A financial transactions tax just makes good business sense for Britain

Rather than refusing it to rebuild our casino banks, we should create something new and better.

According to Albert Einstein the definition of insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. Yet bolstered by today’s improving GDP figures, David Cameron’s government appears set on rebuilding the UK economy around the casino capitalists of the City of London. The financial crisis may have derailed the economy to the extent that as a country we’re still poorer than we were six years ago but let’s just put the old show back on the road again.

This attitude was exemplified by Boris Johnson’s speech to the British Bankers’ Association this week when he invited European banks to come to the UK to avoid the proposed European financial transactions tax (FTT, also knows as a Robin Hood Tax). Nevermind the fact that moving to London would not actually help them evade the tax, the message was clear: the UK wants the same as the financial sector, a return to business (and bonuses) as usual.

Thankfully, MPs on the Business, Innovations and Skills Committee today intruded into the debate calling into question the Government’s position. In their response to the Kay review of UK equity markets and long-term decision making, MPs not only called for the Government to get on with implementing the professor’s recommendations – including a review of merger and acquisition activity – but also called on Cameron and Osborne to think again about their opposition to the FTT.

Their argument does not rest on the moral imperative that the financial sector should repay the damage it has done – something even the Prime Minister and Chancellor are wary of disputing. Instead the Committee makes hard-headed economic arguments for an FTT - that it would curb damaging high frequency trading, the computer-driven casino capitalism that causes flash crashes. It is an argument I have made here previously.

The business case for an FTT is so strong that Vince Cable told MPs that “I am, in some ways, quite disposed to it”. But given the political capital George Osborne and David Cameron have invested in opposing the plans of 11 European countries to press ahead with an FTT, it is difficult to see this Government changing course.

That provides a real opportunity for Labour. Ed Miliband’s themes of "responsible capitalism" and "one nation" could have been adopted with the Robin Hood Tax in mind. What better way of cracking down on the "wild-west" excesses of the market that he condemned in his conference speech two years ago than by levying a tiny tax that will have negligible impact on long-term investment but make financial gambling via high-frequency trading unprofitable?

And what better way of showing that Labour is truly a "one nation party" than by making the Square Mile pay for the damage it has done to the whole of the British economy and at the same time make it less likely that it will be able to wreak such damage in future?

It is hard-headed economic arguments like these which have led the German finance ministry to champion the tax within Europe. And with 11 European countries – including the major economies of France, Germany, Italy and Spain – set to introduce a wide ranging FTT on shares, bonds and derivatives early in 2014, a future Labour government would hardly be leaping into the dark if they followed suit.

Miliband and his Shadow Chancellor Ed Balls have spoken warmly about the Robin Hood Tax and its potential to raise billions to tackle poverty at home and abroad. But like the Government, they have pretended that such a tax must be global (or at least have the support of the US) to work. Given the UK’s own FTT – the 0.5 per cent stamp duty on shares – raises about £3bn annually this is palpable nonsense. It is to be hoped that today’s dose of economic good sense from MPs will encourage them to be a bit bolder.

Not quite a casino bank… Photograph: Getty Images

Jon Slater is a Senior Press Officer for Oxfam and a spokesperson for the Robin Hood Campaign

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times