It's hard to let go, but RBS needs be returned to market

Let’s get out of this business, and invest in something more worthwhile, writes James Ratcliff.

I was humiliated last night. After dinner in a favourite restaurant I handed my card to the waitress and had the gut-wrenching experience of being told it had been declined.

After a second failed attempt, I fished out another credit card—one I rarely use—typed my dog’s birthday into the card-reader, and crossed my fingers. Fortunately, it worked and we were allowed to leave without having to do the washing up.

Of course, I bank with Natwest, and I ought to have gotten used to this by now. It certainly proves one thing—you really cannot rely on a single bank.

Payments services are not yet a human right, and banks long ago gave up trying to treat their current account holders with respect. The onus is on us not to let them embarrass us in restaurants and encourage people to use premium rate phone lines when we need their help

In this climate, it is no surprise that credit unions—resolutely local lending and savings organisations—are seeing a resurgence

This latest payments fiasco comes the same day that Bank of England governor Mervyn King told us that we, as majority stakeholders, need to cut our losses in Natwest’s parent company RBS.

"RBS is worth less than we thought and we should accept that and get back to finding a way to create a new RBS that could be a major lender to the UK economy,” he said.

This effectively means separating the bank’s retail and investment arms, but the question remains, how do you create a major lender to the UK economy if you’re going to pare it down to its core retail operations? It hasn’t really worked for Northern Rock.

It is a balancing act. RBS clearly needs some fairly drastic pruning—through its Citizens Bank subsidiary we own and run 1,200 bank branches in the US, which seems a bit extravagant for a state-owned lender. And that’s not to mention RBS’s much-derided investment operation. However, a bank does require scale in order to work on anything other than a very local level.

King was clear in his view that this balance is not unachievable. “I do not believe it’s beyond the wit of man to devise a plan to restructure RBS [and] divide it into a healthy well-capitalised bank capable of lending to UK economy,” he said. “It does mean accepting there are activities that are likely to generate continued losses, and need to be separated from the healthy bank – in that sense it would a be a good bank/bad bank split.

"The whole idea of a bank being 82 per cent-owned by the taxpayer, run at arms' length from the government, is a nonsense. It cannot make any sense.

"I think it would be much better to accept that it should have been a temporary period of ownership only, to restructure the bank and put it back. The longer this has gone on the more difficult it has become to return RBS to the market.”

Definitely not a bad idea, let’s get out of this business, and invest in something more worthwhile.

But, while I know it’s never a good idea to throw good money after bad, I wonder if we could stretch to buying the bank a few new computers before we get rid of it. At least then Natwest customers will actually be able to access their money when they need it, and we will have achieved something.

Photograph: Getty Images.

James Ratcliff is Group Editor of  Cards and Payments at VRL Financial News.

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Junior doctors’ strikes: the greatest union failure in a generation

The first wave of junior doctor contract impositions began this week. Here’s how the BMA union failed junior doctors.

In Robert Tressell’s novel, The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists, the author ridicules the notion of work as a virtuous end per se:

“And when you are all dragging out a miserable existence, gasping for breath or dying for want of air, if one of your number suggests smashing a hole in the side of one of the gasometers, you will all fall upon him in the name of law and order.”

Tressell’s characters are subdued and eroded by the daily disgraces of working life; casualised labour, poor working conditions, debt and poverty.

Although the Junior Doctors’ dispute is a far cry from the Edwardian working-poor, the eruption of fervour from Junior Doctors during the dispute channelled similar overtones of dire working standards, systemic abuse, and a spiralling accrual of discontent at the notion of “noble” work as a reward in itself. 

While the days of union activity precipitating governmental collapse are long over, the BMA (British Medical Association) mandate for industrial action occurred in a favourable context that the trade union movement has not witnessed in decades. 

Not only did members vote overwhelmingly for industrial action with the confidence of a wider public, but as a representative of an ostensibly middle-class profession with an irreplaceable skillset, the BMA had the necessary cultural capital to make its case regularly in media print and TV – a privilege routinely denied to almost all other striking workers.

Even the Labour party, which displays parliamentary reluctance in supporting outright strike action, had key members of the leadership join protests in a spectacle inconceivable just a few years earlier under the leadership of “Red Ed”.

Despite these advantageous circumstances, the first wave of contract impositions began this week. The great failures of the BMA are entirely self-inflicted: its deference to conservative narratives, an overestimation of its own method, and woeful ignorance of the difference between a trade dispute and moralising conundrums.

These right-wing discourses have assumed various metamorphoses, but at their core rest charges of immorality and betrayal – to themselves, to the profession, and ultimately to the country. These narratives have been successfully deployed since as far back as the First World War to delegitimise strikes as immoral and “un-British” – something that has remarkably haunted mainstream left-wing and union politics for over 100 years.

Unfortunately, the BMA has inherited this doubt and suspicion. Tellingly, a direct missive from the state machinery that the BMA was “trying to topple the government” helped reinforce the same historic fears of betrayal and unpatriotic behaviour that somehow crossed a sentient threshold.

Often this led to abstract and cynical theorising such as whether doctors would return to work in the face of fantastical terrorist attacks, distracting the BMA from the trade dispute at hand.

In time, with much complicity from the BMA, direct action is slowly substituted for direct inaction with no real purpose and focus ever-shifting from the contract. The health service is superficially lamented as under-resourced and underfunded, yes, but certainly no serious plan or comment on how political factors and ideologies have contributed to its present condition.

There is little to be said by the BMA for how responsibility for welfare provision lay with government rather than individual doctors; virtually nothing on the role of austerity policies; and total silence on how neoliberal policies act as a system of corporate welfare, eliciting government action when in the direct interests of corporatism.

In place of safeguards demanded by the grassroots, there are instead vague quick-fixes. Indeed, there can be no protections for whistleblowers without recourse to definable and tested legal safeguards. There are limited incentives for compliance by employers because of atomised union representation and there can be no exposure of a failing system when workers are treated as passive objects requiring ever-greater regulation.

In many ways, the BMA exists as the archetypal “union for a union’s sake”, whose material and functional interest is largely self-intuitive. The preservation of the union as an entity is an end in itself.

Addressing conflict in a manner consistent with corporate and business frameworks, there remains at all times overarching emphasis on stability (“the BMA is the only union for doctors”), controlled compromise (“this is the best deal we can get”) and appeasement to “greater” interests (“think of the patients”). These are reiterated even when diametrically opposed to its own members or irrelevant to the trade dispute.

With great chutzpah, the BMA often moves from one impasse to the next, framing defeats as somehow in the interests of the membership. Channels of communication between hierarchy and members remain opaque, allowing decisions such as revocation of the democratic mandate for industrial action to be made with frightening informality.

Pointedly, although the BMA often appears to be doing nothing, the hierarchy is in fact continually defining the scope of choice available to members – silence equals facilitation and de facto acceptance of imposition. You don’t get a sense of cumulative unionism ready to inspire its members towards a swift and decisive victory.

The BMA has woefully wasted the potential for direct action. It has encouraged a passive and pessimistic malaise among its remaining membership and presided over the most spectacular failure of union representation in a generation.

Ahmed Wakas Khan is a junior doctor, freelance journalist and editorials lead at The Platform. He tweets @SireAhmed.