Why Stephen Hester's £963,000 bonus is a distraction

Quibbling over the bonus paid to the RBS boss is simply gesture politics.

Stephen Hester, the head of the Royal Bank of Scotland, is to receive a bonus of £963,000. Predictably, this has triggered outrage among the commentariat, and harsh condemnations from politicians.

Liberal Democrat Foreign Minister, Jeremy Browne, told Question Time that Hester should decline the bonus as "a question of honour", while the shadow business secretary Chuka Umunna told the Today programme that Hester's salary of more than £1m should be sufficient reward for doing a good job.

Outrage around bonus season is becoming something of an annual tradition. But what purpose does it really serve? In the last few hours alone, I've heard three radio discussions of the ins and outs of Hester's package. It's half what he received last year; it will all be paid in shares; he could have been earning much more in another job; he wasn't even a banker at the time of the crash.

There is no disputing that the sums of money involved are grotesque. The fundamental injustice that bankers continue to receive ludicrous sums of money while jobs are being lost across the country prompts a visceral anger in many people. This very real, very widespread rage is what politicians are attempting to tap into when they indulge in a spot of banker-bashing.

One point that comes up repeatedly is that of fairness: why should these people earn more than doctors, nurses, civil servants, or engineers? It's a valid question, but it is not answered by removing one banker's bonus. Scoring political points by forcing one individual to refuse their reward package does not solve the wider problem of sky-high financial remuneration.

In this summary of the arguments for and against banker's bonuses, Dr Ruth Bender of the Cranfield School of Management explains that change to pay packages must be consistent:

We cannot change pay for just some bankers -- just in the UK, or only in certain banks -- any more than we can change the traffic rules so that blue or red cars have to drive on the right! A few years ago I did research into executive pay, interviewing the great and the good to determine why they got paid what they did. One City CEO explained it very simply. He said that if "they" were to halve the pay of all the CEOs in the City, then no-one would bat an eyelid. But it would have to be all the CEOs. If even one individual retained his high compensation, then the others would demand parity.

RBS is a taxpayer-owned bank, and it is fair that it is subject to extreme scrutiny. But this forensic focus on the remuneration package of Hester, who is, at the end of the day, just one person, risks acting as a distraction from deep systemic, structural problems. Both EU and UK regulation have so far failed to addressed these deeper issues, preferring to focus on the symptoms rather than the causes.

This Economist blog summarises what some of these problems are:

Taxpayers' underwriting of bankers' operations -- socialised risk and privatised reward -- is one clear reason for excessive returns. The cartel-like structure of high-end banking, driven by both regulatory barriers to entry and economies of scale, also enables the sector to generate rents.

But in investment banking, the biggest cause of high pay could be clients' principle-agent problem and the "natural" inefficiency of big deals. When a management team chooses an investment bank, they likely to be more concerned about protecting their reputation ("no one got fired for hiring Goldman Sachs") than saving money. And in a multibillion dollar deal, shareholders are unlikely to kick up a fuss over a few million dollars wasted on expensive bankers. As a banker interviewed by the New Yorker put it, "[if] you are going to do a five-billion-dollar deal...Are you really going to fight about whether a certain fee is 2.5 per cent or 3.3 per cent?"

So, no, objectively Hester shouldn't be receiving such a high bonus. But it is the system which makes this compensation expected -- necessary, even -- that should be looked at, not the details of the payment received by one man, in one year. Such gesture politics do nothing to solve the underlying problem. We should be more worried about that fact that no-one appears willing to undertake the fundamental restructuring of the financial sector that would ensure fairness and prevent another financial crash.

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

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times