Osborne should nationalise RBS, but he won't

Cabinet ministers are reportedly pushing for the full nationalisation of RBS.

Back in the halcyon days of May 2010, George Osborne probably hoped to use the government's RBS shares as the basis for a pre-election giveaway. Now, he'd be lucky not to make a loss. Based on current trading conditions, the Treasury has already conceded that the chances of a sale of taxpayers’ shares before 2015 are "virtually nil". Indeed, so much has changed that the government is now considering the reverse: buying more shares in RBS.

Today's FT reports that senior government figures are discussing the possibility of "fully nationalising" the bank amid frustration at the paucity of lending to British businesses. Acquiring the 18 per cent of RBS that it does not already own would allow the government to direct the bank to increase its lending to companies without fear of legal challenge from the remaining private shareholders. One official tells the paper: "This is a conversation that takes place all the time."

Though he is not named in the report, it's safe to assume that Vince Cable is one of those leading the charge. It was the Business Secretary who recently accused the banks of "throttling the recovery" by failing to lend to small businesses and who called for part of RBS to be converted into a National Investment Bank. But Osborne, the man who voted against the nationalisation of Northern Rock, is unsurprisingly opposed. In a statement, the Treasury said:

We are committed to repairing and returning RBS to full health so that it is able to support the UK economy in the future, and the current strategy is working to achieve that. The government’s policy has always been to return RBS to the private sector, but only when it delivers value for money for the taxpayer.

With the economy now in a deep recession, the nationalisation of RBS is exactly the sort of game-changer the government should pursue. But Osborne's ideological preference for the private sector will, one suspects, again prevent a necessary step towards recovery.

Update: My colleague Rafael Behr suggests another reason why Osborne is opposed to nationalisation: "Nowhere to hide in bonus season when it is 'state bank' paying out."

Cabinet ministers are discussing the possibility of taking full control of RBS. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

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