Bankers' pay is high because there's too much money in the finance sector

The EU's attempt to cap banker's bonuses trundles on. But it's misdirected, writes Alex Hern.

As predicted, George Osborne made a last-ditch attempt yesterday to prevent the EU's cap on banker's bonuses being institutedtelling the convention of finance ministers that he "cannot support the proposal on the table". Despite the suggestion from Germany of a minor tweak to the proposals, apparently to give Osborne the chance to claim he'd won concessions, the Chancellor continued with his opposition, and so Britain remains the only EU nation not in favour of the cap.

There is still some fine detail left to be negotiated over the next few weeks, so if Osborne doesn't want to make the politically significant choice of being explicitly out-voted by the EU for the first time on this issue he could change his stance; but, as the Guardian's Ian Traynor writes, "there was no doubt that the central decision, to clamp down on bonuses, was irreversible".

Now that victory is within their grasp, some in Europe are looking to the next battle. The Telegraph's Louise Armitstead and Bruno Waterfield report that Spain's finance minister, Luis de Guindos, is looking at applying the same rules to salaries overall:

“We are very much in favour of the limitation on variable remuneration but that’s not the only issue,” he said. “The question is also the entirety of remuneration, which is sometimes more important. And Spain’s position is that shareholders’ meetings must have a major involvement and should decide the overall remuneration of bankers.”

De Guindos' plan hints at the real aim of the bonus cap. As I wrote last week, there are a number of possible targets, and the cap is flawed at achieving any of them. It will do little to affect the balance of risk in the system; little to affect the overall remuneration of bankers; and, since bonuses are more of a historical artefact than a considered motivation to action, there's not really any reason to think that they actually have any effect from the start.

It's clear from de Guindos' words that at least some of the support for capping bonuses comes because it's seen as an easy way to reduce the pay of bankers; and that now that that's done, the salaries should be next in line.

But as the Guardian's Zoe Williams discovered, the money has to go somewhere. Tim Simons, "who works in operations for a government-owned investment bank", makes the point to her:

"When a bank makes money, it either pays to its employees; or it pays to its shareholders – the wealthy, I call them."
"But aren't the employees wealthy too?"
"No, traders aren't wealthy, they're just well-paid."

For similar reasons, I've heard bankers refer to their profession—with tongue firmly in cheek—as the ultimate victory of Marxism. It is, after all, an industry in which the workers have successfully captured nearly all the surplus value they create.

Simons seems correct that the trade-off the banks face is between handing money to employees or shareholders. Take this, from 2005 but still relevant:

During in the past four years, securities firms in the US paid $7bn more in bonuses than they made in profits, $3bn more in 2004 alone… And compensation stays high even when profits are down. When J.P. Morgan admitted to bad bets last month, it slashed its net income for the second quarter. But during the same period, it paid employees more than $4bn, as it has in each of the past four quarters. On average, shareholders got just one dollar $1 for every $4 paid to employees.

But what that highlights the real problem for people who feel that bankers' pay is inequitable, distortionary, or in some other way problematic: ultimately, the pay is just a symptom of the fact that banking is an extraordinarily profitable industry.

In the US, finance accounts for just 8 per cent of GDP, but almost 30 per cent of corporate profits:

Noah Smith, examining why that might be, suggests that banking as a sector has naturally enormous economies of scale, and very few diseconomies. Put them together, and the tendency toward monopoly in finance is even greater than it is in capitalism generally. And so banks gain monopoly (or, more accurately, oligopoly) status, and can extract monopoly profits.

That even fits with what Simons told Williams. His dichotomy— "money goes to the employees or the shareholders"—misses the fact that banks could use that money sloshing around to boost the amount they pay savers, lower the interest rate they charge on loans, or reduce the fees and charges they levy on customers. (That applies just as much to investment banking as conventional retail banking). In a competitive industry, that's what would happen; but finance isn't a competitive industry.

The vast sums of money floating around the system have to exit it somewhere. High pay—and high pay in the city particularly—has a corrosive effect on the nation, but to tackle it without addressing the anticompetitive nature of the finance sector overall is prescribing painkillers to heal a broken arm.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Expressions of sympathy for terror's victims may seem banal, but it's better than the alternative

Angry calls for "something to be done" play into terrorists' hands.

No sooner had we heard of the dreadful Manchester Arena bombing and before either the identity of the bomber or the number of dead were known, cries of “something must be done” echoed across social media and the airwaves. Katie Hopkins, the Mail Online columnist, called for “a final solution”, a tweet that was rapidly deleted, presumably after she remembered (or somebody explained to her) its connotations. The Telegraph columnist Allison Pearson wanted “a State of Emergency as France has” and “internment of thousands of terror suspects”, apparently unaware that the Nice attack, killing 86, happened after that emergency was declared and that nobody has been interned anyway.

It cannot be said too often that such responses play into terrorists’ hands, particularly if Isis was behind the Manchester bombing. The group’s aim is to convince Muslims in the West that they and their families cannot live in peace with the in-fidel and will be safe only if they join the group in establishing a caliphate. Journalists, striving for effect, often want to go beyond ­banal expressions of sympathy for ­victims. (It’s a mistake I, too, have sometimes made.) But occasionally the banal is the appropriate response.

Pity begins at home

Mark Twain, writing about the “terror” that followed the French Revolution and brought “the horror of swift death”, observed that there was another, older and more widespread, terror that brought “lifelong death from hunger, cold, insult, cruelty and heartbreak”. The first, he wrote, we had been “diligently taught to shiver and mourn over”; the other we had never learned to see “in its vastness or pity as it deserves”.

That is true: more children across the world die each day from hunger or disease than could ever be killed in a terror attack. We should not forget them. Nor should we forget that the numbers killed in terrorist attacks in, for example, Baghdad far outnumber those killed in all European attacks of our times combined. In an age of globalisation, we should be more cosmopolitan in our sympathies but the immediacy of 24-hour news make us less so.

When all is said and done, however, pity, like charity, begins at home. We naturally grieve most over those with whom we share a country and a way of life. Most of us have been to concerts and some readers will have been to one at the Manchester Arena. We or our children could have been present.

Cheers from Highgate Cemetery

What a shame that Theresa May modified the Tory manifesto’s proposals on social care. For a few giddy days, she was proposing the most steeply progressive (or confiscatory, as the Tories would normally say) tax in history. True, it was only for those unfortunate enough to suffer conditions such as dementia, but the principle is what counts. It would have started at zero for those with assets of less than £100,000, 20 per cent for those with £120,000, 50 per cent for those worth £200,000, 99 per cent with those with £10m and so on, ad infinitum. Karl Marx would have been cheering from Highgate Cemetery.

Given that most people’s main asset – the value of their home – did not have to be sold to meet their care costs until death, this was in effect an inheritance tax. It had tantalising implications: to secure their inheritance, children of the rich would have had to care for their parents, possibly sacrificing careers and risking downward mobility, while the children of the poor could have dedicated themselves to seeking upward mobility.

The Tories historically favour, in John Major’s words, wealth cascading down the generations. In recent years they have all but abolished inheritance tax. Now they have unwittingly (or perhaps wittingly, who knows?) conceded that what they previously branded a “death tax” has some legitimacy. Labour, which proposes a National Care Service but optimistically expects “cross-party consensus” on how to finance it, should now offer the clarity about old age that many voters crave. Inheritance tax should be earmarked for the care service, which would be free at the point of use, and it should be levied on all estates worth (say) £100,000 at progressive rates (not rising above even 50 per cent, never mind 99 per cent) that yield sufficient money to fund it adequately.

Paul Dacre’s new darling

Paul Dacre, the Daily Mail editor, is in love again. “At last, a PM not afraid to be honest with you,” proclaimed the paper’s front page on Theresa May’s manifesto. Though the Mail has previously argued that to make old people use housing wealth to fund care is comparable to the slaughter of the first-born, an editorial said that her honesty was exemplified by the social care proposals.

On the morning of the very day that May U-turned, the Mail columnist Dominic Lawson offered a convoluted defence of the failure to cap what people might pay. Next day, with a cap announced, the Mail hailed “a PM who’s listening”.

Dacre was previously in love with Gordon Brown, though not to the extent of recommending a vote for him. What do Brown and May have in common? Patriotism, moral values, awkward social manners, lack of metropolitan glitz and, perhaps above all, no evident sense of humour. Those are the qualities that win Paul Dacre’s heart.

Sobering up

Much excitement in the Wilby household about opinion polls that show Labour reducing the Tories’ enormous lead to, according to YouGov, “only” 9 percentage points. I find myself babbling about ­“Labour’s lead”. “What are you talking about?” my wife asks. When I come to my senses, I realise that my pleasure at the prospect, after seven years of Tory austerity, of limiting the Tories’ majority to 46 – more than Margaret Thatcher got in 1979 – is a measure of my sadly diminished expectations. l

Peter Wilby was editor of the Independent on Sunday from 1995 to 1996 and of the New Statesman from 1998 to 2005. He writes the weekly First Thoughts column for the NS.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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