Ada beberapa beasiswa yang diberikkan oleh Pemerintah Australia tiap tahunnya, beberapa beasiswa yang “familiar” antara lain: ADS (Australian Development Scholarship), ALA (Australian Leadership Award) dan Endevour.
iamtheeconomist:”…hampir sama dengan beasiswa ADS, namun lebih dispesifikkan bagi pelamar yang memiliki jenjang karir sebagai pemimpin atau leader di institusi tempat bekerja. Sehingga mereka yang memiliki potensi dan prestasi untuk berkembang sebagai pemimpin di institusinya, sangat pas untuk melamar beasiswa ini.”
Beasiswa ini cukup kompetitif, sehingga persiapan dan strategi yang matang perlu disiapkan sedemikian rupa. Hal yang utama yang perlu diperhatikkan adalah:
‘Chance’ anda untuk dapat meraih beasiswa ini sangat ditentukkan oleh:
Status anda, PNS, Pekerja LSM, Dosen, Peneliti dan Birokrat memiliki kemungkinan yang lebih besar dibandingkan dengan pelamar ‘private’.
Lokasi anda, daerah Remote areas atau terbelakang memiliki kemungkinan yang lebih besar dibandingkan daerah yang lebih maju. Terkadang ada kebijakan Target areas untuk wilayah tertentu. So, jangan berkecil hati jika anda berasal dari daerah terpencil.
Institusi anda, kredibilitas institusi anda sangat menunjang keberhasilan beasiswa ini.
Prestasi Anda, prestasi akademik seperti IPK (Indeks Prestasi Kumulatif), Prestasi Akademik (Juara Lomba Karya Ilmiah) dan Pengalaman Organisasi sangat menunjang keberhasilan beasiswa ini.
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JAPAN developed rapidly after American gunboats opened it to trade in the late 19th century. Within 40 years, Emperor Meiji led his once-feudal country into the modern world economically (and, alas, militarily). To do so, the state bought Western technology such as factory machines, railroads and telegraph lines. But until the turn of the 20th century it did so by eschewing foreign loans, which were equated with a loss of sovereignty.
How did a poor country like Japan obtain the foreign currency to pay for such products? The answer was exports: first, of light industrial goods such as raw silk and pottery; later, of heavier materials, including steel and chemicals. It was a huge success. In the 1860s Japan’s small-scale cotton-textile industry was nearly decimated by European imports. By 1914, however, after buying automated cotton spinners, the country sold half of its yarn production abroad, which accounted for one-quarter of the world’s cotton yarn exports.
Static model
Thus the “Asian model” of export-led growth was born. The region was inspired by Japan’s lead before the second world war and its economic resurrection afterward. In the 1960s Asia’s four “tiger economies” (Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan and South Korea) imitated Japan and flourished. South Korea’s bureaucrats, for example, protected domestic firms and funneled them cheap loans under the condition that they exported their wares.
China also boomed after opening its economy in 1978. Its “special economic zones” were designed to attract foreign capital—initially from Chinese businessmen in Hong Kong and Taiwan—to build factories for export production. Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and later Vietnam all forged similar export-led paths to growth.
The success speaks for itself. Globalisation brought much of Asia out of extreme poverty. The per capita income of people in the tiger economies rivaled those of Europeans. Meanwhile, the countries that resisted the call, such as Myanmar and North Korea, remained poor. Purists argue against such thing as an “Asian model” since the region’s development is diverse: Hong Kong enjoyed a raucously free economy; Singapore a tightly controlled one. But all relied, to greater or lesser degrees, on exports.
The West encouraged this. “Special efforts must be made in many countries to turn their manufacturing enterprises away from the relatively small markets associated with import substitution toward the much larger opportunities flowing from export promotion,” instructed the then-president of the World Bank, Robert McNamara, in 1975.
Now, however, Asia’s sails have become anchors; the emphasis on exports is amplifying the effects of the downturn. Over the past decade, emerging Asia’s exports as a share of its GDP grew from 37% to 47%. There is a wide variance. Singapore’s exports hit 186% of GDP in 2007, while Indonesia’s were less than 30%.
To be sure, the figures do not tell the whole story. Countries that import many intermediate goods for processing and re-export skew the percentages. Still, it is clear that exports count for a lot. And their importance has increased. Even in Japan, which is less reliant on exports, their influence has grown. Exports as a percent of GDP increased by half during its most recent recovery, from 10% in 2002 to as high as 16% in 2007.
In Vietnam last week, at a government roundtable sponsored by the Economist Intelligence Unit, the country recommitted to an export-led economy. And who can blame them? It works. The model is not inherently flawed, but it is only a part of the answer to establishing a sustainable economy. The problem is that the lucre obtained through exports tempted governments to put off other areas of the economy, such as freeing domestic sectors and encouraging domestic demand.
As long as incomes increased, this was fine; both governments and people were content to ignore things like social services and good governance. The export model helped countries improve their living standards quickly. But what happens next?
And the model is hard to unwind. Doing so would entail diffusing rather than concentrating wealth and political power, which is something that today’s elites, the chief beneficiaries of the Asia model, are loath to accept.
After Asia’s financial crisis of 1997-98, countries in the region boosted their foreign reserves, which today provides a cushion. China saw its piggybank grow from around $150 billion a decade ago to nearly $2 trillion today. Japan also has the luxury of being rich. Its foreign reserves glisten at around $1 trillion; households sit on some $15 trillion in assets, half held in cash and bank deposits. But Japan, having been the first to develop, is an outlier: it should have developed other sources of growth long ago.
Ultimately, Asian economies themselves were pumped up along with assets like American houses and shares during the credit bubble of the past decade. Now the model is not deflating, but vanishing: once profligate American consumers are saving instead of spending. Asia needs a new model—but has yet to admit this.
As Western economies flounder, China sees a chance to assert itself—carefully
James Miles
THE room is stuffy on a sunny spring afternoon, and many of those packed into it (see above) must have regretted bringing their coats. The lucky ones have taken the few seats available. The rest are crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in this hotel-room office, listening intently to an hour-and-a-half rant on the threat of American imperialism and how the global economic crisis will result in growing confrontation between China and the West.
Sitting in front of a large portrait of a young Mao Zedong, Zhang Hongliang knows how to play to his nationalist, liberal-despising audience. His rambling discourse ranges from adulation of Mao to scorn of America (it has neither history nor culture), to warning of a “white terror” if rightists (liberals) prevail. The economic crisis is entirely the West’s fault, and as it deepens the West will turn on China. Now is the time to build an aircraft-carrier. A war with America would be “lose-lose”, but China should not be afraid of it.
China’s “leftists” are becoming more active as the global economy sputters. Mr Zhang belongs to an extreme fringe that pines for Maoist egalitarianism, state ownership and the certainty that America is an enemy. His seminar was organised by Maoflag, one of a clutch of like-minded websites in China whose nationalist, pro-communist rhetoric is suffused with a sense of their country as victim, yearning for revenge. Frequenters of these forums took heart from a flurry of spontaneous celebrations around the country in December to mark Mao’s 115th birthday. The government preferred to play it down.
Few would suggest that radical Maoists are poised to make a comeback. But their nationalism has a broad appeal. As China surveys the world, with the West in financial turmoil and its leaders seemingly desperate for cash-rich China to come to its aid, it sees strategic opportunities. Even before the financial crisis began to hit the country late last year, nationalism had been boiling up. It was evident in public responses to the turmoil in Tibet in March, the West’s support for the Dalai Lama, and China’s sporting triumph at the Olympic games in Beijing in August. Now a battered West presents a gratifying target for pent-up contempt. Even the normally cautious government is beginning to flex a little muscle on the world stage.
For most of the past two decades (flare-ups with Taiwan in 1995-96 and with America in 2001 excepted) China has played a cautious game internationally. Its approach was summed up in the pithy four-character phrases into which Chinese policymakers love to distil their thinking. The late Deng Xiaoping came up with a string of them: China should keep a low profile, not take the lead, watch developments patiently and keep its capabilities hidden. Now the global economic crisis and the West’s obvious weakness are causing officials to think again.
In public Chinese leaders still try to reassure. During a visit to Europe in late January and early February, China’s prime minister, Wen Jiabao, stressed that China’s development was no threat to anyone. It would be, he said at Cambridge University (an event better remembered for the shoe lobbed in his direction by a protesting German student), a peaceful and co-operative great power. Some sensitive Western diplomats pricked up their ears at the phrase “great power”, but it is one Mr Wen has used to describe China since well before the current crisis. In deference to foreign feelings, an English text released by the government news agency, Xinhua, used the word “country” instead.
On the issue of Tibet, however, China has been digging in its heels. Having conceded a little to Western opinion last year by holding three rounds of talks with representatives of the Dalai Lama in the wake of the unrest in March, China has lost interest. A massive security clampdown has been imposed on the Tibetan plateau to prevent any protests during this month’s 50th anniversary of the uprising that caused the Dalai Lama to flee into exile in India. Foreign journalists (despite pleas for access) have been shut out altogether.
In late February China gave a warm welcome to America’s secretary of state, Hillary Clinton. It had reason to feel proud. Here was an important American official clearly looking for China’s help. Mrs Clinton—who once boasted how strongly she had emphasised human rights during a visit to Beijing in 1995—was now suggesting that China’s bad record should not get in the way of co-operation on the financial crisis and global warming. Mr Zhang at the Maoflag seminar certainly enjoyed her new, soft tone.
Two weeks after Mrs Clinton’s departure, Chinese boats (according to the Pentagon) harassed an unarmed American ship, the Impeccable, in the South China Sea. The ship was a mere 75 miles (120km) off China’s coast and was probably on the lookout for Chinese submarines. But much as China objects, the American navy frequently deploys in international waters off China to monitor military activities. In this case Chinese responded more aggressively than usual, surrounding the American ship and trying to stop it from withdrawing. America later sent a guided-missile destroyer to protect the Impeccable.
A cautious poke
China clearly does not want to push this too far, mindful perhaps of the huge crisis in relations that occurred in 2001 when a Chinese fighter jet crashed into an American spyplane, forcing it to land at a Chinese airbase. The American crew was held for 11 days. This time China’s response was to send a fishery patrol ship (hardly a match for a destroyer) to the area. But Shi Yinhong of Renmin University says the latest incident is a sign of new robustness in China’s dealing with the West.
Though China may be unwilling to give America more than a cautious poke, it is a different story with Europe. Its abrupt decision to cancel a summit with the European Union scheduled for last December showed that, even amid the global crisis, it was prepared to deliver a powerful snub to leaders of its biggest trading partner. The reason was a meeting between France’s president, Nicolas Sarkozy, and the Dalai Lama (France then held the EU presidency). The EU and China have agreed to reschedule their summit for later this year, but Mr Sarkozy is not yet forgiven. Wen Jiabao, the prime minister, avoided France during his recent European tour. “I looked at a map of Europe on the plane. My trip goes around France,” he said.
Deng’s advice on avoiding taking the lead has by no means been jettisoned. China has reacted coolly to suggestions that a solution to the world’s economic problems lies essentially in the hands of two powers, China and America—what some call the G2. Fred Bergsten, of the Peterson Institute for International Economics, raised the idea in an article in Foreign Affairs last July. China, he argued, was continuing to act “like a small country with little impact on the global system at large and therefore little responsibility for it”. Even well before the current crisis, China had been posing an increasing challenge to international rules and institutions, Mr Bergsten said: blocking progress in the Doha round of global trade talks, aiding foreign countries without regard to human rights or the environment and resisting adoption of a flexible exchange-rate policy. Better, he suggested, that China and America work together as a G2 “to provide joint leadership of the global economic system”.
The head of the World Bank, Robert Zoellick, and its chief economist, Justin Yifu Lin, warmed to the G2 idea in an article in the Washington Post on March 6th. Though they did not repeat Mr Bergsten’s criticism of Chinese “recalcitrance”, they said that “without a strong G2, the G20 will disappoint”. But some Chinese officials see a trap. Liaowang, a magazine published by Xinhua, said Chinese scholars believed the idea “would do harm rather than good”. America would never cede control of the world order, and in any case China would never seek to exert hegemony.
China certainly delights in the notion that its global power is growing. As one Western diplomat put it, the meeting between President Barack Obama and his Chinese counterpart, Hu Jintao, in the margins of the G20 summit in London on April 2nd will be far more important than the G20 meeting itself. China stole the limelight at the last G20 summit by announcing a 4 trillion yuan ($565 billion) stimulus package just before it. Rumours continue to circulate that it has another up its sleeve. That would please everyone.
But China is not (yet, anyway) seeking to knock America off its perch. It is pushing for a greater say for itself and other developing countries in the IMF, over which the Americans, in effect, wield a veto. But it is not demanding a veto of its own. At a press conference on March 13th Mr Wen avoided saying whether China would give more funding to the IMF to strengthen its ability to deal with the financial crisis. How much China gives, diplomats believe, will depend on how much of a say it gets. An article in the official China Daily newspaper on March 17th quoted an influential Chinese economist, Yu Yongding, as saying China should not give much to the IMF—not least because certain countries on the IMF’s rescue list, particularly some from Europe, had an “anti-China mentality”.
Buying into America
Some Chinese scholars and commentators have been circulating more radical visions of how China should use the current crisis to boost its strategic influence. A recent article in Economic Reference, a journal published by a government think-tank, said the crisis would severely weaken the economic, political, military and diplomatic power of developed countries. This would create an “historic opportunity” for China to strengthen its position. China should export capital to South-East Asian countries to strengthen their economies. By so doing, it would help prevent political turmoil and win strategic influence in the region.
In America, the article suggested, China should buy up businesses in order to acquire sophisticated know-how. If the American government balks at this, “the Chinese government absolutely can use its American dollar savings as a bargaining chip to force the American government to agree to China’s acquisitions.” Diplomats say threats have even been heard from lower-ranking Chinese officials that China might sell off American Treasury bills if Washington angers China on Tibet; a meeting between Mr Obama and the Dalai Lama, for example, could be a tripwire. Few believe that China would actually risk such a self-damaging tactic, but the airing of views like this suggests that some officials are acquiring more swagger. China’s decision on March 18th to use anti-monopoly legislation to block Coca-Cola’s $2.4 billion bid for Huiyuan, a Chinese juice manufacturer, will be seen as evidence of this by some in America (see article).
This self-assurance was on show, too, during a visit to Latin America by Vice-President Xi Jinping in February. During a meeting in Mexico with overseas Chinese, Mr Xi, who is widely believed to be the heir-apparent to President Hu Jintao, accused “well-fed foreigners with nothing better to do” of “pointing fingers” at China. His country, Mr Xi said, was not exporting revolution or poverty or hunger or “messing around” with other countries, “so what else is there to say?” Mr Xi’s more diplomatic colleagues thought this was an outburst too far; though nationalist websites exulted, the domestic media were banned from reporting his comments.
Chinese leaders have been at particular pains to avoid giving the impression that China is wavering in its commitment to market capitalism (albeit with a heavy admixture of government control). But China’s own economy is being battered by the turmoil. Officials estimate that some 20m migrant workers have lost their jobs as labour-intensive industries, churning out cheap products for export, put up their shutters. White-collar workers are beginning to suffer, too. Some are being laid off and many more having their bonuses and wages cut. China’s leaders still say the country can achieve 8% growth this year, down from 9% last year; the World Bank, forecasting growth of only 6.5%, still notes that China is “a relative bright spot in an otherwise gloomy global economy”. But the boom times are definitely over.
Adam Smith’s disciples
Throughout the crisis China’s leaders have railed against the dangers of protectionism, knowing that trade with the West is vital. Much to the chagrin of China’s online leftists, Mr Wen has repeatedly sung the praises of Adam Smith in speeches and meetings with journalists. In London he revealed to the Financial Times that he was carrying Smith’s “The Theory of Moral Sentiments” in his suitcase.
ReutersHillary and Wen, great powers co-operating
As Mr Wen explains it, an important message of this book is that if the fruits of economic development are not shared by all, that is “morally unsound”, as well as a threat to social stability. This view resonates powerfully among the many Chinese who are embittered by the very uneven distribution of the fruits of China’s own rapid growth. Chinese leaders may be able to score points at home for standing up to their Western counterparts. But they know they are vulnerable to criticism that they are not doing enough to help Chinese victims of the economic slowdown. By emphasising this aspect of Smith’s philosophy, Mr Wen is trying to show he cares.
The government, however, does not want China to be roiled by the same debate that is plaguing Western governments over how to handle the crisis. This month’s annual session of the National People’s Congress, China’s parliament, was convened for only nine days instead of the usual two weeks. Although even the official media wanted more details of spending plans, the government-set agenda was strikingly sparse. The parliamentary chairman, Wu Bangguo, used the occasion to launch a lengthy tirade against Western-style democracy. “Leadership by the Party can only be strengthened and in no way weakened,” he told the delegates. For Mr Wu to get so worked up, serious voices must have been suggesting otherwise.
But few new details of the stimulus measures were revealed at the congress. The government airily said that details of a separate massive spending programme on health-care reform (850 billion yuan over three years) would be finalised only after the parliamentary session. In a cursory nod to public concern, it revealed that spending on welfare projects would be increased from 1% to 4% of the stimulus package (see chart). Spending on infrastructure would drop from 45% to 38%. But spending on environmental projects would also be cut from 9% to 5%. China’s commitment to greenness appears to be ebbing.
The left does have some cause for celebration. State-owned enterprises (SOEs) will be huge beneficiaries of the stimulus spending (Maoflag’s supporters are still in uproar about the dismantling of many of China’s SOEs a decade ago). But liberal economists in China fret that state-owned banks and their SOE cronies will carve up the spoils, leaving small and medium private enterprises by the wayside. They also worry that reforms may stall.
The China Institute for Reform and Development, a prominent liberal think-tank, has just published a 171-page report entitled “The International Financial Crisis Challenges Reforms in China”. It describes the economic crisis as the biggest problem the country has faced in the 30-year history of its reform-and-opening policy (and it has faced some big ones, not least the Tiananmen protests of 1989, the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98 and the SOE restructuring which threw millions out of work).
The report says that, without further market-oriented reforms, the stimulus package will not only fail to achieve its goal but will also store up long-term problems. In need of change, it says, are government controls on prices of water and power and government monopolies in industries such as telecoms, railways and aviation. It calls for faster financial reforms such as encouraging the development of non-state financial institutions, freeing controls on interest rates and allowing the yuan to float.
On March 13th, at the end of the parliamentary session, Mr Wen said that to counter the crisis China “would rather speed up reforms”. He said it should “give full play to market forces in allocating resources” and encourage the development of the private sector. It must also, he said, carry on with political reforms in order to “guarantee people’s freedom and rights”. But the economic crisis will not have increased officials’ appetite for change. Many will be all the more convinced that the government’s big role in the economy (not least its ownership of the banks) and the country’s one-party system (where else could a government announce such big spending plans without time-wasting debate?) are a help, not a hindrance.
It is more likely that, as the crisis deepens, the government will become increasingly cautious in its approach to domestic policy. But if protectionism grows in Western countries, Chinese nationalists will be all the more inclined to demand that their government stand up to them. A book published in China this month, “Unhappy China” (with an initial print-run of 70,000, says a publicist), aims to tap into what the authors believe is a widespread public feeling of disgruntlement with the West. One of the essays argues that the financial crisis could result in an envious West going to war with China to keep it down.
Few are quite that gloomy. One of the book’s authors (speaking in a branch of Starbucks in a luxury mall) says the government worries about books like this because they fuel suspicions in the West that China is a threat. The publishers removed one part about India’s annexation of Sikkim in 1975 because they thought it might upset India. China would like to be number one, but it would still rather get there without making big enemies.
IT IS an ill wind that blows no one any good. For many in China even the buffeting by the gale that has hit the global economy has a bracing message. The rise of China over the past three decades has been astonishing. But it has lacked the one feature it needed fully to satisfy the ultranationalist fringe: an accompanying decline of the West. Now capitalism is in a funk in its heartlands. Europe and Japan, embroiled in the deepest post-war recession, are barely worth consideration as rivals. America, the superpower, has passed its peak. Although in public China’s leaders eschew triumphalism, there is a sense in Beijing that the reassertion of the Middle Kingdom’s global ascendancy is at hand (see article).
China’s prime minister, Wen Jiabao, no longer sticks to the script that China is a humble player in world affairs that wants to focus on its own economic development. He talks of China as a “great power” and worries about America’s profligate spending endangering his $1 trillion nest egg there. Incautious remarks by the new American treasury secretary about China manipulating its currency were dismissed as ridiculous; a duly penitent Hillary Clinton was welcomed in Beijing, but as an equal. This month saw an apparent attempt to engineer a low-level naval confrontation with an American spy ship in the South China Sea. Yet at least the Americans get noticed. Europe, that speck on the horizon, is ignored: an EU summit was cancelled and France is still blacklisted because Nicolas Sarkozy dared to meet the Dalai Lama.
Already a big idea has spread far beyond China: that geopolitics is now a bipolar affair, with America and China the only two that matter. Thus in London next month the real business will not be the G20 meeting but the “G2” summit between Presidents Barack Obama and Hu Jintao. This not only worries the Europeans, who, having got rid of George Bush’s unipolar politics, have no wish to see it replaced by a Pacific duopoly, and the Japanese, who have long been paranoid about their rivals in Asia. It also seems to be having an effect in Washington, where Congress’s fascination with America’s nearest rival risks acquiring a protectionist edge.
Reds under the bed
Before panic spreads, it is worth noting that China’s new assertiveness reflects weakness as well as strength. This remains a poor country facing, in Mr Wen’s words, its most difficult year of the new century. The latest wild guess at how many jobs have already been lost—20m—hints at the scale of the problem. The World Bank has cut its forecast for China’s growth this year to 6.5%. That is robust compared with almost anywhere else, but to many Chinese, used to double-digit rates, it will feel like a recession. Already there are tens of thousands of protests each year: from those robbed of their land for development; from laid-off workers; from those suffering the side-effects of environmental despoliation. Even if China magically achieves its official 8% target, the grievances will worsen.
Far from oozing self-confidence, China is witnessing a fierce debate both about its economic system and the sort of great power it wants to be—and it is a debate the government does not like. This year the regime curtailed even the perfunctory annual meeting of its parliament, the National People’s Congress (NPC), preferring to confine discussion to back-rooms and obscure internet forums. Liberals calling for greater openness are being dealt with in the time-honoured repressive fashion. But China’s leaders also face rumblings of discontent from leftist nationalists, who see the downturn as a chance to halt market-oriented reforms at home, and for China to assert itself more stridently abroad. An angry China can veer into xenophobia, but not all the nationalist left’s causes are so dangerous: one is for the better public services and social-safety net the country sorely needs.
So China is in a more precarious situation than many Westerners think. The world is not bipolar and may never become so. The EU, for all its faults, is the world’s biggest economy. India’s population will overtake China’s. But that does not obscure the fact that China’s relative power is plainly growing—and both the West and China itself need to adjust to this.
For Mr Obama, this means pulling off a difficult balancing act. In the longer term, if he has not managed to seduce China (and for that matter India and Brazil) more firmly into the liberal multilateral system by the time he leaves office, then historians may judge him a failure. In the short term he needs to hold China to its promises and to scold it for its lapses: Mrs Clinton should have taken it to task over Tibet and human rights when she was there. The Bush administration made much of the idea of welcoming China as a “responsible stakeholder” in the international system. The G20 is a chance to give China a bigger stake in global decision-making than was available in the small clubs of the G7 and G8. But it is also a chance for China to show it can exercise its new influence responsibly.
The bill for the great Chinese takeaway
China’s record as a citizen of the world is strikingly threadbare. On a host of issues from Iran to Sudan, it has used its main geopolitical asset, its permanent seat on the United Nations Security Council, to obstruct progress, hiding behind the excuse that it does not want to intervene in other countries’ affairs. That, sadly, will take time to change. But on the more immediate issue at hand, the world economy, there is room for action.
Over the past quarter-century no country has gained more from globalisation than China. Hundreds of millions of its people have been dragged out of subsistence into the middle class. China has been a grumpy taker in this process. It helped derail the latest round of world trade talks. The G20 meeting offers it a chance to show a change of heart. In particular, it is being asked to bolster the IMF’s resources so that the fund can rescue crisis-hit countries in places like eastern Europe. Some in Beijing would prefer to ignore the IMF, since it might help ex-communist countries that have developed “an anti-China mentality”. Rising above such cavilling and paying up would be a small step in itself. But it would be a sign that the Middle Kingdom has understood what it is to be a great power.
The financial crisis has created an industrial crisis. What should governments do about it?
Alamy
$0.00, not counting fuel and handling: that is the cheapest quote right now if you want to ship a container from southern China to Europe. Back in the summer of 2007 the shipper would have charged $1,400. Half-empty freighters are just one sign of a worldwide collapse in manufacturing. In Germany December’s machine-tool orders were 40% lower than a year earlier. Half of China’s 9,000 or so toy exporters have gone bust. Taiwan’s shipments of notebook computers fell by a third in the month of January. The number of cars being assembled in America was 60% below January 2008.
The destructive global power of the financial crisis became clear last year. The immensity of the manufacturing crisis is still sinking in, largely because it is seen in national terms—indeed, often nationalistic ones. In fact manufacturing is also caught up in a global whirlwind.
Industrial production fell in the latest three months by 3.6% and 4.4% respectively in America and Britain (equivalent to annual declines of 13.8% and 16.4%). Some locals blame that on Wall Street and the City. But the collapse is much worse in countries more dependent on manufacturing exports, which have come to rely on consumers in debtor countries. Germany’s industrial production in the fourth quarter fell by 6.8%; Taiwan’s by 21.7%; Japan’s by 12%—which helps to explain why GDP is falling even faster there than it did in the early 1990s (see article). Industrial production is volatile, but the world has not seen a contraction like this since the first oil shock in the 1970s—and even that was not so widespread. Industry is collapsing in eastern Europe, as it is in Brazil, Malaysia and Turkey. Thousands of factories in southern China are now abandoned. Their workers went home to the countryside for the new year in January. Millions never came back (see article).
Factories floored
Having bailed out the financial system, governments are now being called on to save industry, too. Next to scheming bankers, factory workers look positively deserving. Manufacturing is still a big employer and it tends to be a very visible one, concentrated in places like Detroit, Stuttgart and Guangzhou. The failure of a famous manufacturer like General Motors (GM) would be a severe blow to people’s faith in their own prospects when a lack of confidence is already dragging down the economy. So surely it is right to give industry special support?
Despite manufacturing’s woes, the answer is no. There are no painless choices, but industrial aid suffers from two big drawbacks. One is that government programmes, which are slow to design and amend, are too cumbersome to deal with the varied, constantly changing difficulties of the world’s manufacturing industries. Part of the problem has been a drying-up of trade finance. Nobody knows how long that will last. Another part has come as firms have run down their inventories (in China some of these were stockpiles amassed before the Beijing Olympics). The inventory effect should be temporary, but, again, nobody knows how big or lasting it will be.
The other drawback is that sectoral aid does not address the underlying cause of the crisis—a fall in demand, not just for manufactured goods, but for everything. Because there is too much capacity (far too much in the car industry), some businesses must close however much aid the government pumps in. How can governments know which firms to save or the “right” size of any industry? That is for consumers to decide. Giving money to the industries with the loudest voices and cleverest lobbyists would be unjust and wasteful. Shifting demand to the fortunate sector that has won aid from the unfortunate one that has not will only exacerbate the upheaval. One country’s preference for a given industry risks provoking a protectionist backlash abroad and will slow the long-run growth rate at home by locking up resources in inefficient firms.
Nothing to lose but their supply chains
Some say that manufacturing is special, because the rest of the economy depends on it. In fact, the economy is more like a network in which everything is connected to everything else, and in which every producer is also a consumer. The important distinction is not between manufacturing and services, but between productive and unproductive jobs.
Some manufacturers accept that, but proceed immediately to another argument: that the current crisis is needlessly endangering productive, highly skilled manufacturing jobs. Nowadays each link in the supply chain depends on all the others. Carmakers cite GM’s new Camaro, threatened after a firm that makes moulded-plastic parts went bankrupt. The car industry argues that the loss of GM itself would permanently wreck the North American supply chain (see article). Aid, they say, can save good firms to fight another day.
Although some supply chains have choke points, that is a weak general argument for sectoral aid. As a rule, suppliers with several customers, and customers with several suppliers, should be more resilient than if they were a dependent captive of a large group. The evidence from China is that today’s lack of demand creates the spare capacity that allows customers to find a new supplier quickly if theirs goes out of business. When that is hard, because a parts supplier is highly specialised, say, good management is likely to be more effective than state aid. The best firms monitor their vital suppliers closely and buy parts from more than one source, even if it costs money. In the extreme, firms can support vulnerable suppliers by helping them raise cash or by investing in them.
If sectoral aid is wasteful, why then save the banking system? Not for the sake of the bankers, certainly; nor because state aid will create an efficient financial industry. Even flawed bank rescues and stimulus plans, like the one Barack Obama signed into law this week, are aimed at the roots of the economy’s problems: saving the banks, no matter how undeserving they are, is supposed to keep finance flowing to all firms; fiscal stimulus is supposed to lift demand across the board. As manufacturing collapses, governments should not fiddle with sectoral plans. Their proper task is broader but no less urgent: to get on with spending and with freeing up finance.
The slump in East Asia was made at home as well as in the West
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CHINA’s lunar new year sees the world’s largest migration, as tens of millions of workers flock home. Deserting for a few days the factories that make the goods that fill the world’s shops, they surge back to their native villages. This week, however, as they feasted to the deafening rattle of the firecrackers lit to greet the Year of the Ox, their celebrations had an anxious tinge (see article). Many will not have jobs to go back to.
China’s breakneck growth has stalled. The rest of East Asia, too, which had hoped that it was somehow “decoupled” from the economic trauma of the West, has found itself hit as hard as anywhere in the world—and in some cases harder. The temptation is to see this as a plague visited on the region from outside, which its governments are powerless to resist or cure. In truth, their policy errors have played their part in the downturn, so the remedies are partly in their hands.
The scale and speed of that downturn is breathtaking (see article), and broader in scope than in the financial crisis of 1997-98. China’s GDP, which expanded by 13% in 2007, scarcely grew at all in the last quarter of 2008 on a seasonally adjusted basis. In the same quarter Japan’s GDP is estimated to have fallen at an annualised rate of 10%, Singapore’s at 17% and South Korea’s at 21%. Industrial-production numbers have fallen even more dramatically, plummeting in Taiwan, for example, by 32% in the year to December.
Nobody’s buying it
The immediate causes are plain enough: destocking on a huge scale and a collapse in exports. Even in China, exports are spluttering, down by 2.8% in December compared with the previous year. That month Japan’s fell by 35% and Singapore’s by 20%. Falls in imports are often even starker: China’s were down by 21% in December; Vietnam’s by 45% in January. Some had suggested that soaring intra-regional trade would protect Asia against a downturn in the West. But that’s not happening, because trade within Asia is part of a globalised supply chain which is ultimately linked to demand in the rich world.
Some Asians are blaming the West. The Western consensus in favour of globalisation lured them, they say, into opening their economies and pursuing export-led growth to satisfy the bottomless pit of Western consumer demand. They have been betrayed. Western financial incompetence has trashed the value of their investments and consumer demand has dried up. This explanation, which absolves Asian governments of responsibility for economic suffering, has an obvious appeal across the region.
Awkwardly, however, it tells only one part of the story. Most of the slowdown in regional economic growth so far stems not from a fall in net exports but from weaker domestic demand. Even in China, the region’s top exporter, imports are falling faster than exports.
Domestic demand has been weak not just because of the gloomy global outlook, but also because of government policies. After the crisis a decade ago, many countries fixed their broken financial systems, but left their economies skewed towards exports. Savings remained high and domestic consumption was suppressed. Partly out of fright at the balance-of-payments pressures faced then, countries have run large trade surpluses and built up huge foreign-exchange reserves. Thus the savings of poor Asian farmers have financed the habits of spendthrift Westerners.
That’s not all bad. One consequence is that Asian governments have plenty of scope for boosting domestic demand and thus spurring economic recovery. China, in particular, has the wherewithal to make good on its promises of massive economic stimulus. A big public-works programme is the way to go, because it needs the investment anyway. When Japan spent heavily on infrastructure to boost its economy in the early 1990s, much of the money was wasted, because it was not short of the stuff. China, by contrast, could still do with more and better bridges, roads and railways.
Safety in numbers
Yet infrastructure spending alone is not a long-term solution. This sort of stimulus will sooner or later become unaffordable, and growth based on it will run out of steam. To get onto a sustainable long-term growth path—and to help pull the rest of the world out of recession—Asia’s economies need to become less dependent on exports in other ways.
Asian governments must introduce structural reforms that encourage people to spend and reduce the need for them to save. In China, farmers must be given reliable title to their land so that they can borrow money against it or sell it. In many countries, including China, governments need to establish safety-nets that ease worries about the cost of children’s education and of health care. And across Asia, economies need to shift away from increasingly capital-intensive manufacturing towards labour-intensive services, so that a bigger share of national income goes to households.
For Asian governments trying to fix their countries’ problems, the temptation is to reach for familiar tools—mercantilist currency policies to boost exports. But the region’s leaders seem to realise that a round of competitive devaluation will help no one. China has responded to American accusations of currency “manipulation” by denying it has any intention of devaluing the yuan to boost exports. Structural reforms to boost demand would not only help cushion the blow to Asia’s poor and thus help avert an explosion of social unrest that governments such as China’s fear; they would also help counter the relentless rise in protectionist pressure in the West.
If emerging Asia needs a warning of the dangers of relying on exports, it need look no further than Japan. Japan’s decade-long stagnation ended in 2002, thanks to a boom in exports, especially to China. Now, largely because of its failure to tackle the root causes of weak domestic demand, it is taking more of an economic hiding than any other rich country. Japan used to see itself as the lead goose in a regional flight formation, showing the way to export-led prosperity. It is time for the other geese to break ranks.
