A
busy day today, so an item from the FT in 2009 about what happened in a rather
larger recession some time ago.
Quote:
"Call
this a recession? It isn’t the Dark Ages." By Bryan Ward-Perkins December
22 2009
As we
face an uncertain and worrying New Year, we can at least console ourselves with
the fact that we are not living 1,600 years ago, and about to begin the year
410. In this year Rome was sacked, and the
empire gave up trying to defend Britain.
While this marks the glorious beginnings of “English history”, as Anglo-Saxon
barbarians began their inexorable conquest of lowland Britain, it was
also the start of a recession that puts all recent crises in the shade.
The
economic indicators for fifth-century Britain are scanty, and derive
exclusively from archaeology, but they are consistent and extremely bleak.
Under the Roman empire, the province had
benefited from the use of a sophisticated coinage in three metals – gold,
silver and copper – lubricating the economy with a guaranteed and abundant
medium of exchange.
In
the first decade of the fifth century new coins ceased to reach Britain from
the imperial mints on the continent, and while some attempts were made to
produce local substitutes, these efforts were soon abandoned. For about 300
years, from around AD 420, Britain’s
economy functioned without coin.
Core
manufacturing declined in a similar way. There was some continuity of
production of the high-class metalwork needed by a warrior aristocracy to mark
its wealth and status; but at the level of purely functional products there was
startling change, all of it for the worse.
Roman
Britain had enjoyed an abundance of simple iron goods, documented by the many
hob-nail boots and coffin-nails found in Roman cemeteries. These, like the
coinage, disappeared early in the fifth century, as too did the industries that
had produced abundant attractive and functional wheel-turned pottery.
From
the early fifth century, and for about 250 years, the potter’s wheel – that
most basic tool, which enables thin-walled and smoothly finished vessels to be
made in bulk – disappeared altogether from Britain. The only pots remaining
were shaped by hand, and fired, not in kilns as in Roman times, but in open
‘clamps’ (a smart word for a pile of pots in a bonfire).
We do
not know for certain what all this meant for population numbers in the countryside,
because from the fifth to the eighth century people had so few goods that they
are remarkably difficult to find in the archaeological record; but we do know
its effect on urban populations. Roman Britain had a dense network of towns,
ranging from larger settlements, like London
and Cirencester, which also served an administrative function, to small
commercial centres that had grown up along the roads and waterways.
By
450 all of these had disappeared, or were well on the way to extinction. Canterbury, the only town in Britain that has established a good
claim to continuous settlement from Roman times to the present, impresses us
much more for the ephemeral nature of its fifth to seventh-century huts than
for their truly urban character.
Again
it was only in the eighth century, with the (re)emergence of trading towns such
as London and Saxon Southampton, that urban life
returned to Britain.
For
two or three hundred years, beginning at the start of the fifth century, the
economy of Britain reverted to levels not experienced since well before the
Roman invasion of AD 43. The most startling features of the fifth-century crash
are its suddenness and its scale. We might not be surprised if, on leaving the
empire, Britain
had reverted to an economy similar to that which it had enjoyed in the
immediately pre-Roman Iron Age.
But
southern Britain just before the Roman invasion was a considerably more
sophisticated place economically than Britain in the fifth and sixth centuries:
it had a native silver coinage; pottery industries that produced wheel-turned
vessels and sold them widely; and even the beginnings of settlements
recognisable as towns.
Nothing of the kind existed in the fifth and sixth
centuries; and it was only really in the eighth century that the British
economy crawled back to the levels it had already reached before Emperor
Claudius’s invasion.
It is
impossible to say with any confidence when Britain finally returned to levels
of economic complexity comparable to those of the highest point of Roman times,
but it might be as late as around the year 1000 or 1100. If so, the post-Roman
recession lasted for 600-700 years. We
can take some cheer from this sad story – so far our own problems pale into
insignificance.
But Schadenfreude
is never a very satisfying emotion, and in this case it would be decidedly
misplaced. The reason the Romano-British economy collapsed so dramatically
should give us pause for thought. Almost certainly the suddenness and the
catastrophic scale of the crash were caused by the levels of sophistication and
specialisation reached by the economy in Roman times.
The
Romano-British population had grown used to buying their pottery, nails, and
other basic goods from specialist producers, based often many miles away, and
these producers in their turn relied on widespread markets to sustain their
specialised production. When insecurity came in the fifth century, this
impressive house of cards collapsed, leaving a population without the goods
they wanted and without the skills and infrastructure needed to produce them
locally. It took centuries to reconstruct networks of specialisation and
exchange comparable to those of the Roman period.
The
more complex an economy is, the more fragile it is, and the more cataclysmic
its disintegration can be. Our economy is, of course, in a different league of
complexity to that of Roman Britain. Our pottery and metal goods are likely to have
been made, not many miles away, but on the other side of the globe, while our
main medium of exchange is electronic, and sometimes based on smoke and
mirrors.
If
our economy ever truly collapses, the consequences will make fifth-century Britain seem
like a picnic.
The
writer teaches history at Trinity College, Oxford and is
the author of ‘The Fall of Rome
and the End of Civilization’
Unquote.
Now I can relax.