Why we still need a public inquiry into the banks

A Leveson-style inquiry would expose the web of patronage and lobbying.

Listening to the Commons exchanges yesterday on the Chancellor’s proposal for a Parliamentary Committee of Inquiry into the LIBOR scandal was depressing.  It was the Commons at its worst: blame shifting; moralising; and, above all, opportunistic point scoring across the floor.  It’s not just the bankers who don’t get it; lots of MPs also do not realise the scale of the disaster that is the UK financial system.  A Parliamentary inquiry is a quite inadequate response to the scale of the problem. Some Parliamentary inquiries, notably those by the Treasury Select Committee, have done good work.  But even when not beset by party divisions they simply have not measured up to the job.  As in the notorious case of Fred Goodwin, they end up largely scapegoating individuals. Now Bob Diamond has followed his chairman in falling on his sword. It’s just as well he doesn’t have a knighthood; he could kiss it goodbye. 

Andrew Tyrie is an honourable man and will do his level best with the inquiry – if it happens.  But we can already see how inadequately he conceives the task: the inquiry will be "ring-fenced" (his words) to examine what the LIBOR tells us about the culture of the City. The LIBOR scandal is being trailed by the financial establishment as precisely that: a scandal.  In other words, a single disgraceful event, and in the manner of all scandals in Britain it is taking a predictable course: moralistic fulminations, and the sacrifice of a few prominent scapegoats.  Morals are important;  the amorality revealed in the Barclays’ e mails is shocking to normal people.  And  it is certainly the case that wrongdoers need to be pursued and punished.  But here at CRESC, where we have been tracking the financial crisis since 2007, we have been  arguing for some time that there are fundamental defects in our financial system, and that these won’t be solved by short term hunting down of scapegoats.  Faced with the  LIBOR scandal, politicians, bankers and regulators have responded  with the traditional Claude Rains defence: like Captain Renault, the character played by Rains in Casablanca, they are shocked, truly shocked, to discover that illicit gambling has been going on in the casino of the City of London.  But  the problems won’t be solved by firing a few top bankers, prosecuting a few white collar criminals, or even by conducting an inquiry into the workings of LIBOR – necessary though all these are.  We need to dispense with the illusion that a casino is the best way to organise the financial system for a modern economy – a truth that Keynes famously expressed many decades ago.

Our research reports show that the claimed economic benefits of the City for the "real" economy are an illusion, the product of effective PR over the years by the City elite.  Boring old manufacturing contributes about twice as much as glitzy financial services to the nation’s tax coffers.  And the City is doing nothing to solve our unemployment problems: throughout the great financial boom up to 2007 employment in finance was flat.  The  PR offensive has been effective because the City has enjoyed unique privileges in the government of finance, and unique access to top policy makers: both the Labour and Conservative parties have, in office, relied on paymasters from the financial elite.  And in turn they have, disgracefully, inserted financiers into key decision making positions.

The result is that the City is a web of markets proliferating increasingly complex and risky financial instruments that do little or nothing to promote welfare or efficiency in the wider economy.  The "other" scandal last week – the outrageous rip off at the expense of small business – is no single accident; it reflects the fact that finance is now in the business of creating and selling financial instruments regardless of the social harm they create.  Adair Turner’s condemnation of "useless" financial innovations is an understatement; the City has moved beyond the creation of the useless to the manufacture of the positively malign.

We need a full Leveson-style inquiry to examine how the casino is working, and to examine the web of patronage and lobbying that has allowed the City casino to trade with impunity.  An inquiry will be uncomfortable for many who were prominent in the New Labour years, and it is to the credit of Ed Miliband and Ed Balls that they have, nevertheless, recognised that full transparency is needed. We need an inquiry on the scale of Leveson, with the power to uncover the cultures and institutions that persuaded City operators that they could operate with impunity.  And we might yet get it if Labour refuses to play ball with Osborne’s proposal. But more important even than an inquiry, we need  a fundamental redefinition of the social and economic roles of finance. Banks must become public utilities with the duty to serve the wider economy, not players in casinos.  A Leveson-style inquiry would help provide the catharsis to  bring us to that point.

To read the full CRESC evidence and argument, download our report.

The claimed economic benefits of the City for the "real" economy are an illusion. Photograph: Getty Images.

Michael Moran is adjunct Professor of Government and Business in the University of Manchester Business School.

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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