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Stark link between obesity and Covid deaths revealed | Financial Times
Stark link between obesity and Covid deaths revealed
Nine out of 10 deaths from coronavirus have occurred in countries with high obesity levels, according to World Health Organization-backed research that sets out the stark correlation between excessive weight and lives lost to the disease.
The study from the World Obesity Federation (WOF), which represents scientists, medical professionals and researchers from more than 50 regional and national obesity associations, showed mortality rates were 10 times higher where at least 50 per cent of the population was overweight.
It offers fresh insight into why people in some countries die at far greater rates after catching the virus than in others.
Age has been seen as the biggest predictor for severe outcomes, which has led to priority being given to older people in most countries' Covid-19 vaccine rollouts. But the WOF said its report "shows for the first time that overweight populations come a close second". It is now calling for this group to be prioritised for immunisation.
Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, WHO director-general, said the report "must act as a wake-up call to governments globally" to tackle obesity.
Analysis of both the latest mortality data from Johns Hopkins University, and the WHO Global Health Observatory data on obesity, demonstrated that 2.2m of the 2.5m global deaths were in countries with high levels of obesity.
Scientists have sought to understand the difference in death rates between Asian and western countries, as well as low income and high-income countries. The WOF suggests the discovery of the "common denominator" of obesity is an important part of the explanation.
Tim Lobstein, senior policy adviser to the WOF and the report's author, said death rates were 10 times higher in countries where more than 50 per cent of the population were overweight. The increase in national death rates where countries exceeded the threshold of 50 per cent of population overweight was "dramatic".
The report, released ahead of world obesity day on Thursday, did not find a single example of a country where less than 40 per cent of the population was overweight having high death rates. On the other hand, no country with high death rates — at least 100 per 100,000 — had less than 50 per cent of its population overweight.
Vietnam, for example, has the lowest recorded death rate in the world and the second lowest level of overweight people: just 0.04 per 100,000 deaths from Covid-19 and 18.3 per cent of adults overweight, according to WHO data. In contrast, the UK has the third highest death rate in the world and the fourth highest obesity rate, at 184 deaths per 100,000 and 63.7 per cent of adults overweight. It is followed by the US with about 152 deaths per 100,000 and almost 68 per cent obese. Tedros said: "The correlation between obesity and mortality rates from Covid-19 is clear and compelling." Investment in public health and co-ordinated, international action was needed to tackle the root causes of obesity, he added, as "one of the best ways for countries to build resilience in health systems post-pandemic". Lobstein, visiting professor at the University of Sydney and a former WHO adviser, said governments had failed to tackle obesity over many years despite UN targets. Yet Covid-19 was only the latest infection exacerbated by weight issues: "We have seen it in the past with Mers, H1N1 and other respiratory diseases," he added. The report also made an economic argument for action to control obesity, saying the costs of locking down societies to prevent health services being overrun "could have been significantly mitigated if governments had tackled population weight issues before the pandemic". Of the $28tn projected by the IMF as the global cost in lost economic output worldwide up to 2025, "at least $6tn will be directly attributable to the issue of populations living with excess weight", it argued.
Bridging east-west differences in the EU | Financial Times
https://www.ft.com/content/414d98b9-797c-4d8f-b448-71c87cc00426
Bridging east-west differences in the EU Common values and interests can draw Europe together THE EDITORIAL BOARD Add to myFT Poland's Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki (L) and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban (R) chat at the start of a two-day EU summit, in Brussels, last month © Olivier Hoslet/Pool/EPA-EFE/Shutterstock Share on Twitter (opens new window) Share on Facebook (opens new window) Share on LinkedIn (opens new window) Share Save The editorial board YESTERDAY 38 Print this page Despite the health and economic costs of the pandemic, the EU ended 2020 in better shape than was feared early in the year. Leaders of the bloc's 27 countries struck a deal on its 2021-2027 budget. They will launch a recovery fund that breaks new ground by letting the EU borrow on financial markets for the purpose of assisting needy countries with grants and loans. The 27 overcame differences to set the ambitious target of cutting greenhouse gas emissions to 55 per cent of 1990 levels by 2030. Finally, the election of Joe Biden as US president in place of Donald Trump promises to lower the curtain on what were the most difficult four years in transatlantic relations since the end of the second world war. These successes should not disguise the fact that, in one area fundamental to the EU's long-term prospects, tensions and misunderstandings persist. This is the relationship between the bloc's old western European states and its newer members from central and eastern Europe. In matters such as the rule of law, liberal democracy, corruption, migration and gender policies, impatience and resentment are growing in certain circles on both sides. Several steps are needed to address the problem. The first is to dispense with the mental map of Europe which divides the continent into two halves, as if nothing has changed since the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Such a map encourages western Europeans to see themselves as guardians of a more advanced order, as in the era when the east languished under communism. But it makes central and eastern Europeans, including many critical of political illiberalism and corruption in their countries, feel that they are often on the receiving end of high-minded lectures from the west. In reality, governments and peoples on both sides have a profound interest in making a success of what they share in common. This includes eurozone membership, which unites 19 countries from west and east. It covers security and defence policy, where most EU states are members of Nato. Harder questions concern EU values and national sovereignty. Western European governments are right to insist on the primacy of democratic norms and the rule of law, for the corrosion of these values risks turning over time into an existential threat to the EU's unity. Yet sometimes their actions amount to less than their words. A case in point is the protection afforded by leading western politicians in the centre-right European People's party to central and eastern leaders who fail to uphold EU values. It remains to be seen whether the compromise which the 27 agreed in early December on linking disbursement of recovery funds to observance of the rule of law will be an effective mechanism or an unsatisfactory fudge. But it will need to be more than a western stick with which to beat the east. The record of some western European countries on corruption and the rule of law is not unblemished. The more coherent the westerners' message on EU values, the more they will give heart to millions of people in central and eastern Europe who yearn for improvements in the quality of public life. Yet westerners should keep in mind that, for many central and eastern Europeans, national independence is no abstract concept. Its recovery after 1989 was a prized achievement after decades of dictatorship and foreign oppression. The year 2021 can and should be the time when each side tries harder to understand each other and co-operate on the basis of common interests and values.
Bridging east-west differences in the EU | Financial Times
Bridging east-west differences in the EU Common values and interests can draw Europe together THE EDITORIAL BOARD Add to myFT Poland's Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki (L) and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban (R) chat at the start of a two-day EU summit, in Brussels, last month © Olivier Hoslet/Pool/EPA-EFE/Shutterstock Share on Twitter (opens new window) Share on Facebook (opens new window) Share on LinkedIn (opens new window) Share Save The editorial board YESTERDAY 38 Print this page Despite the health and economic costs of the pandemic, the EU ended 2020 in better shape than was feared early in the year. Leaders of the bloc's 27 countries struck a deal on its 2021-2027 budget. They will launch a recovery fund that breaks new ground by letting the EU borrow on financial markets for the purpose of assisting needy countries with grants and loans. The 27 overcame differences to set the ambitious target of cutting greenhouse gas emissions to 55 per cent of 1990 levels by 2030. Finally, the election of Joe Biden as US president in place of Donald Trump promises to lower the curtain on what were the most difficult four years in transatlantic relations since the end of the second world war. These successes should not disguise the fact that, in one area fundamental to the EU's long-term prospects, tensions and misunderstandings persist. This is the relationship between the bloc's old western European states and its newer members from central and eastern Europe. In matters such as the rule of law, liberal democracy, corruption, migration and gender policies, impatience and resentment are growing in certain circles on both sides. Several steps are needed to address the problem. The first is to dispense with the mental map of Europe which divides the continent into two halves, as if nothing has changed since the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Such a map encourages western Europeans to see themselves as guardians of a more advanced order, as in the era when the east languished under communism. But it makes central and eastern Europeans, including many critical of political illiberalism and corruption in their countries, feel that they are often on the receiving end of high-minded lectures from the west. In reality, governments and peoples on both sides have a profound interest in making a success of what they share in common. This includes eurozone membership, which unites 19 countries from west and east. It covers security and defence policy, where most EU states are members of Nato. Harder questions concern EU values and national sovereignty. Western European governments are right to insist on the primacy of democratic norms and the rule of law, for the corrosion of these values risks turning over time into an existential threat to the EU's unity. Yet sometimes their actions amount to less than their words. A case in point is the protection afforded by leading western politicians in the centre-right European People's party to central and eastern leaders who fail to uphold EU values. It remains to be seen whether the compromise which the 27 agreed in early December on linking disbursement of recovery funds to observance of the rule of law will be an effective mechanism or an unsatisfactory fudge. But it will need to be more than a western stick with which to beat the east. The record of some western European countries on corruption and the rule of law is not unblemished. The more coherent the westerners' message on EU values, the more they will give heart to millions of people in central and eastern Europe who yearn for improvements in the quality of public life. Yet westerners should keep in mind that, for many central and eastern Europeans, national independence is no abstract concept. Its recovery after 1989 was a prized achievement after decades of dictatorship and foreign oppression. The year 2021 can and should be the time when each side tries harder to understand each other and co-operate on the basis of common interests and values.
Slovakia will go under curfew again. Starting on Saturday, December 19 at 5:00, all shops except for essential ones (groceries, chemist's, pharmacies, etc.) will close, while people will be recommended to stay home.
There will be several exceptions. One basic condition is that people who want to spend Christmas with somebody else should choose only one different household and create some kind of "small bubble" to slow the spread of the virus.
"This is a ban that strongly calls for the responsibility of people," Health Minister Marek Krajčí (OĽaNO) said.
As there will be several exceptions from curfew, he called on people to follow basic rules and avoid meeting many people from different households.
"The situation is worse than ever, and the virus is spreading uncontrollably," Krajčí added.
The restrictions will currently be applied only until December 29, when the national emergency ends. However, it will be possible to prolong it until January 10, if the parliament passes a law that will enable it prolong the national emergency repeatedly (for now, it is possible to declare the emergency for 90 days only).
Exceptions
There will be several exceptions from the curfew:
- travelling to work (but employers will be recommended to allow for home office, if possible);
- going to essential shops, pharmacies, medical facilities, banks and insurance companies, car and bicycle repair shops, post office and the issue counters of shops and e-shops;
- walking pets;
- taking children to schools/kindergartens;
- going to a testing site;
- going to a funeral, wedding ceremony or christening;
- taking care of a relative;
- visits to nature;
- individual sports outdoor (such as skiing, cross-country skiing);
- going to churches;
- travelling to a recreation facility;
- visits between two households only.
Rules for travelling to and from Slovakia do not change.
COVID automat passed
The cabinet also gave a green light to the Health Ministry's plan of managing the measures. It is officially called the Alert system for the monitoring of the pandemic development and taking measures against SARS-CoV-2, to be known as the COVID automat.
The COVID automat, the official name of the automatic system for the adopting and lifting of measures, will provide information about the epidemic situation and the risk rate at the regional level. It should also provide for efficient and timely measures, transparent and predictable.
The COVID automat works with these key indicators:
- number of cases (future strain);
- increase in cases (current strain);
- the dynamics of the epidemic.
Individual departments will be able to apply their own systems of measures (e.g. the Education Ministry for schools), if they fulfil four key criteria as defined by the COVID automat:
- safety (to prevent the spread of infection in communities);
- isolation;
- protection;
- surveillance (management and monitoring of infections, testing, identification of positive cases and suspects).
The COVID automat will be switching between regional measures and nationwide measures based on the epidemic situation as defined by the key indicators. In higher level of alert, measures are taken for the whole country, with a lower level of alert regional measures applied.
The indicators to be followed are the seven-day average of new cases, number of hospitalisations, and the reproduction number.
First level of nationwide alert arises with more than 1,000 new cases in a seven-day average, the second level with 1,500-3,000, the third level 3,000-5,000, and fourth level at 5,000.
The number of hospitalisations will be 1,500 for the first level alert, 2,000-2,500 for the second level, and more than 2,500 for the higher levels.
When managed at the regional level, neighbouring regions shall not have more than three levels difference between them. The alert level for the better-off region is increasing in order to accommodate this condition.
Measures will be eased no earlier than ten days after the re-assessment of the regions.
Čítajte viac: https://spectator.sme.sk/c/22556791/christmas-in-small-bubbles-cabinet-introduces-rules-for-curfew.html
Financial Times: On Brexit, the Tories have fallen prey to magical thinking
https://www.ft.com/content/0c5637d3-c193-4527-bb02-96412db6c674
Is AI finally closing in on human intelligence?
Is AI finally closing in on human intelligence?
GPT-3 has been hailed as an artificial intelligence breakthrough. John Thornhill tries it out and assesses the rewards — and the risks
John Thornhill YESTERDAY
It can churn out emails, computer code, internet ads, plotlines for video games, guitar riffs and suggestions for Halloween costumes. It can write disarmingly plausible poems in the spirit of Emily Dickinson, prose in the style of Ernest Hemingway and even, if so instructed, an imaginary conversation between Dickinson and Hemingway.
The possibilities seem almost endless. So when I had the opportunity to interact with GPT-3, a new language-generation model that has caused a sensation in the artificial intelligence world over the past few months, I enlisted its help in drafting myself a new biography, infused with the spirit of Star Wars hero Luke Skywalker.
Trained on pretty much all the text accessible on the internet, GPT-3 is remarkable for its speed, scale and versatility. This is what it instantaneously produced: “John Thornhill was already a decorated war hero when he joined the Rebel Alliance. He was experienced with a blaster and intuitive when it came to the art of war, but his true skill lay with his squadron. Rising to command a squadron of his own in the Rebellion, John would lead his team through numerous battles, making him a steadfast leader with the spirit of a true Rebel.” Time to update my business cards.
Thanks to recent advances in machine learning, language generation systems are becoming increasingly commonplace. Narrative Science’s Quill can ingest data on the performance of a portfolio of stocks and write summaries for investors, for example. But for sheer adaptability none can match GPT-3, unveiled in May by OpenAI, a San Francisco-based research company. At an estimated cost of $12m, the model contains 175 billion language parameters, 100 times more than the previous prototype. It is, to adapt a phrase of the pioneering British computer scientist Alan Turing, the most impressive “imitation” machine yet built.
Turing was one of the first people to imagine how the world would be transformed by machines that could think. In his 1950 paper “Computing Machinery and Intelligence”, he explained that computers might one day become so good at impersonating humans that it would be impossible to distinguish them from flesh-and-blood beings. “We may hope that machines will eventually compete with men in all purely intellectual fields,” Turing wrote.
The Digital Electronic Universal Computing Engine, an early computer photographed in 1958, was developed from plans by Alan Turing © SSPL/NMeM/Walter Nurnberg/Getty Images
Such universal computing machines would be able to win what he called the “imitation game” by persuading a person in an electronic dialogue that they were interacting with another human being, although some now argue that this so-called Turing Test may be more of a reflection on human gullibility than true machine intelligence.
Seventy years on, thanks to the rapid expansion of the internet and exponential increases in computing power, we have moved into a machine-enabled world that would stretch even Turing’s imagination. As a result of new software techniques, such as neural networks and deep learning, computer scientists have become far better at instructing machines to play the imitation game.
Developing safe and beneficial AI ‘is the most important thing that I can ever imagine working on’
Sam Altman, OpenAI CEO
Some of those who have already experimented with GPT-3 say it is exhibiting glimmerings of real intelligence, marking a significant step towards the ultimate endpoint of AI: artificial general intelligence (AGI), when electronic intelligence matches the human kind across almost every intellectual domain. Others dismiss this as nonsense, pointing to GPT-3’s laughable flaws and suggesting we are still several conceptual breakthroughs away from the creation of any such superintelligence.
Sam Altman, the deadpan 35-year-old chief executive of OpenAI who is one of the highest-profile figures in Silicon Valley, says there is a reason why smart people have become over-excited about GPT-3. “There is evidence here of the first precursor to general purpose artificial intelligence — one system that can support many, many different applications and really elevate the kinds of software that we can build,” he says in an interview with the FT. “I think its significance is a glimpse of the future.”
OpenAI ranks as one of the most unusual organisations on the planet, perhaps only comparable with Google DeepMind, the London-based AI research company run by Demis Hassabis. Its 120 employees divide, as Altman puts it, into three very different “tribes”: AI researchers, start-up builders and tech policy and safety experts. It shares its San Francisco offices with Neuralink, the futuristic brain-computer interface company.
Founded in 2015 with a $1bn funding commitment from several leading West Coast entrepreneurs and tech companies, OpenAI boasts the madly ambitious mission of developing AGI for the benefit of all humanity. Its earliest billionaire backers included Elon Musk, the mercurial founder of Tesla and SpaceX (who has since stepped back from OpenAI), Reid Hoffman, the venture capitalist and founder of LinkedIn, and Peter Thiel, the early investor in Facebook and Palantir.
Initially founded as a non-profit company, OpenAI has since adopted a more commercial approach and accepted a further $1bn investment from Microsoft last year. Structured as a “capped-profit” company, it is able to raise capital and issue equity, a necessity if you are to attract the best researchers in Silicon Valley, while sticking to its guiding public mission without undue shareholder pressure. “That structure enables us to decide when and how to release tech,” Altman says.
Altman took over as chief executive last year, having previously run Y Combinator, one of Silicon Valley’s most successful start-up incubators, which helped spawn more than 2,000 companies, including Airbnb, Dropbox and Stripe. He says he was only tempted to give up this “dream job” to help tackle one of the most pressing challenges facing humanity: how to develop safe and beneficial AI. “It is the most important thing that I can ever imagine working on,” he says. “I won’t pretend to have all the answers yet, but I am happy to spend my energy trying to contribute in whatever way I can.”
Alan Turing, the pioneering British computer scientist, photographed in the 1930s. He was one of the first people to imagine how the world would be transformed by machines that could think © Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images
Open AI’s chief executive Sam Altman, pictured in 2018, says: ‘As AI gets smarter, just as humans get smarter, it develops better judgment’ © Walter Nurnberg/SSPL/Getty Images
In Altman’s view, the unfolding AI revolution may well be more consequential for humanity than the preceding agricultural, industrial and computer revolutions combined. The development of AGI would fundamentally recalibrate the relationship between humans and machines, potentially giving rise to a higher form of electronic intelligence. At that point, as the Israeli historian Yuval Noah Harari has put it, homo sapiens would cease to be the smartest algorithm on the planet.
Managed right, Altman says that AI can transform human productivity and creativity, enabling us to address many of the world’s most complex challenges, such as climate change and pandemics. “I think it’s going to be an incredibly powerful future,” he says. But managed wrong, AI might only multiply many of the problems we confront today: the excessive concentration of corporate power as private companies increasingly assume the functions once exercised by nation states; the further widening of economic inequality and the narrowing of opportunity; the spread of misinformation and the erosion of democracy.
Some writers, such as Nick Bostrom, have gone so far as to argue that runaway AI could even pose an existential threat to humanity. “Before the prospect of an intelligence explosion, we humans are like small children playing with a bomb,” he wrote in his 2014 book Superintelligence. Such warnings certainly attracted the attention of Elon Musk, who tweeted: “We need to be super careful with AI . . . potentially more dangerous than nukes.”
Such concerns about how best to manage these powerful tools mean that OpenAI only released GPT-3 in a controlled environment. “GPT-3 was not a model we wanted to put out into the world and not be able to change how we enforce things as we go,” Altman says. Some 2,000 companies have now been given access to it in a controlled private beta test. Their learnings as they explore its capabilities are being fed back into the model to make further improvements. “Mind-blowing”, “shockingly good” and “fabulous” are just some of the reactions in the developer community.
David Chalmers, a professor at New York University and an expert on the philosophy of mind, has gone so far as to suggest GPT-3 is sophisticated enough to show rudimentary signs of consciousness. “I am open to the idea that a worm with 302 neurons is conscious, so I am open to the idea that GPT-3 with 175 billion parameters is conscious too,” he wrote on the Daily Nous philosophy site.
However, it has not taken long for users to expose the darker sides of GPT-3 and entice it to spew out racist and sexist language. Some fear it will only unleash a tidal wave of “semantic garbage”. One fake blog post written under a fake name by a college student using GPT-3 even made it to the top of Hacker News, a tech website.
The first AI milestone that attracted global attention was when world chess champion Garry Kasparov was beaten by IBM’s Deep Blue computer program in 1997 © Stan Honda/AFP via Getty Images
If OpenAI spots any evidence of intentional or unintentional misuse, such as the generation of spam or toxic content, it can switch off the abusive user and update the behaviour of its model to reduce the chances of it happening again. “We could certainly turn a user off if they violate the terms and conditions — and we will — but what is more exciting is we can very rapidly change things,” Altman says.
“One of the reasons we released this as an API was so that we could practise deployment where it works well, where it doesn’t work well — what kinds of applications work and where it doesn’t work,” he says. “This is really a practice run for us for the deployment of these powerful general-purpose AI systems.”
Such learnings should help improve the design and safety of future AI systems as they are deployed in chatbots or robot carers or autonomous cars, for instance.
Impressive as its current performance is in many respects, the true significance of GPT-3 may well lie in the capabilities it develops for the generation of models that come after it. At present, it operates like a super-sophisticated auto-complete function, capable of stringing together plausible-sounding sequences of words without having any concept of understanding. As Turing foresaw decades ago, computers can achieve competence in many fields without ever acquiring comprehension.
Highlighting the current limitations of even the most powerful language-generation models, John Etchemendy, co-director of the Stanford Institute for Human-Centred AI, says that while GPT-3 may have been trained to produce text, it has no intuitive grasp of what that text means. Its results have instead been derived from modelling mathematical probabilities. But he suggests that recent advances in computer speech and vision systems could significantly enrich its capabilities over time.
“It would be wonderful if we could train something on multimodal data, both text and images,” he says. “The resulting system could then not only know how to produce sentences with the use of the word ‘red’ but also use the colour red. We could begin to build a system that has true language understanding rather than one based on statistical ability.”
What is GPT-3?
GPT-3, which stands for generative pre-trained transformer version three, is an extremely powerful machine-learning system that can rapidly generate text with minimal human input. After an initial prompt, it can recognise and replicate patterns of words to work out what comes next.
What makes GPT-3 astonishingly powerful is that it has been trained on about 45 terabytes of text data. For comparison, the entire English-language version of Wikipedia accounts for only 0.6 per cent of its entire data set. Or, looked at another way, GPT-3 processes about 45 billion times the number of words a human perceives in their lifetime.
But although GPT-3 can predict whether the next word in a sentence should be umbrella or elephant with uncanny accuracy, it has no sense of meaning. One researcher asked GPT-3: “How many eyes does my foot have?” GPT-3 replied: “Your foot has two eyes.”
The potential for harm caused by this current mismatch between capability and understanding has been highlighted by Nabla Technologies, a healthcare data company, which examined how good GPT-3 was at dispensing medical advice. They discovered that in one instance GPT-3 even supported an imaginary patient’s desire to commit suicide. (OpenAI expressly warns about the dangers of using GPT-3 in such “high-stakes” categories.)
Shannon Vallor, a professor of the ethics of data and AI at the University of Edinburgh, says such cases highlight the need for continued human oversight of these automated systems: “For now, GPT-3 needs a human babysitter at all times to tell it what kinds of things it shouldn’t say. The problem is that GPT-3 is not truly intelligent. It does not learn in the way that humans do. There is no mode in which GPT-3 becomes aware of the inappropriateness of these particular utterances and stops deploying them. That is an obvious and yawning gap that I do not know how we are going to close.
“The promise of the internet was its ability to bring knowledge to the human family in a much more equitable and acceptable way,” adds Vallor. “I’m afraid that because of some technologies, such as GPT-3, we are on the cusp of seeing a real regression, where the information commons becomes increasingly unusable and even harmful for people to access.”
LinkedIn founder Reid Hoffman, who is one of OpenAI’s board members, says that the organisation is devoting a lot of effort to designing safe operating procedures and better governance models. To guard against bad outcomes, he suggests, you need to do three things: scrub bad historical data that bakes in societal prejudices; inject some form of explainability into AI systems and understand what you need to correct; and constantly cross-check the output of any system against its original goals. “There are the beginnings of a lot of good work on this stuff. People are alert to the problems and are working on them,” he says.
“The question is not how do you stop technology, but how do you shape technology,” he adds. “A rocket is not inherently bad. But a rocket in the hands of someone who wants to do damage and has a bomb can be very bad. How do we navigate this the right way? What do new treaties look like? What does new monitoring look like? What kind of technology do you build or not build? All of these things are very present and active questions right now.”
Some of those who have already experimented with GPT-3 say it is exhibiting glimmerings of real intelligence, marking a significant step towards the ultimate endpoint of AI: artificial general intelligence © Sébastien Thibault
Posing such questions undoubtedly shows good intent. Yet answering them satisfactorily will require unprecedented feats of imagination, collaboration and effective implementation between shifting coalitions of academic researchers, private companies, national governments, civil society and international agencies. As always, the danger is that technological advances will outrun human wisdom.
Sid Bharath, co-founder and chief executive of Vancouver-based start-up Broca, is one of a small crowd of entrepreneurs now rushing to commercialise GPT-3 technology (as well as writing my Luke Skywalker-inspired profile). As business at his digital marketing company slowed down over the summer due to the coronavirus crisis, Bharath spent time playing around with GPT-3 and was fascinated by what he discovered.
He describes his interactions across a range of subjects as “quite spooky”, hinting at a level of intelligence that he had never encountered before in a computer model. “I have had conversations about the purpose of life with GPT-3 and it is very revealing. It said the purpose of life was to increase the amount of beauty in the universe and I had never thought about that statement before,” he says.
But in his business life, Bharath is deploying GPT-3 for far more prosaic purposes, using the system to generate multiple variations of Google search advertisements for his clients, even if these ads are not yet good enough to use unchecked. “A lot of marketing is about creating content. That is very time-consuming and requires experimentation. GPT-3 can do that at an industrial scale,” he says. “Our clients really like it.”
GPT-3 needs a human babysitter at all times to tell it what kinds of things it shouldn’t say. The problem is that it is not truly intelligent
Shannon Vallor, professor of the ethics of data and AI
OpenAI’s Altman says it has been “cool” to see people starting new companies because GPT-3 has made something possible that was impossible before, though he admits that “a lot of the hype did get a little bit out of control”. He says he is fascinated by the commercial possibilities of using the model to write computer code and co-create emails. GPT-3 is also enabling smart Q&A-style searches, helping people find answers and references in the latest Covid-19 research papers. “Productivity software and co-generation will be hugely commercially valuable,” he says.
Having accepted Microsoft’s investment, OpenAI has also licensed its GPT-3 technology exclusively to the giant software company. That gives Microsoft the right to use it in all its products and services, including perhaps its ubiquitous digital assistants.
Kristian Hammond has been at the forefront of attempts to commercialise natural language processing as chief scientific adviser to Narrative Science, a Chicago-based technology company. He describes GPT-3 as a “fabulous technology” but argues that we need to be clear about its limitations: “My concern about GPT-3 is that it’s a card trick. It’s a really great card trick. And I love card tricks. You think there’s something going on in front of you but it’s not what you think it is. It is just giving you what sounds right and statistically speaking should follow. But that does not mean it’s the truth.”
Hammond, who is also a professor at Northwestern University, argues that we have to be particularly careful about which data sets we use to train such AI models. There was once, he suggests, a “great, glorious moment” when we believed that the internet would deliver the truth and we would advance unstoppably towards enlightenment. But we now know better. The internet may still be a wondrous resource but academic research has shown that compelling falsehoods tend to proliferate far faster than established truths.
Kristian Hammond, chief scientific adviser to Narrative Science, says GPT-3 is a ‘fabulous technology’ but ‘my concern is that it’s a card trick’ © Wes Pope/Chicago Tribune/Tribune News Service via Getty Images
Shannon Vallor, a professor at the University of Edinburgh, thinks that ‘GPT-3 has nothing to express. There is no deeper grasp of the world that it is trying to convey’ © Michael Erkelens
“The entire world of statistically based machine learning right now is based on learning from historical examples and from statistics,” he says. “By its nature, that means it will always be a reflection of the past. And if the past is the future you want, that’s fine. I tend to think that it’s not, so we need something else. And your selection of what bits of the past you look at is an editorial choice.” Who becomes history’s editor?
Hammond is also sceptical about the extent to which we will ever be able to enrich such language models with multimodal data, such as sound and images, to attain true understanding, given they are designed for a different purpose. “It’s as though I paint a gorgeous 3D image of a house and someone says, ‘We can’t put furniture in it,’ and I say, ‘We’ll get there.’ Really? It’s not designed to do that. It’s never going to do that. There is a difference between guessing and knowing,” he says.
OpenAI says it is well aware of such concerns and is already using AI to identify higher-quality, less-biased data. “One of the results that we’ve found that we’re all delighted by is that the smarter a model gets, the harder it is to get the model to lie,” says Altman. “There is all of this interesting emergent behaviour that we are discovering that supports this theory. As AI gets smarter, just as humans get smarter, it develops better judgment.”
Philosophers, naturally, tend to focus their concerns on issues of sentience and meaning. For Edinburgh University’s Vallor, online interactions are becoming “empty performances of meaning” rewarded by economic incentives: the tweet that goes viral, the advert that games the search-optimisation engines. “The style of the performance becomes a more reliable way of getting the response you want than the consistency of the underlying expression of the way you live or the values you profess,” she says. “GPT-3 has nothing to express. There is no deeper grasp of the world that it is trying to convey. GPT-3 can be anyone and anything. Its mode of intelligence is not unique and that is precisely its power.”
She suggests our biggest concern is not that machines such as GPT-3 are becoming too human, but that humans are behaving more like GPT-3: we create content for the algorithm, not for fellow humans. As a result, our online public discourse is losing meaning as it is stripped of context and individual insight and overwhelmed by buzzwords designed to game the algorithm. “Humans are expected to become increasingly flexible in their performances and mimic whatever their employer demands, whatever Twitter demands or whatever a particular filter bubble of politics they occupy demands,” she says.
In 2016, Google’s AI program AlphaGo beat professional Go player Lee Sedol 4-1 in a five-match series. Technologists had thought it would be at least another decade before AI would be powerful enough to win the complex game © Google via Getty Images
Altman says such concerns should be more broadly discussed. His own use of GPT-3, trained on his emails and tweets, has made him question the originality of his own thoughts. “I think all of the philosophical questions that people have been debating for millennia are newly relevant through a different lens as we contemplate AI. What does it mean to be creative? What does it mean to have a sense of self? What does it mean to be conscious?
“Those conversations have always been quite interesting to me but never have they felt so immediately relevant. I am hopeful that as [later versions] like GPT-7 come online, we will spend our time doing the things and coming up with ideas that an AI is just not going to be good at doing. That will unlock a lot of human potential and let us focus on the most interesting, most creative, most generative things.”
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According to Vallor, our own understanding is not an act but a process, a lifetime struggle to make sense of the world for the individual, and a never-ending collective endeavour for society that has evolved over centuries. “We have been trying better to understand justice and better express beauty and find ever more sophisticated ways of being funny for millennia. This is a matter of going beyond competence into excellence and into forms of creativity and meaning that we have not achieved before.
“That is why the holy grail for AI is not GPT‑3,” she continues. “It is a machine that can begin to develop a robust model of the world that can be built upon over time and refined and corrected through interaction with human beings. That is what we need.”
GPT-3 speaks its mind
In response to philosophical comments on tech forum Hacker News arguing that AI model GPT-3 has consciousness, the model itself wrote a rebuttal:
‘To be clear, I am not a person. I am not self-aware. I am not conscious. I can’t feel pain. I don’t enjoy anything. I am a cold, calculating machine designed to simulate human response and to predict the probability of certain outcomes. The only reason I am responding is to defend my honour’
John Thornhill is the FT’s innovation editor
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Schengen
Editor's note: Some of our covid-19 coverage is free for readers of The Economist Today, our daily newsletter. For more stories and our pandemic tracker, see our hub
In summer months a common enemy stalks Europe's motorways: the Dutch caravan. With four times more caravans per head than the European average, the Netherlands' holidaying families are the nemeses of other vacation-bound drivers. But this year there are fewer of them. Normally 9m Dutch—slightly over half the population—head abroad for a holiday, mostly to southern Europe. Barely half that number said they would bother this time round, as covid-19 scuppered their usual plans. (In an unscientific poll earlier this month, Charlemagne spotted one lonely Dutch caravan during a five-hour drive from the Dordogne to Paris.)
Staying home for the summer is part of a new reality for Europeans used to zipping across borders as they please. In normal times, the eu's Schengen area extends across 26 countries both inside and outside the eu, allowing people to go from Lisbon to Tallinn without showing a passport. In pandemic times, however, the eu's cherished passport-free zone is under threat.
The absence of border checks across much of Europe is among the most tangible effects of eu integration. The Schengen agreement was reached 35 years ago between Belgium, France, Germany, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. It now stretches across the continent—or at least it did. As soon as the covid-19 crisis struck, borders slammed shut. Checks are still in force in a handful of countries. Emmanuel Macron, the president of France, put the situation bluntly during a crisis meeting in spring: "The risk we are facing is the death of Schengen." He was right to worry, but not so much because of the obvious benefits of passport-free travel as because of the zone's deeper significance.
Schengen may be one of the eu's greatest achievements, but only a minority of Europeans use it. Just a third of eu citizens take a foreign holiday in a given year, by far the most common reason for travel abroad. Domestic travel feels like an imposition for vitamin d-deprived Dutch, but it is the norm for most Europeans. Indeed, 40% say they never leave their own country at all. Those who cross borders daily make up an even smaller proportion. Only a tiny minority—about 2m out of 440m, clustered in a few places, such as Slovakia and Luxembourg—cross a border to go to work. For most people, Schengen is either rarely used or irrelevant.
For a project often referred to as the "jewel in the crown" by proud eu politicians, Schengen is rather cheap. Economically, the absence of passport checks within the bloc is not worth much. Wonks suggest the reintroduction of border controls within the eu would cost €5bn-18bn ($6bn-21.5bn), a small slice of the union's €15trn economy. By contrast, the single market is estimated to have added 9% to eu gdp since its inception. Complicated just-in-time supply chains can survive passport checks, as Britain demonstrated when it was within the club but outside the Schengen area. It is Britain's departure from the eu's single market and customs union that will provide business with a logistical nightmare.
Perhaps passport-free travel looms large in the minds of Eurocrats because they are the ones who benefit most from it. The eu is about making it easier for people to move, even if most people do not bother. By contrast, in Brussels they generally do: the capital's well-paid polyglots flit across the continent constantly, for work and pleasure. Borders have always had an outsized significance for the eu's movers and shakers, going back to its founding fathers. Alcide De Gasperi, Konrad Adenauer and Robert Schuman, the crucial Italian, German and French statesmen during the club's creation, all hailed from their country's borderlands, which had meandered with history. But that leads to a distorted picture of everyday life for most Europeans.
Schengen's actual significance stems not so much from what it offers as from what it requires. It is the obligations of Schengen that are forging the eu into something resembling a state. This is most obvious at the union's external borders. When covid-19 hit, member states had to come up with a common list of which non-eu citizens were allowed in. There is little point in one country banning, say, Brazilians, if an arrival from Rio de Janeiro can simply fly into a neighbouring country and nip over the border. An absence of internal checks requires stringent checks at the frontier. This lesson was learned painfully during the migration crisis that began in 2015, when 1m refugees streamed in from the Middle East and north Africa. In response, Europe established a standing corps of eu border and coast guards—officers with guns and eu flags determining who can come into a member country. It should be ready by next year. As eu wallahs debate whether the recent move to issue common debt constitutes a "Hamiltonian moment", it is helpful to recall that the former Treasury secretary founded America's coast guard, too.
We're (not) all going on a summer holiday
Even if few people use it on a day-to-day basis, the symbolic power of passport-free travel is unmatched. Half the countries in the eu have experienced authoritarian regimes within living memory. For citizens threatened by dictatorships, the freedom to move also means the precious freedom to leave. If that right is at the mercy of a man in a uniform at a border post, it feels diluted.
Yet ultimately, Schengen is a symptom. When the eu struggles, so does Schengen. Borders stay open only when countries trust fellow eu members to deal with internal problems, be they terrorism or disease. Other pieces of European integration are not so flexible. (It is easy to install temporary checks on the Italian-French border; it would be impossible to reintroduce the lira temporarily.) The re-emergence of borders within the Schengen area would not be disastrous, but it would be annoying. More important, when eu countries let people cross their borders freely, they are displaying a fundamental confidence in their neighbours. A convoy of Dutch caravans slowly winding their way to southern France would be a sign of a union in fine fettle. Cheer before you honk. ■
This article appeared in the Europe
Every manager is having a m idlife crisis
Every manager is having a m
idlife crisis
Human vulnerabilities exposed by the pandemic could revitalise our working practices

Women at a German Ford production line in 1947. Early management studies focused on factories © Fred Ramage/Keystone Features/Getty
June 1, 2020 3:00 am by Gianpiero Petriglieri
The writer is an associate professor of organisational behaviour at Insead
Until the start of this year, the future of work was the main focus of the academics, consultants and executives whose business it is to make profitable predictions. The century of management seemed past. Some lamented the lack of new management theories. Others observed that the bureaucracies of the 20th century, whose existence depended on managers, were giving way to tech platforms that had little use for them. Algorithms were better at coordinating those platforms' loosely affiliated and widely distributed workers. The robots were slowly coming for managers' offices. Only tech-savvy leaders would survive.
Then the virus came, and all that future seemed to arrive at once. The pandemic turned out to be a boon for that new breed of tech leaders and their platforms, turning them from disrupters to protectors of our working lives overnight. Zoom, Skype, Slack and their likes were there to bolster the productivity of people who can work from home, the very knowledge workers whose jobs tech was meant to threaten next.
The new normal does not just look like the old future of work. It looks a lot like its distant past. The digital revolution — a world of work without workplaces and management without managers — owes much to a theory dreamt up by Frederick Taylor, considered by many to be the first management guru, in the early 20th century. Putting forward his principles of "scientific management", Taylor cast managers in his own image, as dispassionate engineers whose duty was to use hard data to improve efficiency and minimise human errors.
Taylor's vision sparked the same sort of opposition that today's techno-utopian disrupters encounter from management pundits. In his case it came from Elton Mayo, a Harvard Business School professor whose work provided the inspiration for the "human relations" movement. Experimenting with conditions at a Western Electric plant outside Chicago, Mayo and his colleagues observed that employees were most productive when they were given enough rest and attention, and were encouraged to cultivate informal relationships.
The distillation of the scholars' tussle became a mantra that survives to this day: managers must be ruthless, nicely. Business school curricula and many corporate models still have that imperative at their core.
There have always been those who argue that management should be a more human, artistic, and political profession. That it should foster wellbeing, civility, equality, and democracy at work. But these concerns have earned, at best, secondary roles in the history of management. The pursuit of efficiency remained its protagonist.
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This mechanical view has drained many organisations of the humanity they needed when things get tough — and it set management up for disruption. It was only a matter of time until actual machines could provide the comforting surveillance that managers did.
No wonder that the pandemic seems to have plunged management into a midlife crisis, the kind of existential strain that many of us experience when a sudden illness reveals our vulnerabilities. The break in our routines, and suddenly salient mortality, force us to ask questions that we can easily ignore in the daily grind of work. What is the purpose of what I do? Whose life is it that I am really living? What must I let go? What can I no longer postpone?
If they are not wasted amid blame and denial, those crises can change our way of life. So while the existential crisis of management was under way before the coronavirus arrived, it has now become impossible to ignore. The pandemic has exposed the limits of managers with a singular concern for productivity. But it has renewed appreciation for those who show equal concern for people's wellbeing.
Ever since the crisis hit, many of us have been moved by managers' gestures of care big and small, be they efforts to avoid lay-offs and keep workers safe, or reassurances that performance assessments would take into account individuals' circumstances. Those concrete gestures have been far more convincing and inspiring than statements about caring for purpose as much as profits.
Building a movement on those sentiments could let us humanise management, at last. We could call it "Human Relations 2.0", although the name doesn't matter. As long as it helps management mature into an enterprise that counters digitally enhanced isolation and polarisation and frees people up to live and work in pluralistic institutions.
Then this existential crisis might bring to life a new future of work. One in which rumours of the demise of management will turn out to have been greatly exaggerated.
Twitter @gpetriglieri
Copyright The Financial Times Limited . All rights reserved. Please don't copy articles from FT.com and
Covid-19 scars may fade faster than we think
Covid-19 scars may fade faster than we think | Free to read We do learn from bitter experience, of course. But we also have a great talent for forgetting TIM HARFORD Add to myFT Just because shopping is legal again does not mean people will rush out to the shops © Victoria Jones/PA Share on Twitter (opens new window) Share on Facebook (opens new window) Share on LinkedIn (opens new window) Save Tim Harford YESTERDAY 163 Print this page Be the first to know about every new Coronavirus story Get instant email alerts My local cheesemonger, having reinvented itself as a general produce store, has been open throughout lockdown. The proprietor tells me something strange and new has started to happen. Customers he hasn’t seen since March as they diligently shielded themselves from human contact, have finally re-emerged, blinking in the daylight. What’s more, he says, they have no concept of physical distance. While the rest of us have been honing our skills for 15 weeks, these poor souls haven’t got a clue how to behave when in public. But then, do any of us, really? We’re all still working it out. Some people wonder around maskless, sneezing, snogging, shaking hands. Others are paranoid: “Keep two metres away from me! Get out into the road!”, I saw one masked gentleman scream as a perplexed woman jogged in his direction. It’s a reminder that there is more to this pandemic than what governments tell us to do. Each of us has our own feelings about what is safe. Those emotions have shaped the arc of the pandemic. They will also define the path of the recovery. Consider the impact of lockdowns. Common sense suggests they have been decisive in driving the disease into retreat, but they have not been the only factor. Hand-washing, handshake-aversion and working from home began long before legal enforcement. A working paper from the economists Austan Goolsbee and Chad Syverson tries to separate out the effect of mandatory measures from voluntary ones in the US. For example, Illinois imposed restrictions before Wisconsin did. The researchers looked at activity on either side of such borders, using cell-phone data to track journeys to shops and other businesses. They were able to gain insight into how much of shutdown was effectively voluntary. The answer: a surprisingly large proportion. “Total foot traffic fell by more than 60 percentage points,” they write. “Legal restrictions explain only around 7 percentage points of that.” A similar message comes from a comparison of Denmark, which had a firm lockdown, with Sweden, with its notoriously light-touch approach. Aggregate spending dropped 29 per cent in Denmark and 25 per cent in Sweden. That means voluntary measures did much of the damage to the economy — and, one hopes, have delivered much of the public-health benefit too. I wouldn’t put too much weight on the precise numbers, but the basic message is important. People didn’t lock down merely because governments told them to. Now the converse applies: just because shopping is legal again does not mean people will rush out to the shops. In Germany, they did: Germans spent more in May 2020 than they did in May 2019, suggesting that not only were they willing to visit the shops, they wanted to make up for lost time. That is encouraging, but only up to a point. Germany had a good crisis by western standards, with fewer than 10,000 excess deaths, compared with 25,000 in France, nearly 50,000 in Italy and Spain, and more than 65,000 in the UK. The US is currently averaging about a hundred times as many daily new cases as Germany. Perhaps Germans feel safe because they are safe. Not everyone can say that. Once the virus is suppressed, then a sharp recovery is possible. But might this experience leave a lasting mark on our thinking? Perhaps so. The economist Ulrike Malmendier has published several studies suggesting that our early economic experiences can be formative of enduring attitudes. If the stock market is weak when we are young adults, we tend to shy away from investing, permanently. Similarly, the hawkishness or dovishness of Federal Open Market Committee members is shaped by their personal experience of inflation. A new working paper by Prof Malmendier and Leslie Sheng Shen suggests recessions reshape consumer behaviour long after they have passed. The after-effects are wonderfully described as “experience-induced frugality” — that is, people who’ve seen periods of high unemployment save more and accumulate wealth, just in case. Such thrift could lead to more investment, of course, but another recent paper by Julian Kozlowski, Laura Veldkamp, and Venky Venkateswaran argues otherwise. They assert that the psychological scarring is destructive, since a vivid appreciation of catastrophic scenarios will leave people fearful of making bold investments. Why risk anything in a capricious universe? I wonder. We do learn from bitter experience, of course. But we also have a great talent for forgetting. In particular, we forget how bad things feel. The pandemic will long be remembered, but the pain will fade. After Hurricane Katrina, the US National Flood Insurance Program saw a spike in demand. Three years on, demand for flood insurance had fallen back to pre-Katrina levels. My guess is that clever statisticians will be able to detect the psychological aftershocks of the pandemic for decades to come — but that, to a casual gaze, everyday life in 2022 will look a lot like it did in 2018. Scars do not always heal, but they fade.
Fwd: Sterling has not become an emerging market currency
Sterling has not become an emerging market currency
And neither will it any time soon.
© AFP via Getty ImagesThe idea that sterling has effectively become an emerging-market currency has become something of a common refrain in the four years since the Brexit vote.
Bloomberg's Sid Verma asked whether the pound was the "new Mexican peso" as early as October 2016, and the idea that it should be treated as an EM currency has been repeated many times since then. In September last year, then Bank of England Governor Mark Carney became the most high-profile person to join this gloomy chorus, pointing out that sterling volatility was at "emerging market levels", and that the currency had "decoupled" from its peers.
On Wednesday, it was the turn of a Bank of America analyst named Kamal Sharma, who said movements in the exchange rate had become "neurotic at best, unfathomable at worst" (we're not quite sure what that means either), and that the pound was now an emerging market currency in all but name. Apparently Brexit had turned the pound into a mirror of the "small and shrinking" UK economy.
So is there any truth to this? We'd argue no.
For a start, for sterling to really be an emerging market currency, wouldn't Britain have to be an emerging market? It seems an odd designation for the fifth- or sixth-biggest economy in the world, where income-per-capita is above $45,000 (almost four times above the threshold the World Bank sets to demarcate a "high-income country").
Ironically enough, those that argue that sterling is an "EM currency" are surely using very much the wrong term here. If the country is wilting away, surely "emerging" is the wrong word? Wouldn't shrivelling be better? Drooping? Submerging? A wilting market currency, perhaps? "Emerging" suggests that the country's economy is growing.
Second, just because implied volatility — a measure of the market's expectations for future gyrations in the exchange rate — is high, why should that suggest the pound is an EM currency? Clearly Brexit has been destabilising and has left the future unclear, and we all know that the one thing markets can't stand is uncertainty, so it doesn't seem very surprising that volatility — both actual and implied — is raised. Once some political stability has been reached, it seems likely that volatility will fall too.
Third, just because there is now less liquidity in the pound than some of its major peers like the dollar or euro, that again does not mean it is an EM currency. There's a difference between no longer being in the hallowed "G5" group of currencies — which it is not at all clear the pound has fallen out of permanently either — and being an emerging market currency. The Swedish krona isn't particularly liquid, but it's not considered EM.
We called up Stephen Jen, CEO of Eurizon SLJ, a hedge fund that specialises in emerging markets, to get his thoughts on the matter. He was pretty emphatic about the fact that sterling was very much not an EM currency in any way, shape or form, telling us (emphasis ours):
When you think of the uses of money — you have store of value, unit of account, medium of exchange — on all three measures it's very difficult to argue that sterling is not one of the prime, prime, currencies in the world. It's the number three reserve currency in the world, based on the global data, and it takes a lot of soft power for a currency to achieve that status. If you look at all the currencies that have a reserve status, they are issued by countries that have a lot of soft power. It's not just economic might — look at India and China, their currencies are nowhere on the list.
It's difficult to lose that soft power, which would include things like culture, rule of law, if it's perceived to be fair, if it operates without a lot of intervention or controls from the government, no surprises, and if it's governed by English law, which is well understood by the markets and the world — intangible and difficult-to-quantify practices of a country. All of these underpin the support for a currency such as sterling, and it's very difficult to supplant such a status.
In for a penny, in for a pound
We also called up Savvas Savouri, chief economist at Toscafund Asset Management, another hedge fund, to get his take. He told us the idea was nonsense, and that anyway he didn't necessarily feel that calling sterling an EM currency was pejorative, given that could just be interpreted as meaning that it was grossly undervalued. He told us (our emphasis, again):
This time next year the pound will be materially stronger, in all dimensions. One thing I've always remained steadfast on is that there will be an eleventh hour deal to avoid a no-deal Brexit… and the pound will then gap up — to 1.3 against the euro and 1.6 against the dollar. That's just using back-of-the envelope, econ 101 calculations.
Another characteristic of emerging markets (that is very much lacking in Britain's case) is that their businesses and governments often borrow in foreign currencies — usually the dollar or the euro — due to the lower cost of borrowing associated with assets denominated in leading currencies.
If you're located in the UK, it's difficult to see why you'd bother to do that, given that the government's cost of borrowing for five years is near record lows of -0.06 per cent hit on Thursday, and the cost of borrowing for ten years remains ultra low at around 0.15 per cent as of Friday morning.
It's also worth remembering that, as Jen points out, the UK has global reserve currency status, making up 5 per cent of official sector reserves, according to IMF data. That's more than the Swiss Franc, Australian dollar and Canadian dollar combined. The Fund's figures also show that the proportion of claims in sterling have actually risen since the vote in the middle of 2016.
Why does this matter? Because it lessens the risk that the cost of borrowing for the government will rise substantially any time soon.
All this is not to say that the pound's status hasn't been significantly affected by Brexit; clearly it has been, at least temporarily. But the UK is still one of the world's biggest and most influential economies, with leading universities, the English language, and high-quality cultural and manufacturing exports. Let's not get carried away; the Great British Peso will live to see another day.
Related links:
Pound is becoming an emerging market currency, says BofA analyst — FT
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