John Lanchester - whose A Debt to Pleasure more than lived up to its title for me - has supplied what I’ll call the read of the month in his LRB piece It’s Finished. It’s a Brit-centric and deliciously vicious bit about how the financiers have propelled a couple of Aegean stablesworths of shit at the fan. A fan which is, of course, not pointed at the financiers. The whole thing is bloody well worth a couple of reads. I’ll steal the last bits from which I’ve pinched the title.
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About twenty years ago I bumped into Alan Hollinghurst at a party at the Poetry Society. He greeted me with the words, ‘Hello. I’m going to tremendous, Basil Fawltyish lengths to avoid being introduced to Sir Stephen Spender,’ whose collected poems he had just given an unglowing review. ‘Tremendous, Basil Fawltyish lengths’: that phrase stuck with me. It comes to mind when I look at Anglo-Saxon attempts to address the crises in their respective financial sectors. The UK and US plans are different, as I’ve said, but at their heart they both show the governments going to tremendous, Basil Fawltyish lengths in order to avoid taking the troubled banks into public ownership. Our governments are prepared to pay for them, but not to take them over.
There are four reasons for the reluctance to take over the banks, of which the first isn’t a real reason but a piece of political bullshit.
1. Because the government would be bad at it. This is the only reason governments are willing to give in public, and it fails the most elementary test of all: only a professional politician can say it with a straight face. Bad at running the banks, compared to the bankers who broke capitalism? Please. But this is the closest they can get to admitting the first real reason, which is:
2. Because if the banks were taken over, then every decision they take would come at a potential political cost to the government. Your state-owned mortgage lender is threatening to repossess your house, after you fell behind on the payments? Blame the government. Your firm is laying off half its workforce because the bank won’t roll over its loan? Blame the government. This, of course, is in addition to all the other economic things for which people are already blaming the government. People are grumbling now, but to nothing like the extent they would if the banks were directly owned by the state. Politicians simply aren’t willing to take on the responsibility for the banks’ actions.
3. They also don’t want to admit the extent to which we are all now liable for the losses made by the banks. Guess what, though: it’s too late. The 30 per cent collapse in the value of sterling over the last months is something which is only just beginning to be noticed by the public at large; but it is unlikely to go away as quickly as it arrived. The reason sterling has crashed is simple: the markets are pricing in the fact that we the taxpayer are on the hook for the losses made by our banks. The markets assume that we can’t or won’t default on our government debts – that would mean we simply can’t afford to pay back the amount we’re currently borrowing. They’re probably right about that. But Alistair Darling’s desperately grim Budget made it clear just how deep in the mire we are. As for how bad it is, and how quickly it’s gone bad, well: in March last year, at the time of the Budget, the projected deficit for 2009-10 was £38 billion. By 24 November, the projected deficit was £118 billion. In the Budget on 22 April, Darling admitted that the real figure is going to be £175 billion. The total projected borrowing for the next four years is £606 billion. National debt will hit 79 per cent of GDP – the highest peacetime figure ever. The economy is going to have its worst year since 1945. The debt is going to cost in the range of £35 to £47 billion a year to service. That’s just the debt alone; we’re going to be spending more on debt than we are on the entire transport budget. Perhaps New Labour might consider changing its motto from ‘Education, education, education’ to ‘Debt, debt, debt’.
That means tax rises, a near total freeze on government spending, swingeing public-sector job cuts, companies laying off every worker they can to save costs, and a dramatic upward spike in unemployment. The one easy thing the government will be able to do to help itself is to make inflation go up – that helps, because it decreases the real cost of the debt. An inflation rate of 5 per cent means that the debt goes down in cost by 5 per cent every year, magically and just by itself. From the point of view of a heavily indebted government, that’s good news; for other parts of the economy, for borrowers and for anyone holding sterling, it’s less good. To compound this already desperate picture, we also have huge levels of personal debt, directly arising from our credit bubble. The average British household owes 160 per cent of its annual income. That makes us, individually and collectively, a lot like the cartoon character who’s run off the end of a cliff and hasn’t realised it yet. None of this is secret, and investors looking at the prospects for sterling are making up their minds and bailing out. The investor-pundit Jim Rogers, colleague of George Soros, is advising anyone who will listen to ‘sell any sterling you might have. It’s finished. I hate to say it, but I would not put any money in the UK.’ This isn’t nice or polite, but it puts into the public domain what a lot of international money men are saying in private. More to the point, it’s a policy on which they have already acted. This is the reason an auction of government debt held in March failed. The debt was for 40-year bonds paying out at a rate of 4.25 per cent, and the reason it failed to sell everything on offer – the last time that happened was in 2002 – is that the markets thought inflation likely to rise, making the bonds a bad bet.
And the reason for that is that we in Britain are, to use a technical economic term, screwed. Economies across the whole world are struggling. Because nobody is spending money, even relatively blameless countries such as Germany, with low levels of debt and workforces who actually make things, are having a difficult time. Germany’s economy is predicted to contract by 5.4 per cent this year. A banker explained it like this: ‘When your country’s economy depends on people buying a car every three years, and they decide that they’ll only buy a car every five years, you’re fucked. Off a cliff.’ So the German economy is fucked off a cliff. But it will recover, when people start buying cars again, and when it does, at least their underlying levels of debt are manageable. Something similar goes for Spain, where the ending of the property boom has caused a spike in unemployment to 17.4 per cent, almost doubling in a year, or Ireland, which has contracted by a truly horrendous 8 per cent and where people have gone from owning private helicopters to losing their homes in six months flat. All of these countries are in deep trouble. But there are four things you don’t want to have, going into the current crisis. 1. You don’t want to have had a boom based on a property bubble. 2. You don’t want to have a consumer credit bubble. 3. You don’t want to have an economy based on financial services. 4. You don’t want your government to have just gone on a massive spending spree. We have all four of those things that you don’t want.
It is possible that we are on course for the worst-case scenario. That would involve all our big, TBTF banks turning out to be insolvent, with the result that their balance sheets go onto the public debt. If that were to happen, Britain itself could become insolvent. Countries do go broke. A famous-to-economists example was Newfoundland, which in 1934 effectively went into administration and opted for direct rule from Britain because it was broke – becoming in the process one of the only colonies anywhere in the world ever to have voluntarily given up independence. A modern-day equivalent is having to go to the IMF and ask for money. It happened in 1976 and could happen again. The trigger would be a general view in the markets that the government’s tax receipts weren’t sufficient to meet its debt payments. That would cause a ‘buyer’s strike’ in the bond market: nobody would want to buy UK government bonds, so the government could no longer keep going back to the markets for cash to pay its liabilities. That would leave the government facing an immediate need for cash with no means of raising it – and it’s that which would send us prostrate to the IMF. Sterling would be more or less worthless. Travel would be next to impossible, imports would be unaffordable, interest rates would zoom up and stay up, there would be cuts in all aspects of public sector spending, especially employment. It would be brutal. Nobody thinks this scenario is likely, but quite a few people are willing to admit that it is possible. In 1976, Britain went broke running an annual deficit – the gap between tax revenues and government spending – of 6 per cent of GDP. Next year that figure is going to hit 12.4 per cent. A bad omen.
Even if we fall short of the IMF option in favour of a run-of-the-mill severe recession, the consequences for Britain are going to be horrific. Roads and schools and hospitals will go unbuilt and unrepaired, medical treatments will go unbought, nurses and policemen and council workers will be laid off. Six hundred thousand jobs have been created in local government in the last few years. Most of them will have to go. And then the really gigantic argument will have to be had, over the public service pensions which are paid for out of current tax receipts. I don’t know anyone who has studied this problem who thinks the government will be able to afford them. Can you imagine the fights that are going to happen? The political polarisation between public and private sector employees, the savagery of the cuts, the bitterness of the arguments, the furious sense of righteousness on both sides? It’ll be Thatcher all over again, and the current period of managerial non-politics will seem as distant as the Butskellite consensus did in the 1980s.
All of this leads us to the fourth and deepest reason why the government won’t nationalise the banks. The deepest reason is:
4. Because it would be so embarrassing. Some of the embarrassment is superficial: on the not-remembering-somebody’s-name-at-a-social-occasion level. The Anglo-Saxon economies have had decades of boom mixed with what now seem, in retrospect, smallish periods of downturn. During that they/we have shamelessly lectured the rest of the world on how they should be running their economies. We’ve gloated at the French fear of debt, laughed at the Germans’ 19th-century emphasis on manufacturing, told the Japanese that they can’t expect to get over their ‘lost decade’ until they kill their zombie banks, and so on. It’s embarrassing to be in a worse condition than all of them.
There is, however, a deeper embarrassment, one which verges on a form of psychological or ideological crisis. To nationalise major financial institutions would mean that the Anglo-Saxon model of capitalism had failed. The level of state intervention in the US and UK at this moment is comparable to that of wartime. We have in effect had to declare war to get us out of the hole created by our economic system. There is no model or precedent for this, and no way to argue that it’s all right really, because under such-and-such a model of capitalism . . . there is no such model. It just isn’t supposed to work like this, and there is no road-map for what’s happened.
It’s for this reason that the thing the governments least want to do – take over the banks – is something that needs to happen, not just for economic reasons, but for ethical ones too. There needs to be a general acceptance that the current model has failed. The brakes-off, deregulate or die, privatise or stagnate, lunch is for wimps, greed is good, what’s good for the financial sector is good for the economy model; the sack the bottom 10 per cent, bonus-driven, if you can’t measure it, it isn’t real model; the model that spread from the City to government and from there through the whole culture, in which the idea of value has gradually faded to be replaced by the idea of price. Thatcher began, and Labour continued, the switch towards an economy which was reliant on financial services at the expense of other areas of society. What was equally damaging for Britain was the hegemony of economic, or quasi-economic, thinking. The economic metaphor came to be applied to every aspect of modern life, especially the areas where it simply didn’t belong. In fields such as education, equality of opportunity, health, employees’ rights, the social contract and culture, the first conversation to happen should be about values; then you have the conversation about costs. In Britain in the last 20 to 30 years that has all been the wrong way round. There was a reverse takeover, in which City values came to dominate the whole of British life.
It’s becoming traditional at this point to argue that perhaps the financial crisis will be good for us, because it will cause people to rediscover other sources of value. I suspect this is wishful thinking, or thinking about something which is quite a long way away, because it doesn’t consider just how angry people are going to get when they realise the extent of the costs we are going to carry for the next few decades. I think we will end up nationalising at least some of our big banks because the electorate will be too angry to do anything that looks in the smallest degree like letting them get away with it. Banks can’t change their behaviour, so we have to do it for them, and the only way to do it is to take them over. We can’t afford any more TBTF.
I get the strong impression, talking to people, that the penny hasn’t fully dropped. As the ultra-bleak condition of our finances becomes more and more apparent people are going to ask increasingly angry questions about how we got into this predicament. The drop in sterling, for instance, means that prices for all sorts of goods will go up just as oil and gas prices have spiked downwards. Combined with job losses – a million people are forecast to lose their jobs this year, taking unemployment back to Thatcherite levels – and tax rises, and inflation, and the increasing realisation that the cost of the financial crisis is going to be paid not over a few years but over a generation, we have a perfect formula for a deep and growing anger. Expectations have risen a lot, over the last three decades; that’s going to have a big impact on how furious people feel about the hard years ahead. The level of future public spending cuts implied in Darling’s recent budget – which included the laughably optimistic idea that the economy will grow by 1.25 per cent next year – is greater than the level of cuts implemented by Thatcher. Remember, that’s the optimistic version. If we’re lucky, it won’t be any worse than Thatcherism.