Seriously Curious

by Tom Standage

  Birth rates are indeed highly correlated with national income: wealth is a powerful contraceptive, and this more than anything else explains Europe’s low birth rates. But the fertility rates of many European countries are lower than would be expected if GDP per person were the only factor that mattered. Romania, for instance, has 1.5 births per adult woman. Based purely on its level of economic development, that figure would be expected to be around 2.1. What about the factors Mr Assange mentioned? Prosperity, capitalism, secularism and feminism all tend to be found in the same places. To try to distinguish the impact of each, The Economist tested their relationships with fertility rates across different countries. To measure religious observance, our data team used survey data from the Pew Research Centre, a think-tank. Levels of capitalism or feminism are harder to quantify, but an economic-liberty index produced by the Heritage Foundation, another think-tank, and a gender-equality index from the UN Development Programme (UNDP) may serve as proxies.

  Julian, unassuaged

  The relationship between fertility and wealth

  Sources: World Bank; The Economist

  *Purchasing-power parity

  Once GDP per person was taken into account, levels of capitalism, thus measured, did nothing extra to explain variations in birth rates. Both gender equality and the share of population that is irreligious did seem to play a part. But while those two traits may help explain why eastern European countries have far lower birth rates than Middle Eastern and Latin American ones with similar levels of income, neither was a meaningful predictor of fertility rates within Europe. Birth rates in egalitarian and irreligious Scandinavia are comparable to those in Catholic Italy, where women are expected to care for both babies and older relatives. In short, variations in enthusiasm for capitalism and feminism do not explain variations in European birth rates, despite Mr Assange’s suggestion. Countries in eastern Europe and East Asia, moreover, tend to have both low birth rates and negligible numbers of immigrants. So the last step in Mr Assange’s equation, linking low birth rates to higher rates of migration, makes no sense at all.

  Why America still allows child marriage

  Child marriage is common in the developing world, where a third of girls, on average, marry before the age of 18. At that rate, another 1.2bn women will have got married as children by 2050. Almost all of the countries in the top 20 spots in a ranking of states with the highest rates of child marriage are African. Far less well-known is the prevalence of the practice in America – and almost always among girls. The country’s diplomats are active in international efforts to ban child marriage abroad, but American children are still permitted to marry (albeit, usually, with parental consent and the approval of a judge or a clerk).

  Child marriage is most common in America’s conservative religious communities and poor, rural areas. But it can be found in all socio-economic strata and in secular, as well as pious, families. More than 207,000 American minors were married between 2000 and 2015, according to an investigation by Frontline, a television programme. Over two-thirds were 17 years old, but 985 were 14, and ten were just 12. Twenty-seven states have no minimum age for marriage. Encouragingly, the practice has become less common in recent years. This reflects changing social norms, higher rates of school attendance for girls and a decline in marriage generally. Whereas 23,500 minors got married in 2000, that figure had dropped to a little over 9,000 by 2010. Yet even as recently as 2014 more than 57,000 minors aged 15 to 17 were married. They entered perhaps the most important legal contract of their lives while, in most cases, not being considered legal adults. This means they cannot file for divorce, sign rental leases or seek protection in a shelter if they are abused.

  Opponents of a ban on child marriage can be found across the political spectrum. Social conservatives argue that early marriages can reduce out-of-wedlock births as well as the number of single mothers on welfare. They also want to see religious traditions and customs protected. Libertarians say that marriage should be a choice made apart from the state. On the left, the American Civil Liberties Union and Planned Parenthood, a national group that offers reproductive-health services, have defended the practice because banning it would intrude on the right to marry. Supporters of a ban hold that if children are seriously committed to each other, they can wait until they are 18 to marry. They also argue that religious customs that hurt children should not be protected.

  Parents may think they have their child’s best interest in mind by allowing an early marriage, especially if their daughter is pregnant. But in the vast majority of cases they actually harm her, sometimes irreparably. Between 70 and 80% of child marriages end in divorce. Married children are twice as likely to live in poverty and three times more likely to be beaten by spouses than married adults are. Around 50% more of them drop out of high school, and they are four times less likely to finish college. They are at considerably higher risk of diabetes, cancer, stroke and other physical illnesses. And they are much more likely to suffer from mental-health problems. That is why activists are so intransigent in pushing for a complete ban. And they are gaining ground. Virginia, Texas and New York have introduced laws that restrict marriage to legal adults. (In some states, people under 18 can become legal adults, with the associated rights, in order to marry.) Connecticut has banned marriage for under-16s. In 11 other states legislation restricting child marriage is in the pipeline; Arizona, Florida, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey and Pennsylvania are considering blanket bans on marriage for those under 18. But no American state has passed a law that categorically forbids the practice.

  Also on the menu: oddities of food and drink

  The surprising link between avocados and crime

  In English the word “avocado” refers to a fleshy fruit, native to Mexico. In Spanish an abogado is a lawyer. That is apt. The avocado has found itself flirting with the law on numerous occasions in recent years. What is the link between avocados and crime?

  Since the late 1990s the world’s appetite for avocados has steadily increased. In 2013 global production reached 4.7m metric tonnes – twice the level in 1998. A few factors explain the boom. Clever marketing has drawn consumers to the fruit for its high nutritional content (it is full of the sort of “good” fats lauded by dieticians) and health benefits, such as lowering the risk of heart disease. Moreover, it is also the main component in guacamole, a dip that has benefited from the rising popularity of Mexican fast food, such as tacos. As a result, traditional markets have expanded while new ones have emerged: China’s avocado imports quadrupled in the five years from 2008.

  But sometimes there are not enough avocados to go round. In 2016 bad weather in New Zealand and Australia brought harvesting to a halt. Bush fires destroyed orchards while heavy rainfall delayed picking of the fruit. Prices in New Zealand hit NZ$4.61 ($3.25) per avocado in June that year, the highest since records began in 1966. This prompted some people to take the law into their own hands, pilfering large quantities of the fruit from avocado orchards and selling them on the black market. High prices in 2017 led to another spate of night-time raids on orchards. And in May 2018 average prices hit a new high of NZ$5.06, prompting some restaurants to remove avocados from their menus. In Mexico, meanwhile, which accounts for around one-third of global avocado production, the crime is of an altogether different sort. The country is by far the biggest exporter of the fruit – and plans to stay that way. Growers there (or at least the cartels that control them) have taken to cutting down forests illegally to make way for more extensive farming. In Costa Rica, a ban on imports of Hass, a kind of avocado, led to smuggling of the fruit across the border from Panama.

  Boosting production quickly is hard, because the avocado is a difficult plant to grow. As with harvests occurring at different times in different countries, there can be sudden swings in availability and price. (Poor harvests in Mexico, California and Peru caused prices to spike in 2017.) As long as demand exceeds supply and avocados remain a lucrative product, dodgy dealing is li
kely to continue. Tweets declaring the avocado to be “#overcado” seem to have done little to dampen enthusiasm for the fruit. Those new to its appeal are unlikely to relinquish the green stuff anytime soon.

  Why China’s dog-meat market has expanded

  Every year during the summer solstice, a dog-eating festival takes place in Yulin, a city in the southern Chinese province of Guangxi. It always sparks controversy, as photographs of dogs being fried or treated cruelly go viral. In 2017, animal-rights activists and American congressmen demanded that China ban the eating of dogs and cats, as Taiwan did earlier that year. Yulin’s local government took modest steps to restrain or hide some of the more contentious activities, such as selling dogs in food markets. Still, the festival was packed. Why has the controversial culinary habit become so popular in China?

  Contrary to cliché, dog meat has not always been a common item in the Chinese diet. Unlike in the West, eating dogs has never been taboo, but it appears to have been rare in the past. Government accounts single out butchers who sold dog meat, suggesting it was unusual and worthy of record. According to Guo Peng of Shandong University, one of the few people to have studied the dog-meat market, only China’s ethnic Korean minority eat dog with regularity. The majority Han population, she argues, see it as a medicinal food, which is believed to warm the body in winter or cool it in summer – hence the timing of the Yulin festival at the mid-year solstice, literally the dog days of summer. Traditionally, Ms Guo says, most people have only eaten dog once a year, if at all. According to a survey conducted in 2016 by Dataway Horizon, a polling firm, and Capital Animal Welfare Association, a Chinese NGO, almost 70% of Chinese people say they have never eaten dog. Of those who have, most claim they did so by accident – when invited to a social or business dinner, for example.

  So why is the Yulin festival packed? And why do restaurants in many cities proudly put dog on the menu? The one-word answer is: criminality. Dog meat, a bit like drugs, has become a lucrative source of criminal income. For the past decade Ms Guo has been going from village to village in Shandong province, on the east coast, asking inhabitants what has been happening to their animals. In one, villagers told her that a third of their dogs had been stolen between 2007 and 2011. Hunters, she discovered, have been roaming the countryside in vans, killing dogs with poisoned darts and selling them on to middlemen. Hunters got about 10 yuan ($1.30) for a kilogram of meat, so a medium-sized dog might be worth 70–80 yuan. One young man she interviewed was hunting so he could earn enough to get married. Hunted dog meat has increased the supply and reduced prices, boosting the size of the overall market. Ms Guo thinks Shandong and neighbouring Henan now supply a significant portion of China’s dog-meat business.

  In a way, the dog-meat trade exploits the fact that modernisation in these provinces is incomplete. In villages, dogs are still guardians. In big cities, they are increasingly becoming pets. The number of dogs registered as pets in Beijing, for example, has been growing by 25% a year for a decade. It now stands at about 2m, more than in New York. Concern for animal welfare has been growing in parallel, indicated by an increase in animal hospitals, animal-rescue and adoption agencies, and changing attitudes. Animal-welfare concerns are coming more into conflict with dog hunters and dog-meat eaters. Eventually they will probably snuff out the trade.

  Why obesity is a growing problem in poor countries

  When people think of nutritional woes in the developing world, they probably think of famine. But the number of young people in low- and middle-income countries who are obese is catching up with the number who are underweight. In 1975 obese children were almost unknown outside the rich world: just 0.3% of people in developing countries aged five to 19 had a body-mass index (BMI) more than two standard deviations above the average for their age and gender, the World Health Organisation’s definition of obesity. That figure has soared to 7% today. Meanwhile, the proportion of children who are underweight (with a BMI two standard deviations below average for their age and gender) in low- and middle-income countries has declined, from 13% to 10%. According to the WHO, if current trends continue, the number of obese children worldwide will surpass that of the undernourished by 2022.

  It might seem paradoxical that countries can have high levels both of hunger and of obesity. But the two are linked. Poor parents tend to seek the most affordable meals they can find to fill up their children. Thanks to the spread of convenience foods and energy-dense processed carbohydrates, the cheapest foods often deliver precious few nutrients relative to the calories they contain, putting children who eat a lot of them on a fast track to obesity.

  As a result, countries where the number of underweight children falls sharply often overshoot in the other direction. South Africa, for example, slashed the share of its youngsters who are underweight from about 20% in 1975 to less than 5% today. Over the same period, its childhood obesity rate went from roughly zero to more than 10%. Similarly, in China, the proportion of underweight youngsters fell from 6% to 3%, but its obesity rate likewise grew from almost nothing to over 10%. In 1975 fewer than half a million young Chinese were obese; now nearly 28m are.

  Childhood obesity raises the risk of all sorts of maladies later in life – particularly diabetes, which now causes more deaths than AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria combined. Governments in countries where underweight children are still common would be well-advised to help families obtain food that will not simply replace one nutritional problem with another.

  Young-aged spread

  Sources: Risk Factor Collaboration; UN Population Division; WHO; The Economist

  The Argentine–American lemon war of 2001–2018

  In May 2018 America received its first shipment of Argentine lemons in 17 years, following the lifting of an import ban imposed by the Department of Agriculture in 2001. The resulting export squeeze had seen relations sour between the countries, as Donald Trump observed: “One of the reasons he’s here is about lemons. And I’ll tell him about North Korea, and he’ll tell me about lemons,” he said when Mauricio Macri, the Argentine leader, visited him in April 2017. A resolution to the citrus wars was keenly awaited. America, which is the world’s largest consumer of the fruit, can now source lemons from the fourth-largest producer. What prompted the original dispute, and why did peace break out at last?

  The dispute had deep roots. For most of the 20th century, imports of Argentine lemons were restricted under quarantine rules, for fear that the fruit might bring in pests that could hurt American crops. When a relaxation was proposed in 2000, a consortium of growers in California and Arizona – which account for all of America’s domestic production – sued the agency responsible for protecting America’s plants and animals. Citrus fruits, they argued, had become a bargaining chip in America’s desire to open Argentina to its exports; in their view the risk of contamination remained. The courts sided with the farmers, and the ban was reinstated in 2001. In the years that followed, lukewarm relations between the two countries did not help. Nor did export taxes imposed on producers by an Argentine government trying to shore up its disastrous finances. The quarrel went to the WTO in 2012, as part of a bilateral tit-for-tat dispute involving meat and other foodstuffs.

  Mr Macri, elected president in 2015 on a pro-market mandate, eliminated most taxes on agricultural exports. His arrival also prompted a rapprochement with the United States. After Barack Obama visited the Argentine capital in March 2016, American officials travelled to the country to inspect citrus orchards, prompting the outgoing Obama administration to say in December 2016 that it would lift the ban. Mr Trump’s inauguration a few weeks later – and his threats to withdraw from the North American Free Trade Agreement – led Argentina to worry that the measure would be indefinitely delayed, after an initial 60-day stay on the decision was renewed by the new administration in March 2017. Mr Macri’s visit cleared the way for imports to resume in May 2017, but American growers once again mounted a legal challenge against the decision, arguing that it had been made
for political rather than scientific reasons.

  Mr Trump’s conspiracy-minded critics suggested, for example, that allowing imports was payback for California’s strong support for Hillary Clinton in the 2016 elections. That was probably reading too much into it. In March 2018 a judge rejected the citrus-growers’ argument, allowing imports to resume the following month. The president’s most substantial justification for supporting an end to the ban was that “the lemon business is big, big business”. His support for imports was hardly sign of a deeply felt belief in trade liberalisation, in short. Even for advocates of free trade, the resolution of this dispute left a bitter aftertaste.

  Which European country has the most craft breweries per person?

  These are not vintage times for Europe’s brewers. Overall beer sales have been fairly flat for years, at around 375m hectolitres per year. Since 2012 consumption per person has fallen slightly in most of the biggest beer-drinking countries. But beneath this seemingly uneventful surface, change is brewing: smaller producers and craft breweries have been gaining market share at the expense of established brands. Between 2010 and 2016 the number of microbrewing businesses in Europe nearly tripled, surpassing the 7,000 mark for the first time.