Another credit crunch looms

The threads holding up the balance sheets of the banks are growing perilously thin.

The finance sector is signalling alarm, and our politicians are once again asleep at the wheel. Another "credit crunch" may be looming. The most significant evidence emerged from the ECB's second Long Term Refinancing Operation (LTRO) on Thursday last week.

The LTRO is simply language intended to disguise the "printing of money" by the ECB for lending to private European banks at a very low rate of interest - 1 per cent. (In fact, the money is not even printed: it is created by entering digits into an ECB computer, and then transferring hundreds of billions of euros as 'bank money' to private banks.)

The fact that British banks rushed to drink from this punch bowl, tells you something about the state of their balance sheets.

For reasons that I suspect are largely ideological, the British government and HM Opposition refuse to face the reality that our private banking system and large parts of the corporate and household sectors are effectively bankrupt. Given this context - and the grave threat posed by an insolvent private finance sector - the joint and somewhat myopic focus by all political parties on the public debt is surely irrational.

Many households, firms and banks in the private sector are only kept from liquidation by a) "forbearance" - bankers hanging on in the hope that e.g. defaulting mortgage debtors will eventually repay; and b) injections of 'liquidity' by publicly-backed central banks.

But the threads of forbearance and liquidity holding up the balance sheets of the private banking system are growing perilously thin.

The ECB is by law (the Lisbon Treaty) prevented from making low-cost finance directly available to sovereign governments of the Eurozone. Whereas the Bank of England has effectively financed the government's deficit by buying government bonds at very low rates of interest from private banks, Greece and Portugal cannot rely on the ECB to purchase their bonds at low rates. Instead they have to turn to private bankers/financiers - who charge much higher rates of interest. (Readers are free to speculate as to who may have had a hand in drafting the Lisbon Treaty and the ECB's mandate.)

To avert Armageddon in the global financial system last December, the ECB turned the cheap money spigot on - in the vain hope that private banks would lend on low-cost ECB loans to governments. And that they would do so at a rate of interest a little nearer to the 1 per cent the ECB had charged them.

So much for wishful thinking.

This onlending - borrowing cheap and lending dear - is called 'the carry trade', and extremely profitable it is too. Take Portuguese 10-year bonds: private banks are using their 1 per cenr ECB loans to buy these at 14 per cent - a nice, effortless little earner. The case of Greece is of course, worse: the rate of interest the 'carry trade' extracts from Greece for short-term loans is frankly, criminal. Indeed the ECB's easy, cheap money can be said to be helping bankrupt the very governments it purports to help in its roundabout way.

But I digress. Last week big banks as well as many small banks, rushed to suck on the teat of cheap central bank funding. Our very own Lloyds Bank, already largely government-owned, borrowed €13.6bn from the ECB while Barclays, which claims it never relied on public funds, borrowed €8.2bn; RBS borrowed €18bn. In total 800 European banks rushed for help from the ECB.

This is a worrying development.

But even more disturbing are signs that banks no longer lend to each other. Just as the credit crunch of August, 2007 was heralded by a freezing up of inter-bank-lending, so history appears to be repeating itself. According to the FT, banks deposited a record €777bn overnight with the ECB last week, up nearly two thirds from the previous day.

In other words, banks were borrowing from the ECB at 1 per cent and then re-depositing funds with the ECB for less - 25 per cent.

Banks could earn a great deal more in the inter-bank market - but that market scares the hell out of them. They know a lot more about their fellow bankers' solvency than our politicians do. Which is why they are parking their (our) money with a bank that cannot go bust: the taxpayer-backed ECB.

Given that our politicians are looking the other way, this should scare us too.

Ann Pettifor is director of PRIME - Policy Research in Macroeconomics.

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Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.