German banks, British lessons

Britain's sprawling giants aren't the best way to run a banking system

Since the financial crisis in 2009, a blame-game has raged between Britain’s large banks on the one side, and British politicians and businesses on the other. Last year, the Government launched "Project Merlin", warning the banks that a failure to meet lending targets would be met with reprisals. When it later transpired that the banks had missed the target for lending to SMEs, the Federation of Small Businesses said that the project had "failed". The banks replied that "the business demand for credit remains weak" and the Government sat on the fence protesting that "it's going to take some time before the banking sector is back to normal".

Businesses argue that the banks aren’t lending; the banks retort that businesses don’t want to borrow. The problem with the entire debate is that it ignores the real issue: why does Britain have to rely on banks that were crippled by the crisis?

That banks aren’t lending is not disputed: Bank of England figures show that total lending to businesses, not including property lending or to financial firms, fell by 11 per cent between 2008 and 2010 and the evidence since then suggests it has continued to fall. While some of this can be attributed to falling demand, more important is the fact that Britain’s large banks are rebuilding their tattered balance sheets by cutting credit. In a more competitive market, rivals would step in and capitalise on the weakness of the embattled institutions; unfortunately for the UK’s businesses, Britain’s banking market is far from competitive.

If only they were based in Stuttgart rather than Stockport. German businesses do not face the same hurdles in accessing credit as their British counterparts because they are served by a far more diverse and competitive banking system. In Germany, commercial banks, such as Deutsche Bank and Commerzbank, compete with a large cooperative banking sector and, more importantly, a large local savings bank sector. In 2011, total loans by the savings banks or Sparkassen stood at €322 billion whereas the total loan stock of Germany’s large commercial banks was only €177 billion. Like Britain’s large banks, Germany’s large commercial banks cut credit during the financial crisis; lending fell by 10 per cent between 2006 and the middle of 2011. In contrast, the Sparkassen increased lending by 17 per cent and continue to do so; when their competitors were flagging they cleaned up.

If it were not seriously hampering the British economy it would be amusing to reflect upon the irony that Germany and its social market possessed a far more efficient and competitive banking system than Britain, birthplace of laissez-faire capitalism. It is also interesting that the Sparkassen, who currently have the edge, were once derided as uncompetitive and inefficient. The Sparkassen are governed by Federal and state law in Germany. According to the Banking Act of the Federal Republic of Germany they must restrict their activities to their local area. Furthermore, profit is not the main purpose of their business; rather their success is tied to that of their local economy. These restrictions were once viewed as anachronistic and antithetical to an efficient market economy and for years the Sparkassen were forced to fend off attacks from the European Commission and Germany’s commercial banks.

Representatives of the banks often muse that the financial crisis saved them: their local focus and commitment to local businesses re-emphasized the contribution they make to the stability and prosperity of the German economy.

British businesses and consumers perhaps hope that the crisis will produce a similar epiphany amongst British policy-makers. The Government needs to remove the significant regulatory barriers that hamper new entrants, encourage entrepreneurial local authorities that wish to institute local banks in their communities, and support credit unions as they look to use their new powers to compete with commercial banks. These are all steps that must be taken if a more competitive and diverse banking sector is to be created, but first we need to take a good look at what’s going on beyond the Rhine.

Credit cards for a Sparkasse. Photograph: Getty Images

Selling Circuits Short: Improving the prospects of the British electronics industry by Stephen L. Clarke and Georgia Plank was released yesterday by Civitas. It is available on PDF and Amazon Kindle

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue