Why the banks' threats of moving abroad are empty

These threats allow banks to run rings around the government -- but are of questionable credibility.

Talk to a banker about financial sector taxes and they'll have to call you back from their Blackberry en-route to the airport, the rest of the company in tow, quite prepared to never set foot in the country again to avoid your unnecessary meddling. The world is their oyster -- Frankfurt, Hong Kong, New York they'll tell you -- so stop the talk of Robin Hood Taxes, or capital reserve requirements, or you'll soon be seeing tumble weed clogging up the escalators at Canary Wharf.

From a lobbyist's perspective, you can see why we increasingly hear banks threaten to move their business overseas -- it has given them the excuse they need to run rings around the government. Cue the crescendo around Sir John Vicker's interim report into banking regulation a couple of weeks ago. Cue the government's frustration, when the terms it set as part of the Project Merlin deal for banks to lend more to businesses didn't work. And whilst Ed Balls' should be commended for calling for a banker bonus tax to help tackle youth unemployment, I suspect it is also one of the reasons he limited it to a rather modest £2billion.

But putting the bank lobbyist's view aside, this story just doesn't add up from from virtually any perspective. Firstly, you have to ask what exactly "relocating overseas" means. Leading the charge, Standard Chartered and HSBC have both said they may move abroad. Their threats create an image of packing up entire trading floors, wealth management divisions and investment arms, but in both cases they are only talking about their corporate HQs and a small number of head office staff.

As a Financial Times editorial recently said:

Such threats should be faced down, not just because they are unreasonable but because they are of questionable credibility.... Were a bank such as Barclays to shift its headquarters, the impact on the UK would surely be minimal as it would still do much of its business and pay taxes in the country.

Andrea Leadsom MP, a former senior executive at Barclays and Conservative member of the Treasury Select Committee, agrees:

One or two of them might change their corporate headquarters for tax purposes but if they do go we probably won't even notice. There won't be a great outflow of workers and Canary Wharf won't turn into a ghost town.

Distractions about corporate relocation aside, banks still argue that increasing taxes will make the City less competitive and would lead to a drip-drip loss of business. And they would have us believe the government's new bank levy is evidence of a worrying step in that direction. But let's be crystal clear: we are in no danger of overburdening the banks.

The costs of the new bank levy will be largely off-set by a decrease in corporation tax, which is on course to be the lowest rate in the G7 by 2014 at 23 per cent. Our rules on writing off future tax payment against previous losses are a major boon, as Barclays so clearly demonstrated by paying a shocking £113m of tax on £11.6b of profit. Other countries are not so generous, or perhaps foolhardy, as a special Reuters report explains: "Swiss tax losses can generally be carried forward for seven years, U.S. federal tax losses for 20 years, but in the UK or Jersey, there is no time limit."

But here is the mother of them all -- a multi-billion pound reason why banks would be mad to move away: credit rating agencies such as Standard & Poors know the UK government (read: taxpayer) will not let banks fail because they would bring the rest of the economy down with them. This means lending to banks is a one-way bet and so their credit rating improves, which in turn allows them to borrow money more cheaply. Sound trivial? Andrew Haldane, executive director of financial stability at the Bank of England, said last year: "The average annual subsidy for the top five banks over these years [2007-2009] was over £50 billion -- roughly equal to UK banks' annual profits prior to the crisis." At the height of the crisis, the subsidy was worth £100bn.

Most countries are simply not capable of offering this kind of support. Those who are capable may not be willing to risk having to fund a bail-out. If banks do choose to move from the City of London's safety net, they are likely to have to accept lower credit ratings making borrowing more expensive.

Besides the favourable tax environment and epically-proportioned credit card we offer to banks based in the UK, there are many other factors that give London the edge: stable financial infrastructure, lack of corruption, ease in raising capital, lawyers and crucially, our location. Banks could not afford to shift to New York and miss out on European clients, and business so conveniently located in a time zone half way between Manhattan and the other major markets in Asia. Nor could they afford to ignore our pool of highly skilled workers, who in turn are attracted by the culture, language, world class education and variety of things to spend their money on.

According to a recent Global Financial Sector Index, London didn't come near the top for its financial sector competitiveness, it was number one. So next time the City of London complain they are hard done by, show them this report -- which incidentally, they commissioned.

In fact, you could argue that it is the banks that are overburdening us. HSBC's balance sheet is already bigger than the entire GDP in the UK, Barclays' is roughly equal. The Bank of England governor, Mervyn King, and others have questioned whether we really want to be carrying that weight on our shoulders -- a weight that could crush us next time things go wrong.

Neither the government or opposition should be held hostage to old arguments that banks are the powerhouse of our economy. Two years ago they lost this honour when their engine failed and we were forced to pump in more than a trillion pounds of public money to get it started again and we are still paying to keep it running today.

Nor should politicians shy away from ensuring banks pay to repair the damage they have caused, for example through a Robin Hood Tax, because of hollow threats that the financial sector will move their business overseas. By paying their fair share in taxes, banks can once again work in the interests of society. At the moment it's the other way round.

Simon Chouffot is a spokesperson for the Robin Hood Tax Campaign

 

Simon Chouffot is a spokesperson for the Robin Hood Tax campaign and writes on the role of the financial sector in our society.

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser