Why can't private banks break China?

European banks trying to break into China are biting off more than they can chew.

When private bankers think of China they might see millions and millions of smiling Mao Zedongs — in green and pink and mustard yellow, on vast piles of renminbi banknotes. Private banking was legalised in China in 2006, and foreign players including HSBC, Citibank, BNP Paribas and Deutsche Bank quickly rushed in to service the country’s wealthy. The population of rich Chinese is, after all, growing rapidly, and each new Chinese millionaire is a potential client.

I had hoped to share impressive figures on just how many millionaires there are in China, but none of the statistics agree. Some reports say there are 562,000 high net worths (those with investible assets of over $1 m); others place it as high as $1.3 m.
Among the higher estimates, a 2012 Wealth Insight report finds that China’s 1.3 million HNWs own combined assets of $4.3 trn but only 17 per cent of this wealth is professionally managed — exciting news indeed for wealth managers hoping to get their hands on the remaining 83 per cent. Then again, you’d be feeling even more optimistic if you’d read a 2012 Accenture report, which said that only 7 per cent of this $4.3 trillion is under management.

On the one hand, this shows that everyone agrees that there’s plenty of unmanaged money on the mainland. On the other, a data shortage like this should be an early indication that setting up in China isn’t as easy as it sounds.
When it comes to talking about their business, many private bankers can rival the Communist Party in terms of secrecy and suspicion. It was a struggle to find people to go on record, some wouldn’t talk to me at all, and it took four emails with one PR to clarify if one bank was or wasn’t offering private banking services in China

One reason for this caginess could be that many banks haven’t performed as well as they’d hoped. "If I hear one more private bank saying they will go into China and break even in three years I’ll kill myself!" said one exasperated industry insider, who believes banks should expect to wait at least ten years to break even. "Everyone will say it’s changing, and that they’ve picked up clients, but they may have picked up five, or even ten clients — and that’s out of a potential pool of tens of thousands."

An early hurdle for private banks entering China was the financial crisis. ‘Some of the foreign players scaled back their presence in China, especially during the financial crisis, because some of the private banks suffered during the crisis, and that’s when the Chinese banks took the window of opportunity to rapidly grow their private banking business in China,’ says Jennifer Zeng, a partner at consulting group Bain.

‘That trend since then has been continuing: Chinese banks have a majority share of onshore private banking.’ Bain estimates that while 45 per cent of wealthy Chinese use private banks and other wealth-management institutions, 85 per cent of them are choosing to instruct local banks.
Chinese banks have some natural advantages when it comes to onshore banking in China. They are subject to fewer legal restrictions than foreign banks and so can offer a greater range of products, and because of their much larger retail presence they are better placed to identify newly rich clients ready to graduate from high street to private banks.

Foreign banks, however, aren’t helping their cause. Many don’t have a Chinese name and haven’t adapted their brand to the Chinese market: ‘Why should a Chinese HNW care about some bank’s Swiss heritage?’ asked one interviewee. Private banks have mistakenly followed the example of luxury fashion brands, which have successfully played up to their European heritage by not translating their names, but he says that ‘this might work for UHNWs, who speak some English, but not for HNWs’.

He believes private banks have been slow to grasp that China’s newly wealthy aren’t necessarily cosmopolitan, international families. A millionaire in today’s China could equally be a butcher in a mid-tier city, but one who’s built up a local business empire. He may speak no English, and may barely travel — except perhaps to Hong Kong for shopping or Macau for gambling weekends — and may have little exposure to, or interest in, Western financial brands.

But foreign banks suffer from more than an image problem. As you can imagine, banking a Communist country’s super-rich can throw up plenty of complications. First, many potential clients may not have made their money legally — government officials with modest salaries and enormous bank accounts come to mind. (According to Bloomberg last year, the 70 wealthiest members of China’s legislature were worth $90 billion; the combined worth of those in all three branches of the American government was $7.5 bn, by contrast.)

Secondly, many of the products that a private bank might usually want to offer are illegal. There are still restrictions on moving currency out of China, but many HNWs want to do precisely this — and bankers are always quick to point out that this doesn’t have to be for nefarious reasons, but simply as a means of risk diversification.

There are legal ways of moving assets abroad, such as through floating a company in Hong Kong or by having overseas contracts or businesses, and less legal ones: The Economist quoted research suggesting that $430 billion was transferred out of China in 2011 through mis-invoicing. One of the reasons gambling in Macau is so popular, I was told, is that it’s another way to bring money offshore.

Last year a banker at Standard Chartered was detained from March to May after one of his clients fled China having stolen $50 million. It’s not only private bankers who can face severe penalties: ‘Here’s one important thing to bear in mind: any investment adviser that is advising clients on taking money outside of China is not acting in the best interest of that client, because that’s not correct,’ an industry expert told me.
The private bankers I spoke to in Hong Kong, who handle offshore Chinese wealth, were all adamant that anti-money-laundering checks ensured that they never handled black-market money — but equally they believed there was plenty swilling around.

According to Bain's 2011 private banking report, the number of HNWs looking to invest abroad has increased rapidly. Investment immigration — where Chinese HNWs invest abroad in order to gain residency overseas — is a well-trodden path, with 60 per cent of HNWs polled saying they had either completed investment immigration, applied for it or are still completing their application.

Hong Kong is believed to house half of China’s offshore wealth, so Hong Kong-based China teams in all the major private banks are competing for this money. With their international networks, wide range of products and expertise, Western private banks have the upper hand in Hong Kong — but even this may not last long.
‘I’ve seen more and more Chinese banks setting up private banking operations in Hong Kong, and there’s increasing interest in them, too,’ says Marie-Louise Jungels, head of Continuum Capital, an external private bank in Hong Kong which helps HNWs consolidate their financial affairs. ‘I don’t think Chinese banks are quite on the same level — they will be mainly deposit takers for now and I don’t think their platforms are as sophisticated yet. But, if they’re determined, this can change very fast, as with everything China does at the moment.’
China, indeed, is taking the fight overseas. In 2008, the Bank of China opened its first private bank abroad, setting up an office in Switzerland, and China Merchant Bank, China Construction Bank, the Agricultural Bank of China and the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China have all started private banking operations overseas too.

When I asked one industry source how he saw China’s wealth management landscape developing in the next ten years, he answered that the pace of change defied predictions. ‘I don’t think you can look at China in that timeframe. If you look at the country over the last three years, it’s a very different country now,’ he said. ‘You can have a directional ten-year goal, or series of goals, but I don’t think that’s time well spent. You’re not going to get it right.’

Instead of the Chairman Mao portrait found on Chinese banknotes, I thought of a piece of revolutionary memorabilia I have at home — a Mao alarm clock my mum picked up in China in the Seventies. The mechanism’s broken, so when it’s wound up the seconds speed up and slow down at random, and the little model of Mao waves its Red Book arrhythmically until, suddenly, the tinny alarm goes off and the whole thing shakes. Private bankers wide-eyed at the vast opportunities offered by China should remember that an alarm can go off at any moment.

This story first appeared on Spear's.

China's Spring Festival. Photograph: Getty Images

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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Why hasn’t British Asian entertainment built on the Goodness Gracious Me golden age?

It is 20 years since the original radio series of Goodness Gracious Me aired. Over two decades, the UK media portrayal of Asians hasn’t used its success to evolve.

Save for a handful of special one-off episodes, Goodness Gracious Me hasn’t occupied a primetime TV slot for nearly two decades. Yet still it remains the measuring stick for British Asian comedy.

The sketch show, which transitioned seamlessly from radio to screen (it started as a BBC Radio 4 series in 1996), has stood the test of time and is as much a staple of modern British Asian culture as Tupperware or turning up an hour late.

What Goodness Gracious Me did so expertly was to take a set of serious issues facing first, second and now, I suppose, third generation migrants, and turn them on their heads. 

In making light of the pressures of academic expectation or family drama, Goodness Gracious Me wasn’t playing down the poignancy of such concerns; it was raising awareness and combatting their uglier side with humour.

It offered resonance and reassurance in equal measure; it was ok to have an embarrassing uncle who insisted he could get you anything much cheaper, including a new kidney, because other people like you did too.

That Goodness Gracious Me was broadcast on a mainstream channel was also a victory for minorities; it made us feel integrated and, perhaps more importantly, accepted. Against the backdrop of Brexit, what wouldn’t we give for that treatment now?

Really, though, the jewel in Goodness Gracious Me’s crown was its willingness to recognise diversity within diversity. It is a relic of a departed era when discourse on TV around Asians was different, when the broad church of that term was truly represented, rather than reduced to one catchall perception of British Muslims.

Goodness Gracious Me offered insight into the experiences and idiosyncrasies – religious or otherwise – of Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and even English people. It’s what made it so accessible and, in answering why subsequent programmes have failed to reach similar heights, this is a good starting point.

Without the flexible sketch format, the modern Asian sitcom Citizen Khan has struggled to cover multiple topics, and, by being specifically about a Muslim family, it leaves many non-Muslim Asians wondering: where’s ours?

I hasten to add that I feel plenty of sympathy for the British Muslim community, hounded by tabloid headlines that attack their faith, but it would be disingenuous to suggest that non-Muslim Asians are sitting pretty in 2016 and don’t need a similar level of support in terms of positive public perception.

The current volume of British Asian media products is fairly good. The BBC has its dedicated network, The Good Immigrant essay collection was one of the outstanding reads of the year, and we still have champions of comedy in Romesh Ranganathan and Nish Kumar.

But I think ultimately it comes down to the broadness of appeal, rather than the quantity of products. Goodness Gracious Me was not only able to engage the full spectrum of British Asia; it transcended its target audience and was on terrestrial TV.

The British Asian media on offer now is up against it, released as the country’s attitude towards foreigners completes a full circle back to the same suspicion my grandfather encountered in the Sixties.

Fewer outlets are willing to explore the stretch of what it means to be Asian, either by denying it due consideration in mainstream shows or by peddling their own monolithic observations. The BBC Asian Network, for example, is laudable in its existence, but does little to engage the young Asians who aren’t into techno spliced with Bhangra.

The mainstream representations of Asians in Western film and television that are commissioned, meanwhile, are irritatingly limited and sometimes inaccurate. In an article for the Guardian last year, Sara Abassi lamented the disproportionate appetite for “gritty post-9/11 films about conservative Pakistani families”, and that the researchers of American series Homeland failed to realise that the national language of Pakistan isn’t Arabic.

When I interviewed the actor Himesh Patel for the No Country for Brown Men podcast, he suggested that the answer to re-establishing Asians in mainstream media, both here and in America, was three-fold. The first challenge to overcome was for outlets to acknowledge that not all Asians fit the same religious or cultural profile; the second was to be open to placing Asians in non-Asian specific products to better reflect their presence in society.

Patel, who is best known for his portrayal of Tamwar Masood in the soap opera EastEnders, made his third recommendation based on this role. He felt that characters should be written with only their personality in mind, making the ethnicity of the actor who plays them incidental. Tamwar’s awkwardness but underlying kindness, Patel said, was what defined him – not his skin colour.

Goodness Gracious Me, though a primarily Asian show and a comedy at that, actually taught some salient lessons about representation. It succeeded in providing a window into a multiplicity of cultures, but at the same time wasn’t a total slave to the politics of identity – several of the 100-plus characters needn’t have been Asian at all. It was reflexive to the times we lived in and a perfect advertisement for empathy. That is why we still talk about it today.

Rohan Banerjee is a Special Projects Writer at the New Statesman. He co-hosts the No Country For Brown Men podcast.