A mutual crisis

In the first of our series on faith in a financial crisis the Presbyterian Church in Ireland's Moder

‘Britain must have confidence’ said the prime minister, Gordon Brown, a fortnight ago.

His comment underlined the lack of confidence that is dogging the financial system, which he propped up with the introduction of a credit guarantee scheme to the banks last October.

Alert to the implications, some investors in the Presbyterian Mutual Society, based in Belfast, realised their money was not covered by the guarantee. This triggered a run on the liquid assets of the Society.

The Society operated an easy access policy to savings, so savers withdrew their money to the tune of £21 million within a short space of time. The directors applied to the Department of Enterprise, Trade and Industry (DETI) of the Stormont Executive, to put the Society into Administration, and an Administrator took over on the 17th November 2008.

No new business is being accepted and savers cannot gain access to their money. This has placed many people in difficulty since they cannot pay bills due, nor meet commitments undertaken. Not only is lifestyle affected but also property and businesses, with a knock-on effect to jobs and livelihoods.

There are various links between the Mutual Society and the Presbyterian Church in Ireland. Only members of the Church can invest, and the Board of Directors is made up of Presbyterians appointed by the annual meeting of the shareholders. The Church has never had any operational involvement with the Society and the accounts are not presented to it for approval, but each year at the General Assembly meeting of the Church, a verbal report has been given commending the attractive dividend distributed. With that understanding, the Church, in general terms, drew the attention of members to the benefits described with a view to possible investment.

No one anticipated the difficulties that swiftly overwhelmed the Society in the autumn. We now realise that no financial institution is fireproofed against the credit crunch. The god of materialism has clay feet. There are those who feel the Church has misled them, and, because it has been pointed out that the Mutual is an independent organisation, that the Church has disowned them. Confidence in both the Presbyterian Mutual Society and in the Presbyterian Church has been shaken.

The Church is being pressed to do something to free up people’s savings or to return their money. However the Church has had no access to the books of the Society. The Administrator is severely constrained by law from divulging information. Recently he published his initial report revealing a deficit of around £100 million. People fear they will lose a substantial proportion of their money. Investors have had the opportunity to vote on five resolutions proposed by the Administrator in which he indicates how people might vote if they wish an orderly wind down over a period of time and thus get the best return. The alternative seems to be liquidation, increasing the losses. This will only become clear when the Administrator indicates what rate of distribution he can make.

The Church is able to offer limited help through some benevolent funds to those in dire need. As Moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland, I have written to the Prime Minister, asking for a meeting to put our case for government help, which would include the guarantee, but, also, to find some means to improve the liquidity of the Society and so stabilise the situation.

The Prime Minister has agreed, in principle, to meet the First Minister and Deputy First Minister of the Stormont Executive. I have also met several of the Northern Ireland MP’s at Westminster, local MLA’s at Stormont, and the Minister responsible for DETI. We have been encouraging Presbyterians to sign a petition on the Downing Street web site asking ‘…the Prime minister to provide similar guarantees to UK mutual societies as for banks.’ Printed copies of this have been provided for Presbyterians to sign in their local churches.

Christian faith is being tested, and, just as the principle of mutuality in financial terms has been under severe pressure, so the bond of caring fellowship is under strain. At such a crucial time, it is vital for all in the Church ‘…to carry each other’s burdens and in this way…fulfil the law of Christ.’ (St Paul’s letter to the Galatians chapter 6, verse 2)

Rt Rev. Dr W. Donald Patton
Moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland

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Why the past 12 months have been the worst of my lifetime

We desperately need a return to calm and moderation.

Twitter is a weird phenomenon: a deeply selective, wholly unreliable Survation or YouGov in your pocket, with an even bigger margin for error. I’ve been tweeting for a year now, but I’m still useless at guessing what is likely to attract attention; so I was taken completely by surprise at the end of last week when a comment I jotted down received thousands of Likes and retweets. “It’s a year since Jo Cox was murdered,” I wrote: “the worst year for Britain in my lifetime. We badly need a return to Jo’s concept of moderation now.”

Fairly anodyne, you would have thought, but it seems to have touched a nerve. Clearly many other people feel that the past year, with its violence and disasters and wholesale political instability, has been a bad one. For days afterwards, my phone kept buzzing as more people retweeted it. There were, as always, a few contrarians who objected that other years since 1944 must have been worse; some said “much worse”. But that isn’t really true.

After D-Day, we knew the war was going to be won. Despite the bombs, the country was proud of itself and pulling together, and the likes of my father were hoping for a better world as soon as it was finished. The year of the Suez crisis, 1956, was pretty bad, but Anthony Eden was gone directly, and Harold Macmillan’s phoney self-confidence convinced people that things would be all right – and anyway the economy was growing impressively.

The period of the Heath government had awful moments: 1972, the year of Bloody Sunday and IRA attacks, was especially bad. Yet there was nothing like the appalling Grenfell Tower fire to divide the nation. And 1974 was humiliating for the government, but our membership of the European Economic Community offered a certain stability. We had a different, more forelock-tugging relationship with our political leaders then. The news bulletins used to talk reverently of “the prime minister, Mr Wilson”; now they just say “Theresa May”.

Today we have a prime minister who is held to have been mortally wounded by a series of personal failures and miscalculations; a governing party that has been self-harming for years over the question of ­Europe; an opposition that, until just recently, was regarded as hopelessly incompetent and naive; an economy that could be damaged by an ill-judged Brexit agreement; and a new vulnerability to terrorism, in which one atrocity quickly overlays the memory of the last.

There’s a newly hysterical tone in British society, which had always seemed so reassuringly reliable and sensible. The crowd that stormed Kensington Town Hall as though it were the Bastille or the Winter Palace mistook a man in a suit for a Tory councillor and beat him up. It transpired that he was an outside contractor who had spent much of the week helping the Grenfell Tower victims.

Above all, what was until recently the world’s fifth-largest economy has suddenly found itself on the edge of a trapdoor in the dark. “Back to the Thirties”, some people are saying. “Venezuela”, say others. Even Brexiteers who feel liberated and excited at the prospect of getting out of the EU can’t know if it’s going to work. Friends of mine who voted Leave because they were fed up with David Cameron or thought things needed a shake-up now show a degree of buyer’s remorse. Perhaps, like Boris Johnson in the BBC2 drama Theresa vs Boris, they thought the country was so stable that nothing bad would actually happen.

We’ve entered a period of sudden, neurotic mood swings. The opinion polls, unable to cope, tell us at one moment that Jeremy Corbyn is regarded as dangerous and useless, and at the next that a growing number of people see him as the national saviour. The Prime Minister’s “safe pair of hands” are now deemed too shaky to carry the country’s china. Ukip polled over 10 per cent in 450 seats in 2015, and in only two seats in 2017.

If any further evidence of neuroticism is needed, there is the longing that people have to be enfolded in the arms of a comforting authority figure. For some, it was the Queen, calming everyone down with a message of unity, or Prince William, hugging a grieving woman after the Grenfell Tower fire. For others, it was Corbyn doing the right human things while Theresa May walked past the tower ruins awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

It feels like being back in 1997, with the huge crowds in the Mall or outside Kensington Palace demanding to be comforted after the death of Diana. Then, the Queen was blamed for not being the mother figure we seemed, disturbingly, to want. Tony Blair had the right words at that time, and no doubt he would have had the right words after Grenfell Tower. But is it merely words and gestures we need?

It’s a bad sign when countries feel that they need an individual to sort them out. It’s because of its system, based on openness, inclusiveness and the rule of law, that Britain has grown strong and wealthy. Jo Cox said in her maiden speech in June 2015: “While we celebrate our diversity, what surprises me time and time again as I travel around the constituency is that we are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us.”

She was murdered by a fanatic who screamed, “This is for Britain! Britain will always come first!” The year that those words ushered in has indeed been the worst in my lifetime. The government slogan “Keep calm and carry on” was invented in 1939, when all-out German bombing seemed imminent. It is easy to lampoon but when it was rediscovered a few years ago it became popular, because it spoke directly to our national consciousness. We’ve never had more need of calmness than now.

John Simpson is World Affairs Editor of BBC News, having worked for the corporation since the beginning of his career in 1970. He has reported from more than 120 countries, including 30 war zones, and interviewed many world leaders.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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