Bad politics, baffling diplomacy - Osborne's stance on bank bonuses

The government's posturing is about little more than saying enough to keep the eurosceptics quiet.

Of all the unpopular causes to take up, defending bank bonuses must rank pretty high up the list. That still applies even if it is the EU, rather than the House of Commons, doing the legislating.

But that doesn't seem to have deterred David Cameron. Yesterday George Osborne stood alone in opposition to a deal that could make the European banking sector safer and more transparent and which contains a number of major reforms actively pushed by the UK.
 
First, a disclaimer. The Capital Requirements legislation is not really about bonuses or bankers' pay. Instead, it focuses on increasing the amount of core capital banks must hold on their balance sheet. A lack of sufficient good quality capital combined with a liquidity crisis when the money markets seized up, were the two main causes of the 2007-9 banking crisis. More than five years on, the European and US economies are still yet to recover.
 
Increasing the minimum levels of capital to be held on their balance sheets and establishing rules to control leverage ratios will bring more safety to the banking sector. Moreover, the introduction of country-by-country reporting, which will require European banks to disclose how much tax they pay is another welcome breakthrough that will increase transparency and rebuild public trust in the banking sector. Like the country-by-country reporting, new rules on bank pay were among the baubles added to the tree.
 
The provisions on bonus payments are among the most complicated parts of an already highly technical piece of law. This strict 1:1 cap will be the norm but banks will be able to pay bonuses worth double salary on a majority vote among shareholders. Meanwhile, with up to 25 per cent of the bonus able to be made in deferred bonds or securities there is scope to spread out payments or make them dependent on long-term performance.
 
What I suspect is that the government's posturing is about little more than saying enough to keep the eurosceptics quiet. Boris Johnson, who has been consistent and vocal in his opposition to the regulation, quickly denounced the agreement as "self-defeating" and "deluded". The Prime Minister, correctly guessing that Thursday's by-election might lead to more questions about his leadership and the threat from UKIP, chose to add his two penn'orth.
 
But it is difficult to take the government's opposition at face value. First of all, this is not a case of Britain vs Europe. There have been a glut of EU laws regulating different parts of the financial sector since the financial crisis - short selling, the derivatives market, hedge funds and insurance just to name a few. Guess how many times Britain has been outvoted in the Council of Ministers by those perfidious foreigners? Zero, nada, zilch - it hasn't happened since the last European elections in 2009.
 
For all the hyperbole likely to dominate the pages of Conservative Home and the right-wing press, the British government has not been marginalised in the negotiations on CRD IV. On the contrary, it has led them and, indeed, wanted to go further than the European Commission on the level of core capital that banks should be required to hold. While it is true that the British government had expressed reservations about the bonus cap, a government official I spoke with described CRD IV as "a crucially important piece of legislation".
 
The same is true in the European Parliament. Liberal Democrat MEP Sharon Bowles and Conservative Vicky Ford, who were part of the Parliament's six-member negotiating team, both spoke favourably of the agreement at a press conference on Thursday last week. One of the Parliament's most vocal critics of the City, Green MEP Philippe Lamberts, another member of the Parliament's negotiating team, said that he had "felt like a Briton" on "most topics" covered by the legislation.
 
Ford went further, saying that the public "need to know how much banks are paying in tax". Referring to the exemption allowing bonuses to be paid in long-dated bonds or securities, she added that "the long-dated pay element should be examined before they (bankers) start screaming".
 
Besides, rules on bank pay should hardly be controversial at a time when pay levels in both the public and private sector are being tightly controlled. The Independent was among those arguing last week that politicians should not legislate on private sector pay. This might hold water if the banking sector had shown an iota of willingness to self-regulate to curb excessive pay. They have not, and too many top banking executives are still receiving multi-million pound rewards for presiding over multi-million or billion pound losses.
 
There is precious little the government can do to block a cap and they know it. The Irish government, which currently holds the six month rotating presidency of the Council of Ministers, would not have offered the compromise unless it was confident that all governments would sign up to it. For its part, the Parliament, which has given up tighter rules on bank leverage ratios in exchange for the bonus cap, will not want to unpick a painstakingly reached agreement and wants the symbolic victory of the bonus cap. Although other countries are anxious for Britain to vote in favour, the bill will be adopted by a qualified majority by ministers and the European Parliament, so there is no scope for a veto.
 
By promising to hold an 'in/out' referendum early in the next Parliament, Cameron is already running a high risk strategy on Europe. If he wants other countries to look kindly on the prospect of giving more opt-outs and exemptions to Britain then he needs allies and he needs to pick his battles wisely. Holding up vitally important legislation on bank capital for the sake of a losing battle on behalf of a few thousand multi-millionaires in the Square Mile is not just bad politics, but bad economics too.
 
Ben Fox is a reporter for EU Observer. He writes in a personal capacity
Chancellor George Osborne is pictured prior to an Economic and Financial Affairs Council on March 5, 2013 at the EU headquarters in Brussels. Photograph: Getty Images.
Getty
Show Hide image

Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.