11 EU countries are about to implement an FTT: the UK should make it 12

The Overton window is shifting, and now might be the time for an FTT.

In UK political circles, little serious consideration was given to the idea of a general financial transaction tax (FTT) before the financial crisis and recession. The City’s view that it would damage the UK’s successful financial industry held sway. But in the last few years, politicians have become more sceptical about what the City tells them and have expressed varying degrees of support for the principle of an FTT. The stumbling block, though, remains the possibility that an FTT introduced unilaterally in the UK would see the City lose business to other financial centres, in particular to New York.

Like the perennial threat that bankers are on the brink of leaving London for other shores as a result of the bankers bonus tax, or the bank levy, or the 50p tax rate, this claim is exaggerated. A badly designed FTT might result in business leaving these shores; a well-designed one could minimise that risk.

And the UK already has a well-designed FTT to act as a model: stamp duty on share purchases. This is very hard to avoid because the tax is paid when the change of legal ownership of shares is registered. If the tax is not paid, the purchaser does not legally acquire the shares. At least 30 other countries also have effective FTTs, and they are applied in 13 of the world’s top 15 financial centres.

Now 11 EU countries, including Germany, France and Italy, intend to introduce a financial transaction tax of 0.1 per cent on trades in shares and bonds and 0.01 per cent on trades in derivatives. We have argued in a recent paper that the UK should join with these countries broaden its FTT to trades in bonds and derivatives. If it is worried about losing business to New York, it should actively lobby US policy makers to introduce an FTT of their own, rather than waiting passively for them to act.

It has been estimated that joining the other 11 EU countries could raise up to £20bn a year in additional tax revenues. These could be used to ease the pressure for cuts in departmental spending and welfare payments. Better still, some of these revenues could be diverted to capitalise a British Investment Bank that would invest in infrastructure projects and lend to small and medium-sized business.

In a recent speech, Ed Miliband backed the idea British Investment Bank, together with a network of regional banks to help revitalise the economy. But he has not identified where the money to set up these banks and enable them to start lending would come from. Given the UK’s still large public sector borrowing requirement, this is a serious omission. An FTT could be the answer.

Of course, setting up these banks will take some time. In the interim, revenues from an FTT could be used directly to increase public spending on infrastructure. This would reconcile theviews of the Business Secretary, Vince Cable, who made the case for kick starting economic growth by investing in infrastructure projects and the Prime Minister, who has argued against unfunded tax cuts and borrowing for spending.

Extra infrastructure spending, a new bank – or set of regional banks – and a tax on financial transactions will not, on their own solve the UK’s economic problems. But they would be a step in the right direction. 11 EU countries are about to implement an FTT; the UK should make it 12.

Photograph: Getty Images

Tony Dolphin is chief economist at IPPR

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit