Discover 67 opportunities in William Pearse

As COVID-19 has spread globally, access to the outside world has shrunk, made increasingly off-limits by government lock-down, observable now only through glass. Our digital lives have expanded to fill the void, evenings previously spent with friends now passed plugged into laptops, obsessing over the latest figures, bailouts and newly-imposed restrictions - time blurs. Amid the chorus of leaders justifying ever more draconian measures, one thing has been hard to miss: the invocations of war.

As the world is ravaged by COVID-19, governments everywhere are enjoying burgeoning support. A glance at approval ratings finds presidents, prime ministers, even autocrats, overwhelmingly popular, in some instances irrespective of their actual performance. Of course, this is unsurprising: there’s long been a history of populations coalescing around established leaders in times of crisis. Amid uncertainty, we find their increased visibility reassuring. Speaking to the nation they look competent and confident; we feel inclined to trust them, and more often than not, we do.

The emergence of Joe Biden as the unassailable front-runner in the Democratic Primary belies a contest that at various turns broke new ground. From its unprecedented field, larger and more representative than ever (save the brief participation of two billionaires), to the remarkable resuscitation of one moribund campaign, the departure from custom was clear. Nowhere was this more obvious than in policy, where the inclusion of senators, Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, dragged the conversation leftwards into distinctly uncharted territory. While all candidates acknowledged America’s extreme inequality and the need for better healthcare, social security, etc., divergence came in the prescribed means of redistribution, and unusually discussion extended beyond familiar calls to raise income tax for the rich. Most liberal of the proposals was a wealth tax: an annual tax on everything an individual owns. Its mere suggestion confirmed an improbable rise of a policy that until recently was dismissed as fringe and anti-aspirational.

The continued existence of fossil fuel subsidies in a time of their almost universal condemnation reveals something about the governments that rule us, something pernicious, but also something all-too-predictable. Like no other area, they expose a gulf between rhetoric and action, a disconnect so stark that, if the risks it posed were less catastrophic, would almost be comical. Back in reality, though, the cognitive dissonance, cynicism, or whatever its cause, serves only to warm our planet and threaten all life. 

Gross Domestic Product, or GDP, is the market value of all goods and services that a country produces in a given year, adjusted - to make it comparable to previous years - for inflation. In many ways, though, it's transcended this rather prosaic definition. It's become the barometer of a country’s progress, an indicator of a land’s prosperity, and the ultimate yardstick for assessing living standards. When growing (at expected rates), politicians refer to it as proof of the success of their policies. And when rates are not met, or, god forbid, GDP growth slows, it’s weaponised by those for whom it’s politically expedient. It has the power to both elect governments and bring them crashing down. In the theatre of politics, rarely is it anywhere but centre stage.

The jostling between market and state, and the territory that each occupies, lies at the heart of political discourse. It's the major fault line around which political parties form and debates rage. Despite their uneasy relationship, between them they generally make available all that we need, be it food, a home, healthcare, employment, or education, at varying - and often questionable - quality and cost. The demarcation between the two, rarely ever static, differs widely across states, and speaks to the values of the society in question. What, for instance, can be said of a country whose privatised higher education is financially off limits to its poorer citizens? Is it right to leave the market responsible for people’s health? And what of the provision of childcare?

The US economy is improving, so we are told. With the financial crash receding into the distance, almost out of sight, things are looking up, the future is finally brightening. Unemployment reached a 50-year low in 2019, falling to 3.5%, while US employers have added almost 5 million jobs in just two years. These are ‘the best economic numbers our country has ever experienced’, the President declared at Davos, with characteristic humility. And bombast aside, his sentiment is not without foundation, the US economy is posting some good numbers. In addition to jobs, GDP has been growing at close to 3 percent annually, and the Dow Jones has increased by 49% is the last 3 years - all of which is great election fodder for the coming campaign. Democrats should be wary.

The Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel 2019 has been awarded to three economists “for their experimental approach to alleviating global poverty”1: Esther Duflo, Abhijit Banerjee and Michael Kremer.

The reputation gained by economists has been a remarkable feat of PR; a branding job like no other. Quite how it developed remains a mystery, some inexplicable sleight-of-hand. Its consequence, however, is far easier to discern: in the minds of many, economics came to be thought of as a science. Removed from its rough prediction roots, it became a discipline of watertight theory, with a methodology capable of unearthing indisputable truths.

Since its inception in the 1970s, microfinance has become the darling of development organisations the world over - the idea with the potential to save the planet’s poor. Pioneered by Bangladeshi social entrepreneur and Nobel Peace Prize Winner Muhammad Yunus, it provides the financially marginalized with banking services that, given their impoverishment, would otherwise be out of reach. Such provision, its proponents claim, empowers the poor to take control of their own lives and plot their own path out of poverty - an antidote that is humane, retains the dignity of it recipients, and is lucrative. Aside from bank accounts and insurance, it is mostly implemented in the form of microloans.

Although recently popularised in America, the Green New Deal (GND) was actually born during the early days of the 2007/8 financial crisis, in a small flat in London. The owner of the flat was analyst and foreseer of the crisis, Ann Pettifor; the occasion was a get-together of environmentalists and economists who had convened to draft a plan they hoped would both ‘transform the economy and protect the ecosystem’. Unfortunately for the London attendees, the prevailing political currents post crash proved especially hostile toward their idea, and prioritised, instead, principles of fiscal discipline and austerity, while largely sidelining issues of climate. And as long as such consensus reigned, the nascent GND was forced to lie dormant, far from political discourse.

Rising year on year, seemingly irrespective of company performance, US executive pay is eye-watering. For decades now, its increase - the small blip following the financial crisis aside - has been rapid. As their wallets have bulged, however, CEOs’ standing in the public eye, has fallen precipitously - plotted on a graph the relationship between the two would make a big X. And this is a significant shift. It wasn't long ago that the American entrepreneur was heralded as an almost mythical figure: the embodiment of all that was good about the country; the opportunity it afforded; the work ethic it rewarded; the fact that with the right attitude anything was possible. They were the American Dream in action; evidence that it could be made real.

Economics has a gender problem, it always has, and unfortunately, it appears to be getting worse. Until recently, the impression was that this historically male-dominated discipline was turning a corner—albeit rather slowly—and the number of women studying economics was creeping upwards. That progress, however, looks to have stalled, and by some accounts, including that of the Australian Department of Education, actually gone into reverse. All the while, the number of women in the STEM fields (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Maths)—long notorious for their poor gender ratios—has been steadily increasing. It looks as though the ‘old boys’ club’ of economics might be closing ranks.

Sandwiched snugly between generations X and Z, Millennials, it's fair to say, have had it tough. Entering the workforce around the time of the Great Recession and now enduring the disorienting forces of the so-called fourth industrial revolution (also known as Industry 4.0), their world has been one of constant flux. History is accelerating faster than ever and technological progress in some areas is exponential, rapidly changing the face of work. And yet, with the possibility of abundance now a reality, Millennials are experiencing their economic opportunities reduce, many privileges enjoyed by their baby-booming forbears – improving living standards, home ownership etc. – increasingly out of reach.

In its short and controversial history, neoconservatism has changed America. For almost 60 years, the ideology has variously been embraced and rejected; celebrated for its patriotism and commitment to democracy; and disdained for it hawkish arrogance and imperialistic tendencies. It has simultaneously proven uniquely divisive, while also unifying people across party lines. Quite simply, recent American political history cannot be made sense of without an understanding of neoconservatism; such has been its influence.

The history of economic growth, the kind to which we are now accustomed, is inseparably intertwined with the discovery, and then plunder, of fossil fuels. Some historians have even argued their unearthing was its main catalyst, relegating more popular theories of free trade and technological innovation. The argument is seductively simple, and although something of an exaggeration, usefully highlights the strong connection between the two – for in tandem, they radically altered the course of human civilisation.

Esteemed economist, Princeton Professor, and friend of INOMICS, Esteban Rossi-Hansberg, generously took time out of his busy schedule to take part in the second INOMICS Handbook Questionnaire. Opposite him, in his customary role of quizmaster, was Professor Marcel Fratzscher, president of the DIW Berlin, and one of Germany’s leading voices in macroeconomics. Keeping with tradition, and as a nod to the heavyweight reputations of those involved, we dubbed the encounter ‘Fratzscher v Rossi-Hansberg’. What played out proved illuminating and often personal, the dialogue shedding light on the inner workings of the mystery that is the ‘economist’s mind’. For anyone even loosely connected to economics the following conversation will make an interesting read.

Situated in the oldest city of the Netherlands, Nijmegen, Radboud University has firmly established itself as one of the country’s most reputable institutions of higher education. Offering programmes across the academic spectrum, its MSc in Economics, in particular, is attracting students from all over the world.

Automation will transform our world; there is no doubt about it. Quite how, though, is highly contested – whether optimist or pessimist, there are predictions to match every predilection. Newspapers alternately run articles speculating a work-free, post-capitalist future filled with armchair philosophising, with forecasts of a world ravaged by inequality in which robots tend to the mega-rich, and everyone else is cast onto the scrap heap to contemplate what-on-earth went wrong. Little, it appears, exists in the in-between.

With the European elections just two weeks away the EU’s future is looking far from certain - the union is beset by crises and the resolve of its member states is being tested like never before. Much has changed since Europeans last took to the polls: Ukraine had its borders forcibly redrawn when an increasingly hawkish Russia invaded and annexed Crimea; global drought, poverty and violence drove record numbers of refugees to the shores of the Mediterranean; and China has continued its march as a formidable economic and political force. There has also been the small matter of Brexit and the emergence of a populist movement that has made electoral gains across the continent. The current moment, evidently, is one of flux, and the full implications of the transforming political landscape are still to be fully understood.

Along with a border wall and vague promises of greatness, one of Trump’s key campaign pledges was to bring back jobs to the American people. He situated himself, in contrast to Clinton, as the protector of the everyman, a mystical demographic that were at the mercy of the Chinese, their jobs being poached from right under their noses. His plan – as far as he ever articulated it – was predictably grandiose, and in part based on the resuscitation of the dying coal industry. The mines, he promised, would be brought back, en masse, bringing with them jobs and prosperity. His envisioned ‘greatness’ was to arrive accompanied by thick, black, environment-threatening, smog.

As a policy, support for Universal Basic Income (UBI) flouts traditional political and social lines, making unlikely bedfellows of those on both the right and left wing. Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg, free-market evangelist Milton Friedman, and firebrand economist Yanis Varoufakis all count among its high profile, and rather disparate, champions. With the help of their advocacy the initiative has entered into mainstream consciousness, and widespread political discussion of its implementation, in contrast to a few years ago, is now readily had. Gone are the days in which UBI was simply dismissed as an unattainable utopian concept.

The Brexit clock is now deafening, and the British political and media establishments seem utterly consumed by its inexorable ticking. In the public realm, little else is considered, even less discussed. And yet, despite this obsession, with just 42 days before Britain departs the European Union, negotiations for a withdrawal agreement remain in deadlock, and the hopes of breakthrough seem to be fading. At the core of the dispute is the Irish backstop and, by proxy, participation in a customs union. On both, neither the Conservatives nor Labour appears capable of sincere compromise, favouring, instead, a game of high-risk brinksmanship. The stakes: the future of the country. By using the approaching deadline as leverage, aimed to cow opposition, Prime Minister Theresa May is gambling, big. And at the point of writing, it's unclear who will hold their nerve. Without concessions being made, Britain will crash out of the EU with no deal, with World Trade Organisation (WTO) tariffs beckoning.