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It’s the net tariff differential, stupid

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Free trade was never supposed to be the end-game

With the dust settling on tariffs, it is opportune to take a moment to consider the sheer scale of change ushered in by Trump on global trade since 2016, and especially with recent events. Trump’s policy is often confused by a vast amount of ‘noise’, which tends to undermine even his own news cycle (see the recent Iran nuclear facility bombing, for instance). Which is a shame, because he has almost entirely remade the landscape, and whether one supports or opposes the theory behind it, it seems irrevocable.

There have been two major components of this earthquake. First, Trump has instated and effectively normalised a global 10% tariff on all US imports, regardless of origin. As noted elsewhere, a ‘universal’ tool like this is by far the most efficient mechanism to charge the world a cost of doing business with America (a concept the youth of today will more easily liken to “gas fees” paid in the world of crypto). It has also raises the policy ‘baseline’ to a figure greater than zero, which I discuss below.

This baseline 10% has both more or less been accepted without reciprocation, by every major trading partner including the EU and China, regardless of vehement struggles over additional duties on top. Whether this 10% is the only tariff, like Britain, or whether it is just the minimum, like Japan and Korea who currently have 25%, the standard has been set and moreover will be very likely here to stay – any future US administration may renegotiate on specifics, but will almost certainly leave the baseline in place. It is now quite simply a fact of commercial life.

Secondly, there is China. Amidst all the turmoil (which may be part of a grand plan, but frankly who knows), Trump has continued his decade long trade strategy of increasing tariffs and daring China to fight back and contest who holds the most leverage. This bluff has been called several times, and has resulted in the US turning the net tariff differential (the principal measure of ‘success’ in any tariff strategy) in its favour for the first time in living memory.

US net tariff differential with China, 2016-2025


Sources: PIIE, underlying sources
Notes: 1. Trade-weighted tariff rates in 2016 were 8.0% on US exports to China vs 3.9%  on imports; 2. While the notional differential achieved in Phase I was -1.8%, in reality China unofficially suspended many import duties leading to a positive differential under Trump’s first administration; 3. 2025 forward numbers based on latest round of negotiations ending May 2025.

When Trump first emerged on the scene, the institutional trade nexus between the US and China, comprising both WTO and bilateral arrangements, was such that China imposed about 5% more duty on the US than vice versa. Liberal economists contended rather tritely that this was a price worth paying. Yet over the course of both the 2016-2020 presidency and now in his second term, this negative differential was first reduced and now into a major surplus. China, despite raising tariffs of its own, has acquiesced to the new normal that it must pay the US more than the US pays it, for trade. If anything can be considered a ‘win’, this is what it looks like.

In the meantime, we have seen no sign of the supposed economic slowdown as a consequence of the “trade wars” [sic]; there have been plenty of anecdotal examples of exporters eating the additional cost into their bottom lines; and after the initial volatility, the markets have settled down into a rally. Personally, I regard none of these as important for long term strategic reorientation, but among the breathless commentariat fainting at news from the bond markets, it seems to matter.

And what is the point of all this, might you ask? For me, on the subject of tariffs themselves, this policy has been a triumph of common sense. I have argued for years that the US and others needed to ramp up tariffs for several reasons.

One main consideration is that today’s global economy is no longer that of Ricardo’s. The applicability to free trade theory to a landscape of non-tariff barriers, unfungible services, and complexities of cross-border supply chains are extremely limited. Furthermore Ricardo assumed (as all economists tend to) agnostic counterparties motivated and constrained by economic incentives including public wealth and living standards; he did not factor in malevolent strategic actors who would happily pay a cost to bend a supposedly neutral system to their own agenda. Let us be in no doubt: if Ricardo were alive today, he would be pushing for trade tariffs.

Another outcome is the pushing back on the idiot savancy© which has led the technocratic classes to glorify “zero” targets – tariffs, interest rates, inflation, exchange volatility, even carbon emissions (though strangely not taxes or immigration). In most areas of public policy, however, zero is convenient for bureaucracy but wrong for the public. Low rates can occasionally be enjoyed as an output, not an input, but freedom to raise them are the safety valves required for cyclical management of the economy – sometimes you want inflation; sometimes you need currency devaluation. Tariffs, too, are a tool whose starting point (the ‘baseline’) needs room for manoeuvre both up and down – as a decade of near-zero interest rates have demonstrated, autistic ambitions hamstring policy tools needed to meet new challenges (I will write separately about this whole topic). So 10% or so suits the US quite nicely.

How tariffs will end up functioning is an unknown, due in part to how long OECD governments have allowed their muscles to atrophy in recent decades. And nothing scares technocrats more than the unknown. Yet beyond the anecdotal evidence of implementation, we also now know that the first round of Trump’s changes in 2018 led to substantial fiscal outcomes, with customs revenue doubling from US$35bn per year to US$70bn and well beyond.

Source: Bloomberg

This income is forecast to continue rising unless the economy tanks, but little sign of this. How the US government chooses to use this windfall is a separate matter, but the income certainly exists and one reason Biden chose to continue Trump’s tariff policy was that nobody wanted to look this gift horse in the mouth. While revenue raised is not central to the justification for tariffs, they offer an important lesson in how erroneous predictions on effects can be.

Most importantly of all, regardless of whether one supports increased trade protectionism or not (and I accept there are plenty of arguments to be had on either side), Trump continues to challenge the orthodoxy that such sharp directional changes are not even possible. Because for every protagonist arguing against the economics of tariffs, several more are usually hiding behind the sophistry that “he will never be able to do it, anyway”. These are the people cheering on the bond market turmoil or China’s retaliatory duties, unwilling to admit out loud that if it could be done, it might actually make sense for people, even at the cost of being vastly more inconvenient for the beneficiaries of globalisation.

As with defence or immigration, Trump has shown that none of these shibboleths are untouchable. The governing classes, while self-interested in keeping the policies of the last fifty years in place, has been surprisingly ineffective at stopping Trump from turning 180 degrees on tariffs or NATO or Iran, despite loudly arguing that it could “never be achieved”. So it turns out that the system, for better or worse, can be changed. Perhaps after all it is actually Trump who is living Obama’s best life, as he surveys the world around him and tells voters “yes, we can”.

Why commentators like Martin Wolf are still firmly thinking inside the box on China

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aging-population

China’s rise is not about following the conventional economic norms, and the reality is that an ageing population is probably better than a young one

China has always been a black box. For the whole of my professional life, companies (investment banks being amongst the worst) happily hire someone – anyone at all – who claims to know the Chinese market if they can make even a sliver of money. Consequently, these people are given free rein to build their own silos. For boards in London or New York, China remains “a faraway nation of whom we know nothing”. It is from this mysterious, exotic ignorance that reliably insightful commentators, from publications which should know better, produce some tired answers to tired questions. Sad to say, amongst them was a recent piece from Martin Wolf at the Financial Times titled The Future May Not Belong to China.

Now, the future may very well not belong to China. Much of what Wolf outlines from his Capital Economics report (rather too much from one source for my liking) is unarguably true: the over-investment, the under-consumption, the increasing corporate debt and reliance on exports. But they only change from fact to “problem” when seen through the same old prism of economic development. China though has been disrupting the whole framework through which one sees these issues, confounding a whole mini-industry of untiring China bears. Who can forget the inflation crisis of 2010 – 2011? The Chibor crisis in the summer of 2013? The stock market crisis in 2015? The capital outflow crisis over 2016 – 2017? In each of these and many others besides, China was to be “found out”; it never was, not because the facts were inaccurate but because the basis for observation by outsiders was so incomplete (although to be fair some of the facts were also inaccurate). The fact that the naysayers and doom-mongers have been consistently wrong may be a cheap point to make, but it is worth making nonetheless. The only laws of economics, it seems, are the ones amateur journalists derive from their undergraduate readings of Adam Smith, Ricardo and Keynes.

china bears

A non-exhaustive list of China bear headlines since 1990

However I would submit two additional unrelated and possibly more controversial theses. The first is that the way China encounters these perceived crises is actually a mark of its success in terms of being on a pathway to global power, rather than a failure. There is a reason why China encounters “difficulties” where Japan, during its own precipitous rise in the 1970s, did not: China is actively trying to change the world it is living in. These crises are the tremors generated by moving tectonic plates, as Chinese objectives grate against the rules and outcomes it is being measured against. Currency and capital flows, interest rates, debt and the banking system – these are all examples of Chinese policy that do not make macro-economic sense until you factor in that it wants to change the system and if it plays its cards right, it probably can. We are faced with the first occasion since the United States back in the 1840s, where the world may have to accommodate a new power, and accordingly the rules will change. For China, this friction is good.

japan china gdp

Source: The Economist (2010)

To run through just one example of this, let us look at capital outflows. The reason capital outflows seem like a “crisis” is that the Chinese government wants to control the currency rather than let it be determined by the market. To pay for this, it must use foreign exchange reserves to keep the exchange rate stable. This becomes a huge cost when the environment is weak – except that the reason China does this is to try and make the RMB a regionally accepted trade and reserve currency. This could be done through just trade alone, but in China’s case it will also be done through the crypto-imperialism of the Belt & Road and other initiatives. If it succeeds, it will both eat into America’s ability to project power through the dollar, as well as ultimately encourage greater consumption of Chinese-made goods which in turn once again brings capital flows back into balance. It is a risky and expensive, all-or-nothing gamble; but unlike merely acquiescing into the current world system, if it succeeds it will have changed the regional financial and trade landscape. A price, some would say, worth paying.

The second thesis focuses on the cliché that China may be facing the middle income trap – that it may “get old before it gets rich”. This is typically paired with the curiously British trait of enthusiasm for India as an alternative story. Yet I would argue that with the coming of automation, China is actually on the right side of history on this and that far from fearing age, the adage should be turned on its head: for many comparable countries it is youth, not age, which will be a great peril; and these countries may be too young to ever get rich.

We have for some decades been fed the neoliberal trope that a younger population is good for the economy, and that pursuit of youth, through birthrates or immigration, is a Good Thing. Yet we are fast approaching the point where this notion is being exposed, because automation is actually a process which will eat into youth employment rather than any other. China’s workforce is actually declining and has been for some years, just in time for robots to start taking over.

The process of classic industralisation is just one of various models for a country to develop. But in this particular model, families can contribute labour rather than capital in order to obtain greater earnings, and thereby over time accumulate household assets. For many countries though, this industrialisation may never now be possible. The Economist noted as much when opining that the pathway of development exhibited by the China + ASEAN axis is probably irreplicable by anyone else including markets in Africa and South America. Goods may be manufactured in some of these economies, but it will be robots that do most of it and young median households will never cross either the asset-owning or educational thresholds required to survive automation before it hits.

Now, it may be that these countries find other models to become rich, but I doubt it. Agriculture or resource extraction will be possible for only a precious few. The mercantile model is not stable or sustainable. Services, as we have seen, actually produce a lower return on labour than industrialization does since jobs are often of a lower quality. In any case one of the stark lessons of 2016 was the fact that in 29 out of 50 states in the US, trucking was the single most common form of employment – and this, more so than manufacturing, is where automation will first hit.

us job types

Source: NPR (2015)

The fact is that to weather automation, median family assets need to reach a critical mass enough to be “invested” into the economy such that they can be gainers from robot productivity rather than victims. The most obvious if questionable form of asset-ownership would be home-ownership, but in an ideal world it would take other forms. China’s urban population has just about caught this train (financial income growth has far outstripped wage growth in recent years), but younger populations in India or Vietnam may not make it. Young people inevitable have fewer assets having had less time to earn; if their family does not reach this critical automation-neutralising financial position, they face eternal unemployment. OECD economies mitigate this conundrum somewhat through welfare transfers, but welfare is another privilege of long term asset accumulation by Society – a privilege emerging markets do not have. It is a race against time and any country that fails to achieve this will be left without a chair when the music stops.

In this context, I have little time for those who argue, as Wolf does, that India is “the most interesting other economy” (Americans I have noticed, tend to use Vietnam as their preferred example). As one of my friends commented, “the human race will probably be extinct before India has an airport like Pudong”. Taken individually, each of these points (China’s extra-economic rise and youth being a greater concern than age) have huge implications about the rules and framework for emerging market development theory. Taken together however, they may represent a perfect storm which leading to an inflection point in global economic development. In this case, being wedded to the old ideas, commentators like Wolf are probably missing it.

The End of Entrepôts – why the future is big, not small

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Lugard

Photo: Lord Lugard with the Legco in 1909

It is one of the most oft-repeated fallacies in modern politics that the future is destined to be ever smaller and fragmented. One only has observe the fetishization of breakaway movements such as Scotland or Catalonia and hear the accompanying, knowing murmurs telling us that in political terms at least, atomization is the way of the future – small is beautiful. Some still reach further back, summoning up the collapse of the Soviet Union as proof that all large entities must collapse.

This is completely at odds with reality, on a number of levels. First, recent history has, far from being driven by a narrative of devolution, instead been dominated by the rise of “big countries” which in turn are resurrecting their own brand of Great Power relations. The corresponding decline in relevance of smaller entities is pronounced – most noticeably in the shape of individual European nations which have seen their weight fall off considerably. The 2010 Copenhagen agreement, where Obama sidelined the Europeans to reach straight for emerging giants, was an early sign of this; the gradual extinction of the Quadrilateral in determining trade policy was another.

Indeed in my 2013 paper on China and multilateralism, I noted that the world is if anything heading towards a new “community of empires”, with both the foreign and domestic policies of China, Brazil and India joining the US and Russia in pursuing an unrelentingly imperial logic. In response, those outside of their orbit are banding together to form what are prima facie trade blocs, but which are in reality the beginnings of something much more. Whether the European Union, ASEAN or Mercosur, nation-states are ceding sovereignty slowly but surely for the express purpose of aggregating their power in the world beyond. Even in unexpected corners of functioning humanity such as East Africa, union is the name of the game. Status and size do not have a linear correlation; as one reaches critical mass, the relationship becomes exponential. A power ten times as large as its neighbours is far more than ten times as important.

At the heart of this is a simple thesis: in the long run, the power of any country will be determined by the size of its population (with a shared identity – more of that another time), somewhat adjusted for a country’s natural resource base. In the long run, all else is mere noise. Yes, certain countries or civilisations may exercise disproportionate power for a period of time, even centuries. This can have any number of causes but often it is because of temporary technological disparities – temporary because in the long run, all technology will permeate meaning that we arrive back at where we started: population. Any vision of a world where the largest population blocks are not the most important countries must be premised on a smaller, more nimble country actively and exploitatively keeping larger population blocks subject. This was a kernel of much of European colonialism of the 19th century (which should not be conflated with a general model of imperialism exercised in human history).

Now in the long run, as Keynes says, we are all dead. So does it matter? I would say yes it does, particularly for those living in and around the rising powers of Asia such as China, Indonesia and to a lesser extent, India. Because some of these changes are no longer concerns for the long term, but coming to maturity now.

One lesson is this: the age of entrepôts such as Hong Kong and Singapore is fast coming to an end. In the future, there will be no space for such outposts any longer, at least in their current form. This is because the very existence of such centres is a lingering post-colonial legacy, based on an economic system that is now no longer extant. City-states like Singapore thrive because they are a form of offshoring, and the offshoring they offer is reaching the end of its useful life.

We should be crystal clear that offshoring has two forms: there is offshoring for work a country does not want to do, and offshoring for work it cannot do. On the one hand, there is what we classically understand as “offshoring” where one jurisdiction offers a cheaper way of producing goods and services for a richer one – offshoring from below. Textiles in Bangladesh fall into this, as does the core of China’s economic rise during the 1990s and 2000s. The second form is what hubs such as Hong Kong, Singapore, Dubai and even London offer to an extent – offshoring  from above. They provide capabilities that other poorer, less developed countries cannot do themselves.

The problem is that much of the world is catching up. There is precious little that can be done in Hong Kong today that cannot be done in China; yet Hong Kong really only exists to serve the Chinese economy, much as some lament its progress to becoming “just another” Chinese port. Singapore is safer for the moment, but it is still implausible to imagine that Malaysia, much less Indonesia, will allow the island to remain an offshoring hub for high value-added industries such as finance. As with China, they will end up doing everything themselves. The post-colonial legacy of substantially inadequate skills and infrastructure will be bridged, if not today, then tomorrow. At that point, the city-states will have precious little left. This is a problem not faced by Bangladesh – but then no-one wants to be Bangladesh. There is a reason why entrepôts barely exist in the OECD and if they do, they service a tiny, marginal sliver of their neighbours’ economic life as Jersey or the British Virgin Islands do. It is because there is no room at the top.

Britain suffers from many of the same issues. Plenty have lauded the supposed rebirth of the British automotive industry, and in a few instances, this is well justified. But for every Aston Martin or Morgan, where real value-add and R&D is achieved in the UK, there is a far bigger presence of Nissan or Toyota. The latter however, are essentially a little Bangladesh model – investment into the UK occurs not because of any inherent capabilities, but because we are marginally cheaper and have fewer regulatory restrictions (unionization etc) than regional neighbours. This is not much of a national dream.

The other side of the UK is that of the entrepôt. Here I am referring to her services exports – but not the headline-grabbing financial services sector, which will be pretty easily replicable elsewhere, but rather industries such as advertising, publishing, design and architecture which are more genuinely unique. And one can tell that they are unique, since whereas the UK can barely export any financial services to the big empire economies of the US or China, it sells large quantities of stylish design. The problem is, this is nowhere near enough to support an independent UK – the idea of the UK becoming a “Singapore of Europe” is beyond fanciful, as I have noted before.

Singapore has been conspicuous in how strongly it clings to and pushes for ASEAN. And the reason is clear: if ASEAN does not succeed in binding the region together, Singapore will soon have nothing to offer its larger neighbours. Only a union of sorts will allow it to continue holding a position of import. Hong Kong’s commercial residents have long acquiesced to the fact that it will have to be another Chinese city, albeit one offering some special rules and playing a specific role. Hong Kong’s flagship airline’s troubles reflect the decline of hub-and-spoke trade in favour of point-to-point, and are a microcosm of how the whole economy is developing. Dubai will play off the inability of regional giants to pull their weight (Iran, Egypt and Turkey) but if and when they do, it too will face the same problems of reinvention.

But the old model of “Singapore” is a complacent and condescending anachronism – and those pushing the model for countries like Britain are living a sheer fantasy.

Explaining the Umbrella and Sunflower protests

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As a brief follow-on from my previous piece on Taiwan, I have done a quick and dirty analysis on what is driving youth discontent in Greater China, and specifically what has arisen in Hong Kong and Taiwan in recent years.

In this single chart, I believe I capture what I would call the “aspiration deficit” in being a young person in these two jurisdictions today. Here I have calculated the house pricing and rental in key cities as a multiple of graduate starting salaries.

Graduate salaries

Sources:

  1. Graduate salaries for PRC cities from Baidu News, as per 2017
  2. Graduate salary for Hong Kong from SCMP, as per 2016
  3. Graduate salary for Taiwan from Taipei Times, as per 2016
  4. House price and rental data from Knight Frank Greater China Property Market Report Q3 2017, based on Luxury Residential

The caveats: this is not designed to give any sort of rule of thumb about how long it takes to save for a flat, or how much is used up of income to pay for rent. I may even come up with a better methodology going forward – if the data allows. Instead, this exercise is simply a measure of what pressure there is on the dreams of those who newly come onto the job market, having been promised that their four years at university would lead them to a better life. This is why the luxury Residential market is I think an adequate metric on which to judge.

What is shows is quite how desperate prospects are for many of those in Hong Kong and Taiwan. Their earnings are stagnant, yet house pricing is going up. Welfare is better than in China, but the infrastructure is beginning to creak. The idea of looking after themselves – let alone looking after their parents – seems distant; and of course having children in this environment is ever less appetising. This is perhaps the single largest contributor to the upheavals experienced from students and other youth in the Umbrella and Sunflower movements – and it explains why so many young people see their future in China or elsewhere abroad.

To bring this back to politics, I wrote some time ago on the problems Beijing has had in relying on local tycoons to press their case in Hong Kong:

“… less obvious has been how housing prices are preventing young local Hong Kong residents from starting lives properly, and in this as with much else the fault lies in a government that has existed to serve the tycoons – let us call them the Oligarchs – instead of the people. Beijing has been complicit in this since it decided to use the Oligarchs as a shortcut towards legitimacy after the handover. In colonial times, many tycoons were respected by locals as examples of being able to escape the unspoken racial glass ceiling, but since 1997 these Oligarchs have gone on to really take local people for a ride. Beijing is now paying the price for siding with the rich against the poor for so long. There is a limited amount of time that this can continue before Beijing must begin to change sides.“

The same, in a sense, is true of Taiwan, where the big business lobby has been allowed to get rich off mainland China, repatriate their earnings and create asset bubbles in Taiwan that put home ownership increasingly beyond the reach of locally based graduates. It is a death spiral for aspiration – and it is this, much more than any real impact on living standards – which diminishes the legitimacy of any regime.

China is reinventing the equity markets – and Britain’s aspirations are shrinking

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First, the exposition:

  1. Exuberance for equity as a class of investment reflects how confident a given society is in their future; preference for fixed income indicates the opposite
  2. China has been reinventing the equity markets for some time now, becoming the first country since the rise of the US to really have the risk appetite for it
  3. In doing so it is breaking the convention of maturing countries in the region (Japan, Korea, Taiwan) as well as ageing civilisations such as Europe
  4. As with so much else, China is the new America

The above can be seen in a number of ways. Consider this: despite the scare stories about rising Chinese debt, it is in fact equity (both institutional and private capital) which has mostly funded fixed asset investment in recent years – averaging 66% over the last decade versus just 52% over the decade before. Anecdotally too, we know that all around us in China new startups have no problems accessing micro-equity from friends and family for the most spurious of businesses.

Self-raised funding as a % of fixed asset investment in China, 1995 – 2016

Self-raised funds.png

Source: National Bureau of Statistics

Note: the NBS splits out five categories of funding for FAI, namely Government Budgetary Funds, Domestic Loans, Foreign Investment, Self-Raising Funds and Other Funds. It is reasonable to assume that Self-Raising Funds constitutes equity investment, and that a portion of Foreign Investment may also do.

Likewise, institutional equity and equity linked investments account for a higher proportion of Chinese asset allocation than their East Asian peers – and are more reminiscent of the US in approaching 60% of allocations. Conservative Japan and Korea are the reverse. Small wonder then, that annual stock turnover in China is far higher than other markets (around 5.0x compared to c. 1.5x in the US, Korea and Japan) given the limited supply of listed equity.

Equity proportion of total non-cash household financial assets, 2016

China vs peers portfolio allocation.png

Source: Goldman Sachs Investment Research, 2016

Again, this reflects the fundamentals of not only an economy, but the society on which it sits. Buoyant equity markets reflect confidence not just in business, but in the system and the role of a country in the world. This is especially true when we think about equity provided by the retail markets, either through stock markets, or its proxies, or through earlier stage funding such as seed and venture funding where China is now the world’s second largest market. The basic principle is that when tomorrow seems like it will be better than today, people will gamble.

China still has a long way to go, of course. Its stock market capitalization per capita at c. US$6,000, still lags its peers and is just one thirteenth that of the US (and no, PPP is not appropriate here). Its private equity market, though already Asia’s largest, still has some way to catch up also at only one-third of North America. Nonetheless, China seems to be well placed to pick up the baton from the US of driving the whole culture of equity and all its attendant benefits.

And it matters. The point about equity is not just that it is one source of funding, but rather that it is a source of long-term funding and seeding for growth. A country that begins preferring fixed income to equity is giving up on its future, but also giving up on the idea of being a leader in innovation and technology. It is no coincidence that America has been the world’s great equity proponent for the last century and the cradle of  most technology; or that China is following in its footsteps. These are the hallmarks of “big countries” that make their own rules and are a force in the world.

On the other hand, a country like the UK should be very worried indeed: equity in portfolio allocations has declined alarmingly from well before the 2008 crisis. This reflects some ageing – but the ageing profile is less severe than many of its neighbours. Rather, I believe it reflects a psychological retreat from aspiration.

Changes in broad strategic asset allocation for UK plans, 2003 – 2017

UK asset allocations

Source: Mercer European Asset Allocation Survey 2017

This, much more than Brexit or the reduction of blue water navy capacity, indicates the decline of British aspirations. On a recent podcast, someone asked “but how close is China to really producing an Apple?”; the curt reply came, “how close is Britain?”, alluding to the even greater absurdity of such a prospect. If this continues, Britain will certainly no longer be a “big country”.

Private equity with Chinese characteristics

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Elsewhere, I intend to reflect on my pet theme that China is reinventing – and indeed single-handedly resurrecting – equity as an asset class. In my opinion, this reflects an underlying self-confidence and correlates with the emergence of other equity cultures such as the Netherlands in the 18th century, England / Britain in the 19th and America in the 20th century, in contrast to the contemporary Japans, Koreas and Taiwans of this world.

In the meantime, developments in Chinese private equity are also worth noting. For a start, when we talk about private equity in Asia ex-Japan, we are effectively talking about just one country: the PE market in Greater China reached US$222bn in 2016, whereas SE Asia combined only managed US$37bn. The ASEAN region has not yet emerged as a market of material scale.

However the prevailing orthodoxies of PE in China are also showing that the market will not come to simply resemble OECD behavior. As many observers will know, Chinese funds operate in a grey area between classic private equity and venture capital, and sometimes throw in an element of special situations or even hedge funds to boot. This comes through in the types of deals that are done – whereas conventional buyouts still account for almost 80% of the N American market, in China this is just 20%. Instead, growth capital and PIPEs account for a much larger chunk, itself revealing that PE funds typically take smaller stakes in Chinese targets and rarely buy the whole company.

Asian private equity deals by type (2012 – 2016)

PE by type

Source: AVCJ and Prequin via Bain Asia Pacific Private Equity Report 2017

Why is this? There are a number of reasons which play a part:

  1. Stage of development – the simple point that in a high growth market, sellers may be younger and in any case desire to have a greater piece of the future upside that a company might yet deliver. It also means that there is less appetite for use of debt in the transaction.
  2. Exit liquidity – by far the biggest problem PE funds have had in emerging markets is a clear pathway to exit. Recent turmoil in the Chinese stock markets for instance cause a lower risk appetite for funds, who may find it easier to sell a stake than to shepherd the company to IPO.
  3. Control issues – perhaps the most important matter, PE funds do not always have the confidence to take a company over completely since they will be susceptible to the vagaries of China country risk. A partner of some sort often seems necessary to keep a company functioning the way it has been historically.
  4. LP involvement – this leads neatly to the preponderance of strategic investors who exist in the market, and who it is better to work with than against. LP involvement in deals stands at 29% in APAC and an enormous 57% of deals over US$1bn, compared to a global average of just 17%.

LP involvement in transactions

LP involvement

Source: Bain Asia Pacific Private Equity Report 2017

So where does all this leave us? In my mind, there are a range of different players in the Chinese PE market, and they fulfill a range of roles. On the one hand, there are the classic international players, but often these are not capable of realistically doing a deal on their own without some sort of local partner angle. On the other end of the scale, you have the very Chinese funds who retain many of the classic characteristics of Chinese business ambiguity in their dealings – at times almost seemingly linked to the state. In between you have the good stuff – the international firms who have really localized and look and smell like Chinese funds; and the few local funds who have really made an effort to westernize in their business practices, if not their focus.

Here, purely subjectively based on my own experience, is an overview of the landscape of funds in and around China:

Chinese PE.png

This will cause many an argument, I am sure. But I have tried think about ways of reflecting the degree of “localisation” too. The best I could come up with involving an excel spreadsheet was to analyse where these funds were keeping their staff – the more onshore, the more localised they might be supposed. The results were interesting if not conclusive:

PE by office.png

Source: company websites

Warburg Pincus and Blackstone represent good counterpoints. Warburg is by common consensus one of the most successful foreign funds in China, and its staffing reflects this since more than half of the Asia employees are based in Beijing and Shanghai. This reflects the 26 Greater China deals they have done against the 4 in ASEAN. Blackstone on the other hand, prefer to hub-and-spoke out of Hong Kong (a business model which has had its day, as I have written before). Their deal count is correspondingly lower. It need not be added that sheer numbers of staff can help, but only if they are the right staff in the right places.

The lesson of all this is simple: China will be a very large, profitable private equity market, but it will do so on its own terms. As with much else, assuming that China will develop along the lines of its OECD counterparts is a recipe for disaster. Whilst it has some of the framework for creating a functioning market, the behavior will be totally different. Foreign participants will have a role, but they will have to adapt. This will be, as Deng Xiaoping said, private equity “with Chinese characteristics”; but perhaps we can also add, it does not matter if it is a local cat or a foreign cat, as long as it catches deals?

Why Chinese firms have a succession problem

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Chinese society has long produced family business empires. A quick glance at any list of Asian tycoon families show them to be omnipresent, whether in Hong Kong and Taiwan or the further flung diaspora in SE Asia – including in Thailand and Indonesia where Chinese surnames have become so mutated as to be almost unrecognizable. It is not just Kwoks, Kweks and Lees, but the Hartonos and the Chearavanonts who are furthering traditional Chinese family values.

Everywhere that is, except China. It is fascinating to consider what is likely to happen on the Mainland over the next two decades, when the first generation of post-Deng businessmen finally start to retire. Many have noted the succession crisis facing these companies for some time; empirically, I have yet to meet a single 富二代 who has any intention at all of managing their parents’ business after their retirement. It is not just personal experience, either: a recent PwC survey showed some startling numbers contrasting modern China with its overseas counterparts.

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Source: PwC Family Business Survey (2016)

Fewer than one in five Chinese entrepreneurs surveyed indicated that they intended to pass down the business. This compares with somewhat higher numbers in Singapore, higher again in Malaysia and Hong Kong (c. 40%) and far less than in the most directly comparable jurisdiction, Taiwan. Here, almost three fifths of families want their children to take over – and indeed, they have already gone through one or more generational handover.

Why is this? The obvious point to make is that, as with so many other aspects, China will not be following any known development paths. But there are probably a few more specific reasons too.

First, there is the entire structure of the economy and the perceived pathway towards exit. Speaking to SMEs, many will tell you that their end game is to list the company, which is true as far as it goes. But the more important point is that they see the government as the likely ultimate inheritors of any important business, either officially or unofficially. In this sense, the incentive for dynasticism is limited and becomes less relevant the more successful a venture becomes. Instead, monetization remains the key aspiration.

Secondly, there is the creeping issue of inheritance laws. Again, we have yet to see the first real fortunes and large scale asset inheritances being tested in the Chinese legal system and anecdotally, it is notable that increasingly numbers of the Chinese middle classes have ceased to give birth abroad, fearing what the implications might be when largely domestic legacies come to be divided up under Chinese law. For companies which have now been successfully “domesticated” through policies such as a stringent foreign exchange regime, this becomes the same question writ large.

Most intriguingly of all though is the prospect of meaningful cultural change. Overseas Chinese families have an unbending sense of filial piety even today, with many younger generations taking over family businesses despite not wanting to. Modern China, post the Cultural Revolution and factoring in the One Child Policy, much less so. Furthermore, children educated in western business schools clash with their parents over management style. And for many, the rapid change in the Chinese economy means that their parents’ businesses are just too damned unsexy, as one observer notes:

The transition is particularly evident in the manufacturing industry; many children who are educated abroad shun the manufacturing sector and prefer to seek opportunities in finance and other ‘cool’ areas. Fortune Generation estimates more than 65 per cent of children whose parents own manufacturing businesses don’t want to be involved in the industry.

Why put the hours in, when you could use your parents money for funding the latest absurd tech startup?

However whilst this is all bad news for champions of Chinese traditions and parents who want to see more of their children, this does mean an impending surge of opportunities for  investors. It seems those PE funds really ought to be speaking first and foremost to the sprawling private wealth arms of the investment banks, rather than their corporate finance people.

The Handover Hangover – Britain and Hong Kong in the age of the New Normal

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HK handover

The British media, between the endless coverage of the debacle that is Brexit, the May government and the spectre of Jeremy Corbyn, recently managed to find a little time for soul-searching over Hong Kong, on the twentieth anniversary of the 1997 handover. The hand-wringing tone over whether Britain had let the people of Hong Kong led the Guardian for instance to note that:

“Theresa May’s government faces a choice between upholding legal principle and democratic values, and its chronic post-Brexit need for Chinese trade and business at any price. No prizes, or yellow umbrellas, for predicting which way May and Johnson will jump.”

The torturous link to contemporary politics aside, these op-eds convey a tone of unfulfilled potential. Chris Patten weighed in with his own personal laments over what has slowly occurred since , self-flagellating over Chinese encroachment of the former colony.

Yet much of this seems rooted in misconceptions that still seem to pervade the British establishment. For a start, the very act of suggesting that Britain should “do something” about still hints, however much denied, that she is in a position to do so. This is unrealistic not only because of the relative imbalance but also the distance and relevance of the two countries, notwithstanding the occasional bravura peeks through, wishfully claiming that “China needs Britain more than Britain needs China“. This mismatch is true politically, culturally, socially and above all, economically.

In cold economic terms, it is not only the the imbalance that demonstrates relative strength – China incurred a US$37.6bn trade surplus in 2016 for instance – but also mutual insignificance. According to data, Britain is only China’s 9th largest trading partner, accounting for just 2.7% of Chinese exports, far from enough to move the psychological needle. Compare this with Germany, for whom the UK constitutes 7.1% of exports, or even the US at 3.8%. Britain and China are simply not that relevant to each other. China matters slightly more to the UK than vice versa, accounting for 4.4% of her exports (and arguably Chinese consumption of British goods such as high end cars is less easily replicable than in the other direction), but it is still not much of a basis for negotiations or threats.

Moreover, there appears to be a parochial misunderstanding about Hong Kong’s destiny as “just another Chinese city”. Critics will say that social and political life are not the same as economic life; to that I would say one necessarily follows the other. Consider a recent piece in the Financial Times about how the Hong Kong has changed since 1997. Two visuals stand out:

Hong Kong is increasingly no longer a regional hub but more of a China port. Yet this is not just a function of being on China’s doorstep, or even of China’s desire to integrate Hong Kong as some might imagine; it is rather a consequence of the fact that the old colonial entrepot model of corporate imperialism in Asia is gone. China is a self-sustaining economy of critical mass. The days of being able to “do” China from offshore, are as absurd as believing one can cover the US from London or Toronto. This is beginning to apply to other countries too, particularly Indonesia but also Thailand and increasingly, Malaysia. The concept of largely expat financiers and traders sitting in the comfort of the Victoria harbourfront whilst servicing these jurisdictions is faintly ridiculous; and this is a global emerging markets trend.

Asia has changed. The era when its leadership still had links with their former colonial rulers, such as the Cambridge-educated Lee Kwan Yew to Britain, is over. A telling moment was the closing in 2009 of the much-loved Far Eastern Economic Review, a deeply socio-political publication inhabiting a world where Asian leaders and western discourse still understood each other. Today, nothing could be further from the truth – as countries like China pass the “peak export” phase of their development cycle, their economies and leadership are inevitably more introspective. Each country must be engaged from a truly domestic perspective and cities like Hong Kong, and to an extent Singapore, are less relevant. There is nothing Britain can or should do about this.

At least Hong Kong, despite its comparative decline, still has a future bound up with a single large power. Singapore will soon come to find that its position as a safe haven for Indonesian and Malaysian investment and private wealth is under a more serious threat – which has led to their driving ambition behind ASEAN. London, in the end, will probably feel these winds of change too.