Westminster’s obsession with Freeports highlights the sickness in our body politic

Liverpool: freeport of the future? Image: Getty.

There is a deep sickness in Westminster that, as we approach Brexit, infects everything. It extends beyond our ludicrous politicians, outwards into the nexus of ideas shared and valorised by politicians, think tanks and lobbyists that grease the wheels of the legislative machine, and threatens every interstice of our national life.

Nowhere is the sickness more evident than in Westminster’s current fetishisation of “Freeports”. This policy wheeze is virtually guaranteed to do none of the things its supporters claim, while causing incalculable harm. And yet it is currently championed by breathless politicians on all sides who are so blinded by events that they apparently can know no better.

Freeports are, essentially, seaside local low tax zones. Goods in freeports are considered to be “in transit”, so do not attract regular import and export duties. This, its champions suggest, brings vital support to a local area’s manufacturing industries, which results in activity, jobs and inward investment.

We are not short of examples; some 3,000 such free trade zones exist worldwide. Most house manufacturers who avoid tax on imported raw materials before exporting finished products. They are also exploited by some of the most shameless spivs in the international art market. Collectors and fencers of Picassos and Hockneys avoiding taxes on purchases by warehousing culture and stockpiling heritage. The Economist suggests that “hundreds of billions of dollars” of goods are stored in such to avoid tax. The famous Geneva freeport in particular is a hive of the lurid and the crass, the unequal and the downright criminal. As a vision for our localities this is bad enough, the closest thing to Tony Blair’s disastrous supercasino plan, which assumed that the way to build our regions is to turn local people into factotums for the feckless and the sozzled.

But a cursory glance at the material shows that the purported benefits of Freeports are based on the most tendentious of data. The right wing Centre for Policy Studies, in a report headed up by the Conservative party’s Rishi Sunak MP, claim that by creating freeport areas in our major port cities in the north we can create 86,000 extra jobs. MACE, a construction consultancy, goes even higher, estimating an enormous 150,000 high value (with an income of more than £60,000) jobs from an extra £12bn a year in revenue to the UK Economy. Policy North, another right wing think tank, estimated that the creation of a necklace of Northern freeports will see 612,000 jobs and £12bn of investment.

Such estimates are farcical. Policy North references numbers from a study by a McMaster University study, which make it clear that it has no evidence to suggest that any of the jobs in question were created by the Freeport. Indeed this report in turn references a study by the International Trade Commission that “determined that FTZs [Free Trade Zones] were having a small overall effect on U.S. revenue collection, employment and the economy in general”.

The Centre for Policy Studies’ analysis fares no better: Sunak’s report is cocktail napkin mathematics. He produces his figure of 86,000 jobs by simply dividing the number of jobs in FTZs in America by the size of the national workforce, and multiplying it by the size of the relevant workforce.

Simultaneously, a report recently published by the World Bank was scathing about the potential of Freeports to improve lives or livelihoods. First, it suggested, Freeports do not catalyse economic development. In fact, on average, most zones’ performance only resembles the national average. Secondly, growth in Freeport areas happens early on in the life of the Freeport. After an initial boost, the economic performance of these zones evens out to that of their surrounding area. Thirdly, the economic spillover from whatever benefits there may be – unconvincing as they are – from freeports only appears to affect the immediate vicinity. “The effect declines sharply beyond 20km and is barely evident beyond 50km from the center of the zone.” Witness Delaware in the United State, which opened a freeport in 2015. The unemployment rate has indeed decreased but only at the national rate since opening. Further, unemployment in Delaware has remained consistently above the national average.

There is an appropriate worry that Freeports are not conducive to quality jobs; that what is on offer to many are low security, low wage, low job quality roles. The World Bank in another report on free trade zones highlight that “union rights have been legally constrained or de facto discouraged [in FTZs]”. The International Labour Organization pulls a similar line from their report, that, “The generous incentives and low costs to entry attracts simple processing industries to invest in the zones; such companies often lack professional management, particularly in human resources and management”.


Professor John Tomaney of University College London is an outspoken critic: “Freeports have become an article of faith for some advocates of “Global Britain”. But the evidence that they would contribute to economic development in northern England is very far from convincing. Experience from elsewhere in the world is that they provide many advantages to firms and their shareholders, but far fewer to local workers and taxpayers. In many parts of the world they have been used as cover to drive down labour standards and reduce environmental protections.”

Supporters of freeports claim both precedent and huge public support. Conservative right wingers find themselves in rare alliance on the matter with centre-grounders like former chief advisor to the Prime Minister, Nick Timothy, who suggested that Freeports should be a limb of the free trade alternative to her Brexit deal. They also point to a recent poll done by Survation which shows 83 per cent of British People support freeports. Once again, the quality of that poll calls into account the self-awareness or bona fides of those quoting it. Freeports were specifically claimed to “encourage domestic manufacturing, increased international trade and job creation”. This, as we have seen, is far from proven. At the very least we must debate the countervailing views.

It is a sign of our desperate and ailing times that such an intellectually and ethically troubling idea, presented in such a ham-fisted way, can achieve almost mythical powers of national healing and restoration quite so quickly. It is worth noting that the above is not some academic discussion; the Treasury in October under the direction of Robert Jenrick MP, initiated a consultation into establishing Freeports across the North. Perhaps we should not be surprised that, in a time of ubiquitous division, anything that on the face of it brings together left and right, social justice warrior and free market fanatic, is seized upon, as a rare, magical object of consensus. The reality is, though, that we are wise to this. Just because those in power agree something is a good idea for the rest of us, it doesn’t make it so: the opposite in fact may well be true. The dignity of our people, for the men with pens, often seems to be expendable.

There are alternatives to this dystopia. Economic models based, not on inwards investment, but building local assets, investing in local institutions, creating local employee owned movements. The inward investment model has a rival in the community wealth movements that find expression in places like Preston and in the work in Chicago of Ted Howard and others and that form a real model of local ownership and hope: an economics of belonging, that if applied might get us out of this mess. But the freeport model and it associated degradation and corruption is where Westminster is at right now. What cure can suffice when the rot runs this deep?

Asheem Singh is the director of economics at the Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce. He was assisted in researching this article by Toby Murray.

 
 
 
 

City of Ruin: On Resident Evil’s Raccoon City

Photo: Wikipedia via Creative Commons

With the release of Capcom’s remake of Resident Evil 2 on Friday 25 January, gamers will return to the terrifying streets of one of the most iconic cities in video games: the zombie-infested Raccoon City.

Despite first being mentioned in 1997’s original Resident Evil, that game took place entirely in a mansion outside the city and it wasn’t until the 1998 sequel that we actually got to explore Raccoon City itself.

Since then, it’s become a recurring location in the games series and various spin-off media, even though – and this is an unavoidable spoiler, so abandon this article now if you’re planning to go into the remake completely cold – Resident Evil 2 ends with the city being comprehensively nuked by the US government.

In fact, the series returned to Raccoon City a year later in 1999’s Resident Evil 3, an asset-reusing fill-in instalment that cleverly loops around the events and locations of Resident Evil 2 and gives the player another, more detailed look at the city’s final destruction.

Raccoon City RIP, from Resident Evil 3. The author of this piece was not allowed to have the piano theme from the credits as music at his wedding.

Since then, the 1998 fall of Raccoon City has been revisited in the two Resident Evil Outbreak titles, in the Umbrella Chronicles and Darkside Chronicles light gun Wii games, and in the shockingly mediocre online shooter Operation Raccoon City, as well as the Milla Jovovich-starring live action film series.

Although the plot line of the main game series has moved on to new locales and time periods from 2005’s Resident Evil 4 onwards, the franchise clearly left a part of itself on the streets of Raccoon City in 1998, and can’t help but repeatedly return. But why?

To answer that we need to look at what kind of games the Resident Evil series are, their genre roots and the continuity that’s built up within the games themselves – and how these elements have created an eccentric idea of an average American city.

The original Resident Evil had horror game precedents in titles like Alone in the Dark and the film adaptation, Sweet Home – even sharing a developer, Capcom, and a director, Shinji Mikami, with the latter – but it twisted these influences and precedents to create a new sub-genre: survival horror.

The survival horror genre is distinguished by the cautious, steady exploration of a contained environment, facing off against horrific creatures that constantly threaten to overpower the player, who must conserve scarce resources like ammo and health top-ups. As opposed to game genres where environments are dashed through while shooting wildly, survival horror games, and their steady pace, demand locations that reward attention.

The live action introduction to the characters in the original Resident Evil. Mysteriously this technique hasn’t been used in the series since.

The first game, called Biohazard in its native Japanese but renamed Resident Evil in English, opened with a ridiculous live-action video in which an elite team of cops – as seen in the video above – wind up in the creepy Spencer Mansion located in the Arklay Mountains near Raccoon City. There, our heroes, part of the elite and very coolly acronymic STARS team, face off against zombies and other genetically engineered monsters created as weapons by the evil Umbrella Corporation.

Player characters, Chris or Jill, move from room to room in the mansion, fighting off monsters and making progress by solving baroque puzzles where rooms are locked by mysterious keys and booby trap devices. As the plot unfolds Chris and Jill realise that they’ve been set up, acting as experimental subjects to provide data about the combat efficiency of Umbrella’s Bio-Organic Weapons, or BOWs for short.

Gameplay from the original Resident Evil. NSFW due to gore and terrible voice acting.

Although we don’t go near Raccoon City in the first game, it sets several precedents that shape the urban space encountered in the sequel. The game relies on confined spaces and environments in which the player struggles to escape a looming zombie, with doorways to pass through to move from one small area to another. As well as building tension this is a technical issue – the dramatic fixed camera angles allow the backdrops to each screen to essentially be pre-rendered still images on which animated characters and interactive items move, allowing in turn for a much higher resolution in the backgrounds than was possible for moving 3D environments at the time – which lends the world of the game a distinct, atmospheric feel, the sense of a real, detailed place.


The fiction of the game justifies the Spencer Mansion’s weird layout and complex locks partially through its use by the Umbrella Corporation as a secret laboratory and testing facility, and partially through the story of the Mansion’s eccentric architect, George Trevor, who installed all these traps and puzzles on the orders of Umbrella’s founder, Ozwell Spencer. These narratives are told through documents found around the Mansion and its grounds.

The final element here is one of genre. If you’re a Resident Evil newcomer, you may well have read the past few paragraphs and thought “this makes absolutely no sodding sense whatsoever”, and you wouldn’t be wrong. The most obvious genre precedents for the series are the zombie films of filmmaker George A Romero, but the series also takes influence from the considerably less coherent European knock offs Romero inspired, all through a lens of Japanese horror, which is far more prone to abstraction and nightmare logic as well as post-Hiroshima concerns about mutation.

These overlapping influences shaped Raccoon City itself – a city in the mid-western United States, created by Japanese game developers in the mid to late 1990s taking influence from zombie films of the 1970s and 1980s, some of which were shot in Europe. Factor in the technical and gameplay requirements, and you end up with a uniquely skewed vision of an American cityscape.

The original Resident Evil 2 opens with the zombie outbreak well underway, and protagonists Leon and Claire stranded in a Downtown area overrrun with the undead. The narrow streets are rendered narrower by crashed cars and barricades, evidence of the carnage that has occurred and failed defensive efforts. The opening scenes of the game are a hectic dash through cluttered streets and a crashed bus to get to a gun shop and the game’s first major environment, the Raccoon Police Department. Resident Evil 3 revisits Downtown and the RPD, filling in restaraunts, shopping streets, an area under construction, an electricty substation, the City Hall, a gas station and a tram station.

The unusually narrow streets of Raccoon City as seen in Resident Evil 3.

Resident Evil 3 also adds the adjacent Uptown area with warehouses, sales offices, bars and residential streets that border on tenements in their density and narrow alleys. Between the two games the ruined city is a beautiful example of stage-managed desolation, with distant screams and evidence of horrors past strewn across the cluttered chaos. It’s also ridiculous, a toytown version of a city where industrial, residential and commercial activities are piled upon each other. The George Trevor school of architectural madness is also in full effect, with the RPD building being a converted art gallery complete with doors that are opened by manipulating statues, and gates to City Hall that unlock when a clock outside is completed.

An eccentric approach to architecture and city planning is one hand wave explanation for why Raccoon City doesn’t make much sense, another within the fiction is that it’s an Umbrella Corporation company town, with their labs and facilities scattered across the city. Every business and facility can hide a lab or storage area for Umbrella. In Resident Evil 2, the sewers and a cable car trip lead to a dead factory hiding a lab facility in the Raccoon City outskirts, an underground lab revisited (or pre-visited?) in Resident Evil Zero and the Outbreak games.

In Resident Evil 3 a disastrous jaunt in a tram leads to the city hospital which hides a lab full of reptilian monstrosities, then on through the park, across a dam and into another dead factory hiding another laboratory. 

As much as anything makes sense in Raccoon City, there’s a sort of logic to seeing the city as a giant laboratory in which the local population are bred as guinea pigs, who can be snatched up and experimented upon in the individual facilities across the city. It’s a groteseque but not entirely inaccurate caricature of urban space where the masses live and die at the whim of the corporate forces who shape the city for their own purposes. The cramped urban spaces of Raccoon City, where industrial, residential, and commercial areas pile up on each other in a mass of twisty, narrow streets that are barely more than corridors, add a level of dream logic to this scenario, making for an evocative urban nightmare.

The boring, sensibly proportioned streets of Operation: Raccoon City

While the Outbreak games added new areas to Raccoon City – a zoo, a university by the sea – their adherence to the oppressively warped architecture and geography of the series made these additions of a piece with their predecessors. Other adaptations have been less successful: the Chronicles and Operation Raccoon City games turned the streets into open boxes for less contained, run-and-gun-type play, completely losing the rich detail and claustrophobia that made Raccoon City such a unique place and turning it into... well, something resembling a real city, with streets wide enough for cars and buildings with sensibly broad corridors. That nightmarish quality was entirely lost.

Hopefully the Resident Evil 2 remake released this week will, amongst all its high definition upgraded gore, retain Raccoon City’s convoluted, unrealistic geography. The story of an apocalyptic event reducing an American city, the supposed apex of Western civilisation, to carnage and despair will always have a certain perverse appeal, and the fall of Raccoon City, in all its nightmarish eccentricity, is one of the greatest iterations of that story. Long may we keep being allowed to revisit it.

Resident Evil 2 is released for PS4, XBox One and Microsoft Windows on 25 January 2019.