BBA cedes Libor role – who will replace them?

The government may want a place in the process.

The British Bankers Association has voted to cede its role in the setting of Libor, the benchmark of borrowing costs which lay at the centre of the Barclays rate-fixing scandal.

The BBA, the professional body of the banking industry in Britain, voted to cede its role last week, at the request of officials who, according to the Financial Times (£) plan to announce a replacement process on Friday.

The managing director of the Financial Services Authority, Martin Wheatley, is chairing the review of the reference rates, and the BBA has said in a statement that it:

Seeks to work with the Wheatley review team as they complete their consultation on the future of Libor. If Mr Wheatley’s recommendations include a change of responsibility for Libor, the BBA will support that.

While the BBA has ceded its role, the organisation which sets Libor's sibling rate, Euribor, has no such plans. Even though Euribor was also subject to attempted manipulation by Barclays, the European Banking Federation, which controls it, told the FT that:

There is no comparison with the Libor case. Our stakeholders are national associations and not the banks themselves, this prevents any potential conflict of interest in hosting the governance of benchmarks.

The big question remaining to be answered is what recommendations Wheatley will offer. There have been no shortage of inventive solutions as to how to set Libor in a non-manipulable way.

In July, Frank Portnoy suggested what remains the most ingenious possibility:

The teeth of the new regulation would be a rule requiring the bank that submitted the lowest Libor estimate to lend a significant amount of money, say $1bn, to the Libor Trust at its submitted low rate. Conversely, the bank submitting the highest Libor estimate would be required to borrow the same amount from the Libor Trust, in the relevant currency for the specified period of time, at its submitted high rate.

But as Reviews tend to be less "inventive" and more "gut wrenchingly predictable", it seems more likely he will hew closer to Nils Pratley's suggestion in the Guardian:

A mass of technical issues remain for Martin Wheatley, the Financial Services Authority official leading the inquiry, to address in his report on Friday. For example: how do you switch to surer benchmarks based on actual lending if there are no transactions on a given day in some of the markets? Remember, there is no single Libor rate; instead there are benchmarks covering 15 borrowing periods in 10 different currencies.

That's one detailed puzzle for Wheatley to solve. But his main proposal should be easy: make it a criminal act to try to manipulate Libor.

Expect more legislation, more intervention, and a lot of locking of stable doors when the horse is nowhere to be found.

Buildings in the City. 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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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

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 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war