Why spend 2% of GDP on defence?

NATO’s guidelines ask its members to devote 2% of  GDP to defence spending, and currently there is a debate in the UK about whether spending plans are consistent with that.   Most NATO members don’t meet the 2% target;  it comes from a time when defence was about the prospect of a major land war in Europe, and as the prospect of such a war receded, most countries took advantage of the ‘peace dividend’ to wind down.  As it stands, the figure is difficult to defend – not because there may not be a case, but because it isn’t visibly related to  defence needs.  It seems fairly basic to public spending decisions that we ought to know what money is being spent on and what the spending is supposed to achieve.

It’s fairly unusual, in public policy, to start with a fixed amount of money and then to thrash around looking for ways to spend it.  Most spending starts with a set of commitments or  a recognisable set of demands or needs, and the purpose of budgeting is to try to do what’s necessary with the resources available. There is however a parallel in another field.  We are also committed to providing 0.7% in Official Development Assistance (ODA), and in recent years we’ve managed to do that.  ODA has been taking a battering from the political right, often for the same reasons that might lead to reservations about defence spending – the distribution of benefits  doesn’t seem to be related to the needs (why does so much go to Afghanistan and India?),  it’s not self-evident that the money is being spent on the right things, and it’s difficult to tell whether the money is being used to best effect.

The parallel is instructive.  Spending on ODA is  elective in its character – despite the international obligation, we can spend most of it as we think fit.   Whatever we spend, the problems of development are bigger than our capacity to deal with them, and we can only make a limited contribution.  In some ways, that’s liberating.  We don’t have to do the things we do in other forms of public spending – identify needs, assess the demand, or determine priorities.  It’s possible simply to do anything that seems effective and worthwhile.  If it turns out that ODA is not being used well in some cases, we can divert the money to other activities which work better, and there are plenty of those.   We’ve been refining these approaches  for some time, which is why ODA appears to be rather better used than many of its critics suppose.

Back to defence.  What is implied by setting defence spending at a set proportion of national income?  On one hand, the proponents of higher spending are arguing that expenditure on defence represents an irreducible minimum for any government – it’s something that governments absolutely have to do.   On the other, the case is being made for a figure that’s almost completely unrelated to that irreducible minimum – that treats defence as if it was elective, like ODA.  The two positions seem woefully inconsistent.  If defence is a necessity, then we should be paying what is necessary.  If defence spending is really an area where we can do as  we think fit,  we can use the money in any way we think effective, and it needs to be justified in those terms.

I’m not convinced that defence money is used effectively at present.  I don’t really understand – maybe someone out there can tell me – why we have maintained separate defence services fifty years after supposedly unifying the Ministry of Defence; why we try to do bits of everything in international cooperation rather than specialising in what we’re good at; or why we’re so focused on international actions that we don’t have the capacity to defend our territory or maritime  interests.  If we are going to spend 2% of our income on defence, let’s have a defence policy that works.

Death: going live after the next election

Relax; this is not about the forthcoming zombie apocalypse.  A note from the Public Health Directorate to the Healthcare Improvement Scotland explains:

I am writing to confirm death certification implementation will continue to move forward but with a new go live date.  Given the proximity of the current planned ‘go live’ date for the new scrutiny system to the UK General Election in early May next year, we have considered it would be best to move the ‘go live’ date by a few weeks until after the Election. Therefore, following discussion with key stakeholder groups we have agreed that the new ‘go live’ date will be 13 May 2015.

I’ve done a little spadework, so to speak, to find out how going live became a live issue for people working with the dead.  This is what I’ve dug up.  I think the culprits may be American (they do things differently there).     In Arkansas, for example, the Project Schedule for Electronic Death Registration began in 2009, and had seven stages:

  • Kickoff
  • Confirmation of Requirements (Gap Analysis)
  • Design and confirmation
  • User Acceptance Testing
  • Pilot
  • Go-Live at Pilot Location
  • Statewide Roll-out

It’s understandable, perhaps, that public administrators lapse on occasion into a little jargon – it’s infectious.  They really ought to be aware, though, that in any contemporary public service, whatever they do is liable to be read by a general public, and it ought to be written with that audience in mind.

Equal opportunity for werewolves

This is a little out of my usual line, but the story in yesterday’s Independent is so fabulous that it demands to be included.  Cristina Kirchner, the President of Argentina, has adopted a Jewish man to save him from becoming a werewolf.  Juan Peron extended the protection to women, and since 2009 it has been available to Jews; this adoption comes 21 years after his parents asked for him to be included.   The tradition carries some important privileges, including an educational scholarship, and President Kirchner has used the opportunity to promote harmony in different cultures.

The Research Excellence Framework: a rigged game

The results of the rating of universities, the Research Excellence Framework, came out a little before Christmas.   Output from newer universities, and smaller units of submission, tend to suffer by comparison with the old established institutions.  There are some obvious reasons why this happens.  One is the credit given for the ‘research environment’; another is  that a larger research team can offer several people a foothold  as co-authors of joint work.  However, the disparity of treatment between the best established institutions and others go beyond that.  What seems to have happened is that the bigger the institution, and the more people submitted, the more likely it is that a higher proportion of their output will be rated as ‘world leading’.  The REF has rediscovered the principle of homeopathy; the more dilute the effort,  the stronger its impact.

There was a perceptive comment by Tiffany Jenkins in the Scotsman about some other flaws in the process – the imbalance between books and articles, the fiddle of importing prestigious outsiders, the lack of time to ascertain whether a paper will have an influence.     I’ve commented before  that the way the ratings are designed discounts much of the kind of work I’ve engaged in over the years.  I’ve been looking at a review of my work in Serbian, which outlines the way that I’ve tried after Titmuss to establish an architecture for the study of social policy.  As usual, that counts for nothing in the exercise.

The private schools think they know what’s wrong with universities

A clip in today’s i caught my attention:

“Leading independent schools are to hold lessons for university lecturers aimed at telling them how teenagers should be taught. … Too often, lecturers are stuck in the past, headteachers argue, and think they can get away with just setting essays and offering the occasional one-to-one tutorial”.

Someone’s certainly stuck in the past, but I’m not sure it’s the universities.

Adapting to climate change

I haven’t read much of the IPCC’s latest report, snappily named WGII AG5. The report itself doesn’t exist as a single document; there are instead a series of ‘final drafts’, to be consolidated over the next six months.  I have read the summary (44 pages), the rather clearer technical summary (76 pages), chapter 13 on Livelihoods and poverty (57 pages) and chapter 2 on Decision-making processes (53 pages).  Long-winded doesn’t begin to say it.  For a neat, one-page summary, try The Register.

Further note: The full document is now available as a single report here

Some years ago, I was critical of the Stern report, which put its emphasis on an unrealistic strategy of ‘mitigation’ or prevention of climate change.  This report, on ‘adaptation’,  seems much better; it is identifying the harms and risks that follow from what we know about climate change and considers how the effects can be responded to.   Chapter 2 is mainly verbiage – telling us, for example, that there are ethical issues, which I think we could probably have worked out, but not how the issues might be addressed.  Chapter 13 is much better, identifying poorer people as being more at risk and most vulnerable to adverse consequences.

 

Some thoughts on the TV licence

There has been a groundswell of support in the press for the proposal to decriminalise non-payment of the TV licence.  Part is based on concerns that people should not be made into criminals for not having enough money to pay their  bills, but there are other issues in the debate.  The first problem is how to fund the BBC without compromising its independence.   The second problem is how the money can be raised.  The current licence fee is, to all intents and purposes, a tax on households; but it is cumbersome and desperately unfair.  The flat rate charge penalises the poor.  There is a presumption that everyone will receive the services, and there is an aggressive system of debt collection based on that presumption, which is only partly successful.

I am going to accept two key propositions.  The first is that the BBC is a public service.  Many services it provides – not TV, which is restricted to licence payers, but radio, internet and infrastructure – are there for everyone who wants to use them; that could be true for TV, too.  It may be objected that not everyone wishes to use the service, or can; not everyone can use a park, or a road, or a school, but that is not a reason why we should not treat them as a public service.   It’s right, then, that there should be a charge to everyone.  The second proposition is that this should not be done through central government taxation,  because that would make the BBC directly accountable to central government.   Any system needs to be managed at arm’s length.

We do, however, have alternative mechanisms in place which satisfy both of these requirements,  and which would be fairer and less burdensome than the current licence system.  The Council Tax includes an element for another public service, which is water; local authorities collect water rates as agents for the water companies.    If the TV licence was bundled in to that, it would be more progressive and easier to enforce.  There’s no reason why it shouldn’t also be eligible for Council Tax Reduction, reducing the cost to people on lower incomes, but that is open to discussion.

This suggestion is an example of a general principle in benefits, taxation and social administration: the practical way to do things is often to take advantage of an existing mechanism.  It’s not an ideal solution, but nothing ever is.

 

Now available in Serbo-Croat

I went yesterday to a session in the British Library in London about the structure of the novel.  The three authors seemed to me to think of a structure as something that slowly opens like a flower, growing from the impetus of character and story.  Working in the field of non-fiction, this is quite unlike  anything I do; the structure of my books has more to do with rods and girders than fabrics and motifs.  I feel like a visitor from another planet.

When I write, I plan in some detail.  The new edition of Social Policy has four parts, and three of those have five or six chapters.  Each of the chapters has several sub-sections (typically 3-7); many of the subsections had three, four or five lower-level sub-headings, though I may have removed these after I wrote them.  That means that I might begin with a plan for about 120 different sections, typically writing 800-1200 words apiece; and I can write them in any order.

The new edition of Social Policy has now appeared in its Serbian translation, a little ahead of the English version which went to press a couple of weeks ago.  Enthusiastic speakers of Serbo-Croat will no doubt be queuing around the block.

A little more on why we can't trust the statistics in published articles

I’ve referred earlier this week to the work of Ioannidis, who argues that most published medical statistics are wrong. The British Medical Journal regularly uses its Xmas issue to publish some disconcerting, off-beat papers.  In a previous issue, they produced the findings of a randomised control trial which showed an apparently impossible result: praying for people whose outcomes were already decided several years ago seemed to work.  The message:  don’t trust randomised control trials, because they’re randomised.  This year, an article, “Like a virgin”, identifies 45 women in a sample of nearly 5,500 who claim to have had a virgin birth. The message: don’t believe everything people tell you in surveys.    If only medical journals applied the same rigour to some of their ‘serious’ results.

Two years on the blog

It’s two years since I decided to put the blog on WordPress.  Since then I’ve made about 320 entries, a little over three a week.  The blog gets about 1200 visits a month, which might sound good until you realise that my website on social policy gets more than  1200 visits a day.  My initial plan was to use the material to spark off new ideas for my written work, and I’m still hopeful it will help with that.  Looking up sources has been particularly useful in filling out my knowledge of the field.  I also owe particular thanks to those of you who’ve commented on blogs, because that’s one of the key ways that I learn  things I may have missed.

One of my teachers may have disapproved.   In Richard Crossman’s Diaries, he comments on the reaction of Brian Abel-Smith when he was invited to be editor of the New Statesman: “all that ephemeral journalism!”  Brian was hardly an academic purist: a distaste for ephemera didn’t keep him away from all that politics.   He did tell me once, in a good way, that I ought to be a politician.  I’d had loved it, but unfortunately, I suffer from three impediments: a contrary disposition, a tendency to put my foot in my mouth for the sake of a good line, and the absence of anyone who’d want to vote for me.  At least I can vent on the blog, where it does no harm.