Focus shifts to Spaxit

The banking crisis could even mean that Spain beats Greece out the door.

Greece is so passé. This week, the eyes of the world have slowly begun to shift to Spain.

The real kick to switch focus was the news on Monday that the Spanish/German bond spread had topped 5 per cent - that is, the yield on Spanish bonds is now over five percentage points above the yield on German bonds. Why does this matter? Because spreads for Greek, Irish and Portugese bonds were over that level for 16 days, 24 days and 34 days respectively before they were forced into bailouts.

The root of Spain's problems are very different from Greece's, though. It's a combination of a terrible housing bust and the bind the euro traps them in. Once house prices started to plummet, the banking sector was in deep trouble, but due to the single currency, Spain can't recapitalise it the way a fully sovereign state would. So there is a very real risk of Spain going bankrupt and being forced out of the eurozone.

But this risk alone is surmountable. A combination of a sympathetic ECB (which, of course, means a sympathetic Germany), confidence in the ability of the institutions involved to find a solution, and speedy action would greatly reduce the danger of Spain leaving the currency (which has, inevitably, been dubbed a "Spaxit"). Unfortunately, none of those things actually exist.

Afraid of Spain leaving the eurozone, Spaniards are moving their euros out of their country's banks, and either hoarding notes or opening accounts in Northern Europe. Which means that the banks are in even more trouble, the bailout costs go up, and Germany is even less likely to help out. As Tyler Cowen put it:

Spain is in a self-cannibalizing downward spiral, as Greece was and is.  It will not end until there is, at the bottom, an absolute and total crash.

The Wall Street Journal's Matthew Lynn even thinks that the Spanish exit could happen without a Greek one, giving six reasons Spain will leave the euro first:

There are few good reasons for the country to stay in the euro — and little sign it has the will to endure the sacrifices the currency will demand of them.

What's more, as Matt Yglesias points out:

I don't think anyone has deluded themselves into the idea that the eurozone could survive Spain leaving. If Spain goes, it all goes.

Grexit may or may not increase the chance of Spaxit. But Spaxit almost certainly means Netherlexit, Fraxit, and even Gerxit. (Although hopefully those "words" will never again see print)

Ironically, this death spiral may now be the best hope for Spain. The knowledge that a failure to recapitalise its banks could lead to the end of the eurozone gives it much needed leverage over the ECB to gain the funds it needs. But, as the Telegraph's Ambrose Evans-Pritchard reported:

There is no sign so far that the ECB is ready to relent as Frankfurt and Madrid cross swords in an escalting test of will. The ECB has scotched Mr Rajoy’s tentative plans to recapitalize Bankia by drawing on ECB funds.

Perhaps put more vividly by the LSE's Luis Garicano:

It is dangerous to play chicken when you are driving a Seat and the ECB is driving a tank.

 
A rally for the Spanish People's Party. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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