The questions a real banking inquiry must ask

MPs should look at whether we need this style of investment banking at all.

Tony Blair is keen that bankers are not hung from lamp posts. Some would say such a punishment would be the easy way out for today's investment banks. Tony himself was paid handsomely to advise JP Morgan and they are directly implicated in the Libor scandal. Libor, however, is merely the tip of the iceberg in market manipulation by investment banks.

Blair's key Downing Street officials Jeremy Heywood and Jonathan Powell both went to work for Morgan Stanley - indeed Powell still does. Heywood was the author of the Libor letter to the Bank of England uncovered by the Treasury select committee and his role at Morgan Stanley was not an advisory position, instead he was managing director of their UK investment banking division. With a 42% share collapse in the 2008 financial crisis and a $107 billion bail-out, Morgan Stanley was fortunate to survive.

Morgan Stanley demonstrates why George Osborne's timid joint committee on Libor will barely scratch the surface of the problem. In each of the last ten years Morgan Stanley have been fined for cheating. In 2003, they were fined for misleading research. In 2004, for using customers money as collateral on loans. In 2005, for failure to supervise. In 2006 and in 2007, for deleting damaging emails. Fines were given for failure to disclose information to municipal bond investors.  Meanwhile, Sir Howard Davies, the former FSA regulator in the UK sits on their board of directors and perhaps unsurprisingly their alumni includes one Bob Diamond.

Each of these dishonest activities was engineered to profiteer from manipulating the market. Using their market power, they have repeatedly squeezed extra profits, at all costs. But Morgan Stanley is no different to other investment banks. Whilst investment banks brashly parade their wares and successes, what is unusual about their activities is how often they operate in cartels. They hunt as a pack and they profit as oligarchs. In some bespoke areas they compete ferociously, but when RBS last week sought advice on selling off Direct Line insurance they brought in not one, but eleven investment banks to advise them, just as when Cadbury was asset stripped by Kraft, seven investment banks were at the feast.

What Parliament should be looking at is whether we need this style of investment banking at all. How would behaviour change if we were to tax derivatives trading? If we were to ban short-selling would the real economy weaken? Where has the money gone? It is the bar room question, and the answer is very clear. Three groups have lost out directly: sovereign states who have ended up with huge deficits in their finances; public sector investers, such as US cities, who have been defrauded by mis-sold derivatives; and sub-prime mortgagees who have defaulted on their exorbitant loans.

Whilst bankers suffer the temporary loss of a year or two's bonuses, their poorest customers have lost out the most, whilst the weakest economies have suffered the greatest.  Meanwhile, the real battle amongst politicians is to see who can manoeuvre for national competitive advantage. From Qatar to China, cash rich governments have bought up assets. Large multinationals have stockpiled their cash. European legislators have seen the possibility of transferring financial markets to Frankfurt or Paris. Singapore, Shanghai and Hong Kong have grabbed every possible opportunity. Nobody should be kidded into thinking that US legislators and regulators have seen anything bigger than the prize of shifting dollar trading from London to New York.

The real questions are therefore: can Europe act as a counterbalance to the USA and China? Can Europe maintain investment banking whilst squeezing out short term market manipulation? Is self reporting still possible? How do we regulate large cartels? Will the taxpayer again have to bail out large banks?

There is though another model: that of transferring risk. If you put money in the bank, then you need to know what the risk it is. If you want no risks and government guarantees, then you will get less interest - a premium bond style bank account. If you want medium risk then go for more interest, and if you want high risk then do not expect government underwriting. Our current debate fails to trust the individual and the underpinning of their risk profile with full transparency. Should we not have tight controls on market manipulation, including on mergers and takeovers, with the interests of consumers, employees and the nation state carrying proper weight? Do we not have a particular responsibility to clean up offshore banking?

This is the big UK policy gap. Many offshore centres are UK crown dependencies or British overseas territories, from Jersey to Bermuda , from the Isle of Man to the Cayman Islands. There are 10,000 hedge funds in the Cayman Islands, Bermuda and the British Virgin Islands - a large majority of the world's total amount. We are responsible for their foreign affairs and crucially for their defence. The biggest single change we can make to stabilise the world banking system is the opening up of these offshore financial centres, to minimise tax avoidance, reduce financial fraud and democratise world banking. This is where Parliament's inquiry must go.

The sun sets over Canary Wharf in London. Photograph: Getty Images.

John Mann is Labour MP for Bassetlaw and a member of the Treasury select committee.

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What’s the secret of the world’s best-paid sports manager? Ask the Chicago Cubs

Theo Epstein is a star because he values the person as much as the player.

As I write, the Chicago Cubs, perennial underachievers, are three wins away from reaching baseball’s World Series for the first time since 1945. By the time you read this they may have crashed out. Besides, baseball – like cricket – is a language that asks a lot of its translators. So, in writing about the Cubs, I’ll skip the baseball bits. Fortunately, the lessons of the Cubs’ success (they were the outstanding team of 2016, even if they don’t win the World Series) transcend baseball.

To understand the future of sport – and perhaps employment – I recommend a pair of profiles of Theo Epstein, the president of baseball operations for the Cubs, one published in the New York Times and the other written by David Axelrod (Barack Obama’s strategist) for the New Yorker.

Epstein, 42, has just agreed a contract extension worth $50m over five years, making him the highest-paid non-player in professional sport. There is plenty in the profiles on his whizzy use of data analytics; his algorithmic tests that measure players’ co-ordination (essentially using neuroscience to measure talent); as well as the Cubs’ coaching programme dedicated to mental health and managing stress. Most timely and important of all is Epstein’s emphasis on character. He talks about “scouting the person more than the player”. He wants the right kind of people on the field.

“In the draft room [where the team decides which players to sign], we will always spend more than half the time talking about the person rather than the player,” he has said. “We ask our scouts to provide three detailed examples of how these young players faced adversity on the field and responded to it, and three examples of how they faced adversity off the field.”

Epstein is well known for empowering a “geek department” inside his baseball teams. Yet instead of perceiving a conflict between science and the human realm, he sees the two as part of the same big picture. He craves players with character who can benefit from the insights of science.

“Character” is a vexed subject inside sport. It sets off uncomfortable associations. Talking too much about character – building it, or even just valuing it – sounds dangerously close to endorsing an amateur ethos. Victorian public schools often celebrated sport explicitly in opposition to intelligence, even achievement. H H Almond, the headmaster of Loretto from 1862, got an A for candour (if nothing else) when he ranked his school’s priorities: “First – Character. Second – Physique. Third – Intelligence.”

The Victorian notion of games cast a long shadow over sport and society in the 20th century. The first phase of ultra-professionalism, in the office as well as on the sports field, was a reaction to Almond’s set of values. The concept of character was recast as a consolation prize, doled out to the class dunce or the twelfth man. Crucially, reformers and nostalgics alike bought in to the historical perception of a separation or conflict between character, intellectual life and sporting achievement.

The Cubs, however, know better. To adapt Almond’s clumsy saying: intelligence and physical skills derive, significantly though not entirely, from character. Character is now being understood not as the destination, but the foundation, even the process.

This is an overdue reassessment. In the loosest terms, I would identify three phases in the development of professional sport. Phase one optimised the body. Sadly, though we are still inching forward, the human body is now reaching the outer wall of virtuosity. All sports will tail off in speed of progress, in terms of pure physicality.

Phase two of modern sport turned to psychology. Realising how hard it is to gain an edge through physical conditioning, everyone suddenly started talking about the mind: the inner game of this, the mental game of that. However, reconfiguring the mental approach of elite athletes – already in their twenties and thirties, with deeply ingrained habits and highly evolved psychological software – is also exceptionally difficult. That is why many top athletes recoil from conventional “sports psychology”; the discipline is oversold and under-sceptical.

We are now entering phase three: the whole person. Sustained high achievement relies on something much deeper than a few sessions with a sports psychologist. So you need the right people in the room.

Coaches in future will be numerate and intellectually unthreatened by the scientific advances that illuminate sport. But the best coaches will never lose sight of a parallel truth: that although science can help us to understand what happens on the sports field, and sometimes how to do it better, it cannot conveniently convert athletes into inert particles, as though it were a ­physical science. Coaching can benefit from ­science but remains an art – one that revolves around understanding and helping people.

In most sports, players and coaches are really in the business of decision-making. The winning team, as Pep Guardiola says, makes more good decisions. Sport, in other words, advances when it trains people to make better decisions. There are now highly evolved analytical techniques for understanding how those decisions influence results. However, the athletes themselves are still people, imperfect and imperfectible. If you want machines, you get dummies.

This month, I was asked to found a new institute of advanced sports studies at the University of Buckingham. The mission is to create undergraduate and postgraduate courses that attend to the entire mindset – critical thinking, ethics and leadership, as well as data analytics and sports science: a kind of “PPE of sport”. After a misleading triple fissure – character, body, mind – sport is starting to put the pieces back together again. That’s why, this month, I’m rooting for Epstein’s Cubs.

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood