Aditya Chakrabortty writes:
"It needs access to private capital,
access to private management, it needs more money into the business, and all
this will become possible." David Cameron on Royal Mail, October 2013
As they flog our public assets, government
ministers always promise one thing: that they will be better cared for by the
new private owners. Sure, they may look like hedge funds out for a fast buck,
but we must consider them investors, who will plough in their own millions to
burnish the family silver.
Thatcher said it in the 80s; and now, during this
second coming of popular capitalism, her grandchildren are saying it too.
While giving away Royal Mail at a
bargain-basement price, David Cameron promised the result would be a flood of private cash.
When a unit supplying the NHS with blood was handed over to private equity,
Jeremy Hunt's officials pleaded the need for investment.
And you'll hear that
justification over and over again, as the coalition privatises a further £15bn
worth of companies, departments and assets currently held by the public.
Never mind ownership, ministers will soothe us:
lie back and think of the investment. So let's do that. Let's go back to the
last great privatisation and see how
much investment it yielded.
Tuesday marks the 20th anniversary of rail
privatisation, the day when the government finally pushed through the
legislation to break up and sell off our train services. Throughout the
flotation process, successive transport ministers pointed at the goodies to
come. Take this reliably bouffant pledge from Steve Norris:
"There is not the slightest shadow
of doubt that, freed from the constraints of public sector financing, train
operators … will generate substantially greater investment in the railways
because of the privatisation of British Rail."
Was he right? I asked academics at the Centre for Research on Socio-Cultural
Change (Cresc) to calculate how much companies such as Virgin and First
Group are investing in their services. They looked at their return on capital
employed, which is to say the amount train operators made on the money tied up
in their business.
A low ratio would indicate an industry doing as Norris
and his colleagues foretold: ploughing cash into delivering a better service. A
really high ratio would indicate the opposite: barely any cash going in.
The figures are astonishing. In the financial
year ending in March 2012, the train companies gained an average return of 147%
on every pound they put into their business. Forget about high: that is
stratospheric. It suggests that – despite all the promises made by the freshly
rehabilitated John Major – the train operators are investing barely anything,
but making bumper returns.
If you're a pensioner, imagine a savings account
that promised to give you next year a 147% return on your cash, rather than the
1% you'll typically get now. If you're a first-time buyer, imagine selling up
next year at a 147% markup – impossible even in primest, most central London.
Other businesses would kill for the kind of
low-investment, high-returns that Arriva, Stagecoach and the rest are making
from their train sets. Big supermarkets get about £1.08 back for every quid
they put in: all that stock ties up a lot of cash. Even the supposed profiteers
over at Barclays would punch the air at a 10% return. For every pound the
railway barons put in, they get £2.47 back.
And that most recent figure isn't a fluke. The
Cresc team went back all the way to the start of the electronic database in
2004, and found that year after year the pre-tax return on capital employed was
never less than 100%. Just as remarkable are the train operators' dividends:
pretty much all the pre-tax profit was paid to shareholders.
No wonder Richard Branson is a billionaire with
his own private island. No wonder Tim O'Toole, boss of FirstGroup, and Brian Souter, head of
Stagecoach, are on more than a million quid a year each. They are rewarded
handsomely for handing over every spare penny to their shareholders.
But by the same token, no wonder passengers in
cattle class can't get free Wi-Fi, or even a seat on the evening train out of
Euston: there's no cash left to make the services worth the often excessive
fares. The really big improvements, such as the west coast mainline upgrade now
enjoyed by Branson's business, are funded by taxpayers. Heads they win, tails
we lose.
A train lobbyist reading this (hi there!) will
tell you that measuring investment by the operators is barking up the wrong
tree. Arriva and the rest are essentially commissioned by the government to run
a line. But that ignores three things.
First, the industry never stops banging
on about its role as an "investor". Second, free cash without having
to pony up much actual investment is very welcome to the Branson empire, among
others.
And finally, if the operators are merely there as
middlemen, to sell us tickets and clip them, then why do we need them?
Specifically, why is Cameron so desperate to give the publicly-run east coast mainline
to the private sector?
Capitalism is meant to be about private firms
taking risks and reaping the rewards. The rail network on the other hand is
about the public taking the risk and racking up huge debts, even while the
private firms reap excessive rewards.
Look at those investment return figures again: that
isn't the triumph of liberalisation; that's legalised larceny. It hardly bodes
well for the next wave of sell-offs.
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