Time to get out of the water

Web stats highlight growing demand for payday loans

For a newly elected MP, Walthamstow MP Stella Creasy can take a bow. The campaign she has led against payday loans has been pretty effective.

The latest, in case you missed it, is that the Office of Fair Trading (OFT) is to investigate 50 UK payday lenders amid concerns that some firms are taking advantage of vulnerable consumers.

The scale and continuing growth of the payday loans sector – or as Creasy would call it, the legal loan shark industry – is a worrying sign of the times.

In February, the Coop Bank found that 5 per cent of the British population accumulated debt in 2011 due to payday loans.

That figure is already out of date.

A report recently released by Greenlight, the leading independent digital marketing agency, provides further evidence of the growing size of the payday loan industry.

In January, UK consumers made a total of 2.5m online searches for retail banking-related products.

Loans accounted for the majority (37 per cent) of searches (934,234) with the keywords ‘Loans’, ‘Payday loans’ and ‘Student loans’ being the top three terms consumers used to conduct their searches.

Specfically, the search term ‘payday loans’ accounted for 165,000 or 7 per cent of all retail banking searches in January.

By contrast, searches for the terms ‘credit cards’ and ‘mortgages’ each scored a mere 4 per cent of all searches.

So, just to labour the point, almost as many searches were conducted for payday loans as for searches for credit cards and mortgages, combined.

The Greenlight research also flags up conclusively just how aggressive and digital-savvy the payday loans sector has become.

MoneySupermarket.com is the most visible online retail banking-related online advertiser, achieving a 71 per cent share of voice through bidding on 25 keywords, at an average ad position of four. That finding comes as no surprise and is not exactly a cause for concern.

And the second most visible online banking advertiser? Step forward Wonga, with a 33 per cent share of visibility through bidding on four keywords.

Its payday rival QuickQuid displayed the most visible ad creatives of any advertiser (equal with Tesco Bank) while the top 10 also featured ww.minicredit.co.uk and www.paydayuk.co.uk.

If you think that it is bad in the UK, it is arguably worse in the US.

In the US, the numbers are staggering with an estimated 12m Americans annually caught in long-term debt from payday loans, according to non-profit research and policy organisation, the Centre for Responsible Lending. In contrast to the position in the UK, a number of leading US retail banks have jumped onto the bandwagon and are offering a range of payday loan products.

Wells Fargo, Regions Financial, US Bank and Fifth Third are just some of the largest US retail banks to offer payday loans.

It will be a brave –or rather foolish - UK retail bank which looks to follow their lead with such a product launch.

Meantime, pending the OFT investigation being concluded, one would hope that the payday loans sector might have the commercial and political savvy to clean up their act.

They could, for example, take steps to ensure that customers are not trapped into a cycle of debt by ending the rolling over of payday loans; they could consider the radical step of self-regulation by getting by on less than the APRs of, say the 4,214 per cent charged by www.wonga.com

Then again, pigs might fly.

The chances are that this is one area of retail banking where we might witness something approaching a consensus: that it is an area overdue for regulation.

That would be a right result for the new girl in the House from Walthamstow.

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

Photograph: Getty Images

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism