Cash in the attic: the City of London. Photograph: Getty Images.
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UK businesses have plenty of cash to spare, and they're spending it on the young

Companies are starting to use their cash balances in at least one useful way, to provide training programmes for able young people as an alternative to university.

Companies are awash with cash. They’ve been hoarding a war chest since the financial crisis hit in 2008. It has achieved ridiculous proportions; in the US and UK corporate bank balances have doubled in size, Japan has recently seen a spike while Europe has also built a buffer, if not to the extent of other regions. However the signs are that companies are beginning to deploy this money – especially in the UK.

There are the obvious things like share buy-backs, and mergers and acquisitions, that you can do with excess corporate money, but more encouragingly companies are beginning to think in a new way about the next generation of people working in their businesses. Increasingly, a new form of sponsorship is emerging. In moves not seen for a generation, companies such as the accountants Deloittes are hiring young people into their businesses as an alternative to going to university. Business is beginning to invest in young people, filling the gap left by universities that offer courses of doubtful relevance at prices that are just too high.

The general public is smart enough to detect the whiff of corporate insincerity in any charm offensive – tokenistic community-based projects will be seen through as box ticking Corporate Responsibility initiatives that offer little lasting relevance. Businesses will only truly “put something back” if given the right incentive to do so and there is nothing like the profit and cost motive to do that especially in the new era of shareholder activism. The Labour Party’s newly announced policy to “tax the bankers” to provide youth training schemes in that respect, once more, misses the mark. It misses the mood of the day, that there is a new dynamic at work that will see companies investing in young people because it makes business sense.

Sadly, the negativity towards business identified in The Trust Deficit: After the Crash by the research group Populus for the legal firm DLA Piper, is reinforced by mainstream economists like David Blanchflower and politicians like Ed Miliband. Writing in The Independent this week Blanchflower indulges himself in yet another populist diatribe which offers little except the tired observation that some people have more money than others and because of the way unemployment in this downturn has hit the non-graduate pay grades, the income gap between them and graduates has increased in the past five years.

What Miliband and Blanchflower both miss is that if pay structures in certain parts of the economy aren’t sustainable or aren’t valued then they won’t last – they will wither and die of their own accord. It does not need a tax – it does not need a law for that to happen. Besides, with the economy picking up, they are starting to sound somewhat behind the evidence. We don’t have an incomes policy and we don’t, thank goodness, have a limit on what any individual can earn in our country and long may that last. Treating the lawful activity of whoever it is in society who earns super-normal money (which in turn feeds the Exchequer) whether that is a footballer, pop star, entertainer, private company director, public company director or, yes I’m going to say it, a “banker” as immoral is an otiose argument which only has currency at the trough of the economic cycle. That moment has passed.

In a capitalist system, like ours, you will always have cycles. Capitalism is, in that sense, inherently unstable and liable to peaks and troughs – Karl Marx appreciated that. This requires the existence of a safety net to catch people when they fall. That is the implicit social contract we are involved in. But in this downswing a new part of the safety net has emerged – one which protects talented young people from the penalty of government education policies. It is one which will see companies deploying their cash reserves, taking on a positive role in shaping the next generation of workers by helping them over barriers to entry into higher earnings via education no matter their background. Getting the administration – and opposition – of the day to cooperate with and praise that idea is much more useful than replaying tired class war ideas that send the wrong messages to our young people about the possibilities of work and what business contributes to society.

Head of Fixed Income and Macro, Old Mutual Global Investors

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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