Barclays' little story and how it changed banking culture

Top City boys queue up, two by two, for a grilling.

This week has seen top City boys queuing up, two-by-two, as the Parliamentary Commission on Banking Standards (PCBS) called them in for a grilling on UK banking standards, rate-rigging scandals and big fat cheques.

In the firing line this morning was Anthony Jenkins and Sir David Walker, Barclay’s group chief executive and chairman, after Lloyds’ on Monday.

During an intense three-hour inquiry, Jenkins told the committee he was “shredding” the legacy left by his former boss Bob Diamond, after (quite publicly) rebuffing a £2.75m bonus having decided it would be “wrong” to receive a cheque too fully-loaded.

It is still far too early to see whether there has been any material change in Barclays’ culture. Rome wasn’t built, or-re-built in a day, and the jury will still be left with a few big questions over the British bank’s cultural DNA after today’s session.

Diamond on his part had received a £2.7m annual bonus for 2011, a pay check of £17m (with the bank paying also his £5.7 tax bill) after resigning amid the interest rate rigging scandal.

The boss was known to lead an "aggressive" and "self-serving" culture in the bank, the committee heard, while hush-hush talks in the City from former Barclays’ people push it a bit further, describing it as “rotten”.

The multimillion-bounty led to the forced resignation of Alison Carnwath, former chairman of the Barclays remuneration committee, who claimed to have been the lone voice for Diamond receiving "zero" bonus.

Along with Walker, Jenkins announced, avoided –and confessed- a few things.

The Committee jumped at the chance to enquire about The Bonus, remuneration and more specifically Sir John Sunderland, the man in control of it –he who replaces Mrs Carnwath.

“The problem we have with [Sunderland’s] evidence is that he didn’t think he had made a mistake (in regards to Bob Diamond's pay off), even in retrospect?” the committee asked.

“You'll have to trust my judgement,” replied Walker, in what looked more and more like a battledome.

Walker and Jenkins informed the MPs of a bonus slim down at Barclays following yet another £1bn provision to cover compensation for interest rate swap products and mis-selling of payment protection insurance (PPI).

According to Barclays, the scandal-hit year is now costing the bank around £2.6bn in compensation: PPI damages will go to borrowers who were (mis-)sold loan insurances (to protect them if they missed repayments due to illness or redundancy), but were not actually eligible to claim it.

During the tense discussion, Jenkins let out that he would step down if there was a regulatory failing under his watch.

This comment seemed too trouble-free for the Committee not to pick upon: Jenkins was head of Barclaycard from 2006, and throughout the time PPI products were sold.

“We worked hard to modify PPI products and we didn't get it right completely” was what Jenkins had to answer. He added: “it's a question of proportionality.”

This answer baffled the Committee; but not as much as when he spoke about the LIBOR-fixing –which cost the bank $450m in fines. “I first learnt about Libor on the day the Libor fine was announced,” he said.

When the committee asked him if he questioned the banking culture while working closely with Diamond, Jenkins took the time before calmly answering, “Yes.”

What he meant by this assent, was that he had been arguing “for a change in culture since 2012.”

Rumours were sparked by Committee chairman Andrew Tyrie when he said it was possible the Barclays bosses would be called in before the Committee again.

But next in line for the grilling are JP Morgan and HSBC’s heads, who will give the Committee more to query until their new report is published.

Photograph: Getty Images

Elsa Buchanan writes for VRL Financial News

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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