The "people's bonus": which people, and at what cost?

Could George Osborne's "people's bonus" rescue the Conservatives' election prospects?

In an interview in today's Sunday Times -- a day before the taxpayer-owned RBS and Lloyds banks are set to announce £1.5bn of bonuses -- the Tory shadow chancellor, George Osborne, outlines a new policy:

The bankers have had their bonuses. We want a people's bank bonus for the people's money that was put into these organisations.

What it boils down to is the idea of offering cheap shares in the taxpayer-owned banks to ordinary families when the government's £70bn of shares are sold off. The Sunday Times interview frames it as a Tory attempt to seize back the election and give a positive edge to what has been an overwhelmingly negative election campaign.

Osborne couched his suggestion in diction that plays into public anger with the banks, speaking of the need to "recapitalise the poor". This certainly appears to be in keeping with the public mood. A YouGov poll for the think tank Compass, published today, showed the extent of public anger with the financial system. Three out of four people said they did not think that the banks had changed, and that they were still not being properly regulated, while 76 per cent of people wanted a cap on bonuses and 59 per cent supported a windfall bonus tax.

But although Osborne talks the talk -- the "people's bonus" suggesting a pleasing settling of scores -- is it really such a revolutionary move?

In fact, the proposal is a direct, and conscious, echo of Margaret Thatcher's privatisation of British Gas and British Telecom in the 1980s, when the number of British shareholders tripled. "It will be like the public offerings of shares such as the Tell Sid campaign of the mid-Eighties," said Osborne.

This was vote-winning for Thatcher, but the climate has changed: as the Compass poll shows, much of the current anger relates to the perceived injustice of banks going back to business as usual amid insufficient regulation, while the rest of society continues to suffer. Selling off cheap shares will do little to tackle the perception of a sector running out of control as jobs are lost elsewhere.

Labour and the Liberal Democrats have jumped to attack the plans. On the BBC's Andrew Marr Show this morning, the Business Secretary, Lord Mandelson, dismissed it as "a silly little gimmick" and "headline-grabbing incoherence". He argued that it contradicted the Tory emphasis on reducing the Budget deficit, asking: "What on earth are they doing giving away the shares at a knock-down price?"

The Lib Dem Treasury spokesman, Vince Cable, also criticised the plan, saying that it "beggars belief" to encourage the less well-off to invest in a volatile stock market. "The nationalised and semi-nationalised banks should be reprivatised when the conditions are right to maximise taxpayer return," he said. "Selling shares off at a discounted rate will not achieve this."

They have a point: if the focus is on reducing the Budget deficit and ensuring that the taxpayers' money is returned, it makes sense to sell off the shares at a time that will make maximum profit for the government. Moreover, the demographic of those investing in the stock market is unlikely to include the least well-off, who will nonetheless bear the brunt in the extra taxation that will be necessary if the government has not recovered all the bailout money.

Of the people's bonus, then, we must ask -- which people, and at what cost?

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Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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With the BBC Food’s collection under threat, here's how to make the most of online recipes

Do a bit of digging, trust your instincts – and always read the comments.

I don’t think John Humphrys is much of a chef. Recently, as his Today co-presenter Mishal Husain was discussing the implications of the BBC’s decision to axe its Food website (since commuted to transportation to the Good Food platform, run by its commercial arm), sharp-eared listeners heard the Humph claim that fewer recipes on the web could only be a good thing. “It would make it easier!” he bellowed in the background. “We wouldn’t have to choose between so many!”

Husain also seemed puzzled as to why anyone would need more than one recipe for spaghetti bolognese – but, as any keen cook knows, you can never have too many different takes on a dish. Just as you wouldn’t want to get all your news from a single source, it would be a sad thing to eat the same bolognese for the rest of your life. Sometimes only a molto autentico version, as laid down by a fierce Italian donna, rich with tradition and chopped liver, will do – and sometimes, though you would never admit it in a national magazine, you crave the comfort of your mum’s spag bol with grated cheddar.

The world wouldn’t starve without BBC Food’s collection but, given that an online search for “spaghetti bolognese recipe” turns up about a million results, it would have been sad to have lost one of the internet’s more trustworthy sources of information. As someone who spends a large part of each week researching and testing recipes, I can assure you that genuinely reliable ones are rarer than decent chips after closing time. But although it is certainly the only place you’ll find the Most Haunted host Yvette Fielding’s kedgeree alongside Heston Blumenthal’s snail porridge, the BBC website is not the only one that is worth your time.

The good thing about newspaper, magazine and other commercial platforms is that most still have just enough budget to ensure that their recipes will have been made at least twice – once by the writer and once for the accompanying photographs – though sadly the days when everyone employed an independent recipe tester are long gone. Such sites also often have sufficient traffic to generate a useful volume of comments. I never make a recipe without scrolling down to see what other people have said about it. Get past the “Can’t wait to make this!” brigade; ignore the annoying people who swap baked beans for lentils and then complain, “This is nothing like dhal”; and there’s usually some sensible advice in there, too.

But what about when you leave the safety of the big boys and venture into the no man’s land of the personal blog? How do you separate the wheat from the chaff and find a recipe that actually works? You can often tell how much work a writer has put in by the level of detail they go into: if they have indicated how many people it serves, or where to find unusual ingredients, suggested possible tweaks and credited their original sources, they have probably made the dish more than once. The photography is another handy clue. You don’t have to be Annie Leibovitz to provide a good idea of what the finished dish ought to look like.

Do a bit of digging as part of your prep. If you like the look of the rest of the site, the author’s tastes will probably chime with your own. And always, always, wherever the recipe is from, read it all the way through, even before you order the shopping. There is nothing more annoying than getting halfway through and then realising that you need a hand blender to finish the dish, just as the first guest arrives.

Above all, trust your instincts. If the cooking time seems far too short, or the salt content ridiculously high, it probably is, so keep an eye on that oven, check that casserole, keep tasting that sauce. As someone who once published a magic mince pie recipe without any sugar, I’m living proof that, occasionally, even the very best of us make mistakes. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad