Some books I read this year

Nick Lane – The Vital Question: energy, evolution and the origins of complex life

This is as good as everyone says it is – well written and compelling. I particularly appreciated the focus on energy flows as the driver for life, and the way the book gives the remarkable chemiosmotic hypothesis the prominence it deserves. The hypothesis Lane presents for the way life might have originated on earth is concrete and (to me) plausible, and what’s more important it suggests some experimental tests.

Todd Feinberg and Jon Mallet – The Ancient Origins of Consciousness: how the brain created experience

How many organisms can be said to be conscious, and when did consciousness emerge? Feinberg and Mallet’s answers are bold: all vertebrates are conscious, and in all probability so are cephalopods and some arthropods. In their view, consciousness evolved in the Cambrian explosion, associated with an arms race between predators and prey, and driven by the need to integrate different forms of long-distance sensory perceptions to produce a model of an organism’s environment. Even if you don’t accept the conclusion, you’ll learn a great deal about the evolution of nervous systems and the way sense perceptions are organised in many different kinds of organisms.

David Mackay – Information theory, inference, and learning algorithms

This is a text-book, so not particularly easy reading, but it’s a particularly rich and individual one. Continue reading “Some books I read this year”

Physical limits and diminishing returns of innovation

Are ideas getting harder to find? This question is asked in a preprint with this title by economists Bloom, Jones, Van Reenan and Webb, who attempt to quantify decreasing research productivity, showing for a number of fields that it is currently taking more researchers to achieve the same rate of progress. The paper is discussed in blogposts by Diane Coyle, who notes sceptically that the same thing was being said in 1983, and by Alex Tabarrok, who is more depressed.

Given the slowdown in productivity growth in the developed nations, which has steadily fallen from about 2.9% a year in 1970 to about 1.2% a year now, the notion is certainly plausible. But the attempt in the paper to quantify the decline is, I think, so crude as to be pretty much worthless – except inasmuch as it demonstrates how much growth economists need to understand the nature of technological innovation at a higher level of detail and particularity than is reflected in their current model-building efforts.

The first example is the familiar one of Moore’s law in semiconductors, where over many decades we have seen exponential growth in the number of transistors on an integrated circuit. The authors argue that to achieve this, the total number of researchers has increased by a factor of 25 or so since 1970 (this estimate is obtained by dividing the R&D expenditure of the major semiconductor companies by an average researcher wage). This is very broadly consistent with a corollary of Moore’s law (sometimes called Rock’s Law). This states that the capital cost of new generations of semiconductor fabs is also growing exponentially, with a four year doubling time; this cost is now in excess of $10 billion. A large part of this is actually the capitalised cost of the R&D that goes into developing the new tools and plant for each generation of ICs.

This increasing expense simply reflects the increasing difficulty of creating intricate, accurate and reproducible structures on ever-decreasing length scales. The problem isn’t that ideas are harder to find, it’s that as these length scales approach the atomic, many more problems arise, which need more effort to solve them. It’s the fundamental difficulty of the physics which leads to diminishing returns, and at some point a combination of the physical barriers and the economics will first slow and then stop further progress in miniaturising electronics using this technology.

For the second example, it isn’t so much physical barriers as biological ones that lead to diminishing returns, but the effect is the same. The green revolution – a period of big increases in the yields of key crops like wheat and maize – was driven by creating varieties able to use large amounts of artificial fertiliser and focus much more of their growing energies into the useful parts of the plant. Modern wheat, for example, has very short stems – but there’s a limit to how short you can make them, and that limit has probably been reached now. So R&D efforts are likely to be focused in other areas than pure yield increases – in disease resistance and tolerance of poorer growing conditions (the latter likely to be more important as climate changes, of course).

For their third example, the economists focus on medical progress. I’ve written before about the difficulties of the pharmaceutical industry, which has its own exponential law of progress. Unfortunately this goes the wrong way, with cost of developing new drugs increasing exponentially with time. The authors focus on cancer, and try to quantify declining returns by correlating research effort, as measured by papers published, with improvements in the five year cancer survival rate.

Again, I think the basic notion of diminishing returns is plausible, but this attempt to quantify it makes no sense at all. One obvious problem is that there are very long and variable lag times between when research is done, through the time it takes to test drugs and get them approved, to when they are in wide clinical use. To give one example, the ovarian cancer drug Lynparza was approved in December 2014, so it is conceivable that its effects might start to show up in 5 year survival rates some time after 2020. But the research it was based on was published in 2005. So the hope that there is any kind of simple “production function” that links an “input” of researchers’ time with an “output” of improved health, (or faster computers, or increased productivity) is a non-starter*.

The heart of the paper is the argument that an increasing number or researchers are producing fewer “ideas”. But what can they mean by “ideas”? As we all know, there are good ideas and bad ideas, profound ideas and trivial ideas, ideas that really do change the world, and ideas that make no difference to anyone. The “representative idea” assumed by the economists really isn’t helpful here, and rather than clarifying their concept in the first place, they redefine it to fit their equation, stating, with some circularity, that “ideas are proportional improvements in productivity”.

Most importantly, the value of an idea depends on the wider technological context in which it is developed. People claim that Leonardo da Vinci invented the helicopter, but even if he’d drawn an accurate blueprint of a Chinook, it would have had no value without all the supporting scientific understanding and technological innovations that were needed to make building a helicopter a practical proposition.

Clearly, at any given time there will be many ideas. Most of these will be unfruitful, but every now and again a combination of ideas will come together with a pre-existing technical infrastructure and a market demand to make a viable technology. For example, integrated circuits emerged in the 1960’s, when developments in materials science and manufacturing technology (especially photolithography and the planar process) made it possible to realise monolithic electronic circuits. Driven by customers with deep pockets and demanding requirements – the US defense industry – many refinements and innovations led to the first microprocessor in 1971.

Given a working technology and a strong market demand to create better versions of that technology, we can expect a period of incremental improvement, often very rapid. A constant rate of fractional improvement leads, of course, to exponential growth in quality, and that’s what we’ve seen over many decades for integrated circuits, giving us Moore’s law. The regularity of this improvement shouldn’t make us think it is automatic, though – it represents many brilliant innovations. Here, though, these innovations are coordinated and orchestrated so that in combination the overall rate of innovation is maintained. In a sense, the rate of innovation is set by the market, and the resources devoted to innovation increased to maintain that rate.

But exponential growth can never be sustained in a physical (or biological) system – some limit must always be reached. From about 1750 to 1850, the efficiency of steam engines increased exponentially, but despite many further technical improvements, this rate of progress slowed down in the second half of the 19th century – the second law of thermodynamics, through Carnot’s law, puts a fundamental upper limit on efficiency and as that limit is approached, diminishing returns set in. Likewise, the atomic scale of matter puts fundamental limits on how far the CMOS technology of our current integrated circuits can be pushed to smaller and smaller dimensions, and as those limits are approached, we expect to see the same sort of diminishing returns.

Economic growth didn’t come to an end in 1850 when the exponential rise in steam engine efficiencies started to level out, though. Entirely new technologies were developed – electricity, the chemical industry, the internal combustion engine powered motor car – which went through the same cycle of incremental improvement and eventual saturation.

The question we should be asking now is not whether the technologies that have driven economic growth in recent years have reached the point of diminishing returns – if they have, that is entirely natural and to be expected. It is whether enough entirely new technologies are now entering infancy, from which they can take-off with the sustained incremental growth that’s driven the economy in previous technology waves. Perhaps solar energy is in that state now; quantum computing perhaps hasn’t got there yet, as it isn’t clear how the basic idea can be implemented and whether there is a market to drive it.

What we do know is that growth is slowing, and has been doing so for some years. To this extent, this paper highlights a real problem. But a correct diagnosis of the ailment and design of useful policy prescriptions is going to demand a much more realistic understanding of how innovation works.

* if one insists on trying to build a model, the “production function” would need to be, not a simple function, but a functional, integrating functions representing different types of research and development effort over long periods of time.

Manufacturing *is* special, but it’s important to understand why

The politics of Trump and Brexit has drawn attention again to the phenomenon of “left-behind” communities. In the US rust belt and the UK’s northern cities, de-industrialisation and the loss of manufacturing jobs has stripped communities, not just of their economic base, but of their very sense of purpose.

But to some commentators, the focus on manufacturing is misguided sentimentality, an appeal to the discredited idea that the only proper work is making stuff in factories. These jobs, they say, have gone for ever, killed by a combination of technology and globalisation; the clock cannot be turned back and we must adjust to the new reality of service based economies, which produce economic value just as real as any widget.

I agree that the world has changed, but I want to argue that, despite that, manufacturing does have a special importance for the economic health of developed countries. It’s important, though, to understand why, if not for sentimentality or conservatism, manufacturing is important, or we’ll end up with bad and counter-productive policy prescriptions.

Manufacturing is important for three reasons. Firstly, consistently, over the long-run, manufacturing innovation remains the most reliable way of delivering sustained productivity growth, and this productivity growth spills over into other sectors and the economy more generally.

Secondly, centres of manufacturing sustain wider clusters in which tangible and intangible assets accumulate and reinforce their collective value, and where tacit knowledge is stored in networks of skilled people and effective organisations (what Shih and Pisano call the “manufacturing commons”). These networks include, not just the core manufacturers, but suppliers and maintainers of equipment, design consultancies, R&D, and so on, which in the long term are anchored by those manufacturing activities at the core of the cluster.

Of course, the same is true in other sectors too; this brings me to the third point, which is that the diversity of types of manufacturing leaves room for clusters to be geographically dispersed. Rebalancing the economy in favour of manufacturing will at the same time rebalance it geographically, reducing the gross regional imbalances in wealth and opportunities that are such a dangerous feature of the UK now.

Recognising these as the features of manufacturing that make it so important make it clear what an industrial strategy to promote it should not try and do. Its aim should not be to prop up failing industries as they currently exist – the whole point of supporting manufacturing is as a focus for innovation. Neither should there be any expectation that a manufacturing resurgence will lead to large scale mass employment on the old model. If productivity growth is to be the motivation, then this will not lead directly to large numbers of new jobs.

The point is to create value, not, in the first instance, to create jobs. But the jobs will follow, in those sectors that will support the new manufacturing activities – in design, marketing, data analytics, professional services. In fact, the characteristic of the new manufacturing is precisely that the lines between manufacturing and its associated service activities are becoming more blurred.

So an industrial strategy to support the new manufacturing needs to have, at its heart, a focus on innovation and skills, and the goal of creating a self-sustaining ecosystem. This doesn’t mean that one can ignore history – the future manufacturing specialisms of a region will reflect their past, because the nature of the assets one has to build on, in terms of existing firms, institutions and skills, will reflect that past. But equally an understanding of the transformations that technology is bringing is important too.

Manufacturing is changing, through automation and robotics, new materials and manufacturing techniques, and new modes of organising manufacturing processes in more reconfigurable and customisable ways. New business models are being developed which erode the distinction between traditional manufacturing and service industries, and underlying all these changes is the power of new digital technology, and the potential of large scale data analytics and machine learning. All these demand new (often digital) skills, better management practises, more effective mechanisms by which new technologies diffuse widely through an existing business base.

Last summer, we began the process of defining what a modern industrial strategy might look like, to support a resurgence of high value manufacturing in the traditional manufacturing heartlands of South Yorkshire and Lancashire. The outcome of this is presented in the Science and Innovation Audit commissioned by the UK government, whose report you can read here – Driving productivity growth through innovation in high value manufacturing.

As the UK government develops its own industrial strategy, I hope the policies that emerge are designed to support the right sorts of manufacturing, for the right reasons.