Occupy the Bank

The surprising new radicalism on Threadneedle Street.

At last we are getting some hard-hitting ideas about how to reign in and reform free-booting finance capitalism. From those camped outside St Paul's? A new left wing think-tank? Perhaps a leading financier gone-rogue in the manner of Soros or Buffett?

No, nothing so predictable. The new ideas are flowing from that well known citadel of radicalism in Threadneedle Street. It's not just the Bank of England's now familiar, yet still striking, use of aggressive and unorthodox monetary policy that best captures this new disposition. Nor is it the fact that Mervyn King led the way in calling for far-reaching structural reform of the banking system, making it more difficult for the government to recoil from the proposals in the recent Vickers report. In fact, the new radicalism isn't really about the Bank Governor -- rather it's coming from other senior figures working for him.

This week Andrew Haldane who leads on Financial Stability -- a name you may not have heard before, but certainly one you should watch out for -- made a powerful proposal about containing the pay of the overlords of finance. His argument is that both short-term investors and bank executives have extracted huge rents from the finance sector, at the expense of other groups like tax-payers and long-term investors. His suggestion is that rather than link bankers' pay to share value (return on equity) it should be tied instead to the return made on assets (for example, bank loans). A technocratic tweak? Well, it's one that bites. Haldane points out that if this approach had been followed in the US over recent decades then CEOs of top banks would have had to scrape by with salaries a mere 68 times the typical household income rather than their current ones which are 500 times that of the ordinary family.

And this comes hot on the heels of Mr Haldane's historically rooted and empirically robust critique of City short-termism -- "mounting myopia" as he terms it -- as well as his hard-headed assessment of the still unfolding consequences of the personal debt tsunami and its implications for the real economy and households.

None of this is to suggest that Mervyn King himself is becoming a force for radicalism. The Governor's widely reported opposition to the Bank getting involved in direct lending to businesses, reiterated yesterday at the Treasury Select Committee, reflects a deep rooted institutional conservatism on this front. His recent remarks about how until the recent eurozone crisis things were "on track" with the UK economy look a bit detached, and have already attracted the ire of some commentators. And that's leaving to one side his hawkish views on fiscal stimulus and controversial role at the time the coalition was formed.

But this doesn't change the fact that the Bank is becoming one of the most interesting homes for fresh and original thinking about the nature of serious economic and financial reform that we desperately need. That's not a sentence you could have written before.

So what's changed? Part of it is doubtless the Bank flexing its intellectual muscle in advance of it reclaiming regulatory powers that it no doubt feels it should never have lost to the FSA in the first place. Another explanation is that the genuine and laudable desire among its leading lights to get ahead of the systemic risks facing economic stability in Britain (and contemporary capitalism more generally). Which in part, at least, will be spurred by the widely shared belief that the Bank fell badly behind events in the recent past: both in failing to see the crisis coming, and then in reacting too slowly in its early days. On top of this, it may also be that Mervyn King, the career academic, may have become comfortable playing the role of "department head", allowing his leading lights at the Bank to think aloud.

Whatever the reason, it's a welcome development. Let's hope the free-thinking in Threadneedle St continues -- and that both the Chancellor and his Labour counterpart are listening. They need to be.

Gavin Kelly is a former adviser to Downing Street and the Treasury. He tweets @GavinJKelly1.

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MP Michelle Thomson's full speech on rape at 14: "I am a survivor"

The MP was attacked as a teenager. 

On Thursday, the independent MP for Edinburgh West Michelle Thomson used a debate marking the UN’s International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women to describe her own experience of rape. Thomson, 51, said she wanted to break the taboo among her generation about speaking about the subject.

MPs listening were visibly moved by the speech, and afterwards Thomson tweeted she was "overwhelmed" by the response. 

Here is her speech in full:

I am going to relay an event that happened to me many years ago. I want to give a very personal perspective to help people, both in this place and outside, understand one element of sexual violence against women.

When I was 14, I was raped. As is common, it was by somebody who was known to me. He had offered to walk me home from a youth event. In those days, everybody walked everywhere - it was quite common. It was early evening. It was not dark. I was wearing— I am imagining and guessing—jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew my way around where I lived - I was very comfortable - and we went a slightly differently way, but I did not think anything of it. He told me that he wanted to show me something in a wooded area. At that point, I must admit that I was alarmed. I did have a warning bell, but I overrode that warning bell because I knew him and, therefore, there was a level of trust in place. To be honest, looking back at that point, I do not think I knew what rape was. It was not something that was talked about. My mother never talked to me about it, and I did not hear other girls or women talking about it.

It was mercifully quick and I remember first of all feeling surprise, then fear, then horror as I realised that I quite simply could not escape, because obviously he was stronger than me. There was no sense, even initially, of any sexual desire from him, which, looking back again, I suppose I find odd. My senses were absolutely numbed, and thinking about it now, 37 years later, I cannot remember hearing anything when I replay it in my mind. As a former professional musician who is very auditory, I find that quite telling. I now understand that your subconscious brain—not your conscious brain—decides on your behalf how you should respond: whether you take flight, whether you fight or whether you freeze. And I froze, I must be honest.

Afterwards I walked home alone. I was crying, I was cold and I was shivering. I now realise, of course, that that was the shock response. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell my father. I did not tell my friends. And I did not tell the police. I bottled it all up inside me. I hoped briefly—and appallingly—that I might be pregnant so that that would force a situation to help me control it. Of course, without support, the capacity and resources that I had within me to process it were very limited.

I was very ashamed. I was ashamed that I had “allowed this to happen to me”. I had a whole range of internal conversations: “I should have known. Why did I go that way? Why did I walk home with him? Why didn’t I understand the danger? I deserved it because I was too this, too that.” I felt that I was spoiled and impure, and I really felt revulsion towards myself.

Of course, I detached from the child that I had been up until then. Although in reality, at the age of 14, that was probably the start of my sexual awakening, at that time, remembering back, sex was “something that men did to women”, and perhaps this incident reinforced that early belief.​
I briefly sought favour elsewhere and I now understand that even a brief period of hypersexuality is about trying to make sense of an incident and reframing the most intimate of acts. My oldest friends, with whom I am still friends, must have sensed a change in me, but because I never told them they did not know of the cause. I allowed myself to drift away from them for quite a few years. Indeed, I found myself taking time off school and staying at home on my own, listening to music and reading and so on.

I did have a boyfriend in the later years of school and he was very supportive when I told him about it, but I could not make sense of my response - and it is my response that gives weight to the event. I carried that guilt, anger, fear, sadness and bitterness for years.

When I got married 12 years later, I felt that I had a duty tell my husband. I wanted him to understand why there was this swaddled kernel of extreme emotion at the very heart of me, which I knew he could sense. But for many years I simply could not say the words without crying—I could not say the words. It was only in my mid-40s that I took some steps to go and get help.

It had a huge effect on me and it fundamentally - and fatally - undermined my self-esteem, my confidence and my sense of self-worth. Despite this, I am blessed in my life: I have been happily married for 25 years. But if this was the effect of one small, albeit significant, event in my life stage, how must it be for those women who are carrying it on a day-by-day basis?

I thought carefully about whether I should speak about this today, and it was people’s intake of breath and the comment, “What? You’re going to talk about this?”, that motivated me to do it, because there is still a taboo about sharing this kind of information. Certainly for people of my generation, it is truly shocking to talk in public about this sort of thing.

As has been said, rape does not just affect the woman; it affects the family as well. Before my mother died early of cancer, I really wanted to tell her, but I could not bring myself to do it. I have a daughter and if something happened to her and she could not share it with me, I would be appalled. It was possibly cowardly, but it was an act of love that meant that I protected my mother.

As an adult, of course I now know that rape is not about sex at all - it is all about power and control, and it is a crime of violence. I still pick up on when the myths of rape are perpetuated form a male perspective: “Surely you could have fought him off. Did you scream loudly enough?” And the suggestion by some men that a woman is giving subtle hints or is making it up is outrageous. Those assumptions put the woman at the heart of cause, when she should be at the heart of effect. A rape happens when a man makes a decision to hurt someone he feels he can control. Rapes happen because of the rapist, not because of the victim.

We women in our society have to stand up for each other. We have to be courageous. We have to call things out and say where things are wrong. We have to support and nurture our sisters as we do with our sons. Like many women of my age, I have on occasion encountered other aggressive actions towards me, both in business and in politics. But one thing that I realise now is that I am not scared and he was. I am not scared. I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.