Goldman Sachs gets into social impact bonds - but what are they?

Ryan Shorthouse of the Social Market Foundation explains the reasoning behind social impact bonds.

Fiscal retrenchment is catalysing radical thinking among policymakers about how to get better public services for less money. Social impact bonds (SIBs) are currently fashionable in policy debates as a possible means of financing interventions. With SIBs, social investors fund a particular service, and only get a return if the intervention improves outcomes which will lead to reduced government expenditure in the long-term. In the current environment, Government wants to pay investors only out of identifiable savings. And an idea that started here in the UK has now gone global. Just last week Goldman Sachs announced that it was spending $9.6 million on a 4-year programme aimed at reducing recidivism of offenders at Rikers Island prison in New York.

SIBs are potentially an ingenious way of getting more bang for taxpayer bucks at a time when public money is short. They are a vehicle for encouraging innovation in public service delivery because they devolve the financial risk to investors and organisations who can affect outcomes on the ground. At a recent SMF conference, Iain Duncan Smith MP said:

It could mean a change to the whole way that Government and private sector work together to solve social problems.

The first ever SIB launched in 2010 and funds work to reduce re-offending among offenders released from Peterborough Prison. Philanthropic investors will receive a return on their investment if the interventions funded achieve at least a 10 per cent reduction in reoffending each year, or at least 7.5 per cent across all three years. Other schemes are now emerging: in Manchester, for example, the Council is sourcing funds from social investors to provide intensive support for eight young people with challenging circumstances to live in foster care rather than in residential care.

SIBs are an important part of the funding jigsaw. But they are not the magic bullet for all public services. Social investment – where investors invest in the work of charities and expect a return – is still small: in 2010, £190m was sourced for social investment compared to £3.6bn in philanthropic grant funding and £55.3bn in wider bank lending. And SIBs only constitute a small part of all social investment. The small scale is mainly down to a lack of decent investable propositions. There are at least three big reasons for this.

First, because SIBs are embryonic market information about the likely risk and reward in different service areas is poor. Investors are jumping into the unknown. Little is known about how effective new interventions could be at, say, cutting re-offending levels, so investors don’t have much to go on in assessing the investment proposition. This uncertainty is exacerbated by the length of time it may take for outcomes to be observed, especially for early intervention programmes. The Government has helped set up Big Society Capital which it hopes will co-invest with private investors to send a signal to them and mitigate their risks by accepting lower interest rates or taking on the junior part of a debt. It is also hoped that Big Society Capital will fund new products that support impact measurement.

Second, there is a risk that investors are not paid appropriately. In most public services it is difficult for government to identify whether outcomes have improved, let alone to attribute those improvements to the work of the provider. If re-conviction rates fall after an intervention how can government distinguish between its being the result of the intervention or perhaps a change in the local policing strategy? An up-tick in re-offending could be the consequence of high local unemployment, or a statistical blip, rather than ineffective interventions. Correctly attributing outcomes to their cause is notoriously difficult. But without resolving that challenge both government and investors will remain reluctant to embark on large scale SIBs.

Third, even where outcomes are measurable, quantifying the financial benefits for taxpayers is tough. Improved employment outcomes for unemployed people or better GCSE results for children in care may be good in themselves, but quantifying the public savings is no simple task. All the more so if those savings are spread across a number of government departments, making coordination difficult.

The potential for SIBs and other payment by results schemes to revolutionise public service delivery lies in the incentives they create for providers to innovate. But there are many hurdles for government to overcome if this approach is to enter the mainstream. Improving measurement and data collection, working across departmental silos, and simply taking a punt on financially risky ventures to find out what works may all be necessary steps. In time SIBs could save government money. But the first steps on the road will be costly. And right now that’s not something that government wants to hear.

A guard at the entrance of Rikers Island in 1955. Photograph: Getty Images

Ryan Shorthouse is the Director of Bright Blue, a think tank for liberal conservativism 

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times