Fallacies of Capitalism 8: The Efficient Markets Hypothesis

The Efficient Markets Fallacy 

Markets are considered efficient in certain aspects because they have the potential to allocate resources efficiently, respond to changes in supply and demand, and facilitate mutually beneficial transactions between buyers and sellers. This efficiency arises from the following factors:

1. Price mechanism: Markets utilize the price mechanism, where prices are determined by the interaction of supply and demand. This mechanism helps in efficiently allocating resources as prices adjust based on changes in supply and demand conditions. For example, when the demand for a particular product increases, its price rises, signaling producers to increase production to meet the demand. This responsiveness allows resources to be directed to where they are most valued, leading to efficiency.

2. Competition: In competitive markets, multiple buyers and sellers compete with each other, leading to increased efficiency. Competition incentivizes businesses to improve their products, reduce costs, and innovate, ultimately benefiting consumers. For example, when multiple companies produce similar goods, they are motivated to offer better quality or lower prices to attract customers. This competition can drive efficiency improvements over time.

3. Profit motive: In a capitalist system, the profit motive serves as an incentive for individuals and businesses to make efficient decisions. When individuals seek to maximize their profits, they are driven to allocate resources in the most productive and efficient ways. For instance, if a business realizes that a particular product line is not generating sufficient profits, it may reallocate resources to more profitable areas, contributing to overall efficiency.

4. Flexibility and adaptability: Markets are often more flexible and adaptable compared to centralized planning systems. They can quickly respond to changes in supply, demand, and consumer preferences. This adaptability allows resources to be reallocated efficiently, ensuring that goods and services align with consumer needs. For example, if a new technology emerges, markets can swiftly adjust by reallocating resources to support its development and meet the changing demand.

However, while markets can be efficient in certain respects, it is important to recognize their limitations and the factors that can hinder their efficiency. Let's understand this concept with simple examples:

1. Market concentration: In some industries, a few large companies can dominate the market, resulting in market concentration. These companies may have significant market power, enabling them to set prices, limit competition, and control supply. For example, imagine a telecommunications industry where only a handful of companies operate. This concentration can lead to reduced choices for consumers and hinder new entrants from competing. The efficient markets fallacy does not account for the potential negative effects of market concentration on competition and consumer welfare.

2. Monopolies: A monopoly occurs when a single company has exclusive control over a particular market. This lack of competition can result in inefficiency and reduced innovation. For instance, imagine a pharmaceutical company that holds a patent for a life-saving drug without any competing alternatives. This monopoly power allows the company to set high prices, limiting access to the medication. The efficient markets fallacy does not address the potential harm caused by monopolistic behavior and the need for regulations to promote competition.

3. Inequitable distribution of resources: The efficient markets fallacy assumes that resources are distributed fairly and efficiently in a capitalist economy. However, in reality, the distribution of resources can be highly unequal. For example, wealth and income disparities can arise, with a small portion of the population holding a significant share of resources while others struggle to meet their basic needs. This inequitable distribution can lead to social unrest and hinder overall economic growth. The efficient markets fallacy does not adequately consider the need for interventions and policies to address the inequitable distribution of resources.

4. Externalities and public goods: Efficient markets do not always account for externalities, which are the costs or benefits that affect third parties not involved in market transactions. For instance, pollution from factories imposes costs on the environment and public health. Without government intervention, the market may not internalize these costs, leading to inefficient outcomes. Additionally, markets may underprovide public goods like education or healthcare, which have broader societal benefits. The efficient markets fallacy fails to address the need for government intervention to address externalities and ensure the provision of public goods.

In summary, the "efficient markets" fallacy fails to address the issues of market concentration, monopolies, inequitable distribution of resources, and the provision of public goods. Recognizing these limitations is crucial for understanding the need for regulations, competition policies, and interventions to promote fair competition, address market failures, and ensure a more equitable distribution of resources in a capitalist economy.

Coronavirus crisis: does value investing still make sense?

The strategy that once worked for Keynes and Buffett has performed badly writes Robin Wigglesworth in The Financial Times

When Joel Greenblatt went to Wharton Business School in the late 1970s, the theory of “efficient markets” was in full bloom, approaching the point of becoming dogma among the financial cognoscenti. To the young student, it all felt bogus. 

Mr Greenblatt had already developed a taste for calculated gambles at the dog racing tracks. Reading the wildly fluctuating stock prices listed in newspapers also made him deeply sceptical of the supposed rationality of markets. One day he stumbled over a Fortune article on stockpicking, and everything suddenly fell into place. 

“A lightbulb went off. It just made sense to me that prices aren’t necessarily correct,” recalls Mr Greenblatt, whose hedge fund Gotham Capital clocked up one of the industry’s greatest ever winning streaks until it was closed to outside investors in 1994. “Buying cheap stocks is great, but buying good companies cheaply is even better. That’s a potent combination.” 

The article became his gateway drug into a school of money management known as “value investing”, which consists of trying to identify good, solid businesses that are trading below their fair value. The piece was written by Benjamin Graham, a financier who in the 1930s first articulated the core principles of value investing and turned it into a phenomenon. 

One of Graham’s protégés was a young money manager called Warren Buffett, who brought the value investing gospel to the masses. But he isn't the only one to play a role in popularising the approach. Since 1996, Mr Greenblatt has taught the same value investing course started by Graham at Columbia Business School nearly a century ago, inculcating generations of aspiring stock jocks with its core principles. 

Mr Greenblatt compares value investing to carefully examining the merits of a house purchase by looking at the foundation, construction quality, rental yields, potential improvements and price comparisons on the street, neighbourhood or other cities. 

“You’d look funny at people who just bought the houses that have gone up the most in price,” he points out. “All investing is value investing, the rest is speculation.” 

However, the faith of many disciples has been sorely tested over the past decade. What constitutes a value stock can be defined in myriad ways, but by almost any measure the approach has suffered an awful stretch of performance since the 2008 financial crisis. 

Many proponents had predicted value investing would regain its lustre once a new bear market beckoned and inevitably hammered the glamorous but pricey technology stocks that dominated the post-2008 bull run. This would make dowdier, cheaper companies more attractive, value investors hoped.  

Instead, value stocks have been pummelled even more than the broader market in the coronavirus-triggered sell-off, agonising supporters of the investment strategy. 

“One more big down leg and I’m dousing my internal organs in Lysol,” Clifford Asness, a hedge fund manager, groused in April. 

Value investing has gone through several bouts of existential angst over the past century, and always comes back strongly. But its poor performance during the coronavirus crisis has only added to the crisis of confidence. The strength and length of the recent woes raises some thorny questions. Why has value lost its mojo and is it gone forever? 

Search for ‘American magic’ 

Berkshire Hathaway’s annual meeting is usually a party. Every year, thousands of fans have flocked to Omaha to lap up the wisdom of Mr Buffett and his partner Charlie Munger, the acerbic, terse sidekick to the conglomerate’s avuncular, loquacious chairman. Last weekend’s gathering was a more downbeat affair. 

A shaggy-haired Mr Buffett sat alone on stage without his usual companion, who was stranded in California. Instead of Mr Munger, Greg Abel, another lieutenant, sat at a table some distance away from Berkshire’s chairman. Rather than the 40,000 people that normally fill the cavernous CHI Health Center for the occasion, he faced nothing but a bunch of video cameras. It was an eerie example of just how much the coronavirus crisis has altered the world, but the “Oracle of Omaha” tried to lift spirits. 

“I was convinced of this in World War II. I was convinced of it during the Cuban missile crisis, 9/11, the financial crisis, that nothing can basically stop America,” he said. “The American magic has always prevailed, and it will do so again.”

Berkshire’s results, however, underscored the scale of the US economy’s woes. The conglomerate — originally a textile manufacturer before Mr Buffett turned it into a vehicle for his wide-ranging investments — slumped to a loss of nearly $50bn in the first three months of the year, as a slight increase in operating profits was swamped by massive hits on its portfolio of stocks. 

A part of those losses will already have been reversed by the recent stock market rally triggered by an extraordinary bout of central bank stimulus, and Mr Buffett’s approach has over the decades evolved significantly from his core roots in value investing. Nonetheless, the worst results in Berkshire’s history underscore just how challenging the environment has been for this approach to picking stocks. After a long golden run that burnished Mr Buffett’s reputation as the greatest investor in history, Berkshire’s stock has now marginally underperformed the S&P 500 over the past year, five years and 10 years. 

But the Nebraskan is not alone. The Russell 3000 Value index — the broadest measure of value stocks in the US — is down more than 20 per cent so far this year, and over the past decade it has only climbed 80 per cent. In contrast, the S&P 500 index is down 9 per cent in 2020, and has returned over 150 per cent over the past 10 years. 

Racier “growth” stocks of faster-expanding companies have returned over 240 per cent over the same period.  

Ben Inker of value-centric investment house GMO describes the experience as like being slowly but repeatedly bashed in the head. “It’s less extreme than in the late 1990s, when every day felt like being hit with a bat,” he says of the dotcom bubble period when value investors suffered. “But this has been a slow drip of pain over a long time. It’s less memorable, but in aggregate the pain has been fairly similar.”

Underrated stocks 

Value investing has a long and rich history, which even predates the formal concept. One of the first successful value investors was arguably the economist John Maynard Keynes. Between 1921 and 1946 he managed the endowment of Cambridge university’s King’s College, and beat the UK stock market by an average of 8 percentage points a year over that period. 

In a 1938 internal memorandum to his investment committee, Keynes attributed his success to the “careful selection of a few investments” according to their “intrinsic value” — a nod to a seminal book on investing published a few years earlier by Graham and his partner David Dodd, called Security Analysis. This tome — along with the subsequent The Intelligent Investor, which Mr Buffett has called “the best book about investing ever written” — are the gospel for value investors to this day. 

There are ways to define a value stock, but it is most simply defined as one that is trading at a low price relative to the value of a company’s assets, the strength of its earnings or steadiness of its cash flows. They are often unfairly undervalued because they are in unfashionable industries and growing at a steadier clip than more glamorous stocks, which — the theory goes — irrational investors overpay for in the hope of supercharged returns. 

Value stocks can go through long fallow periods, most notably in the 1960s — when investors fell in love with the fast-growing, modern companies like Xerox, IBM and Eastman Kodak, dubbed the “Nifty Fifty” — and in the late 1990s dotcom boom. But each time, they have roared back and rewarded investors that kept the faith. 

“The one lesson we’ve learnt over the decades is that one should never give up on value investing. It’s been declared dead before,” says Bob Wyckoff, a managing director of money manager Tweedy Browne. “You go through some uncomfortably long periods where it is not working. But this is almost a precondition for value to work.” 

The belief that periodic bouts of suffering are not only unavoidable but in fact necessary for value to work is entrenched among its adherents. It is therefore a field that tends to attract more than its fair share of iconoclastic contrarians, says Chris Davis of Davis Funds, a third-generation value investor after following in the footsteps of his father Shelby MC Davis and grandfather Shelby Cullom Davis. 

“If you look at the characteristics of value investors they don’t have a lot in common,” he says. “But they all tend to be individualistic in that they aren’t generally the type who have played team sports. They weren’t often president of their sororities or fraternities. And you don’t succeed without a fairly high willingness to appear wrong.” 

But why have they now been so wrong for so long? Most value investors attribute the length of the underperformance to a mix of the changing investment environment and shifts in the fabric of the economy. 

The ascent of more systematic, “quantitative” investing over the past decade — whether a simple exchange-traded fund that just buys cheap stocks, or more sophisticated, algorithmic hedge funds — has weighed on performance by warping normal market dynamics, according to Matthew McLennan of First Eagle Investment Management. This is particularly the case for the financial sector, which generally makes more money when rates are higher. 

The usual price discount enjoyed by value stocks was also unusually small at the end of the financial crisis, setting them up for a poorer performance, according to Mr Inker. Some industries, especially technology, are also becoming oligopolies that ensure extraordinary profit margins and continued growth. Moreover, traditional value measures — such as price-to-book value — are becoming obsolete, he points out. The intellectual property, brands and often dominant market positioning of many of the new technology companies do not show up on a corporate balance sheet in the same way as hard, tangible assets. 

“Accounting has not kept up with how companies actually use their cash,” he says. “If a company spends a lot of money building factories it affects the book value. But if you spend that on intellectual property it doesn’t show up the same way.” 

As a result, GMO and many value-oriented investors have had to adapt their approach, and focus more on alternative metrics and more intangible aspects of its operations. “We want to buy stocks we think are undervalued, but we no longer care whether it looks like a traditional value stock,” Mr Inker says. 

Mr McLennan points out that while the core principles won’t change, value investing has always evolved with the times. “It’s not a cult-like commitment to buying the cheapest decile [of stocks]. We invest business-by-business,” he says. “I don’t know what the alternative is to buying businesses you like, at prices you like.” 

Bargain hunt

Can value investing stage a comeback, as it did in when the dotcom bubble burst in the early 2000s, or the “Nifty Fifty” failed to justify investor optimism and fell to earth in the 1970s? 

There has clearly been a shift in the corporate landscape over the past few decades that could be neutering its historical power as an investing approach. It is telling that the recent stock market rebound has been powered primarily by big US technology companies, despite value investors having confidently predicted for a long time that their approach would shine in the next downturn. Value stocks tend to be in more economically-sensitive industries, and given the likelihood of the biggest global recession since the Depression, their outlook is exceptionally murky, according to an AQR paper published last week.  

“If value investing was like driving my four kids on a long car ride, we’d be very deep into the ‘are we there yet?’ stage of the ride, and value investors are justifiably in a world of pain,” Mr Asness wrote. However, the odds are now “rather dramatically” on the side of value. 

Redemption could be at hand. there has in recent days been a cautious renaissance for value stocks, indicating that coronavirus may yet upend the market trends of the past decade. This stockpicking approach often does well as economies exit a recession and investors hunt for bargains. 

Devotees of value investing certainly remain unshakeable in their faith that past patterns will eventually reassert themselves. Citing a common saying among adherents, Mr Wyckoff argues that “asking whether value is still relevant is like asking whether Shakespeare is still relevant. It’s all about human nature”. 

Mr Greenblatt, who founded Gotham Asset Management in 2008, says that his students will occasionally quiz him on whether value investing is dead, arguing that computers can systematically take advantage of undervaluation far more efficiently than any human stockpicker can. He tells them that human irrationality remains constant, which will always lead to opportunities for those willing to go against the crowd. 

“If you have a disciplined strategy to value companies, and buy companies when they’re below fair value you will still do well,” he says. “The market throws us pitches all the time, as there are so many behavioural biases . . . You can watch 20 pitches go by, but you only need to try to hit a few of them.”

Protect the NHS – but don’t protect it to death

Harry Quilter-Pinner in The Guardian

 

The NHS, as portrayed at the opening of the 2012 London Olympics. Photograph: Julian Simmonds/REX/Shutterstock




Dancing doctors, uniform-clad nurses and children jumping on hospital beds. There are very few countries that would include a celebration of their healthcare system in the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. But this was the sight that greeted the millions who tuned in at the start of London 2012. After all, as former chancellor Nigel Lawson said: “The NHS is the closest thing the English people have to a religion.”

Now the country will once again celebrate the NHS, as it turns 70. And so we should. Across the globe, 400 million people still don’t have access to essential healthcare services. Thanks to the NHS, no one in the UK faces this injustice. It is there for us all – regardless of race, sexuality, gender or financial means – at our times of greatest need.

But we must also take this opportunity to stop and reflect. How good is the NHS? What do we want for its future? And what do we need to do to make it better?

A new report attempts to answer some of these tricky questions. It shows that, despite the rhetoric, in many ways the NHS is deeply average. In the authors’ words “the NHS performs neither as well as its supporters sometimes claim nor as badly as its critics often allege”. Shockingly, it finds that if you suffer from cancer, a heart attack or a stroke in the UK, you are more likely to die early than in other developed countries. 

This reality jars with a national perception of the NHS as world leading. Some will jump on this as an opportunity to call for radical change: perhaps a shift to a social – or even a private – insurance model. This would be a mistake. Fundamentally, the NHS is sound: its “free at the point of need” principle ensures that getting ill doesn’t mean getting poor. Moreover, there is strong evidence that it is more efficient than its marketised equivalents in the US and Switzerland.

Money is part of the answer as to why the NHS underperforms, compared with other systems. We spend less on healthcare than most other countries of a similar size and income level: just 9.7% of GDP compared with around 11% in both Germany and France. It should not come as a surprise that with average levels of funding come average levels of care. Theresa May’s recent “birthday present” – a long-term funding settlement for the NHS worth an additional £20bn a year by 2023 – will start to address this, though many predict that it will not be enough in the context of a growing and ageing population.

But money alone is not the solution: the NHS also suffers from a lack of reform. In places where the NHS has embraced best practice it is undoubtedly world leading. Stroke care is a good example. In 2010, London went from 34 hospitals treating stroke sufferers to just eight new centres of excellence. This has resulted in 400 lives saved per year across the capital. There have been attempts to replicate this nationwide. But in too many areas these changes, which involve consolidating services into fewer, more specialist centres, have been opposed by both the public and politicians. 

There are similar debates about moves to embrace new technologies in the NHS. The evidence is clear that artificial intelligence and robotics could fundamentally transform health and care. The government recently announced funding to help save 30,000 lives a year through technology-enabled diagnosis of cancers. But all too often, people see data-sharing as a breach of privacy and the rise of robotics in the NHS as an attempt to cut costs.

In some ways, this reluctance to embrace change is unsurprising. We all have a strong emotional and cultural attachment to the NHS. We are understandably protective of it. And many see the NHS as the last vestige of an endangered postwar consensus. They are fearful that it will go the same way as the rest of the welfare state, becoming watered down, outsourced and underfunded.

But in looking to protect the NHS there is a real risk that we end up “killing it with kindness”. All change is not bad change. As Lord Darzi’s recent review of the NHS has made clear, “high-quality care is a constantly moving target: to stand still is to fall back”. This would not only be a travesty for those who suffer as a result; it would also fuel the arguments its critics. When the great reformer, William Beveridge, proposed the creation of the NHS during the second world war, he was focused not on protecting existing achievements but on embracing the future. On its 70th birthday, it is vital that we do the same again.

Nissan is an early sign of the downturns and the divisions Brexit could bring

Will Hutton in The Guardian

One of the few advantages of Brexit is that the unfolding debacle may be the trigger for the deep economic, political and constitutional reform that Britain so badly needs. It will only be by living through the searing events ahead that people will become convinced that the indulgent Eurosceptic untruths they have been fed are not only economically disastrous but open the way to forms of racism that most Britons, Leave voters included, instinctively find repellent. Brexit will force home some brutal realities.

Leave voters in Sunderland – 61% in favour – will have woken up on Friday to the news that Renault Nissan, the largest car plant in Europe and a crucial pillar of the local economy, employing 7,000 people, has deferred all new investment until the details of Brexit are clear. The chief executive, Carlos Ghosn, explained that it was not because the company did not value its Sunderland plant, its most efficient. Rather, as a major exporter to the EU, its profitability depends on the prevailing tariff regime, which promises to change sharply for the worse. “Important investment decisions,” he said, “would not be made in the dark.”

It is hard to fault Ghosn’s reasoning. Gaining control of EU immigration is both a matter of personal conviction and a political necessity for Theresa May. But how can that be squared with ongoing membership of the customs union that defines the single market and which requires acceptance of free movement? Concessions can only be minimal without wrecking the EU’s core structures. Moreover, the Tory hard Brexiters, wedded to the notion of a clean break from an EU they detest, are in the political ascendancy.

One senior official tells me that a hard Brexit is inevitable: the best that can be hoped for is perhaps some agreement on the movement of skilled people, but beyond that the future is trading on the terms organised by the World Trade Organisation.

If so, Renault Nissan will face up to 10% tariffs on the cars it ships to the EU. Unless the UK government is prepared to compensate it, a bill that could top £350m a year, it cannot make new investments. The Sunderland economy will be devastated. The same is true for the entire UK car industry. Last Wednesday,Jaguar Land Rover made similar remarks: if the position had been more explicit and fairly reported rather than airily dismissed as Project Fear, the wafer-thin 3,800 majority for Leave in Birmingham might have switched their vote.

Every part of our economy involved in selling into Europe will be affected both by the rise in tariffs and by the new necessity to guarantee that our products and services meet EU regulatory standards, the so-called passport. This doesn’t only apply to the City where 5,500 UK registered firms turn out to hold the invaluable passport, but to tens of thousand of companies across the economy.

The Brexiters insist the losses will be more than compensated for by the wave of trade deals now open to be signed, but trade deals take many years to negotiate. More crucially, there is no free-trade world out there; rather, there is a series of painstakingly constructed, reciprocal entries to markets, the biggest of which we are now abandoning. Liam Fox is delusional, as former business minister, Anna Soubry, declares, to pretend otherwise.

Nor do hard Brexiters confront the fact that alongside China and the US, Britain has accumulated a stunning $1tn-plus stock of foreign direct investment. Nearly 500 multinationals have regional or global headquarters here, more than twice the rest of Europe combined. They are here to take advantage of our ultra pro-business environment – so much for the Eurosceptic babble about being stifled by Brussels – and trade freely with the EU. Britain was becoming a combination of New York and California, with a whole continental hinterland in which to trade. Hard Brexit kills all that stone dead and puts phantoms in its place.

The years ahead will be ones of economic dislocation and stagnation. But the impact goes well beyond the economic. Hard Brexit legitimises anti-foreigner and anti-immigrant sentiment. When Britain’s flag outside the EU institutions is brought down and Messrs Farage, Davis, Johnson, Redwood, Fox et al delightedly hail the sovereignty and supremacy of Britishness, it could signal a new round of street-baiting of anybody who does not look and sound British: expect more attacks on Poles and Czechs from Essex to Yorkshire.

Politicians of right and left are fighting shy of delivering the condemnation this deserves. Rachel Reeves’s remarks at the Labour fringe, warning of a social explosion if immigration were not immediately curbed, show how far the permissible discourse on immigration and race has changed. Britain has moved over the past 50 years from being one of the most equal countries in Europe to the most unequal. The result is rising social tension, with immigration the tinder for enmity and hate. The hard-working immigrants who add so much vitality and energy to our society are blamed for ills that have deeper roots. Brexit has made this harder to say.

This conjunction of the economically and socially noxious horrifies not only me but also many Tories. Scotland’s Ruth Davidson, a bevy of ex-ministers, some in the cabinet and a large number of backbenchers are keenly aware of the slippery racist, culturally regressive and economically calamitous course their Brexiter colleagues are set on and are ready to fight for the soul of their party. George Osborne is positioning himself as their leader. It is an impending civil war, mirroring parallel feelings in the country at large.

Beyond that, the referendum raised profound constitutional questions. In other democracies, treaty and constitutional changes require at least 60% majorities in either the legislature or in a referendum. Britain’s unwritten constitution offers no such rules: a parliamentary majority confers monarchial power so a referendum can be called without any such framing. Article 50 is to be invoked without a parliamentary vote: a change of government in effect without a general election.

In good times, the constitution interests only obsessives. Suddenly, Britain’s constitutional vacuity is part of a deep national crisis. The economic and political structures, along with the biased media, that delivered this are rotten. The question is whether the will – and political coalitions – can be built to reform them. If not, Britain is sliding towards nasty, sectarian decline.

Why bad ideas refuse to die

Steven Poole in The Guardian

In January 2016, the rapper BoB took to Twitter to tell his fans that the Earth is really flat. “A lot of people are turned off by the phrase ‘flat earth’,” he acknowledged, “but there’s no way u can see all the evidence and not know … grow up.” At length the astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson joined in the conversation, offering friendly corrections to BoB’s zany proofs of non-globism, and finishing with a sarcastic compliment: “Being five centuries regressed in your reasoning doesn’t mean we all can’t still like your music.”

Actually, it’s a lot more than five centuries regressed. Contrary to what we often hear, people didn’t think the Earth was flat right up until Columbus sailed to the Americas. In ancient Greece, the philosophers Pythagoras and Parmenides had already recognised that the Earth was spherical. Aristotle pointed out that you could see some stars in Egypt and Cyprus that were not visible at more northerly latitudes, and also that the Earth casts a curved shadow on the moon during a lunar eclipse. The Earth, he concluded with impeccable logic, must be round.

The flat-Earth view was dismissed as simply ridiculous – until very recently, with the resurgence of apparently serious flat-Earthism on the internet. An American named Mark Sargent, formerly a professional videogamer and software consultant, has had millions of views on YouTube for his Flat Earth Clues video series. (“You are living inside a giant enclosed system,” his website warns.) The Flat Earth Society is alive and well, with a thriving website. What is going on?

Many ideas have been brilliantly upgraded or repurposed for the modern age, and their revival seems newly compelling. Some ideas from the past, on the other hand, are just dead wrong and really should have been left to rot. When they reappear, what is rediscovered is a shambling corpse. These are zombie ideas. You can try to kill them, but they just won’t die. And their existence is a big problem for our normal assumptions about how the marketplace of ideas operates.

The phrase “marketplace of ideas” was originally used as a way of defending free speech. Just as traders and customers are free to buy and sell wares in the market, so freedom of speech ensures that people are free to exchange ideas, test them out, and see which ones rise to the top. Just as good consumer products succeed and bad ones fail, so in the marketplace of ideas the truth will win out, and error and dishonesty will disappear.

There is certainly some truth in the thought that competition between ideas is necessary for the advancement of our understanding. But the belief that the best ideas will always succeed is rather like the faith that unregulated financial markets will always produce the best economic outcomes. As the IMF chief Christine Lagarde put this standard wisdom laconically in Davos: “The market sorts things out, eventually.” Maybe so. But while we wait, very bad things might happen.

Zombies don’t occur in physical marketplaces – take technology, for example. No one now buys Betamax video recorders, because that technology has been superseded and has no chance of coming back. (The reason that other old technologies, such as the manual typewriter or the acoustic piano, are still in use is that, according to the preferences of their users, they have not been superseded.) So zombies such as flat-Earthism simply shouldn’t be possible in a well‑functioning marketplace of ideas. And yet – they live. How come?

One clue is provided by economics. It turns out that the marketplace of economic ideas itself is infested with zombies. After the 2008 financial crisis had struck, the Australian economist John Quiggin published an illuminating work called Zombie Economics, describing theories that still somehow shambled around even though they were clearly dead, having been refuted by actual events in the world. An example is the notorious efficient markets hypothesis, which holds, in its strongest form, that “financial markets are the best possible guide to the value of economic assets and therefore to decisions about investment and production”. That, Quiggin argues, simply can’t be right. Not only was the efficient markets hypothesis refuted by the global meltdown of 2007–8, in Quiggin’s view it actually caused it in the first place: the idea “justified, and indeed demanded, financial deregulation, the removal of controls on international capital flows, and a massive expansion of the financial sector. These developments ultimately produced the global financial crisis.”

Even so, an idea will have a good chance of hanging around as a zombie if it benefits some influential group of people. The efficient markets hypothesis is financially beneficial for bankers who want to make deals unencumbered by regulation. A similar point can be made about the privatisation of state-owned industry: it is seldom good for citizens, but is always a cash bonanza for those directly involved.

The marketplace of ideas, indeed, often confers authority through mere repetition – in science as well as in political campaigning. You probably know, for example, that the human tongue has regional sensitivities: sweetness is sensed on the tip, saltiness and sourness on the sides, and bitter at the back. At some point you’ve seen a scientific tongue map showing this – they appear in cookery books as well as medical textbooks. It’s one of those nice, slightly surprising findings of science that no one questions. And it’s rubbish.

 

A fantasy map of a flat earth. Photograph: Antar Dayal/Getty Images/Illustration Works

As the eminent professor of biology, Stuart Firestein, explained in his 2012 book Ignorance: How it Drives Science, the tongue-map myth arose because of a mistranslation of a 1901 German physiology textbook. Regions of the tongue are just “very slightly” more or less sensitive to each of the four basic tastes, but they each can sense all of them. The translation “considerably overstated” the original author’s claims. And yet the mythical tongue map has endured for more than a century.

One of the paradoxes of zombie ideas, though, is that they can have positive social effects. The answer is not necessarily to suppress them, since even apparently vicious and disingenuous ideas can lead to illuminating rebuttal and productive research. Few would argue that a commercial marketplace needs fraud and faulty products. But in the marketplace of ideas, zombies can actually be useful. Or if not, they can at least make us feel better. That, paradoxically, is what I think the flat-Earthers of today are really offering – comfort.

Today’s rejuvenated flat-Earth philosophy, as promoted by rappers and YouTube videos, is not simply a recrudescence of pre-scientific ignorance. It is, rather, the mother of all conspiracy theories. The point is that everyone who claims the Earth is round is trying to fool you, and keep you in the dark. In that sense, it is a very modern version of an old idea.

As with any conspiracy theory, the flat-Earth idea is introduced by way of a handful of seeming anomalies, things that don’t seem to fit the “official” story. Have you ever wondered, the flat-Earther will ask, why commercial aeroplanes don’t fly over Antarctica? It would, after all, be the most direct route from South Africa to New Zealand, or from Sydney to Buenos Aires – if the Earth were round. But it isn’t. There is no such thing as the South Pole, so flying over Antarctica wouldn’t make any sense. Plus, the Antarctic treaty, signed by the world’s most powerful countries, bans any flights over it, because something very weird is going on there. So begins the conspiracy sell. Well, in fact, some commercial routes do fly over part of the continent of Antarctica. The reason none fly over the South Pole itself is because of aviation rules that require any aircraft taking such a route to have expensive survival equipment for all passengers on board – which would obviously be prohibitive for a passenger jet.

OK, the flat-Earther will say, then what about the fact that photographs taken from mountains or hot-air balloons don’t show any curvature of the horizon? It is perfectly flat – therefore the Earth must be flat. Well, a reasonable person will respond, it looks flat because the Earth, though round, is really very big. But photographs taken from the International Space Station in orbit show a very obviously curved Earth.

And here is where the conspiracy really gets going. To a flat-Earther, any photograph from the International Space Station is just a fake. So too are the famous photographs of the whole round Earth hanging in space that were taken on the Apollo missions. Of course, the Moon landings were faked too. This is a conspiracy theory that swallows other conspiracy theories whole. According to Mark Sargent’s “enclosed world” version of the flat-Earth theory, indeed, space travel had to be faked because there is actually an impermeable solid dome enclosing our flat planet. The US and USSR tried to break through this dome by nuking it in the 1950s: that’s what all those nuclear tests were really about.

 

Flat-Earthers regard as fake any photographs of the Earth that were taken on the Apollo missions Photograph: Alamy

The intellectual dynamic here, is one of rejection and obfuscation. A lot of ingenuity evidently goes into the elaboration of modern flat-Earth theories to keep them consistent. It is tempting to suppose that some of the leading writers (or, as fans call them, “researchers”) on the topic are cynically having some intellectual fun, but there are also a lot of true believers on the messageboards who find the notion of the “globist” conspiracy somehow comforting and consonant with their idea of how the world works. You might think that the really obvious question here, though, is: what purpose would such an incredibly elaborate and expensive conspiracy serve? What exactly is the point?

It seems to me that the desire to believe such stuff stems from a deranged kind of optimism about the capabilities of human beings. It is a dark view of human nature, to be sure, but it is also rather awe-inspiring to think of secret agencies so single-minded and powerful that they really can fool the world’s population over something so enormous. Even the pro-Brexit activists who warned one another on polling day to mark their crosses with a pen so that MI5 would not be able to erase their votes, were in a way expressing a perverse pride in the domination of Britain’s spookocracy. “I literally ran out of new tin hat topics to research and I STILL wouldn’t look at this one without embarrassment,” confesses Sargent on his website, “but every time I glanced at it there was something unresolved, and once I saw the near perfection of the whole plan, I was hooked.” It is rather beautiful. Bonkers, but beautiful. As the much more noxious example of Scientology also demonstrates, it is all too tempting to take science fiction for truth – because narratives always make more sense than reality.

We know that it’s a good habit to question received wisdom. Sometimes, though, healthy scepticism can run over into paranoid cynicism, and giant conspiracies seem oddly consoling. One reason why myths and urban legends hang around so long seems to be that we like simple explanations – such as that immigrants are to blame for crumbling public services – and are inclined to believe them. The “MMR causes autism” scare perpetrated by Andrew Wakefield, for example, had the apparent virtue of naming a concrete cause (vaccination) for a deeply worrying and little-understood syndrome (autism). Years after it was shown that there was nothing to Wakefield’s claims, there is still a strong and growing “anti-vaxxer” movement, particularly in the US, which poses a serious danger to public health. The benefits of immunisation, it seems, have been forgotten.

The yearning for simple explanations also helps to account for the popularity of outlandish conspiracy theories that paint a reassuring picture of all the world’s evils as being attributable to a cabal of supervillains. Maybe a secret society really is running the show – in which case the world at least has a weird kind of coherence. Hence, perhaps, the disappointed amazement among some of those who had not expected their protest votes for Brexit to count.

And what happens when the world of ideas really does operate as a marketplace? It happens to be the case that many prominent climate sceptics have been secretly funded by oil companies. The idea that there is some scientific controversy over whether burning fossil fuels has contributed in large part to the present global warming (there isn’t) is an idea that has been literally bought and sold, and remains extraordinarily successful. That, of course, is just a particularly dramatic example of the way all western democracies have been captured by industry lobbying and party donations, in which friendly consideration of ideas that increase the profits of business is simply purchased, like any other commodity. If the marketplace of ideas worked as advertised, not only would this kind of corruption be absent, it would be impossible in general for ideas to stay rejected for hundreds or thousands of years before eventually being revived. Yet that too has repeatedly happened.

While the return of flat-Earth theories is silly and rather alarming, meanwhile, it also illustrates some real and deep issues about human knowledge. How, after all, do you or I know that the Earth really is round? Essentially, we take it on trust. We may have experienced some common indications of it ourselves, but we accept the explanations of others. The experts all say the Earth is round; we believe them, and get on with our lives. Rejecting the economic consensus that Brexit would be bad for the UK, Michael Gove said that the British public had had enough of experts (or at least of experts who lurked in acronymically named organisations), but the truth is that we all depend on experts for most of what we think we know.

The second issue is that we cannot actually know for sure that the way the world appears to us is not actually the result of some giant conspiracy or deception. The modern flat-Earth theory comes quite close to an even more all-encompassing species of conspiracy theory. As some philosophers have argued, it is not entirely impossible that God created the whole universe, including fossils, ourselves and all our (false) memories, only five minutes ago. Or it might be the case that all my sensory impressions are being fed to my brain by a clever demon intent on deceiving me (Descartes) or by a virtual-reality program controlled by evil sentient artificial intelligences (The Matrix).

The resurgence of flat-Earth theory has also spawned many web pages that employ mathematics, science, and everyday experience to explain why the world actually is round. This is a boon for public education. And we should not give in to the temptation to conclude that belief in a conspiracy is prima facie evidence of stupidity. Evidently, conspiracies really happen. Members of al-Qaida really did conspire in secret to fly planes into the World Trade Center. And, as Edward Snowden revealed, the American and British intelligence services really did conspire in secret to intercept the electronic communications of millions of ordinary citizens. Perhaps the most colourful official conspiracy that we now know of happened in China. When the half-millennium-old Tiananmen Gate was found to be falling down in the 1960s, it was secretly replaced, bit by bit, with an exact replica, in a successful conspiracy that involved nearly 3,000 people who managed to keep it a secret for years.

Indeed, a healthy openness to conspiracy may be said to underlie much honest intellectual inquiry. This is how the physicist Frank Wilczek puts it: “When I was growing up, I loved the idea that great powers and secret meanings lurk behind the appearance of things.” Newton’s grand idea of an invisible force (gravity) running the universe was definitely a cosmological conspiracy theory in this sense. Yes, many conspiracy theories are zombies – but so is the idea that conspiracies never happen.

 

‘When the half-millennium-old Tiananmen Gate was found to be falling down in the 1960s, it was secretly replaced, bit by bit, with an exact replica’ Photograph: Kevin Frayer/Getty Images

Things are better, one assumes, in the rarefied marketplace of scientific ideas. There, the revered scientific journals have rigorous editorial standards. Zombies and other market failures are thereby prevented. Not so fast. Remember the tongue map. It turns out that the marketplace of scientific ideas is not perfect either.
The scientific community operates according to the system of peer review, in which an article submitted to a journal will be sent out by the editor to several anonymous referees who are expert in the field and will give a considered view on whether the paper is worthy of publication, or will be worthy if revised. (In Britain, the Royal Society began to seek such reports in 1832.) The barriers to entry for the best journals in the sciences and humanities mean that – at least in theory – it is impossible to publish clownish, evidence-free hypotheses.

But there are increasing rumblings in the academic world itself that peer review is fundamentally broken. Even that it actively suppresses good new ideas while letting through a multitude of very bad ones. “False positives and exaggerated results in peer-reviewed scientific studies have reached epidemic proportions in recent years,” reported Scientific American magazine in 2011. Indeed, the writer of that column, a professor of medicine named John Ioannidis, had previously published a famous paper titled Why Most Published Research Findings Are False. The issues, he noted, are particularly severe in healthcare research, in which conflicts of interest arise because studies are funded by large drug companies, but there is also a big problem in psychology.

Take the widely popularised idea of priming. In 1996, a paper was published claiming that experimental subjects who had been verbally primed to think of old age by being made to think about words such as bingo, Florida, grey, and wrinkles subsequently walked more slowly when they left the laboratory than those who had not been primed. It was a dazzling idea, and led to a flurry of other findings that priming could affect how well you did on a quiz, or how polite you were to a stranger. In recent years, however, researchers have become suspicious, and have not been able to generate the same findings as many of the early studies. This is not definitive proof of falsity, but it does show that publication in a peer-reviewed journal is no guarantee of reliability. Psychology, some argue, is currently going through a crisis in replicability, which Daniel Kahneman has called a looming “train wreck” for the field as a whole.

Could priming be a future zombie idea? Well, most people think it unlikely that all such priming effects will be refuted, since there is now such a wide variety of studies on them. The more interesting problem is to work out what scientists call the idea’s “ecological validity” – that is, how well do the effects translate from the artificial simplicity of the lab situation to the ungovernable messiness of real life? This controversy in psychology just shows science working as it should – being self-correcting. One marketplace-of-ideas problem here, though, is that papers with surprising and socially intriguing results will be described throughout the media, and lauded as definitive evidence in popularising books, as soon as they are published, and long before awkward second questions begin to be asked.

China’s memory manipulators



It would be sensible, for a start, for us to make the apparently trivial rhetorical adjustment from the popular phrase “studies show …” and limit ourselves to phrases such as “studies suggest” or “studies indicate”. After all, “showing” strongly implies proving, which is all too rare an activity outside mathematics. Studies can always be reconsidered. That is part of their power.

Nearly every academic inquirer I talked to while researching this subject says that the interface of research with publishing is seriously flawed. Partly because the incentives are all wrong – a “publish or perish” culture rewards academics for quantity of published research over quality. And partly because of the issue of “publication bias”: the studies that get published are the ones that have yielded hoped-for results. Studies that fail to show what they hoped for end up languishing in desk drawers.

One reform suggested by many people to counteract publication bias would be to encourage the publication of more “negative findings” – papers where a hypothesis was not backed up by the experiment performed. One problem, of course, is that such findings are not very exciting. Negative results do not make headlines. (And they sound all the duller for being called “negative findings”, rather than being framed as positive discoveries that some ideas won’t fly.)

The publication-bias issue is even more pressing in the field of medicine, where it is estimated that the results of around half of all trials conducted are never published at all, because their results are negative. “When half the evidence is withheld,” writes the medical researcher Ben Goldacre, “doctors and patients cannot make informed decisions about which treatment is best.”Accordingly, Goldacre has kickstarted a campaigning group named AllTrials to demand that all results be published.

When lives are not directly at stake, however, it might be difficult to publish more negative findings in other areas of science. One idea, floated by the Economist, is that “Journals should allocate space for ‘uninteresting’ work, and grant-givers should set aside money to pay for it.” It sounds splendid, to have a section in journals for tedious results, or maybe an entire journal dedicated to boring and perfectly unsurprising research. But good luck getting anyone to fund it.

The good news, though, is that some of the flaws in the marketplace of scientific ideas might be hidden strengths. It’s true that some people think peer review, at its glacial pace and with its bias towards the existing consensus, works to actively repress new ideas that are challenging to received opinion. Notoriously, for example, the paper that first announced the invention of graphene – a way of arranging carbon in a sheet only a single atom thick – was rejected by Nature in 2004 on the grounds that it was simply “impossible”. But that idea was too impressive to be suppressed; in fact, the authors of the graphene paper had it published in Science magazine only six months later. Most people have faith that very well-grounded results will find their way through the system. Yet it is right that doing so should be difficult. If this marketplace were more liquid and efficient, we would be overwhelmed with speculative nonsense. Even peremptory or aggressive dismissals of new findings have a crucial place in the intellectual ecology. Science would not be so robust a means of investigating the world if it eagerly embraced every shiny new idea that comes along. It has to put on a stern face and say: “Impress me.” Great ideas may well face a lot of necessary resistance, and take a long time to gain traction. And we wouldn’t wish things to be otherwise.

In many ways, then, the marketplace of ideas does not work as advertised: it is not efficient, there are frequent crashes and failures, and dangerous products often win out, to widespread surprise and dismay. It is important to rethink the notion that the best ideas reliably rise to the top: that itself is a zombie idea, which helps entrench powerful interests. Yet even zombie ideas can still be useful when they motivate energetic refutations that advance public education. Yes, we may regret that people often turn to the past to renew an old theory such as flat-Earthism, which really should have stayed dead. But some conspiracies are real, and science is always engaged in trying to uncover the hidden powers behind what we see. The resurrection of zombie ideas, as well as the stubborn rejection of promising new ones, can both be important mechanisms for the advancement of human understanding.

When economists ignore the human factor, we all pay the price

Timothy Garton Ash in The Guardian

Economics is not a hard science, and mathematical models won’t explain why people behave as they do. A much broader perspective is needed.

 

Adair Turner argued that ‘the dominant strain of academic economics and of policy-making orthodoxy’ failed to see the crisis coming. Photograph: Bloomberg via Getty Images



The Guardian recently asked nine economists whether we’re heading for another global financial crash and they gave many different answers. Yet still we turn to economists as if they were physicists, armed with scientific predictions about the behaviour of the body economic. We consumers of economics, and economists themselves, need to be more realistic about what economics can do. More modesty on both the supply and the demand side of economics will produce better results.

Following the great crash that began nearly a decade ago, there has been some soul-searching about what economics got wrong. Probably the self-criticism should have been more far-reaching, both in academia and banking, but it’s there if you look for it. In particular, the economic thinkers loosely clustered around George Soros’s Institute for New Economic Thinking (Inet) have produced a telling account of what went wrong.

Adair Turner, who saw top-level decision-making as head of Britain’s Financial Services Authority and now chairs Inet, gives a measured, cogent version of the critique in his book Between Debt and the Devil. Yes, leading academic economists did challenge the mathematical models of market perfection and, yes, financial markets may have followed oversimplistic versions of those models. Nonetheless, Turner argues, “the dominant strain of academic economics and of policy-making orthodoxy” failed to see the crisis coming, and actually contributed to it.
The key flaws were the efficient market hypothesis and the rational expectations hypothesis: economists too often assumed that market actors not only behave rationally but do so according to the same mental models deployed by economists. (Soros himself has spent a half century trying to expose this fallacy.) Modern big-picture economics (macroeconomics) also “largely ignored the operations of the financial system and in particular the role of banks”.

Market fundamentalism understood itself as the diametric opposite of the communist command economy, but in fact made the same cardinal mistake: to believe that a rational model could encompass, predict and optimise the dynamic complexity of collective human behaviour. As Roman Frydman and Michael Goldberg write: “Like a socialist planner, the economist thus believes that he can accomplish great feats, because he supposes that he has finally uncovered the fully determined mechanism which drives market outcomes.”

Large parts of academic economics fell prey to what has been called physics envy, by analogy with the Freudian notion of penis envy. Like some other areas of social science, it aspired to the status, certainty and predictability of physics. I have long thought that this hubris was fed by the fact that economics, alone among the social sciences, has a Nobel prize. Strictly speaking, it is only the Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel, endowed by the Swedish central bank and first awarded in 1969, not one of the original Nobel prizes. But everyone calls it the Nobel prize. Moreover, politicians and decision-makers listen to economists in ways that they don’t, for example, listen to political scientists of the rational choice school that dominates many American university departments. This may partly be because a politician who practised rational choice politics would soon be kicked out of office, whereas the public has had to pick up the bill for those who practised rational choice economics. 

This does not mean we should not pay attention to economists, nor that economics is unworthy of a Nobel prize. It just means it’s not a hard science like physics. Done properly, it takes account of culture, history, geography, institutions, individual and group psychology. John Stuart Mill said: “A man is not likely to be a good economist if he is nothing else,” and John Maynard Keynesobserved that an economist should be “mathematician, historian, statesman and philosopher in some degree”.

In another remarkable formulation, Keynes wrote: “Economics is essentially a moral science.” Indeed, one could argue that the Nobel prize for economics belongs somewhere midway between those for physics, literature and peace.Economics is, at best, a multidimensional, evidence-based craft, alert to all the influences on human behaviour, at once ambitious in scope and modest in its claims for what we can ever predict in human affairs.

What should follow from this revised, new-old understanding of the character and place of economics? I don’t know enough about university economics courses to say whether they need to adapt, but I was struck by a manifesto published a couple of years ago by economics students at Manchester University. This advocated an approach “that begins with economic phenomena and then gives students a toolkit to evaluate how well different perspectives can explain it”, rather than mathematical models based on unrealistic assumptions. (A colleague of mine claims to have heard a fierce argument between two economists in the common room of Nuffield College, Oxford, which culminated in one exclaiming to the other: “All right, assume immortality!”)

If economics is like other disciplines, it probably changes more slowly than it should, because of the strong inertial effect of older faculty personally invested in a certain way of doing the subject. Then there’s the conduct of major players, be they ministers, central bankers or business leaders. I recently read a splendidly robust lecture by the veteran investor Charlie Munger, Warren Buffett’s partner in Berkshire Hathaway, delivered in 2003, well before the crash. “Berkshire’s whole record has been achieved without paying one ounce of attention to the efficient market theory in its hard form,” he said, adding that the results of that efficient market doctrine in corporate finance “became even sillier than they were in the economics”.

Munger’s sage advice was to restore economics’ proper multidisciplinary character, not overweighting what can be counted against the unquantifiable, nor yielding to the craving for false precision, nor privileging theoretical macroeconomics over the real-life microeconomics that helped guide Berkshire’s long-term investment decisions.

We ordinary punters should learn the same lesson. We should ask of our economists, as of our doctors, only what they can deliver. There is a scientific component to medicine, larger than that in economics, but medical studies themselves indicate how much our health depends on other factors, especially psychological ones, and how much is still unknown. Economists are like doctors, only less so.

To fight Britain’s privatisation dogma, Labour should look to the US military, Singapore, Taiwan...

State-owned enterprises can be successful, as some unlikely global examples prove

• 
• • Ha-Joon Chang
  • The Guardian, Thursday 31 July 2014 18.23 BST

A Honeywell computer under the control of Michael Caine In the 1967 film Billion Dollar Brain. It was used to connect to the Arpanet – developed by the US military as a precursor of the internet.. Photograph: Snap/Rex Features

Since Margaret Thatcher came to power in 1979 the UK has led the world in privatisation. The Conservative government sold off state-owned enterprises throughout the 1980s and the 1990s – electricity, oil, gas, rail, airline, airports, telecommunications, water, steel, coal, you name it. In the worldwide fever for selling off state assets that gripped those decades, the rest of the world looked up to Britain as the guiding example.

Privatisation was halted under Labour. However, the belief in the superiority of the private sector was such that, when it brought the rail infrastructure back under state control in 2002 following a series of rail disasters, Labour made sure it did not take the form of re-nationalisation – at least in legal terms. Network Rail, the owner and operator of the rail infrastructure, was set up as a private company, although on a not-for-profit basis and without shareholders.

When the coalition came to power in 2010, it resumed the privatisation drive with gusto. It privatised Royal Mail – the “crown jewels” that even Thatcher balked at selling. However, in recent months the tide has started to turn, albeit slowly.

Even while planning to sell off almost every remaining state-owned enterprise, from plasma supply to helicopter search and rescue, the coalition has had to make an embarrassing climbdown over its plan to privatise student loans. More importantly, in the past few months the Royal Mail sell-off has been fiercely criticised. Moya Greene, its chief executive, has questioned the viability of its universal service obligation. Abandoning this would mean that customers who live in less accessible or sparsely populated – and thus less profitable – areas wouldn’t get their letters delivered, or would have to pay more for them: the end of the postal service as we know it.

In the meantime, the Labour party has made the lack of competition and the suspected collusion in the privatised energy industry a key issue in its promise to “fix broken markets”, and has caught voters’ attention by announcing its intention to partially reverse rail privatisation. Although its fear of being branded anti-business has prevented it from proposing outright renationalisation of the railways – despite the support for such a move from most of the electorate – it has declared that if it wins the 2015 general election it will “reverse the presumption against the public sector”, and let state operators bid for rail franchises.

However, if it is really to overturn the privatisation dogma, Labour should do more than reverse the presumption against the public sector: it should tell people that the public sector is often more efficient than the private sector.

Even while there are many examples of inefficient state enterprises from all over the world, including the UK, there have been many successful such businesses throughout the history of capitalism. In the early days of their industrialisation, 19th-century Germany and Japan set up state-run “model factories” in order to kickstart new industries such as steel and shipbuilding, which the private sector considered too risky to invest in. For half a century after the second world war, several European countries used state businesses to develop technologically advanced industries: France is the best-known example, with household names like Thomson (now Thales), Alcatel, Renault and Saint-Gobain. Austria, Finland and Norway also had technologically dynamic state-run enterprises.

The most dramatic example, however, is Singapore. The country is usually known for its free trade policy and welcoming attitude towards foreign investments, but it has the most heavily state-owned economy, except for some oil states. State-owned enterprises produce 22% of Singapore’s national output, operating in a whole range of industries – not just the “usual suspects” of airline, telecommunications and electricity, but also semiconductors, engineering and shipping; and its housing and development board supplies 85% of the country’s homes. Taiwan, another east Asian “miracle” economy, also has a very large state-run sector, accounting for 16% of national output.

Posco, the state-owned steel company in my native South Korea, was initially set up against World Bank advice but is now one of the biggest steel companies in the world. (It was privatised in 2001, but for political reasons rather than poor performance.) In Brazil, Embraer – the third largest civilian aircraft manufacturer in the world – was initially developed under state control; and the country’s state-owned oil company, Petrobras, is the world leader in deep-sea drilling.

Arguably the most successful state enterprise in human history, however, is the United States military, which has almost single-handedly established the modern information economy. The development of the computer was initially funded by the US army; the country’s navy financed the research that created the semiconductor; and the US Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency developed the Arpanet, the precursor of the internet.

When people realise that the history of capitalism is full of highly successful state enterprises, the rush for ever more privatisation can be halted. If the Labour party puts forward this case, it will not only gain popularity in the run-up to next year’s general election – it would also be doing something of lasting benefit for Britain.