A welcome U-turn from Osborne as he gets tougher on the banks

The Chancellor backs down and announces that regulators will have the power to break up banks that try to evade new rules.

It isn't often that we have cause to praise George Osborne here at The Staggers but today is one of those rare occasions. Having previously resisted calls from MPs for the government to toughen up its proposed banking reforms, the Chancellor has now decided that regulators will, after all, have the power to break up the banks if they try to evade new rules aimed at ensuring they are no longer too big to fail. The ring-fence separating their retail and investment arms will be "electrified" (one might call it the "Jurassic Park solution"). 

Osborne is giving a speech at 10:30am at JP Morgan's office in Bournemouth (yes, bankers do exist outside of London, is the message from his choice of venue) and will say: 

My message to the banks is clear: if a bank flouts the rules, the regulator and the Treasury will have the power to break it up altogether - full separation, not just ring fence.

He will add:

We’re not going to repeat the mistakes of the past. In America and elsewhere, banks found ways to get around the rules.

Greed overcame good governance. We could see that again – so we are going to arm ourselves in advance. We will electrify the ring fence

Proving that, like the Bourbon kings of France, they have learned nothing and forgotten nothing, the banks have hit back at Osborne, accusing him of creating "uncertainty for investors" (and more certainty for the rest of us?)

Anthony Browne, the head of the British Bankers' Association (formerly Boris Johnson's economic policy director and the director of Policy Exchange) said: "This will create uncertainty for investors, making it more difficult for banks to raise capital which will ultimately mean that banks will have less money to lend to businesses.

"What banks and business need is regulatory certainty so that banks can get on with what they want to do, which is help the economy grow. This decision will damage London’s attractiveness as a global financial centre."

Labour has responded more favourably to Osborne's move, describing it as a "partial climb down", but also raising two major concerns. First, that the new power to break up the banks will only apply to those that misbehave under the new criteria, rather than across the board. Second, that Osborne is planning to introduce a cap on leverage set at 33 times banks' capital, rather than the tougher 25-times limit proposed by the Vickers report.

Shadow Treasury minister Chris Leslie said: "If the reports are correct and the Chancellor is planning to stop short on both the backstop powers and legislation for the leverage ratio, then there will be a very real sense in the country that despite all the rhetoric the Chancellor hasn't got the appetite for the radical banking reform we need."

Having already conceded that his original position on ring-fencing was wrong, Osborne will need to address these criticisms in his speech if he's to have any credibility on this issue. 

George Osborne will say in a speech today that "if a bank flouts the rules, the regulator and the Treasury will have the power to break it up". Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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As the strangers approach the bed, I wonder if this could be a moment of great gentleness

I don’t know what to do. In my old T-shirt and M&S pants, I don’t know what to do.

It’s 1.13am on an autumn morning some time towards the end of the 20th century and I’m awake in a vast hotel bed in a small town in the east of England. The mysterious east, with its horizons that seem to stretch further than they should be allowed to stretch by law. I can’t sleep. My asthma is bad and I’m wheezing. The clock I bought for £3 many years earlier ticks my life away with its long, slow music. The street light outside makes the room glow and shimmer.

I can hear footsteps coming down the corridor – some returning drunks, I guess, wrecked on the reef of a night on the town. I gaze at the ceiling, waiting for the footsteps to pass.

They don’t pass. They stop outside my door. I can hear whispering and suppressed laughter. My clock ticks. I hear a key card being presented, then withdrawn. The door opens slowly, creaking like a door on a Radio 4 play might. The whispering susurrates like leaves on a tree.

It’s an odd intrusion, this, as though somebody is clambering into your shirt, taking their time. A hotel room is your space, your personal kingdom. I’ve thrown my socks on the floor and my toothbrush is almost bald in the bathroom even though there’s a new one in my bag because I thought I would be alone in my intimacy.

Two figures enter. A man and a woman make their way towards the bed. In the half-dark, I can recognise the man as the one who checked me in earlier. He says, “It’s all right, there’s nobody in here,” and the woman laughs like he has just told her a joke.

This is a moment. I feel like I’m in a film. It’s not like being burgled because this isn’t my house and I’m sure they don’t mean me any harm. In fact, they mean each other the opposite.

Surely they can hear my clock dripping seconds? Surely they can hear me wheezing?

They approach, closer and closer, towards the bed. The room isn’t huge but it seems to be taking them ages to cross it. I don’t know what to do. In my old T-shirt and M&S pants, I don’t know what to do. I should speak. I should say with authority, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” But I don’t.

I could just lie here, as still as a book, and let them get in. It could be a moment of great gentleness, a moment between strangers. I would be like a chubby, wheezing Yorkshire pillow between them. I could be a metaphor for something timeless and unspoken.

They get closer. The woman reaches her hand across the bed and she touches the man’s hand in a gesture of tenderness so fragile that it almost makes me sob.

I sit up and shout, “Bugger off!” and they turn and run, almost knocking my clock from the bedside table. The door crashes shut shakily and the room seems to reverberate.

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge