The future of finance - as imagined by Ryanair

No frills finance is taking off - and while many have an opinion on allocated seating, printing your own boarding pass and paying for food on-board, the model remains simple but thrilling.

When Easyjet, Ryanair and Jet2 launched they shook up an airline industry dominated by high prices and package holidays. They were able to offer a direct and simple way to get a better rate on your seat using the internet. They offered a new way to travel, giving people unprecedented access to air travel on a scale never seen before. While many have an opinion on allocated seating, printing your own boarding pass or paying for food on-board, the model was simple but thrilling – give the customer a low-cost, destination rich, frill-free option and see if it flies. It did, and became the new normal.

Fast forward 20 or so years, and something similar is happening in finance. While a few canny and charismatic entrepreneurs drove the adoption of low cost flying, it is a combination of people power and the latest technology that is revolutionising finance in this digital age - taking the frills out of finance but putting great rates back in. An example of this would be the peer-to-peer finance industry, which innovation specialists Nesta calculate to be currently worth a staggering £482 million in 2013 alone. Not enough to topple High Street banking yet, but certainly enough for mainstream customers to take notice. Peer-to-peer lending businesses have taken a very old model in banking, which is essentially lending and borrowing, and modernised it through online platforms to offer a more direct, open and transparent way to lend and borrow. It is a product that offers reward balanced against risk as platforms aim to diversify the risk, only lend to most credit worthy borrowers and some platforms even have safeguard funds in place in case of a default. There is also a social element as many lenders appreciate the community spirit involved as they are helping people finance a new car or home improvement or supporting a business to grow through a business loan. The return for enabling this is personal, and provides a financial incentive which currently offers returns two or three times higher than the rate of inflation. Meanwhile, high street banks offer savings rates so low that in real terms its costing people to save money.

In October 2013 the industry warmly welcomed the draft measure outlined by the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA) for regulating peer-to-peer lending. Put simply, regulation will help improve trust in an industry that is still growing and open it up to a whole new consumer audience. How they are regulated is one of the most common questions asked of peer-to-peer lending platforms, as there is an added level of perceived safety that regulation seems to bring to any industry. Some have speculated that regulation may stifle the creativity of those currently operating in the sector, but the majority believe it will normalise and legitimise these more democratic forms of finance.

With all businesses more accountable and connected to their customers than ever before, repairing the damage caused by the financial crisis is proving tough for traditional financial institutions. While there will always be a desire to have a transaction based relationship with banks, the increasing popularity of alternative finance options cannot be ignored. Startling growth rates of 200 per cent year-on-year have been predicted for the peer-to-peer lending platforms over the next few years, helped on by regulation and other benefits that this allows like tax free savings in ISAs. The take-off of peer-to-peer lending has been steep but it’s for many that regulation will bring about a smooth landing, with higher volumes of passenger numbers in 2014.

Giles Andrews is CEO and Co-Founder of Zopa

Could the principals of budget aviation be applied to finance? Photograph: Getty Images.
Giles Andrews is CEO and Co-Founder of Zopa
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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era