Saving sustainably

We already encourage saving - why not encourage sustainable saving instead?

The post-Budget row over tax relief for charitable giving has obscured the fact that there are many tax reliefs given for profitable activities without any consideration for the public benefit of the activities being effectively subsidised. Around £40bn a year of relief against income or capital gains tax goes to support pension saving, ISAs and protect individual gains from the sale of residential property. In times of austerity shouldn’t we be looking more closely at how this money is used? Could the Government use the policy leverage created by such subsidies to encourage more responsible behaviour in the financial sector that benefits the taxpayer as well as the individual investor?

Britain’s economy before the credit crunch was based on high borrowing to fuel increasing consumption which drove economic growth. As individuals we didn’t save enough for our own financial security, and as a country, we haven’t invested enough in our economic future. To face the long term challenges to our economic prosperity like an ageing population or climate change, we will need a more resilient economy that has far stronger foundations of savings and investment.

So what happens to the money that we combine with the tax subsidy in order to save for the future?

Well, we know that pension funds and institutional investors place much of this in the stock market, but the evidence shows that more and more of this capital is used for high frequency trading rather than long term investing. Andy Haldane of the Bank of England is one high profile regulator who is very concerned with this development. Cash placed in ISAs earns a very low rate of interest and, in as much that these funds bolster bank balance sheets and help fund lending to the economy, we also know that the majority of such lending actually funds property loans and financial speculation. Less than 20 per cent of UK bank lending goes to the productive economy of growing businesses. Finally we know that fees and charges in the investment and banking sectors are notoriously opaque, and competition is far from perfect.

So there is an understandable lack of trust in the finance sector, yet the government has to find a way to convince the public not just to save more, but channel those savings into productive investment. One way to do this is for the government to be more explicit about encouraging savings and investments that apply responsibility criteria and enhance social and environmental well being, as well as financial returns. Moreover, it should be using the existing subsidies to enforce this principle. In an era where all subsidy has to be made to work harder for the public interest, there should be a principle that, in return for tax relief, savers and investors should be able to demonstrate a contribution to the public good. This will not be easy to do, but there is a growing set of voluntary standards and codes of practice which investment organisations can apply to demonstrate they are taking a responsible approach, looking a long term interests, not just short term profits.

In my recent report for Green Alliance, Saving for a sustainable future, I make the case for these principles to be used in public policy and set out a few ways in which it could be applied:

  • Pension tax relief could be made conditional on responsible standards being applied.

  • Banks could only be able to offer tax-free Cash ISA accounts if they could demonstrate responsible and transparent lending practices.

  • Capital gains tax relief for the sale of a residential property could be made conditional on certain energy efficiency improvements being made to the building.

There is political consensus on the need to rebalance our economy and reshape British capitalism in way that better incorporates the values of society. Applying these ideas to existing taxpayer subsidies is a good start.

Green - well, yellow - Britain. Photograph: Getty Images

Chris is an independent environmental policy consultant working on sustainable finance, climate change, energy policy and the green economy. He is a fellow of the Finance Innovation Lab, and an associate of Green Alliance, where he has written on the Green Investment Bank, environmental tax reform and sustainable savings policy.

He was previously head of Climate Change at the Environment Agency and senior research fellow for sustainability at IPPR. Follow @chrisjhewett on twitter.

Getty
Show Hide image

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