James Johnson is co-founder of JL Partners. He was the Senior Opinion Research and Strategy Adviser to Theresa May as Prime Minister from 2016-2019.
A major moment in American economic history happened earlier this year. Figures found that, for the first time, the six states of the South (Texas, Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, North Carolina, and South Carolina) outpaced the Northeast in terms of economic production. Forbes spells it out:
“In 2005, the Northeast’s share of national GDP was 23.5 per cent, while the six-state South’s was 21.8 per cent. In 2022 the numbers flipped: The South’s share was 23.8 per cent while the Northeast’s was 22.4 per cent.”
The South is booming. More and more are moving there, with one of four of US population now living there, compared to 19 per cent in 1980. The pandemic sped things up, with people moving to Georgia and Florida for both the warmer weather and looser Covid restrictions under the governorships of Brian Kemp and Ron DeSantis respectively.
It is having an impact on politics too. Georgia is now a swing state, having voted for a Democrat candidate in Joe Biden for the first time since 1992. The margin of victory was 11,000 votes, partly fuelled by new migrants from elsewhere in the United States to high-paying jobs in medicine (the CDC is headquartered there), consumer goods (Coca Cola Company), and aviation (Atlanta airport is the busiest on earth).
In a context of British gloom, one might be tempted to look at all this and think it puts the more geographically-concentrated UK to shame. One quarter of our GDP comes from London alone. Where is the equivalent growth for the north of England?
But dig deeper and the shift to the American South is not benefiting the whole region equally: much of the growth is centred in major population centers such as Atlanta, Charlotte, and Nashville. This statistic made my jaw drop: one-third of America’s entire GDP is in just 31 counties.
What might look like an equitable geographical economic situation compared to the UK thus remains a highly centralised one; there just happen to be more centres in the USA than in the UK.
Still, it is remarkable. Go to Nashville or Atlanta and you can feel the boom around you. There is an enthusiasm, an excitement too, about a city’s future and the residents’ part in it. Devolution has always been the order of the day here, and cities’ independence and ability to raise their own budgets and set many of their own tax rates has helped.
I cannot think of the last time I ran a focus group in England and got the same level of excitement about a town’s future than I regularly see in my travels in the States.
Why is the American economy so much more durable, and so much more productive, than the UK’s? Labour differences, population size, raw materials – I’m sure all of those things play a role; I’m no economist and am not going to attempt to answer that question.
But there is one stark difference I have observed in my public opinion work: there is in the States a natural pro-growth mindset that you simply do not see amongst the average British adult.
I was recently in a small Arizona town, population 50,000, asking residents about their area. Most were, on paper when I recruited the focus group, opposed to development. They said at the start of the discussion too that the place was growing too fast.
But then it became clear why they were really opposed to development. They did not mind seeing new homes go up in principle, but felt there was not enough infrastructure to handle it. They wanted to see bigger roads, more shops, a new hospital. The reason they opposed development was because they wanted more development.
Compare this to the UK, where people are against the idea of more homes because they are against the idea of more homes. They do not want the fuss, they do not want their street or town getting more busy, they do not want their view to be changed.
This difference is not just attitudinal – there is a lot more space in the States for one thing. But absent in the British mindset, at least at the moment, is this hunger for more, this urge to grow, that embodies the American psyche.
It even feels the same in politics. I was in one of the boom areas of the South a couple of weeks ago, interviewing swing voters about the next election. When voters talk about the parties they support, it often feels like you are talking to a signed-up employee of the party. They know the personalities, they know the processes, they care about what comes next.
I’ve often felt like talking to the average American swing voter is more similar to talking to a volunteer at CCHQ or Labour headquarters than it would be speaking to an average British swing voter.
Again different explanations abound as to why: the level of democratic engagement in American politics, the fact pollsters like us only talk to the 60 per cent or so of people who vote, the fact I spend most of my time in more-engaged suburbs that will determine the next presidential election, etc. But there does seem to be an essential difference.
The South is hardly free of issues. Sharp racial divides continue. Crime abounds. Drug issues are hitting poorer areas particularly hard there.
But right now, that pro-growth spirit is driving the region, and with it the wider American economy. In a few years’ time Atlanta, Charlotte, and Nashville may become more desirable to travellers. British Airways certainly thinks so: they now run direct flights to all three. Whether in travel or industry, services or goods, the US is booming, and the South is their new powerhouse.