The financialisation of everyday life must be confronted

Unless we can reverse this financialisation and create a healthier basis for growth, the prospects for working people look grim.

The debate about growth and economic restructuring in Britain ought to depart from the fundamental transformation of UK capitalism during the last four decades. Britain’s economy is now beholden to big finance. Or to put it more accurately, the UK has become financialised, as has the USA but also Japan and Germany. Financialisation is a deep underlying change, and no set of radical or socialist economic policies would make sense unless that was recognised.

The previous decade has cast light on the transformation:

Finance grew extraordinarily in terms of prices, profits, and volume of transactions, but also in terms of influence and arrogance. By the middle of the decade a vast bubble had been inflated in the USA and the UK, the bursting of which was likely to be devastating.

The expansion of finance represented much more than financial excess. Finance had become pivotal to economic activity and to determining economic policy, but also to organising everyday life. Mature capitalism had become financialised. 

In August 2007 the US money market had a heart attack, and in August-September 2008 the global financial system had a near-death experience. Deep recession followed across the world, and then in 2009-2012 the crisis took a further nasty turn. States had become perilously exposed to debt because recession had reduced tax revenues, while rescuing finance had imposed fresh costs on the exchequer. Austerity followed, causing loss of income for working people, unemployment and destruction of welfare. Things became bad enough in the UK, but the impact of austerity in the Eurozone has been catastrophic.

As I argue in my book, Profiting without Producing, published by Verso this November, the crisis has revealed three fundamental trends of financialisation:

First, industrial and commercial enterprises have become increasingly involved in financial operations, often undertaking financial transactions to earn profits. Big business, in particular, relies less on banks, while changing its organisation and investment practices. The ideology of ‘shareholder value’ has become prevalent among large enterprises.

Second, banks have turned toward open financial markets to make profits through financial trading rather than through outright borrowing and lending. They have further turned toward households as a source of profit, often combining trading in open markets with lending to households, or collecting household savings.

Third, households increasingly rely on the private financial system to facilitate access to vital goods and services, including housing, education and health, as well as to hold savings. Everyday life has become financialised.

Financialised capitalism is an economic system of weak and precarious growth, low wages, profound inequality, and deep instability. The ascendancy of finance has resulted in regular financial bubbles, which cause devastation when they burst. Finance first earns enormous profits, and then calls upon society to carry the costs of crisis. Events since 2008, including the imposition of austerity, reflect the enormous influence of financial interests over policy-making, and indicate that financialisation will persist.

On Saturday 2 November I will be speaking at the first conference for the Centre for Labour and Social Studies, where I will be discussing ways working people could oppose and reverse financialisation. This is a vital process but it is far from easy. For one thing, it would be necessary to introduce regulation that could prevent financial institutions from engaging in speculative activities. Such regulation must include direct controls on interest rates and on the lending practices of financial institutions, if it is to have an impact. Time is short as yet another bubble is gradually developing, not least in the UK.

But regulation alone would never be enough. Public property over financial institutions must also be introduced as private banks have failed repeatedly, thus causing enormous pain. The UK needs public banks with a fresh spirit of public service that would support investment as well as meeting the financial needs of working people.

More broadly, financialisation of everyday life must also be confronted by reversing the involvement of private financial institutions in housing, education, health and elsewhere. Imaginative, flexible and creative public provision across a range of goods and services would be vital to reversing financialisation.

If financialisation began to be reversed, a healthier basis could be created for pro-growth macroeconomic policies but also for required restructuring of the UK economy to provide secure income and employment. Otherwise, the prospects for working people look far from optimistic. 

Class Conference 2013 will take place on Saturday 2 November at TUC Congress House. Tickets can be purchased here

Britain’s economy is now beholden to big finance. Photo: Getty
Getty.
Show Hide image

Angela Merkel's call for a burqa ban sets a disturbing precedent

The German chancellor's plan for a partial ban of the full-face veil is a clearly political move, which will do more to harm those women who wear it than protect them.

 

In these febrile times, women’s freedom and autonomy has become a bargaining chip in the poker game of public propaganda — and that goes double for brown, Muslim and migrant women. Angela Merkel should know as well as any other female politician how demeaning it is to be treated as if what you wear is more important than what you say and what you do. With the far-right on the rise across Europe, however, the German chancellor has become the latest lawmaker to call for a partial ban on the burqa and niqab.

We are told that this perennial political football is being kicked about in the name of liberating women. It can have nothing to do, of course, with the fact that popular opinion is lurching wildly to the right in western democracies, there’s an election in Germany next year, and Merkel is seen as being too soft on migration after her decision to allow a million Syrian refugees to enter the country last year. She is also somehow blamed for the mob attacks on women in Cologne, which have become a symbol of the threat that immigration poses to white women and, by extension, to white masculinity in Europe. Rape and abuse perpetrated by white Europeans, of course, is not considered a matter for urgent political intervention — nor could it be counted on to win back voters who have turned from Merkel's party to the far-right AFD, which wants to see a national debate on abortion rights and women restricted to their rightful role as mothers and homemakers.

If you’ll allow me to be cynical for a moment, imposing state restrictions on what women may and may not wear in public has not, historically, been a great foundation for feminist liberation. The move is symbolic, not practical. In Britain, where the ban is also being proposed by Ukip the services that actually protect women from domestic violence have been slashed over the past six years — the charity Refuge, the largest provider of domestic violence services in the UK, has seen a reduction in funding across 80% of its service contracts since 2011.

It’s worth noting that even in western countries with sizeable Muslim minorities, the number of women who wear full burqa is vanishingly small. If those women are victims of coercion or domestic violence, banning the burqa in public will not do a thing to make them safer — if anything, it will reduce their ability to leave their homes, isolating them further.

In the wake of the Brexit vote, racist and Islamophobic attacks spiked in the UK. Hate crimes nationally shot up by 42% in the two weeks following the vote on 23 June. Hate crimes against Muslim women increased by over 300%, with visibly Muslim women experiencing 46% of all hate incidents. Instances of headscarves being ripped off have become so common that self-defense videos are being shared online, showing women how to deflect the “hijab grab”. In this context, it is absurd to claim that politicians proposing a burqa ban care about protecting women: the move is transparently designed to placate the very people who are making Muslim women feel unsafe in their own communities.

When politicians talk about banning the burqa, the public hears an attack on all Islamic headscarves — not everyone knows the difference between the hijab, the niqab and the burqa, and not everyone cares. The important thing is that seeing women dressed that way makes some people feel uncomfortable, and desperate politicians are casting about for ways to validate that discomfort.

Women who actually wear the burqa are not invited to speak about their experiences or state their preferences in this debate. On this point, Islamic fundamentalists and panicked western conservatives are in absolute agreement: Muslim women are provocative and deserve to be treated as a threat to masculine pride. They should shut up and let other people decide what’s best for them.

I know Muslim women who regard even the simple hijab as an object of oppression and have sworn never to wear one again. I also know Muslim women who wear headscarves every day as a statement both of faith and of political defiance. There is no neutral fashion option for a woman of Islamic faith — either way, men in positions of power will feel entitled to judge, shame and threaten. Either choice risks provoking anger and violence from someone with an opinion about what your outfit means for them. The important thing is the autonomy that comes with still having a choice.

A law which treats women like children who cannot be trusted to make basic decisions about their bodies and clothing is a sexist law; a law that singles out religious minorities and women of colour as especially unworthy of autonomy is a racist, sexist law. Instituting racist, sexist laws is a good way to win back the votes of racist, sexist people, but, again, a dreadful way of protecting women. In practice, a burqa ban, even the partial version proposed by Merkel which will most likely be hard to enforce under German constitutional law, will directly impact only a few thousand people in the west. Those people are women of colour, many of them immigrants or foreigners, people whose actual lives are already of minimal importance to the state except on an abstract, symbolic level, as the embodiment of a notional threat to white Christian patriarchy. Many believe that France's longstanding burqa ban has increased racial tensions — encapsulated by the image earlier this year of French police surrounding a woman who was just trying to relax with her family on the beach in a burkini. There's definitely male violence at play here, but a different kind — a kind that cannot be mined for political capital, because it comes from the heart of the state.

This has been the case for centuries: long before the US government used the term“Operation Enduring Freedom” to describe the war in Afghanistan, western politicians used the symbolism of the veil to recast the repeated invasion of Middle Eastern nations as a project of feminist liberation. The same colonists who justified the British takeover of Islamic countries abroad were active in the fight to suppress women’s suffrage at home. This is not about freeing women, but about soothing and coddling men’s feelings about women.

The security argument is even more farcical: border guards are already able to strip people of their clothes, underwear and dignity if they get the urge. If a state truly believes that facial coverings are some sort of security threat, it should start by banning beards, but let's be serious, masculinity is fragile enough as it is. If it were less so, we wouldn't have politicians panicking over how to placate the millions of people who view the clothing choices of minority and migrant women as an active identity threat.

Many decent, tolerant people, including feminists, are torn on the issue of the burqa: of course we don't want the state to start policing what women can and can't wear, but isn't the burqa oppressive? Maybe so, but I was not aware of feminism as a movement that demands that all oppressive clothing be subject to police confiscation, unless the Met’s evidence lockers are full of stilettos, girdles and push-up bras. In case you're wondering, yes, I do feel uncomfortable on the rare occasions when I have seen people wearing the full face veil in public. I've spent enough time living with goths and hippies that I've a high tolerance for ersatz fashion choices — but do wonder what their home lives are like and whether they are happy and safe, and that makes me feel anxious. Banning the burqa might make me feel less anxious. It would not, however, improve the lives of the women who actually wear it. That is what matters. My personal feelings as a white woman about how Muslim women choose to dress are, in fact, staggeringly unimportant.

If you think the Burqa is oppressive and offensive, you are perfectly entitled never to wear one. You are not, however, entitled to make that decision for anyone else. Exactly the same principle applies in the interminable battle over women's basic reproductive choices: many people believe that abortion is wrong, sinful and damaging to women. That's okay. I suggest they never have an abortion. What's not okay is taking away that autonomy from others as a cheap ploy for good press coverage in the runup to an election.

This debate has been dragging on for decades, but there's a new urgency to it now, a new danger: we are now in a political climate where the elected leaders of major nations are talking about registries for Muslims and other minorities. Instituting a symbolic ban on religious dress, however extreme, sets a precedent. What comes next? Are we going to ban every form of Islamic headdress? What about the yarmulke, the tichel, the Sikh turban, the rainbow flag? If this is about community cohesion, what will it take to make white conservatives feel “comfortable”? Where does it stop? Whose freedoms are politicians prepared to sacrifice as a sop to a populace made bitter and unpredictable by 30 years of neoliberal incompetence? Where do we draw the line?

We draw it right here, between the state and the autonomy of women, particularly minority and migrant women who are already facing harassment in unprecedented numbers. Whatever you feel about the burqa, it is not the role of government to police what women wear, and doing it has nothing to do with protection. It is chauvinist, it is repressive, it is a deeply disturbing precedent, and it has no place in our public conversation.

 
 
 
 

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.