Well, it didn't put it quite like that, but its analysis of the way places like Middlesbrough, Burnley, Hartlepool and Hull absorbed huge sums of public money without their economies making progress was put forward as a reason for switching the money to more promising locations and providing transport links to their jobs.
The Economist's article was a clinical analysis of some unpleasant facts: unemployment rates in these towns are double the national average, young people are draining away and their high streets are "thick with betting shops and payday lenders, if they are not empty."
In other words, their economies are no longer working in a sustainable way.
It pointed out that fortunes have been lavished on regenerating them when the economy was booming, often on "grand projects" which could not survive without life support from the taxpayer.
That life support has gone, and The Economist's conclusion was that Government money should focus on helping people rather than propping up places.
How? "That means helping them to commute or move to places where there are jobs – and giving them the skills to get those jobs."
There were some predictable outpourings of rage. Some of it was genuine pride in cultural identity, some of it was political bluster from people who probably have a few questions to answer (the most serious implication of The Economist's analysis was that giving businesses and people incentives to come and set up in these towns is propping up local politics, not local economics, and diverting business from places where it might be more successful).
Hull's response was cleverer than that. And it'll interest Nottingham.
Academics from the city's university pointed out that the 'facts' about Hull that The Economist's analysis was based on weren't accurate because they were based on a political boundary not economic reality. In other words, it had missed Hull's affluent suburbs.
Sound familiar? Nottingham has struggled in numerous rankings for exactly the same reason. In business, we know the city as capital of the East Midlands, one of England's eight core cities and a pretty attractive location which mixes big business, entrepreneurial vitality, academia of international standing, an attractive lifestyle and some beautiful places to live.
Yet the official statistics about poverty, health and education make for a miserable roll-call of below average readings. Why? Once again, because the data is taken from a tightly-drawn inner city political boundary – not the functioning social and economic entity that includes the likes of West Bridgford, Wollaton, Arnold and Mapperley.
The traditional response is that these local government boundaries should therefore be changed. This raises all sorts of political issues (not least self-interest) and seems unlikely to happen anytime soon.
In any case, there's a cheaper and quicker way of doing it – simply adopt the methodology used in the University of Hull's (miserably-titled) "index of multiple deprivation". It looks at all the relevant measures in a series of concentric circles from the inside of a city to the outside, reflecting the way a city functions rather than its politics.
As The Economist points out, cities and their conurbations don't always form neat circles so the index isn't infallible. Nor should such measures be used to suggest that things are OK on average when festering problems remain unsolved. 'Inner' Nottingham's education issues are serious and need serious attention.
But they need to be seen in context. There is clearly no need to hop on a bus and abandon Nottingham - quite the reverse, in fact. The numbers about the city need to make that abundantly clear.
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