A new book methodically peels back the layers of China's statistical machine to provide new insights into the nation's burgeoning economy
For some, wading through Chinese economic data is like wrapping your head around the Talmud. The credibility of the data itself often invites skepticism from observers both inside and outside China. Yet there's little choice but to rely on the official numbers. And China's regular data dump in the middle of each month moves markets in a way that few countries can. If the market has little faith in Chinese statistics, then why all the focused attention? How does one make sense of Chinese data and its idiosyncrasies?
Many of the answers can be found in the eminently useful Understanding China's Economic Indicators, a new book from Tom Orlik, economic journalist/columnist for the Wall Street Journal. (According to his bio, Orlik has earned the unique distinction of having one of his essays on Chinese statistics be required reading by the National Bureau of Statistics staff.) This is not a "big argument" book on China, but one that methodically peels back the layers of the Chinese statistical machine to yield insights on what the data mean, how they're collected, and what the current shortcomings are. You want to know how the Chinese calculates GDP and fiscal revenue, that's chapter two. You want to know about the country's gold and foreign exchange reserves accumulation, flip to chapter five. Still don't quite understand the composition of China's consumer price index? Don't feel bad, no one really does, as you'll discover in chapter seven. This book is the story of a year with Chinese economic data.
I particularly liked the opening vignette that described a gaggle of Chinese and foreign journalists awaiting the announcement of the 2009 fourth quarter GDP. The anticipation was palpable, torturous seconds ticked by as each reporter is poised to pounce on the final revelation of the figure to phone back to their editors--the economic press in China is all cut-throat competition. And hallelujah, it's 10.7% year-over-year growth, which put the annual growth at 8.7%. Yes! China got the 8% it promised it would deliver at the beginning of the year. In Zhongnanahi, Wen Jiabao smiled and sipped some oolong tea (OK, I made up this last part). Sure, it is admittedly a tad bit nerdy, but in just the right way, especially if you're someone who's really into Chinese economic data (like moi).
So what of the credibility of Chinese data? Orlik takes a similar view to what I argued in response to Megan McArdle's dispatch last year that appeared more about highlighting Hayek than understanding how the Chinese stats system actually functioned. Orlik concludes:
The reality of China's economic data today is not the crude controlling hand of the Politburo dictating the GDP growth figure. It is an increasingly reliable and comprehensive set of economic indicators that remain compromised in some areas by the difficulty of measuring a rapidly changing economy, imperfect surveying methods, a recalcitrant sample set, and continued political sensitivity surrounding some numbers. The system is not perfect. Some data points are more reliable than others. But neither is it a farce. As shown by the mad scramble for the GDP data in the State Council Information Office and the bilions of dollars that are traded instantly on its release, the shortcomings in the data are no impediment to the market reaction.
China has certainly come a long way since the Great Leap Forward days, when complete fabrication of grain production volumes to serve political goals resulted in one of the worst man-made famines in modern history--a point that Orlik discusses at some length. Top policymakers and leaders now rely on numerous data to assess the economy and determine the best course for policy. The very realities of governing a large and dynamic economy requires much less tolerance for outright falsities. Of course, the statistics system still plays catch-up to an economy that is sprinting ahead of it, making the data far from perfect.
Some were surprised by one of the Wikileaks cables that caught Vice Premier Li Keqiang mocking his provincial-level GDP figures as unreliable. It shouldn't have been a surprise. Since the late 1990s, using electricity consumption as a proxy for economic activity has remained a fairly normal practice at both the central and local levels. Relying on "proxy indicators" for GDP growth is one way by which the central leaders counter what they know to be potential local-level doctoring--or "add water" (加水) in Chinese parlance--of their stats, leading to inflated GDP and other growth metrics. Orlik explains some of these proxies in detail.
One reason that electricity consumption has correlated relatively well with economic growth is because industry is by far the largest consumer of power, at perhaps 70 or 75%. As the last decade has been basically defined by China's hyper industrialization phase, capturing a large enough slice of industries--which are massive energy guzzlers--meant you had a rough, but imprecise, picture of the broader economy. The key question over the next decade is whether this correlation breaks down, as China aspires to restructure its economy toward a less industry-led growth model. That is indeed a major pillar of the 12th Five-Year Plan.
If China succeeds in the transition, I suspect Orlik will have to publish an updated edition of his guide to Chinese economic data.
Damien Ma is a fellow at the Paulson Institute, where he focuses on investment and policy programs, and on the Institute's research and think-tank activities. Previously, he was a lead China analyst at Eurasia Group, a political risk research and advisory firm.
In a new model of living, residents will have their own “microunits” built around a shared living space for cooking, eating and hanging out.
SYRACUSE—This office looks like a pretty typical co-working space, what with the guy with a ponytail coding in one corner, the pile of bikes clustered in another, and the minimalist desks spread across a light-filled room. Troy Evans opened this space, CoWorks, in a downtown building here in February.
Coworking is probably a familiar concept at this point, but Evans wants to take his idea a step further. On Friday, on the top two floors of the building, he’s starting construction on a space he envisions as a dorm for Millennials, though he cringes at the word “dorm.” Commonspace, as he’s calling it, will feature 21 microunits, which each pack a tiny kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and living space into 300-square-feet. The microunits surround shared common areas including a chef’s kitchen, a game room, and a TV room. Worried about the complicated social dynamics of so many Millennials in one living unit? Fear not, Evans and partner John Talarico are hiring a “social engineer” who will facilitate group events and maintain harmony among roommates.
In the age of the digital hermit, a psychologist explains what it means to avoid other people—and what to do about it.
People today might not actually be avoiding social interaction any more than they did in past decades, but they’re certainly more vocal about it. The rise of digital communication seems to be spawning a nation of indoor cats, all humble-bragging about how introverted they are and ordering their rides and groceries without ever talking to a human.
Sometimes reclusiveness can be a sign of something more serious, though. Social anxiety is one of the most common mental illnesses, but it’s still poorly understood outside of scientific circles. The good news is that it’s highly treatable, according to Stefan G. Hofmann, the director of the Social Anxiety Program at Boston University.
I recently talked with Hofmann about how social anxiety works and what people who feel socially anxious can do about it. An edited transcript of our conversation follows.
What do we actually know about the candidate’s health?
Cameras rolling, Manhattan gastroenterologist Harold Bornstein was confronted last week with a letter that carried his signature. In that letter, the writer “state[d] unequivocally” that Donald Trump “will be the healthiest individual ever elected to the presidency.”
Donald Trump would be the oldest individual ever elected to the presidency. He sleeps little and holds angry grudges. He purports to eat KFC and girthy slabs of red meat, and his physique doesn’t suggest any inconsistency in this. His health might be fine, but a claim to anything superlative feels off.
Bornstein might have jumped on that opportunity to get out of this mess—to say that Trump had dictated the letter, and Bornstein only signed it. Or that Trump had at least suggested phrases. Because it’s not just the facts of Trump’s life that don’t add up, but the linguistics of the letter.
Practices meant to protect marginalized communities can also ostracize those who disagree with them.
Last week, the University of Chicago’s dean of students sent a welcome letter to freshmen decrying trigger warnings and safe spaces—ways for students to be warned about and opt out of exposure to potentially challenging material. While some supported the school’s actions, arguing that these practices threaten free speech and the purpose of higher education, the note also led to widespread outrage, and understandably so. Considered in isolation, trigger warnings may seem straightforwardly good. Basic human decency means professors like myself should be aware of students’ traumatic experiences, and give them a heads up about course content—photographs of dead bodies, extended accounts of abuse, disordered eating, self-harm—that might trigger an anxiety attack and foreclose intellectual engagement. Similarly, it may seem silly to object to the creation of safe spaces on campus, where members of marginalized groups can count on meeting supportive conversation partners who empathize with their life experiences, and where they feel free to be themselves without the threat of judgment or censure.
The San Francisco quarterback has been attacked for refusing to stand for the Star Spangled Banner—and for daring to criticize the system in which he thrived.
It was in early childhood when W.E.B. Du Bois––scholar, activist, and black radical––first noticed The Veil that separated him from his white classmates in the mostly white town of Great Barrington, Massachusetts. He and his classmates were exchanging “visiting cards,” invitations to visit one another’s homes, when a white girl refused his.
“Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil. I had thereafter no desire to tear down that veil, to creep through; I held all beyond it in common contempt, and lived above it in a region of blue sky and great wandering shadows,” Du Bois wrote in his acclaimed essay collection, The Souls of Black Folk. “That sky was bluest when I could beat my mates at examination-time, or beat them at a foot-race, or even beat their stringy heads.”
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
In its early days, the first English settlement in America had lots of men, tobacco, and land. All it needed was women.
“First comes love, then comes marriage,” the old nursery rhyme goes, but historically, first came money. Marriage was above all an economic transaction, and in no place was this more apparent than in the early 1600s in the Jamestown colony, where a severe gender imbalance threatened the fledgling colony’s future.
The men of Jamestown desperately wanted wives, but women were refusing to immigrate. They had heard disturbing reports of dissension, famine, and disease, and had decided it simply wasn’t worth it. Consequently, barely a decade after its founding in 1607, Jamestown was almost entirely male, and because these men were unable to find wives, they were deserting the colony in droves.
An immediate influx of women was needed to save the floundering colony; its leaders suggested putting out an advertisement targeting wives. The women who responded to this marital request and agreed to marry unknown men in an unfamiliar land were in a sense America’s first mail-order brides.
People can get addicted to almost any product. Do manufacturers have a responsibility to stop them?
“A day doesn’t go by that I don’t see people come in with Q-tip-related injuries,” laments Jennifer Derebery, an inner-ear specialist in Los Angeles.
And yet there’s a scary warning on every box of Q-tips. It reads, “CAUTION: Do not enter ear canal. … Entering the ear canal could cause injury.” How is it that the one thing most people do with cotton swabs is also the thing manufacturers explicitly warn them not to do? It’s not just that people do damage to their ears, it’s that they keep doing damage.
Some even call it an addiction. On an online forum, Q-tip user associates ear swabbing with dependency: “How can I detox from my Q-tips addiction?” MADtv ran a classic sketch on a daughter having to hide Q-tip use from her parents like a junkie.
Fifteen years after the PBS show ended, the wisdom and empathy of its host persist in an unexpected place: advice columns.
In one of my favorite classic episodes of the PBS series Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, Fred Roger chats with Jeff Erlanger, an 11-year-old who used an electric wheelchair. After introducing the boy to viewers as his “friend,” Rogers asks straightforward and kind questions about Jeff’s life—his hobbies, his parents, his visits to the hospital—and patiently listens to his answers. Then he invites Jeff to sing the song, “It’s You I Like” with him. It’s an incredibly moving scene that showed young audiences the quiet power of respecting, valuing, and nurturing each person’s emotional world, no matter their age or background.
Rogers’s warmth and earnestness were hallmarks of his show, from the gentle manner in which he’d describe an ordinary experience like going to the doctor, to the way he’d handle more complicated emotions like jealousy or fear.Fifteen years after the last episode of Mister Rogers aired on August 31, 2001, its spirit of affirmation persists in excellent children’s pop culture, such as recent episodes of Sesame Street,Inside Out, and Kubo and the Two Strings.