Monday, September 22, 2008
We haven't just lost a bank, we've lost a part of our identity
Lloyd Halifax sounds disconcertingly like some character actor from the 1950s, specialising in smooth corporate types, heartbreakers, raiders, even 'spivs and speculators'. Imagine him starring in a tense thriller vehicle called The Black Horse, in which a carpetbagging businessman takes over a venerable but dilapidated house, modernises it and sacks all the loyal old retainers. You can almost hear the hisses already.
The news that Scotland's oldest banking institution, the Bank of Scotland, and its partner Halifax, have been taken over by Lloyds is black indeed. Even though the hoof beats have been thudding closer for some time, it's rare that a takeover in the financial sector should provoke such a strong, emotional public reaction. Given how rarely any of us set foot inside a bank any more, even to organise a mortgage, why should the demise of HBOS resonate so powerfully?
In purely financial terms, the absorption of HBOS may be a good thing, stabilising a tottering institution and setting it on a firmer base. On this occasion, though, symbolism and history outweigh fiscal certainty and loom larger than the potential - or perhaps certain - loss of jobs.
It's often said that Scotland's civil society rests on the Kirk, Scots law and a once distinctive educational system. Curiously, the model promulgated by such scholars as David Daiches, rarely mentions our independent banking sector, an example of how often the humanities prefer to ignore the 'dismal science' of economics. The Bank of Scotland has been around since 1695, founded by an Act of the old Scottish Parliament and capitalised with the equivalent of £8m in today's terms. This places its origins at a cusp in Scottish history, with economic rivalry across the border already acute, and Union looming.
The collapse of the Company of Scotland in the ill-fated Darien Scheme (conceived in an overt attempt to emulate English trade successes, east and west) occurred at around the same time, marked the nation and ushered in Union. Almost no one in Scotland was left unaffected.
The HBOS takeover fits a ready-made space in nationalist thinking. It matters little where the bank's actual seat of power has been since the merger with the Halifax, or indeed that most bank customers rarely, if ever, actually visit a branch any more. What matters here is the perception that a Scottish institution has been taken by an English one and in the process has lost or will lose the right to issue banknotes.
It has become a cliche frequently adduced in speeches at transatlantic weddings, that while Americans know who's on which denomination of banknote, we Scots haven't a clue whether Sir Isaac Newton is worth 20 quid or five, and who Mary Slessor is and why there are all those strange African place names on a tenner. To be sure, the situation is complicated in Britain by the existence of different note-issuing banks, but it turns out we're not as indifferent to their provenance as all that. Though no nationalist, nothing boils my blood faster than having a Scottish note peered at and declined in London. In an instant, I turn from Gordon Brown to Wendy Wood.
It may be that all is not yet lost. It took an act of Parliament to establish the Bank of Scotland, and it may take another to disestablish it or transfer its assets, so perhaps there are political and legal fixes still available to HBOS that might preserve the marque. In the meantime, though, we should take the opportunity to remember that although even the early days of Scottish banking weren't innocent of Mr Salmond's 'spivs and speculators', it has been the banks, and not just courts, Kirk and schools, that for the last three centuries have encouraged, defended and perpetuated much that is distinctive, enlightened and, yes, noble in Scottish life and arts.
The Tonight Show once ran a spoof infomercial in which a group of very plausible bank staff described their services: 'You have a dollar and want dimes? We can do that! Or maybe you've got a 20, and you want three fives and some change? Hey, that's what we do!' The funny part was how long it took most viewers to understand it was a spoof. There's a consensus that banks do nothing but move money around and charge us for the privilege.
All those mysterious deductions on the monthly statement tend to reinforce that view, but for all their apparent and actual dislocation - ATMs, distant call centres, telephone and online banking - the banks are powerful agencies of social evolution, contributing vastly more to creative life, sport and education than several National Lottery Funds laid end to end.
Bank branding at, say, a rugby game is of a very different nature to sponsorship by a brewing, car or, in the good old days, tobacco company, for the simple reason that no product is involved and the 'service' is a unique compact, an undertaking to look after your money, hand it over when you want it, and, as often as not, allow you to spend more of it than you actually have.
The Bank of Scotland's headquarters building is as an integral part of the Edinburgh skyline as the castle (where the bank's assets were strongboxed when the Jacobite army arrived). By the same token, the bank is a living history lesson. It tells us where we came from, how and why we became attached to our southern neighbour, and to a degree how we managed to effect a partial separation again. Above all, how we have been able to enjoy a rich artistic, dramatic, music and literary culture.
For three centuries, perverse though it may seem, we have been accorded the privilege of a rich cultural overdraft. It is not surprising there is a sense of mourning this weekend.
DATED: 22.09.08
FEED: PTL/G
The news that Scotland's oldest banking institution, the Bank of Scotland, and its partner Halifax, have been taken over by Lloyds is black indeed. Even though the hoof beats have been thudding closer for some time, it's rare that a takeover in the financial sector should provoke such a strong, emotional public reaction. Given how rarely any of us set foot inside a bank any more, even to organise a mortgage, why should the demise of HBOS resonate so powerfully?
In purely financial terms, the absorption of HBOS may be a good thing, stabilising a tottering institution and setting it on a firmer base. On this occasion, though, symbolism and history outweigh fiscal certainty and loom larger than the potential - or perhaps certain - loss of jobs.
It's often said that Scotland's civil society rests on the Kirk, Scots law and a once distinctive educational system. Curiously, the model promulgated by such scholars as David Daiches, rarely mentions our independent banking sector, an example of how often the humanities prefer to ignore the 'dismal science' of economics. The Bank of Scotland has been around since 1695, founded by an Act of the old Scottish Parliament and capitalised with the equivalent of £8m in today's terms. This places its origins at a cusp in Scottish history, with economic rivalry across the border already acute, and Union looming.
The collapse of the Company of Scotland in the ill-fated Darien Scheme (conceived in an overt attempt to emulate English trade successes, east and west) occurred at around the same time, marked the nation and ushered in Union. Almost no one in Scotland was left unaffected.
The HBOS takeover fits a ready-made space in nationalist thinking. It matters little where the bank's actual seat of power has been since the merger with the Halifax, or indeed that most bank customers rarely, if ever, actually visit a branch any more. What matters here is the perception that a Scottish institution has been taken by an English one and in the process has lost or will lose the right to issue banknotes.
It has become a cliche frequently adduced in speeches at transatlantic weddings, that while Americans know who's on which denomination of banknote, we Scots haven't a clue whether Sir Isaac Newton is worth 20 quid or five, and who Mary Slessor is and why there are all those strange African place names on a tenner. To be sure, the situation is complicated in Britain by the existence of different note-issuing banks, but it turns out we're not as indifferent to their provenance as all that. Though no nationalist, nothing boils my blood faster than having a Scottish note peered at and declined in London. In an instant, I turn from Gordon Brown to Wendy Wood.
It may be that all is not yet lost. It took an act of Parliament to establish the Bank of Scotland, and it may take another to disestablish it or transfer its assets, so perhaps there are political and legal fixes still available to HBOS that might preserve the marque. In the meantime, though, we should take the opportunity to remember that although even the early days of Scottish banking weren't innocent of Mr Salmond's 'spivs and speculators', it has been the banks, and not just courts, Kirk and schools, that for the last three centuries have encouraged, defended and perpetuated much that is distinctive, enlightened and, yes, noble in Scottish life and arts.
The Tonight Show once ran a spoof infomercial in which a group of very plausible bank staff described their services: 'You have a dollar and want dimes? We can do that! Or maybe you've got a 20, and you want three fives and some change? Hey, that's what we do!' The funny part was how long it took most viewers to understand it was a spoof. There's a consensus that banks do nothing but move money around and charge us for the privilege.
All those mysterious deductions on the monthly statement tend to reinforce that view, but for all their apparent and actual dislocation - ATMs, distant call centres, telephone and online banking - the banks are powerful agencies of social evolution, contributing vastly more to creative life, sport and education than several National Lottery Funds laid end to end.
Bank branding at, say, a rugby game is of a very different nature to sponsorship by a brewing, car or, in the good old days, tobacco company, for the simple reason that no product is involved and the 'service' is a unique compact, an undertaking to look after your money, hand it over when you want it, and, as often as not, allow you to spend more of it than you actually have.
The Bank of Scotland's headquarters building is as an integral part of the Edinburgh skyline as the castle (where the bank's assets were strongboxed when the Jacobite army arrived). By the same token, the bank is a living history lesson. It tells us where we came from, how and why we became attached to our southern neighbour, and to a degree how we managed to effect a partial separation again. Above all, how we have been able to enjoy a rich artistic, dramatic, music and literary culture.
For three centuries, perverse though it may seem, we have been accorded the privilege of a rich cultural overdraft. It is not surprising there is a sense of mourning this weekend.
DATED: 22.09.08
FEED: PTL/G
