Financial and business news and articles
HSBC chief expected to miss out on 40% pay rise after investors demand U-turn
Big base-salary increase likely to inflame shareholders after bosses at rival banks waive bonuses
HSBC, Britain’s largest bank, is expected to abandon plans to boost the pay of its chief executive, Michael Geoghegan, by as much as 40% ahead of its full-year results tomorrow.
A revolt by investors looks likely to force the bank’s board to jettison the deal, which was designed to protect board incomes amid a wider public row over bankers’ rewards.
The proposal would have increased Geoghegan’s base salary to as much as £1.5m this year, from £1.1m in 2009. Finance director Douglas Flint was in line to received a similar percentage increase, taking his salary from £700,000 to more than £900,000.
Investors are understood to have told bank chiefs it was wrong for them to alter the balance of pay and bonuses before major regulatory upheaval in the industry. Shareholders are also concerned that public anger at bank bonuses could boil over if institutions are seen to insulate themselves from future downturns with higher levels of base pay.
In recent weeks the chief executives of the UK’s other big banks have waived bonus awards. John Varley, the boss of Barclays, and RBS chief executive Stephen Hester followed the example of Eric Daniels, the boss of Lloyds Banking Group, who gave up a planned £2.3m bonus. But Geoghegan is known to believe he should be rewarded for steering the bank through the crisis without taking direct government funds. The bank imposed a boardroom pay freeze last year.
The HSBC chief announced last year he would be moving to Hong Kong to expand the bank’s business in Asia, which many investors are keen to see become the focus of the group’s activities. He said last month that he was concerned about attacks on bonuses and new taxes due to take effect in April, in particular the new 50% top rate of income tax. He is entitled to a performance-related bonus this year of up to 400% of his salary, worth about £4.3m.
HSBC currently defers around 40% of its bonuses, but has yet to outline its plans for 2010. Executive chairman Stephen Green, a committed Christian, is keen to show restraint while politicians ponder regulation of pay in the City. In contrast to Geoghegan, he has spoken of the Square Mile losing touch with the wider business community and the legitimate misgivings of the public. “You’ve had bonuses paid off gross income, you’ve had bonuses paid off first-day [profits], you’ve had bonuses paid without any capital charge and so you can see how that gives rise to the wrong and frankly inflated numbers,” he said.
Analysts believe the bank will report that pre-tax profits have increased by 13% on 2008 to reach $10.5bn (£7.2bn).
Geoghegan is under pressure to show the bank is well placed to cope with continued economic uncertainty and a possible deterioration in markets that have helped generate profits over the last year. Analysts are concerned that a boom in bond trading and capital-raising for corporate customers, which brought huge profits in the first half of last year, has declined and will remain subdued during 2010.
Profits halved to £3bn in the first half of the year, mainly due to massive writedowns on HSBC’s Household business in the US, which was heavily involved in sub-prime loans. But bad debts in the US, Europe and Asia eased in the latter part of 2009 as most major economies emerged from recession.
HSBC has made provision for $67bn of losses on loans since 2006 and is expected, like the other major banks, to continue writing off loans well into 2011.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Related articles
No comments yet.
Lord Ashcroft’s place in the sun
about 4 months ago - No comments
Chris Riddell on Lord Ashcroft’s living arrangements
Why I’ve gone from porn to politics | Anna Arrowsmith
about 4 months ago - No comments
I started making pornography for women because there was a need. And now I want to do something about the need for more female MPs
I’m Anna Arrowsmith, the Liberal Democrat PPC for Gravesend or, as many will know me, Anna Span, the UK’s first female porn director. Take your pick.
Since news of my selection broke on Thursday, many people have asked me why I want to be an MP. The answer is: for exactly the same reason I decided to start making pornography for women more than 12 years ago. Someone had to do it and it didn’t look like anyone else was going to – at least not with the drive, enthusiasm and determination that I could offer. The unfortunate truth is that there are far too few female MPs in this country compared to the rest of the world.
Did you know that Rwanda has the highest number of female MPs of all countries at 53%? Imagine living in a country with a female majority! Well, here I am again thinking that another male-dominated field needs challenging.
Back in 1998 I was in the final year of my degree, studying film at Central St Martin’s College of Art & Design. I had decided to write my dissertation on what fundamental changes would need to be made to mainstream pornography in order for it to be enjoyed by women. I called it Towards a New Pornography, intending it to sound like a manifesto, more for my own amusement than anything else. Then came lesson one in the British psyche. Even the so-called experimental filmmaker lecturers at this outstanding college were actually conservative with a small ‘c’.
My adverts for performers to appear in my graduation film were defaced and torn down by members of staff and my final film was refused a public airing “for fear of upsetting people’s grandparents”, according to the head of the department. All this for a film where the sex was actually simulated due to lead actor issues.
Twelve years later I have won many awards, including Indie Porn Pioneer at the international Feminist Porn Awards in Toronto and best director for two years in the UK.
I have fought long and hard for women’s right to sexual expression and consumption, as well as for freedom of speech. I have long since felt vindicated about my choices back at college and know my pro-sex feminist argument is based on sound principles and logic.
So why don’t I stay in my industry and continue to reap the rewards of my efforts? Because I am the type of person who needs a challenge. I achieved much in my last career and now I want to broaden my campaign to other pressing issues such as why this or previous governments don’t think they have a responsibility to give young people something productive and engaging to do with their spare time. I lived on a council estate in Bermondsey and saw first hand why the kids were taking drugs, fighting and committing crimes.
They are simply bored. I want to campaign to give young people in Gravesham the help they deserve.
To do this I have to fight yet another old man’s club – only this time without the dirty raincoats. Some won’t like it; they’ll assume that my selection means the world is going to hell. I’ve been here before; last time I changed my industry for ever.
That, among other issues, is why I am making the transition from porn to Parliament.
Watch this space; I’ve got a lot of – for want of a better word – balls.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Westminster wives
about 4 months ago - No comments
She swears, she drinks, she has extramarital flings… The modern MP’s wife is unrecognisable from the simpering cheerleader of the past. So what has changed? And what impact will the other halves have on this year’s election?
When Alicia Collinson’s husband, Damian Green, was first elected as a Conservative MP in 1997, she was provided with a small pamphlet produced by the Parliamentary Christian Wives Fellowship. It was called “Two for the Price of One” and the title was printed across the cover in precisely the same shade of green as the leather benches inside the House of Commons chamber. The eight-page leaflet contained all manner of helpful tips and guidance on how to be a politician’s wife in a breezy style that seemed to have come straight from the 1950s.
“If you look good, you feel good,” the authors stated cheerily, before going on to advise that: “For wives, it is a great help to have a very good relationship with your local garage as you are bound to break down when your dearly beloved is on a parliamentary trip to China and you may need rescuing.”
But it was one sentence in particular that enraged Alicia Collinson. “It’s this one,” she says, pushing the pamphlet across the coffee table and jabbing at the relevant page. “They say: ‘Try to ensure the absent parent speaks each week on the phone to each child personally if possible.’” Collinson snorts with indignation. “That really got my goat. It’s full of things like that, assuming you can do things while your husband’s in parliament. Well, no, you can’t if you’re working, too. There was this assumption that you were just part of the package.”
Times have changed dramatically for the political wife. In previous decades an MP’s wife was expected to be little more than a photogenic adjunct to her husband, someone who could be relied upon to judge cake-baking contests at the village fete and smile prettily in public. Most of the time this charming little creature would be careful not to speak out of turn or proffer any political opinion that might risk embarrassing her husband or his party. Her role, like that of Clementine Churchill or Clarissa Eden before her, was to raise children, run a household and provide constant support to her overworked and sporadically bad-tempered spouse.
On the rare occasion that a wife did speak out, it resulted in a horrified outcry. Margot, the wife of former prime minister Herbert Asquith, was blamed for her husband’s political downfall after she publicly accused her stepson of being drunk. (He had, in fact, been shell-shocked during the First World War.) Now, however, Margot Asquith’s indelicate comment would barely merit a raised eyebrow. In modern politics, it is quite normal for the wife of the chancellor to scream the “c” word in reference to her husband’s treacherous colleagues, as Maggie Darling was reported to have done in Andrew Rawnsley’s recent book about the fall of New Labour. Over the past few months a worrying number of political wives (and it is, on the whole, still largely wives rather than husbands) have crawled out of the woodwork to admit to all sorts of brazen peccadilloes, including binge drinking, promiscuity and the odd extramarital affair.
Sally Bercow, the wife of the Commons speaker, gave an extraordinary interview last December in which she admitted to a debauched past, drinking more than two bottles of wine a day and engaging in a string of one-night stands. “I would end up sometimes at a bar and someone would send a drink over, and I’d think: ‘Why not?’ and we’d go home together,” she said. “I liked the excitement of not knowing how a night was going to end.”
Unlike the quietly spoken, loyal wife of parliamentary legend, Mrs Bercow appeared to be wholly unconcerned as to whether she might be diminishing her husband’s professional kudos. Her political opinions, too, are unashamedly opposed to her spouse’s: whereas John Bercow was a Tory MP before becoming speaker, Sally Bercow is standing as a Labour councillor in Pimlico, central London.
Then, in January, it emerged that Iris Robinson, the wife of the Northern Irish first minister, had an affair with a 19-year-old when she was 58. The ensuing barrage of “Mrs Robinson”-themed newspaper headlines forced Peter Robinson to stand down temporarily. Although both the Robinson and Bercow sagas are extreme examples, there is a growing trend for parliamentary spouses to emerge from the shadows.
Samantha Cameron, wife of the Conservative leader, is creative director at Smythson, the luxury stationery firm. Ed Miliband’s partner, Justine Thornton, is a senior environmental lawyer. Sarah Brown, wife of the prime minister, enjoyed a successful career in public relations before taking up permanent residence in No 10. Shadow chancellor George Osborne’s wife, Frances, is a bestselling biographer, and Sandra Howard, wife of former Conservative leader Michael Howard, has written three novels.
“I think the role has changed a bit,” says Mrs Howard, whose latest novel, A Matter of Loyalty, was published last year. “Three decades ago there were more wives who didn’t have their own career. Cherie Blair did us a really good service by continuing to work as a barrister while her husband was the prime minister because no one could ever complain about a spouse working again.”
“It’s a shift that mirrors what has happened in society,” agrees Alicia Collinson, author of Politics for Partners: How to Live with a Politician and a barrister specialising in family law. She deliberately chose not to take her husband’s surname. “I got very criticised in the press when Damian first became involved in politics because I was a barrister and had my own job, but now the constituency isn’t fussed about it… I used to know one MP who talked about his wife being ‘the hostage’ in the constituency.” Collinson takes a sip of her tea. “He’s now married to someone else.”
Not only are political wives no longer quite held hostage in the shires, they are seen as potential vote-winners. The impact of Michelle Obama, who has expanded the role of political wife and is seen as a crucial asset to her husband’s success, is beginning to make itself felt in the UK. Whereas in the past an MP’s spouse was occasionally wheeled out by central office for a pre-election photo opportunity, the modern political wife has a far more complex role. She must juggle the demands of career and family while developing a public persona that is sufficiently straightforward to be inoffensive and yet interesting enough to intrigue the electorate. Her clothes will be scrutinised and her past raked over. She is expected to have an opinion and yet to keep it to herself. And when her husband films a YouTube broadcast from his bespoke Notting Hill kitchen, she must appear in the background amid the cereal boxes and Blu-Tacked toddlers’ paintings, busy and yet in control: the perfect appeal to the Mumsnet generation.
Perhaps it is unsurprising that some political wives, like Sally Bercow or Iris Robinson, chafe against the restrictions imposed upon them. Others, like Miriam González Durántez, wife of the Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg, take a more relaxed approach. González, who heads up the trade department of the international law firm DLA Piper, says that a political wife can be “supportive without being submissive… I am sufficiently confident to understand I can have a proper career, and I also understand I happen to be married to Nick and people will want legitimately to have a look into who he is as a person – and provided that they respect our children I’m happy for anybody to have a look. What you see is what you get.”
When we meet in a boardroom at her company headquarters in London, González seeps unapologetic glamour. She has film-star looks and hair that appears expensively blow-dried. Today she is wearing a grey silk shift dress, a chunky gold necklace and fashionable high-heeled ankle boots. It would be difficult to imagine anyone less like the pink-cheeked, floral-swathed MP’s wife of popular imagination.
González embodies the new breed of “Sam Cams”, the independent career women and mothers who happen to be married to politicians but who are determined not to be defined by their spouses and who share the running of the household as equally as possible. The Cleggs have three sons under the age of eight: their father takes them to school every morning and their mother puts them to bed at night.
“Nick’s well known with the neighbours for going to do a very early interview and coming back to go to school before going to Westminster,” says González. Do the children understand what their father does? “Partly. My five-year-old thinks he’s the captain of the Liberal Democrats. My eight-year-old is quite perceptive and understands some of it – he advises on plans to capture Osama bin Laden.”
Westminster hours, however, remain extremely inconvenient for MPs with young children (even since Labour’s landslide victory in 1997, when 120 of the new MPs were women, many of whom were appalled by the unsociable working hours and pitifully outdated office equipment). “It isn’t friendly for families,” says González. “I remember, for example, being very, very shocked – and let’s put this into context: it must be a Westminster village reaction – but I remember Nick saying at some point: ‘I’m a father before being a politician’, and some colleagues were actually thinking: ‘What a weird thing to say.’ I was thinking: ‘Surely that is a perfectly normal thing to say?’ I think it’s incredibly unuseful that Westminster tends to vote at 10 in the evening rather than at four in the afternoon, like you would do in any other kind of job. There’s a lot of evening engagements and media engagements, and that takes a toll on the family.”
It is perhaps partly for this reason that some wives still choose to stay quietly behind the scenes, determinedly ignoring the onward march of equal opportunities. For every Miriam González there is a “Surrendered Wife” like Norma Major, who stood smiling and faithful beside her husband without uttering a single controversial word in public throughout his premiership and who remained loyal to him even after it emerged that he’d had an affair with Edwina Currie. Pauline Prescott, who stood by husband John despite a dalliance with his secretary, calls herself one of a “dying breed” in her autobiography, and is dismissive of “women’s libbers”.
Sandra Howard, who did not publish her first book until her husband had stood down as leader, says the old-style political wife works on the principle that “anything you can do to help, you do. If allowing the person you love to do what they want to do means a little bit of not thinking about what you want to do, it’s almost a non-question.”
The Surrendered Wife must bite her tongue when asked for her opinion, lest she run the risk of embarrassing her husband. “I remember being told that a political spouse will never win the seat for their partner, but they can sure as hell lose it,” says Howard.
When the expenses scandal broke last year, it emerged that almost 80 MPs employed either their wives or girlfriends as parliamentary assistants, secretaries or case workers. (Political husbands are still very much the exception to the rule: Caroline Flint, the Labour MP for Don Valley, employs her husband Phil Cole to run her constituency office, while Margaret Beckett’s spouse, Leo, has been her parliamentary assistant for years.) At the time, there was an outcry at the thought of family members cashing in courtesy of the taxpayer, and the rules governing the employment of spouses and family members are currently under review. The constituency wives, many of whom had worked extremely hard for their MP husbands, felt they had been unfairly scapegoated. Alicia Collinson recalls a trip to the local garden centre with her husband at the height of the expenses scandal to buy some plants. “A man driving his car wound down his window and shouted out: ‘I hope you’ve got a receipt for that,’ and then drove off thinking he was very clever. We’ve never claimed for gardening. It was just ignorant.
“The climate has changed. The respect that parliamentarians were held in is no more… the level of contempt one experiences is quite extraordinary. It’s been very unpleasant. A lot of spouses have been very upset.”
Another wife, who has run her husband’s constituency office for the last 17 years, says: “I got very badly bruised by the whole thing. People don’t realise how hard we work or the hours we put in. We’re the ones who are there at seven in the morning or 11 at night when the phone goes.”
It is perhaps these wives – the uncomplaining troopers who keep their husbands’ schedules organised and their stationery cupboards stocked with Post-it notes – who provide the bridge between the surrendered spouses of the past and the sleekly independent career women of modern times.
But although the increasing number of MPs’ wives pursuing their own careers has been heralded as some sort of feminist breakthrough, much of the media coverage of these women remains distinctly sexist. There is a lingering sense, in spite of the enormous strides made by women such as Cherie Booth and Miriam González, that a political wife’s role is to gaze adoringly at her husband as he makes a keynote speech or to be photographed walking along the Brighton seafront during party conference season, appearing well dressed but not too glamorous in case she is accused of being out of touch with the common man (or woman).
So it is that Sarah Brown – doubtless influenced by the intimate confessions of her Michelle Obama about the president’s bad morning breath – has twice taken to the podium to introduce her husband to the Labour party conference. In 2008 she smiled ingratiatingly and called him “my hero”. Last year she exclusively revealed that Gordon was “not a saint – he’s messy, he’s noisy, he gets up at a terrible hour”.
Mrs Brown, who gave up a career in PR, has carved out a niche as an electoral accessory whose job it is to show Gordon in a warmer, more modern light. One minute Mrs Brown will be in a TV studio, eyes welling up as she listens to her husband unburden his soul to Piers Morgan, the next she will be opening London Fashion Week wearing an Erdem dress and updating her Twitter account (1,118,558 followers and counting, including Paris Hilton and Naomi Campbell).
Sarah Brown has provided us with a whole new category of political spouse: a wife who knows how to exploit modern media in order to promote herself and her husband as a successful brand. She is known to have used her sartorial influence to overhaul her husband’s wardrobe and her PR savvy to insist that the couple went on holiday in Southwold, Suffolk last year in an effort to prove their fondness for England. In fact, so successful has she been in modelling herself as cheerleader-in-chief that one member of the prime minister’s inner circle is said to have dubbed her “Mrs Goebbels”.
As the general election approaches, the leaders’ wives in particular will have a prominent role to play in wooing the voters. Already there have been snide comments emanating from government sources that Samantha Cameron does less charity work than her counterpart in No 10. And at the recent Tory spring conference it felt as though far more attention was paid to the cut of Mrs Cameron’s silk ruffled blouse than to what her husband had to say about fixing “broken Britain”.
“I think the trouble with politicians is they have a fixed image in the media which doesn’t involve their personality,” says Alicia Collinson. “So having another side to both David Cameron and Gordon Brown and allowing their wives to convey something that isn’t just the stiff upper lip of a politician can be helpful for the electorate in the run-up to an election. They can see what a politician is like from every angle.”
But reactions to Sarah Brown’s celebrity among the other political wives are mixed. Some find her acting the part of adoring spouse on the national stage a touch retrograde. Miriam González says she’d always go to see Nick deliver a major speech and would expect him to do the same, but adds that: “I wouldn’t ask him to come to the podium to kiss me afterwards, and that is not what I’d do in reverse.” Others, like Alicia Collinson, believe that having a loyal wife in the public eye “suggests that the politician has at least got good taste”.
And perhaps in the end it is not a wholly irrational reason to vote for a particular MP. They might lie about tax rises, cheat on their expenses and have terrible breath in the morning, but at least they have the love of a good woman who knows how to make friends with Paris Hilton on Twitter.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
More money makes society miserable, warns report
about 4 months ago - No comments
Economics experts argue that Britain’s thirst for status symbols harms our well-being
The national belt-tightening expected to follow next month’s budget could prove to be of more benefit to the nation’s sense of well-being than if wealth levels were to soar, according to a new study.
Complex economic formulas developed by two professors of economics, Curtis Eaton and Mukesh Eswaran, and published in the current edition of the Economic Journal, suggest that greater affluence can seriously damage a nation’s health. Based on their mathematical modelling, the economists advance the theory that once a country reaches a reasonable standard of living there is little further benefit to be had from increasing the wealth of its population. Indeed, it could make people feel worse off.
They believe their work shows that, as a nation becomes wealthier, consumption shifts increasingly to buying status symbols with no intrinsic value – such as lavish jewellery, designer clothes and luxury cars. But they warn: “These goods represent a ‘zero-sum game’ for society: they satisfy the owners, making them appear wealthy, but everyone else is left feeling worse off.”
Their work owes much to the economist Thorstein Veblen, who in 1899 coined the term “conspicuous consumption” in his book The Theory of the Leisure Class. Veblen argued that people seek status through conspicuous consumption, which derives its value not from the intrinsic worth of what is consumed but from the fact that it permits people to attempt to set themselves apart from others. As the economy grows, people increasingly choose status symbols or “Veblen goods” over other goods.
“Those with above-average wealth consume Veblen goods with a positive impact on their happiness,” the authors write. “But those with below-average wealth simply cannot afford these goods, so they have a negative impact on their happiness. This is known as ‘Veblen competition’. As average wealth rises, people grow richer but not happier.”
The pair believe their research helps to explain why empirical studies show that levels of happiness and feelings of community in affluent countries have stagnated, despite growth in real incomes.
There is another downside. As people yearn for more status symbols they have less time or inclination for helping others. This, the authors argue, damages “community and trust”, which are vital to an economy because they ensure the smooth running of society. They conclude: “Conspicuous consumption can have an impact not only on people’s well-being but also on the growth prospects of the economy.” The theory may go some way to explaining the public backlash against the louche lifestyles of the UK’s footballers, bankers and politicians.
It fits into a debate within economics about how to measure a nation’s true wealth. Many economists believe they need to focus more on measuring happiness. The belief that a focus on individual wealth creation can be divisive has spread around the worlds of politics, psychology and science. Clinical psychologist Oliver James has argued that there is an epidemic of “affluenza” throughout the developed world, with attempts “to keep up with the Joneses” triggering huge increases in depression and anxiety.
Last year a bestselling book by two epidemiologists, Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett, called The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies Almost Always Do Better, suggested that Britain and America were the countries with the widest gulfs between rich and poor in the developed world, and as a result had the most health and social problems.
Nevertheless, Eaton and Eswaran, from the universities of Calgary and British Columbia respectively, do not believe the developed world’s obsession with wealth shows any signs of abating. The pair predict that “it is likely that conspicuous consumption will become worse as time progresses”.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Catherine Bennett | Talk to us about politics, not your lovely home life
about 4 months ago - No comments
The Cameron and Brown personality parade misses the point that voters care about issues, not character
Recently, on a day when no cameras were looking and he was surrounded by political nonentities, mainly mothers, an off-duty David Cameron was amazingly haughty to a friend of mine. Maybe it was just an off-day. Or maybe, what with all the nation’s mums to think about over, a stressy Mr Cameron had important political things on his mind. What do mums feel about Lily Allen? Would they like him to drink Guinness or bitter? Enjoy gardening or football? Shopping-wise, which out of Primark and Marks & Spencer do mums think more appropriate for a national leader? Examined by Titchmarsh, he came out for the latter.
Lucky Gordon Brown: though pressed on his retail experience by an insistent Piers Morgan, he was never forced to admit to a supermarket preference. But the prime minister confessed, and a cutaway to smiling Sarah Brown confirmed that this was a positive anecdote, that he once accompanied his wife to a supermarket, but stayed in the car.
Admittedly, it’s unlikely she would have stood up and added that they were not, at the time, on speaking terms. We just have to take Brown’s uxoriousness on trust, like his grumpiness-denial and a claim that he once drank “half-a-dozen” pints a night. Are there any witnesses to this excess? The more political parties urge us to go out and vote on the basis of their leader’s characters, the more, if they want to avoid complicity, broadcasters might want to think about testing these auto-eulogies for accuracy.
Does Cameron really play darts? Does Brown, yet more implausibly, never throw anything more substantial than newspapers, and “wake up in the morning thinking what I can do to help people looking for jobs”? Stringent investigation of these claims could provide fabulous light entertainment. Although, inexplicably, waterboarding has yet to feature on daytime television, Jeremy Kyle routinely uses a lie detector to expose disingenuousness, even though all that is generally at stake, for survivors, is not a position at the helm of government, but a chance to “save your relationship”. Once Brown and Cameron were wired up they could even be asked a few supplementaries, about banking regulation, or the size of coming cuts.
Last week, invoking the more urgent electoral issue of himself, Brown gave voters a few tips for personality assessment. “It is for other people to judge,” he said, “but I believe that character is not about telling people what they want to hear but about telling them what they need to know.” And another hint, to help the public succeed where generations of divorcees have failed: “For better or for worse, with me what you see is what you get.” But like a Cretan, who thinks it worth adding, “just ask my wife” to the line “all Cretans are liars”, Brown accepts that the public might, occasionally, feel the need for corroboration.
Over to Sarah Brown. “What you see is what you get with him,” she said, in response to the bullying stories. A comment which only confirms, like an earlier line, “I know he wakes up every morning thinking…”, that here is a couple so close that their “mirroring” has reached the exemplary, automatic stage.
Even so, it’s worth noting Mrs Brown was not speaking under oath. Here is a loyal spouse who stands to be evicted, if she is disbelieved, then rehoused in Kirkcaldy; albeit with support from Naomi Campbell. Nor, perhaps, should the cautious voter believe in Samantha Cameron’s purported diffidence about Number 10, on the basis that she is already a rich baronet’s daughter and a big name in the world of handbags. She still wants to win enough to deploy her children and, in tonight’s profile of Cameron by Trevor McDonald, to throw down this gauntlet about her own Mr Wonderful: “He’s always been incredibly strong, and kind, and supportive.” How do we know this is true? Because the rules of all-political Mr and Mrs now require that candidates provide character references for the wives, as well as themselves.
Dave guarantees, in Samantha, “an amazing woman, a working mum, a very successful career woman” – so a leetle bit more modern, maybe, than Gordon’s “beautiful, elegant, compassionate, dignified” Sarah. Whom he proposed to on a beach. And loves ever so, Piers: it “just grows and grows”. Will he be sure to tell us if it stops? “I’m an open book as far as people are concerned,” Brown says. “Anything they want to know, I’m happy.” Actually, politics aside, it’s hard to think of anything he’s left out. Most of us probably know more about Sarah Brown’s proposal of marriage than we do about our own mother’s.
Presumably, given there has never been disclosure on this level, that the media did not demand it and that no one in their right mind would volunteer such intimacies, Brown and Cameron’s advisers believe that a public hardened by tales of Prescottian bulimia and Mrs Blair’s neglected Dutch cap will respond only to enhanced levels of authenticity stimulus. Heath’s yacht, Mrs Thatcher’s larder and Kinnock’s Welsh idyll have given way to a televised account of his baby’s final moments by Brown, a father who thereby enters an almost obscene contest for public sympathy with his rival, another bereaved father.
On each side, the strategy looks as risky as it is undignified. Their particular brands of insincerity – agonising awkwardness in Brown’s case, supreme smarm in Cameron’s, phony WAG stuff from both – could easily be the strongest impressions created by protracted exposure. More important, this belief in the electoral power of character may be misplaced.
Evidently Brown and his manipulators have evidence, or instincts, that tell them the contrary, but there are doubts about the significance of leaders’ characters in elections, even in an age when it is common to argue that presidential politics and a celebrity-obsessed media have increased their impact. And it is not, anyway, as if charismatic politicians are new. Winston Churchill was a celebrity, and he was rejected. So was Neil Kinnock, even though he was more appealing than John Major. Look at Berlusconi’s behaviour, and you could even argue that voters don’t pay as much attention to character as they should.
Concluding a 2002 study, Leaders’ Personalities and the Outcomes of Democratic Elections, the psephologist Prof Anthony King said the conventional political wisdom on character is wrong. Research, he wrote, “indicates that relatively few voters are swayed by candidates’ personal characteristics”. So Brown musn’t worry about being snubbed by Match of the Day.
“Far more important,” King writes, “are voters’ long-standing party loyalties, their views on issues, and their judgments of how well or badly presidents and parties have performed – or will perform – in office.” Ah. Maybe, given the economic tumult Mr Brown has just prophesied, it is a bit early to give up on football. Any port in a storm.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Waitrose launches UK brand expansion and plans more foreign outlets
about 4 months ago - No comments
Managing director Mark Price aims to keep fast-growing upmarket grocer ahead of rival M&S
Waitrose boss Mark Price is drawing up plans to transform the upmarket food chain into a consumer brand available in thousands of non-Waitrose shops in the UK and overseas. He believes the Waitrose label has the potential to be a big “fmcg” – fast moving consumer goods – name like Heinz or Kellogg’s, which he can sell to other retail businesses, rather than just direct to shoppers.
He has similar ambitions for the Duchy Originals brand, founded in 1990 by the Prince of Wales. Waitrose signed a licensing deal with the struggling royal label last autumn, which gives the John Lewis-owned grocer the right to manufacture, distribute and sell all Duchy goods in the UK. Price said there would be more than 300 Duchy products by the end of the year and there was potential for many more.
He said: “What we are trying to do is give access to the brand and it is not just about owning shops. It is about taking a creative approach and making products available to as many people as possible. We are looking to work with partners.”
The plan to sell Waitrose goods in other stores will be kickstarted this month when Price unveils details of a deal that could eventually see Waitrose food sold in more than 700 Boots outlets. Sections of Boots’ stores will be transformed into mini-Waitroses, with the grocer’s own fixtures, fittings and signage. In return, Waitrose will sell a range of Boots health and beauty goods in its own stores.
Last year Waitrose defied predictions it would be battered by the recession and emerged as the fastest-growing big grocer, chalking up a sales increase of more than 11% to in excess of £4.5bn, trouncing upmarket rival Marks & Spencer. “We expect to be the fastest growing again this year,” Price said.
Sales to overseas supermarkets are also to be ramped up. “Waitrose is seen as a really premium brand outside the UK,” said Price. The grocer has already more than doubled business-to-business overseas sales to more than £100m over the past two year, exporting to 25 countries including Thailand, the Bahamas, India and China. But Price said there was much more potential.
The grocer is also keen to open more franchised outlets overseas, especially in the Middle East. Two stores in Dubai are chalking up 60% annual sales growth and franchises have been awarded for Bahrain, Oman and Abu Dhabi. Price said there would soon be 20-23 Middle East outlets.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Embarrassment for David Cameron over Tory hopefuls’ lobbying links
about 4 months ago - No comments
Conservative drive to ‘clean up politics’ faces test over failure by several candidates to fully declare their work for lobby firms, says Nick Mathiason
David Cameron’s drive to clean up politics is facing an embarrassing public test after it emerged that a number of prospective Conservative MPs have failed fully to declare in their campaign literature that they work for lobby firms representing powerful business interests.
The revelation threatens to destabilise Tory hopefuls in the upcoming election as voters in constituencies where alleged “secret lobbyist candidates” are running will be the subject of a targeted online advertising blitz on Google and Facebook orchestrated by 38 Degrees, an innovative online campaign group.
Only last month, Cameron warned that lobbying “was the next big scandal waiting to happen”. But campaigners claim that while secret lobby links extend across all parties, the Conservatives are the worst offenders.
Last night, the Tories hit back saying they “are committed to shining the light of openness onto the lobbying world” and suggested Labour candidates’ links to lobby firms were far more extensive. But several Tory candidates seem to have kept back details of their work for lobbying firms, including:
■ Priti Patel, the Tory candidate for Witham, a new seat in Essex. On her website, Patel says she is a director of a company providing “business and communication strategy” advice but fails to clarify that she works for one of the world’s most powerful lobby firms, Weber Shandwick, personally advising Microsoft and bank lobby group, International Financial Services London.
■ Penny Mordaunt, the Conservative candidate for Labour-held Portsmouth North, who is a 15% shareholder in lobby firm Media Intelligence Partners, which boasts among its clients Sony, Orange, and DHL. Mordaunt is also listed as the firm’s director in Companies House. Mordaunt also worked for 10 months last year at leading public PR firm Hanover.
■ George Eustice, Cameron’s former press secretary, fighting the three-way marginal in Camborne and Redruth, Cornwall, has failed to disclose on his campaign site that he works for powerful Westminster lobby firm Portland, which acts for Google, Tesco and McDonald’s.
■ Prospective Labour MP Emma Reynolds on Friday hurriedly updated her biography on her campaign website to include details of her work for lobby outfit Cogitamus, which advises the biggest names in the construction industry on government relations.
The Observer is aware of a significant number of parliamentary candidates who will be unmasked in coming days as part of a co-ordinated campaign by Spinwatch and 38 Degrees aimed at introducing a statutory register of interests. This would force lobby firms and parliamentary candidates to clarify who they represent and work for.
David Babbs, 38 Degrees executive director, said: “The election is a chance to clean up parliament, which is why it’s time for all PPCs to come clean about their links to lobbying. 38 Degrees members are going to work together to make sure that those people who want to be our MPs promise to put their voters first, not their friends in big business. 38 Degrees is a 100,000-strong, people-powered movement, and during this election we plan to work together to cut through the spin and make sure politicians answer to us. We’ll be challenging PPCs on their lobbying links, and if they refuse to draw a line under their past business interests we’ll be raising money for ads in local papers to make sure local voters hear the facts.”
Tamasin Cave, from the Alliance for Lobbying Transparency, said: “The public is calling for – and deserves – a new type of politics, so it’s vital that prospective MPs are fully transparent about their links to lobbying. If they are helping powerful companies get privileged access to key politicians in the runup to the election, we have a right to know who they are lobbying for and which policies or contracts are being discussed. Covert lobbying harms public trust. Lobbying firms clearly hire these parliamentary hopefuls to both open the door to politics now and to secure a direct line to any future government. If you want to influence politics, it pays to employ political insiders.”
Eustice defended the lack of information about his work for Portland, saying his campaign website was intended to set out his beliefs. The one-time Cameron spin doctor also said there was a welter of publicity when he left Cameron to join Portland. In addition, he had been a tireless campaigner for more transparency in the public relations arena.
Mordaunt said her role at both Media Intelligence Partners and Hanover was centred on communications work rather than public affairs. She explicitly denied she was a lobbyist and said she supported the campaign for a statutory register of lobbying interests.
Patel did not comment on her links with Weber Shandwick. But the firm’s corporate communications and public affairs chairman, Jon McLeod, confirmed that Patel advised Microsoft and the International Financial Services London. He stated: “Weber Shandwick is clearly an agency with a political dimension. We would not be good at our job if we weren’t.” McLeod confirmed he was a vocal supporter of legislation to create a statutory register of lobby firms.
Last night, the Tories said they would introduce new rules to stop central government bodies using public money to hire lobbyists and “push for the lobbying industry to ensure greater transparency of their operations through self-regulation, and we would be prepared to legislate if this fails”.
Cave said: “As David Cameron said just last month, this isn’t a minor issue with minor consequences. It’s not just public policy that’s affected by lobbying – government contracts worth billions are potentially at stake. Cameron has spoken about the urgent need to shine the light of transparency on lobbying. But words alone won’t bring public scrutiny: we need new rules that force lobbyists to come clean about their activities.”
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Lehman’s advisers were guard dogs that didn’t bark
about 4 months ago - No comments
By their silence, the failed bank’s lawyers and accountants gave highly questionable practices a sheen of respectability
It’s good to know we still lead the world in something. “Business services” is often cited as one of Britain’s proudest export industries, and last week’s postmortem on the collapse of Lehman Brothers from the US “examiner” brought some formidable examples of its recent triumphs.
“Magic circle” City law firm Linklaters gave the thumbs-up to “Repo 105″, the complex manoeuvre that allowed the ailing Lehman to book short-term loans from other banks as “sales”, effectively disguising billions of dollars of assets, sometimes conveniently just as the end of a quarter approached. Herbert McDade, the man known inside the bank as its “balance sheet tsar”, described the instruments in an email as “another drug we’re on”.
(And, having opined that “Repo 105″ was legal, at least under UK law, Linklaters is advising PWC on the Lehman administration.)
Auditor Ernst and Young is even more firmly in the examiner’s sights. He says it was “professionally negligent” in passing the Repo 105 arrangements, which will be music to the ears of the many creditors and shareholders itching to take class-action cases against anyone they might be able to blame for the firm’s catastrophic bankruptcy.
The examiner also reports that senior Lehman banker Matthew Lee sounded the alarm about “accounting improprieties” in the summer of 2008, referring specifically to $50bn of repo arrangements, but Ernst and Young “took virtually no action to investigate”.
Of course, Linklaters and Ernst and Young will say they were only following the rules, but auditors and lawyers are professionals and they gave Lehman’s highly questionable practices a sheen of respectability.
Lehman’s chief Dick Fuld could not have spun this web of self-delusion without having a team of advisers on his side. After Enron’s collapse led to the annihilation of its auditor Arthur Andersen, the industry was meant to have been transformed. It’s about time lawyers and accountants were subject to the same searching scrutiny as ratings agencies, regulators and the banks themselves.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Mariella Frostrup has lunch with Alastair Campbell
about 4 months ago - No comments
Alastair Campbell discusses Twitter, Iraq and his Andrew Marr TV interview over lunch with Mariella Frostrup
As we’re perusing the bistro-style menu of the Camden Brasserie, I ask Alastair Campbell if he cares about food. His answer is not the most promising kick-off for an OFM interview.
“I’m not a big food person. I would be one of those people if you could take food pills and that’s where you got your energy for the day, that would be fine.”
His cooking skills are equally underwhelming. “I cooked a soufflé in 1980,” he offers.
Successfully?
“Really good. Tuna and potato – I gave up after that.”
Discouraging perhaps but not completely unexpected. Tony Blair’s one-time communications director, now novelist, Labour policy adviser, after-dinner speaker and general man-about-the-media has never come across as the sensory sort. Familiarity, not haute cuisine, is the main credential for Campbell’s restaurant choice, along with “the best chips in the world”.
Despite the Camden Brasserie’s relocation to an incongruous, glass-fronted block and internal makeover with charcoal grey walls, burgundy tongue-and-groove and an entire back wall papered to look like crammed bookshelves, the menu is virtually unchanged since it opened in 1983. When I arrive punctually at 12.30 my lunch date is already occupying his usual table in the right-hand corner, mobile phone and BlackBerry slung on the table like a discarded gun belt. “I’ve been coming here so long,” Campbell tells me, “that when I was on the Mirror, Mike Molloy, the editor, and I, used to design the front pages on the paper tablecloths.”
He asks about and then requests the special – tomato and vegetable soup, followed by calf’s liver – declaring that he likes to be told what to order. “I never looked at the menu, I don’t even know what’s on it.”
Such eschewing of responsibility could be regarded as a running theme. He recently said that far from setting the agenda at Downing Street, he was merely doing his duty. “I don’t think I had any power that was not Tony Blair’s power,” he says. And during lunch it becomes clear that his long-time partner Fiona Millar performs a similar role in personal matters. Having foresworn alcohol since 1986, he admits he has been experimenting with the odd glass since last year’s French holiday. “Always in controlled circumstances. As we call Fiona,” he jokes. “In her book about working women she devoted what seemed to be a whole chapter to how useless I am.”
Is there a hint of pride in that statement? I ask how he squares his risible contribution to domestic chores with the equality he espouses in his politics. “How do I rationalise it…? I’m the main breadwinner?” He raises his eyebrow hopefully but sees I’m not impressed. He answers for me, shaking his head ruefully: “No, that’s no good.”
Despite the war of attrition, recognisable to most of us in long-term partnerships, that rages in the Campbell/Millar household, from the radio settings (“First argument of the day – Fiona switches on the Today Programme, I switch it off”) to his domestic inadequacies, the couple have weathered three decades and raised three near-grown children, Calum, Rory and Grace. I ask how it feels to have stayed the course.
“She did an interview once where she said something like: ‘On balance, I’m pleased that we stayed together.’ I said, ‘what does that mean, “on balance”?’ But that’s the truth, isn’t it? On balance. I’m glad we stayed together, too. Though she sometimes makes it sound like she’s living with North Korea or something.”
Examples of Campbell’s loyalty and aversion to change, arguably illustrated by his restaurant choice as well as his relationship, are available in all areas of his life. Whether it’s with his ex-boss, whose defence he still springs to like a tiger, to the Labour party or to his beloved Burnley football team, Campbell strikes me as more of a loyal alsatian than the rottweiler of media mythology. The invincible public image is one he finds unrecognisable, an irony, I point out, when his area of expertise is communication.
“Look, you know this thing recently about Gordon and all that… I think you could go and interview every single person who’s worked for me and I’d be surprised if they’d say I was a bully. I think they’d say that I was actually quite pleasant to work for. I’m quite a good team builder and I always saw that as an important part of the job.”
Is he saying that in contrast to the PM? He immediately points out that Gordon Brown would be the first to admit he struggles with his handling of his media image. Those looking for a similar chink in Alastair Campbell’s armadillo-like exterior would have found some satisfaction during his recent appearance on Andrew Marr’s Sunday morning show. Campbell visibly froze and appeared on the verge of tears during post-Chilcot questions on Iraq.
“I don’t think I was that upset. I almost wasn’t listening. I was just thinking: ‘This guy asking these questions doesn’t give a shit about the answers.’ It was just a moment of exasperation and I thought, ‘bollocks to it’. And I was thinking about saying certain things that I would have regretted. So I just said to myself, ’shut up, don’t lash out, don’t get angry.’ There came a point where I was conscious of Andrew speaking but I was sort of in my own zone. I remember this really important thought flitted into my head. I thought: ‘Oh God, I wonder if my mum’s watching?’ Because she’d be upset.”
We’ve been so engrossed we’ve dispensed with two courses. He motored though his soup and now the calf’s liver is gone too. Over coffee, (he’s a cappuccino, I’m a macchiato) we move on to the upcoming general election where he feels that social networking sites will be a major asset.
It partly explains his enthusiastic embrace, of all things Twitter, blog and Facebook. As we’ve been talking his right hand has been creeping ever closer to his mobile, abandoned near the sugar bowl during the rest of the meal. Suddenly, Gollum-like, he can resist temptation no longer. He snatches it up: “Can I tweet about you? Can I say ‘having lunch with Mariella Frostrup’?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer but starts typing away into his phone.
“Oh my God yes. Frostrup…. I’ll put ‘Lots of envious glances from male-only table opposite’.”
“That’s pathetic,” I retort, “that’s trying to enforce an idea on people.”
“But ‘Having lunch with Mariella Frostrup’ is just old-fashioned name dropping.” He sounds disappointed.
“And yours is what? Name-dropping with smugness?”
“Yes.”
I’d fully intended to avoid politics but in the end I can’t resist. During a brief spat about Iraq, the waitress begins clearing our cups. “Could you clear this woman away too please?” he requests, only partly in jest.
To be quite honest I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. Campbell is engaging, funny and informed. I’m almost tempted to take up his invitation to Ladies’ Day at Burnley Football Club the next day. “The Burnley communications director phoned me yesterday – I’ve done the past two Ladies’ Days – and said, ‘I’m really sorry but they want you again.’” I don’t like to point out that with such short notice he’s most likely a stand-in!
Like I said earlier, a little affection goes a long way with Alastair Campbell. If I were prime minister I’d like to have him padding alongside me too, barking at people who got on my nerves. I’d put him on a leash though, just to be safe.
Alastair Campbell’s novel, Maya, is out now, published by Hutchinson
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Brown draws flak over role in handling military budget
about 4 months ago - No comments
Cameron uses prime minister’s questions to challenge Brown over military funding claims made to the Chilcot inquiry
It was possibly the most supercharged prime minister’s questions of the year so far. At 12:09pm last Wednesday the ritual jousting turned toxic as David Cameron challenged Gordon Brown’s testimony at the Iraq inquiry days earlier.
Brown had told the Chilcot inquiry that he never refused urgent requests for more military funding. Cameron did not believe him, citing two former chiefs of the defence staff who had criticised the prime minister for offering the inquiry evidence that was “disingenuous” and “dissembling”.
Several Labour backbenchers could not hold their tongues. But, they roared, Lord Guthrie and Admiral Lord Boyce were “Tories”. The implication was damning; these men might once have been characters of honour whose duty was to serve the nation but now their criticism could be dismissed as readily as, well, Cameron’s.
It was a poisonous putdown. In their view, the opinions of two of the most powerful figures in modern military history had become corrupted to the extent they were no longer impartial.
Some blamed Sir Richard Dannatt, the former army chief, for politicising the military. After all, Dannatt’s consistent criticism of defence spending in Afghanistan had preceded reports that he would become a defence adviser to the Conservatives. Beyond the hullabaloo over political bias weighed against genuine concern over soldiers’ welfare, the debate boils down to whether Guthrie and Co have a point? Did Brown starve the military of funding when he was chancellor, leaving the forces short of vital equipment?
The answer may depend on whose side you are on. Guthrie and Boyd remain adamant that Brown mishandled the defence budget when chancellor and that his prudence meant, for instance, fewer troop-carrying helicopters in Afghanistan, one of the most vexing issues facing commanders in Helmand province. Their critique was bolstered by an inquest verdict hours before Wednesday’s Commons exchange. Four soldiers were unlawfully killed after troops were given “inadequate” training, according to Wiltshire coroner David Masters.
Brown, too, remains unmoved. He told Cameron that “every request” made by defence officials for “urgent operational requirements” was met. In fact, said the prime minister, £18bn had been invested in Afghanistan and Iraq on top of the military budget. In real terms, spending was up. The Tories, claimed the prime minister, cut it by 30% in the 1990s. But the truth, as so often, is somewhere in between.
Analysts point out that the MoD has a long-term core budget while the additional cost of fighting wars comes from the Treasury reserve. Many believe this dynamic fuelled disagreement between Brown and the military men.
However, the future for defence spending appears less ambiguous. Swingeing cuts are a certainty. Days before last week’s PMQ, the defence select committee bemoaned a £21bn funding gap for scheduled military projects. If they win the election, the Tories will have to preside over huge cuts in military spending. The question is, will Guthrie and Boyd sit quietly on the sidelines when that happens?
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds