners. Today cryptocurrency “mixers” can mingle a customer’s bitcoin
with other cryptocurrencies. The mixer then returns the same amount that
the customer started with, but it has become significantly harder to trace.

The last stage of the laundering process is “integration”, or removing now-

clean funds and using them to buy things. Ideally this involves assets that
can either increase in value, such as art and property, or can generate cash (a
car wash featured in “Breaking Bad”, one of the few crime shows to make
money-laundering a pivotal plot point). This largely remains a physical
process that, as Mr White explains, “sometimes comes down to a network
of human beings, who physically go to the ATMs and withdraw the money
in old-fashioned, untraceable cash”. But here, too, technology helps: easy
communication facilitates the creation of ever-larger networks across
multiple jurisdictions.

Jurisdictional whack-a-mole confounds the policing of cybercrime

involving crypto. Mr White’s most gruesome chapter zeroes in on Welcome
to Video, a site on the “dark web”—a part of the internet only accessible
with anonymising software—that charged users in bitcoin to download
images of child sexual abuse. Once investigators gained access to the site’s
back-end, they could trace payments back to users, but not to its operator,
who created more than 1.3m addresses to receive payments. Careful
analysis eventually led British, American and German investigators to the
site’s operator in South Korea.

“Rinsed” will no doubt please crypto-sceptics, but that misses the larger
picture, which is about governments grappling with crypto’s attractiveness
to criminals. The tech sector’s relentless drive to innovate has an upside:
just think of all you can do with that little supercomputer in your pocket.
But, as Mr White reminds us in this book, it has plenty of downsides, too. ■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/20/technology-has-changed-money-laundering

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu | Previous |

Everything to play for

How games and game theory have

changed the world
A provocative history of gaming’s influence calls for a change in the rules
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

Playing with Reality. By Kelly Clancy. Riverhead Books; 368 pages; $30.
Allen Lane; £25

IN 1824 PRINCE WILHELM OF PRUSSIA asked for a demonstration of

an elaborate game he had heard about from his military tutor. The
Kriegsspiel, or war game, had been devised a few decades earlier as a more
militarily realistic form of chess. Instead of regular squares, the board was a
detailed map of a real battlefield. Wooden blocks represented different
military formations; each turn of the game simulated two minutes of
battlefield combat. Damage was worked out by rolling special dice and
using odds-based scoring tables based on casualty statistics from historical
battles. The game took two weeks to play, during which all cats had to be
banished from the vicinity, so they did not climb on the board and mess up
the pieces.

The prince was enchanted, and every Prussian officer was ordered to learn
to play the game. It allowed new tactics to be tried out, even in peacetime.
The rules were constantly updated with new weapons and statistics. When
Wilhelm became king, Prussia’s unexpectedly swift victory in 1871 in the
Franco-Prussian war was attributed to these gamed simulations.

By the time of the first world war, Kriegsspiel was being used to predict
when German battalions were likely to run out of ammunition, allowing
timely replenishment—what would now be called supply-chain forecasting.
In the interwar period, German planners used it to develop Blitzkrieg tactics
and simulate the invasion of Czechoslovakia. When Hitler invaded Russia,
both sides relied on the game to predict how the campaign might unfold.

The story of Kriegsspiel is just one of the many examples marshalled by

Kelly Clancy, a neuroscientist and physicist, in her wide-ranging survey of
how games can shape reality. Her story starts in earnest in the Renaissance,
when mathematicians first developed probability theory, in part so that they
could understand games of chance involving dice and cards. Games thus
helped reveal that even random events were governed by laws and were
susceptible to analysis. The resulting techniques were applied to medicine,
population studies and the analysis of scientific errors. The German
polymath Gottfried Leibniz saw games as models of the world, and thought
studying them could “help to perfect the art of thinking”. The creators of
Kriegsspiel were inspired by his work.

Such war games, in turn, prompted John von Neumann’s initial steps in the
development of what is now known as game theory, a branch of
mathematics that could, its proponents hoped, be the physics of human
nature. By the 1950s the theory had been fleshed out, with now-familiar
ideas such as the Nash equilibrium and the prisoner’s dilemma, which
consider how adversaries adjust their strategies in response to each other’s
actions. Game theory directly underpinned the idea of “mutually assured
destruction” during the nuclear build-up and stand-off of the cold war. It has
since been applied in fields ranging from trade to evolution.

In the 21st century, the influence of game-like mechanisms has assumed a

new, digital form. Social-media platforms are akin to games in which users
compete for clicks and attention; apps have gamified dating, fitness and
language-learning; and woe betide anyone whose rating on eBay, Uber or
Airbnb, based on scores from other users, falls too low. Games have also
been central to the development of artificial intelligence. Modern systems
rely on the computational horsepower of graphics chips originally designed
to run video games; and games have driven progress in the field, from
chess, to Go, to the ImageNet image-recognition contest.

Gaming’s power to shape reality, then, is incontrovertible. But Ms Clancy

argues that games are “a map that warps the territory”. Though they may be
internally consistent, that does not mean they accurately reflect the world.
Yet they are often treated as though they do. Worse, the neat models of
reality that game theory provides not only misrepresent reality, she argues,
but can deform it in malign ways by affecting how people act. Humans are
not the reward-maximising automata that game theory and economists like
to assume.

Economists are well aware of this, of course. The field of behavioural

economics aims to understand how psychology, not just cold logic, affects
decision-making. Ms Clancy dismisses it as “one of the least reputable
fields of science” because it is “richly funded by corporations”. She objects
to the way that behavioural economists refer to “cognitive biases” as though
they are defects in human thinking, when in fact “they are the way thinking
works”. Economists, it seems, are wrong to apply game theory uncritically,
but are also wrong to try to address its limitations.

In Ms Clancy’s telling, the overzealous misapplication of game theory lies

behind many of the world’s problems, including economic exploitation,
manipulation of public opinion, racism and neoliberalism. Some readers
may grow weary of Ms Clancy’s demonisation of heartless economists and
cut-throat capitalism. Although games and game-like mechanisms are not
inherently bad, she argues, they have been used to “launder dubious beliefs”
by “data-hungry technologists” and “rapacious business interests”. The
challenge, she concludes, is to find ways to use games for good, rather than
ill; to change existing rules and devise entirely new game-like structures,
such as fairer voting systems. By turns philosophical and polemical, this is
a provocative and fascinating book. ■

For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies,
sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/culture/2024/06/20/how-games-and-game-theory-have-changed-
the-world

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

The Economist reads

How to stare at the Sun, through art
The Economist looks at :: Seven artworks use the Sun to talk of time, the Earth, the act of
seeing and industrial civilisation

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

The Economist looks at

How to stare at the Sun, through

art
Seven artworks use the Sun to talk of time, the Earth, the act of seeing and
industrial civilisation
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

CHILDREN—and eclipse-watchers—are warned not to stare directly at the

Sun. Ignore that advice and the result may be burnt retinas and partial
blindness. Yet an urge persists to somehow see the source of the light by
which once all things were seen. Central to the world but always moving in
the sky, bringing days into being and governing the cycles of the year—it is
hard not to see the fascination, even if you sensibly avert your eyes.

Visual artists, from the prehistoric to the contemporary, provide a safer way
for Sun-worshippers and the Sun-curious to deepen their appreciation. As
solar power becomes an ever more important energy source around the
world, here are seven artworks that also harness the Sun’s energy and
deepen its resonance.

Newgrange. Around 3200BC; Boyne Valley, County Meath, Ireland

Through chinks that seem natural but have been perfectly aligned to the
geometries of the winter solstice, the Sun creeps in. An intruder and a
timekeeper. The ruler of lives. Steadily, the beam widens until the whole
interior is lit. At Newgrange it marks the start of the new year and the ever-
strengthening Sun. Light fertilises the womb-dark of the chamber. At the
caves of Lascaux, in south-western France, it declares the summer solstice
and the season’s fullness. Where it enters, the Sun turns the earth floors to
hammered fire. There is light enough to paint, at Lascaux, men, hunters and
wild oxen. Or, at Newgrange, to carve mesmerising looped spirals and a
leafing fern, the plant of rejuvenation. Plants, beasts and men live, and will
live again, in the Sun.
Sun Tunnels. By Nancy Holt; 1973-1976; Little Pigeon Rd, Great Basin
Desert, Utah

Five thousand years later, such alignment has become industrial. The Land
Art movement of the 1960s and 1970s saw some artists use bulldozers,
concrete and steel to mount human interventions in the relationships
between land, water and sky, at once massive and, in context, hauntingly
inconsequential. Nancy Holt brought “the sky down to earth” by passing
solstice sunlight down tubes that might have been sewers, one set for
winter, one for summer. Brutal concrete evoked an infrastructure on a
global scale, but in an arrangement that would have been understandable to
men and women measuring the comings and goings of the seasons through
the sky throughout human history—and even before it began.
Impression/Sunrise. By Claude Monet; 1872; Musée Marmottan Monet,
Paris; on display at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris until July 24th 2024; at the
National Gallery in Washington, DC from September 8th 2024 to January
19th 2025

Dawn barely breaks outside the window of his hotel on the Grand Quay in
Le Havre, and a bearded man is already at his easel. He paints the Sun as no
one has done before: it is a rough red ball, which has already dropped its
careless colours on the sea. This Sun must burn its way through the fog of
the industrial age. Vague chimneys and cranes jostle to obscure it. The sky
is smoke, and the water thick as oil. The Sun’s rays are withdrawn: as yet, it
illuminates only wisps of cloud. Yet it hangs centrally, or just off-centre, as
the plain commander of the scene. Monet calls his painting an impression;
from this casual description, a whole artistic genre will spring. He insists
that it is not finished yet. And his painter-Sun has not started, let alone
finished, the uncreated day.
Beachy Head Lighthouse (Belle Tout). By Eric Ravilious; 1939; private
collection

The Sun is barely visible in this painting. Yet it still governs everything.
Eric Ravilious, a modern man, boasted that he looked “into the eye of the
sun as long as it could be borne” when he worked in the open air. It became
one of his beloved yellow things, commonplace as a pat of butter, a beached
skiff or a baker’s cart. He loved especially to catch it coming in through
glass, entering silent bedrooms and kitchens like a too-familiar friend. Yet
the Sun of his woodcuts was an object of worship. It was powerfully
geometrical, streaming out parallel rays and with an orb of concentric
circles, like a dartboard. Its light fell on the Sussex Downs as regular
lattices of lines; it netted the sea. Here at Belle Tout it does the same:
Ravilious snares it through the severe panes of the lantern, organising light
to light, dangerously and divinely bright.

Black Sun, Tungsten Hills, Owens Valley. By Ansel Adams; 1939; in

various collections including those of the Art Institute of Chicago, The Yale
University Art Gallery and the Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Photography makes sunlight the artist’s everyday tool as well as his

sometime subject. How, where and when the sunlight strikes becomes
central to the work, constraining and inspiring the position of lens and eye,
the openness of aperture, the choice of film emulsion. Its capture is a new
way for accident and inspiration to come together.

Happy accident in 1939, then: the thick emulsion burns through, and the
Sun, which should be bright, is dark instead, a vanished point. The effect is
called solarisation. Elsewhere in California at the time Robert Oppeneimer
is exploring the physics of the black hole; soon he will be working on the
sun-bright bombs. As Adams develops the picture, the black sun’s light
comes silver off the stream, flares white in the lens, casts the bare tree into
shadow as if burnt.

541,795 Suns from Sunsets from Flickr (Partial) 01/23/06, 2006 (Detail,
2000 - 4 x 6” machine c-prints). By Penelope Umbrico (courtesy of the
artist)

Every phone becomes a camera; every camera turns to the softened, sinking
sun. Penelope Umbrico looks at Flickr, a then-newish photo-sharing app,
and finds that “sunset” is the most common tag. In January 2006 she
downloads 541,795 images; by 2019 she has 43,186,046. She selects, she
centres, she crops, she prints. From time to time a subset will be installed
somewhere, all the same, all different, a work of art unknown, for the most
part, to the phone-wielders who made it possible. The endlessly repeated
Sun slips from the focus; the creators’ shared, anonymised delight in the
Sun becomes the subject in and of itself, an array of a thousand pinholes
through which the light comes in.

The Weather Project. By Olafur Eliasson; 2013; Installation in Tate

Modern, London

It was, in fact, only half a Sun, an electric lower hemisphere reflected into
wholeness by a mirrored ceiling that contrived to make the Tate’s cavernous
turbine hall yet bigger. Where ancient sunlight stored in oil was once
released and turned back into power a new source of sort-of sunlight sat low
and unchanging. David Nye, a historian, introduced the idea of the
“technological sublime”; recapturing nature in a quondam power station in
2013 Mr Eliasson made it his own. It felt as if it should be ominous: an
ersatz Sun without a sky. But the gallery-goers loved it. They sat in front of
it as if at the beach. They lay on their backs and looked at their rufous
reflections above, making sun angels as they would snow angels. It was
their sun, they said, theirs to enjoy.

Also try:
This week we published an essay and a leader on the way in which sunlight,
as captured by photovoltaic cells, is changing the world. Earlier this year
we wrote about the continuing relevance of Impressionism, the movement
that took its name from Monet’s image of sunrise at Le Havre 150 years
ago. In 2019 we wrote in appreciation of some of Mr Eliasson’s other
works, and in 2020 a retrospective piece on Land Art discussed the work of
Nancy Holt, her husband Robert Smithson, and others. Our obituaries editor
has a lot more to say about Ravilious, the Sun, Sussex, souls and more in
her book “Six Facets of Light”. Our essays editor talks of artwork made by
photosynthesis in his book “Eating the Sun”. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/the-economist-
reads/2024/06/19/how-to-stare-at-the-sun-through-art

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

Economic & financial indicators

Economic data, commodities and markets
Indicators ::

| Next section | Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

Indicators

Economic data, commodities and

markets
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午
This article was downloaded by calibre from https://www.economist.com/economic-and-
financial-indicators/2024/06/20/economic-data-commodities-and-markets

| Section menu | Main menu |

 | Main menu | Previous section |

Obituary
Birubala Rabha fought to end the stigmatisation of women
No witches in this world :: The intrepid campaigner against witch-hunting died on May 13th,
aged 75

| Main menu | Previous section |

 | Next | Section menu | Main menu |

No witches in this world

Birubala Rabha fought to end the

stigmatisation of women
The intrepid campaigner against witch-hunting died on May 13th, aged 75
6月 20, 2024, 11:23 上午

SLOWLY, LIMPING and swaying with a sort of palsy, a young woman was
led across the grass. Her name was Jarmila. She was 27, but had the body of
a wasted child. Rain was pouring down; two women sheltered her with an
umbrella. She had come to see Birubala Rabha because her sister-in-law
beat her, and called her a witch. But all she really wanted was a room of her
own in her brother’s house. Inside the hall where Birubala was she went to
sit alone, a child-woman with a reedy voice and huge pleading eyes. But
Birubala made a compromise between her and her brother. At the end
Jarmila crumpled to the ground, crying, to seek her brother’s blessing. He
had agreed that he would give her a room and never call her a witch again.
As he left, he touched the feet of Birubala and, with a namaste, thanked her.

Those feet were hard with constant travelling on unmade hill roads between
the villages of Assam. Birubala was no more than a peasant herself, a tribal
woman, simple and uneducated beyond class five; a farmer’s daughter,
married at 15, who had grown crops and reared poultry to bring in little bits
of money, as most did in this remote north-eastern corner. Her house, like
theirs, had a tin roof and woven bamboo walls, with little furniture except
her mosquito-netted bed and a tin trunk for papers. Her dialect was so
particular to her home village, Thakurbila, that other Assamese struggled to
understand it. But one hateful word had motivated her life and driven her
travels: daini, a witch.

Between 1991 and 2010, more than 1,700 women in rural India were killed
for being witches. They were declared so by tribal bej or medicine men, and
also by their own communities. When crops failed or people fell ill for no
apparent reason, the blame was almost always placed on women, usually
the single, widowed or old. They were said to use the evil eye, or spells and
amulets, to wither stems or stop hearts. If they were not lynched, they were
tortured by being burned, tonsured, stripped, beaten and expelled from their
villages. The police were loth to penalise a tradition that ran deep. Besides,
many believed in it themselves.

It was all nonsense, nothing but superstition, as she told everyone who
would listen. The bej were quacks and frauds. The real reason for this
treatment was probably to let relatives grab the victim’s property, express
some bitter resentment, or end an argument. Sometimes, sheer ignorance
was the cause. Over the years she gathered a small team, 19-20 victims and
sympathisers, to put pressure on the police and state government to stop it.
From 2011 her Mission Birubala purposely set out to rescue women; by her
reckoning she saved around 90 lives, 35 of them personally. In 2018 came
her best victory: the implementation of a law in Assam, said to be the
strictest in India, which would send a person to prison for up to seven years
for calling someone a witch.

She had been called one herself. In 1985, when he was 15, her eldest son
Dharmeswar began to become mad. In despair, and because she had not yet
abandoned the old beliefs, she and her husband went to the local quack,
who told them, for a handful of betel nuts and leaves, that their son was in
thrall to an evil spirit. That spirit was now pregnant; in three days the child
would be born and their son would die. She was stricken, but of course he
did not die; he lived for years, though his madness did not go away. Then,
in 1996, her husband died of throat cancer. At that point even her close
relatives declared her a witch and shunned her.

In 2001 her battle against witch-hunting resumed in force. Fearlessly she

told a meeting in Goalpara, the nearest town, that five or six women who
had been thrown out were not witches. There were no witches in this world.
When the village men ordered her to recant or be thrashed, and she refused,
hundreds came to attack her house. Was she with the dainis, or with the
public? Though she was tiny, wiry and wore glasses, she stood her ground.
Death did not bother her. For three years she was totally ostracised; she
took it in her stride. At one night rescue she hugged the wounded woman,
Sunila, and shouted to the violent crowd, “If she is a witch, why does she
bleed? She feels the hunger that you do, the cold, the heat, sadness and
joy...You fools, Sunila is one of you.” She would fight this battle to the end.

Though she often blamed men and the patriarchy for witch-hunting, she
knew it was not so simple. Women were just as ready to call another woman
a witch. They could often be their own worst enemy. But as for the men,
those she knew best had not been troublesome. Her father had died when
she was six and her mother, a midwife, was often away, leaving her in
charge. Her elder brother Rana, who was scared of being left in the house
alone, came to depend on her. She was not scared. Her husband, though
much older than she was, never criticised her campaigning, even cooking
his own meals when she was out. Her brother-in-law helped set up her first
village group, in 1985, to call for better roads and to stop the men drinking.
Eventually she made fine allies of the police superintendents of Goalpara
and Kokrajhar, as well as the politicians who drove the witch law through.

The state was proud of its law, and of her. Her work was recognised, too, by
the Indian government, and she was nominated for the Nobel peace prize.
That was all very well. But witch-hunting still went on in India’s most
backward parts, and her team was so small. What she needed were more
resources, especially to build an ashram for persecuted women.

In her house, where light filtered through the bamboo walls, she searched in
her tin trunk. It was full of her awards, framed or loose, in carrier bags. She
arranged some along the floor for the visiting government reporter, but they
were not what she was looking for. She wanted to show him the tiny ID
photos of nine women. They had been tonsured and exiled, and she had
rescued them. Saving lives was the important thing. ■
This article was downloaded by calibre from
https://www.economist.com/obituary/2024/06/20/birubala-rabha-fought-to-end-the-
stigmatisation-of-women

| Section menu | Main menu |