In Britain’s boardrooms, Brexit is already here. And the warning is stark

For Westminster, leaving Europe is months away: for business, it’s the present. And our prospects are already dwindling writes Aditya Chakrabortty in The Guardian 

 

Part-built private housing development project on the outskirts of Llanelli, Wales, which was abandoned after the developer went bust. Photograph: Alamy


On the one hand, you have the self-inflating chaos at Westminster, the fever dreams of Jacob Rees-Mogg’s gang and the rehearsed rage of the Democratic Unionists. And on the other, you have the truth nailed by Philip K Dick. “Reality,” he wrote, “is that which, when you stop believing it, doesn’t go away.” So let’s remind ourselves of some reality.

While Tory MPs jostled over a replacement for Theresa May the head of the Confederation of British Industry, Carolyn Fairbairn, warned that millions of pounds were “flooding out” of business investment and into preparing for Britain crashing out of Europe with no deal. Food warehouses said they were running out of space. And auto-parts manufacturer Schaeffler announced that it would shut factories in Plymouth and Llanelli, leaving more than 600 workers facing the dole.


An entire rotten political-corporate regime is crumbling away – and its replacement threatens to be even worse

Even as politicians and the press fantasise about how Britain will leave Europe, big business is already at the departure gate. For Westminster, Brexit is months in the future; for boardrooms making plans, it is the present. Big carmakers have this year halved their investment in new models and factory machinery. The consultancy EY records a 31% slump in the number of foreign businesses setting up headquarters in Britain. Boris Johnson certainly makes good copy – but money talks much louder.

“The banks and insurers are moving, the big pharmaceutical firms are investing abroad,” says Paul Drechsler, who was CBI president until June and now chairs London First. “These trains are leaving the station, and when they leave, they won’t come back.” The country he describes is already shrinking, its job opportunities dwindling, its reputation abroad in eclipse.

This is the real national emergency. An entire rotten political-corporate regime is crumbling away – and its replacement threatens to be even worse. It will be worse, specifically, for those parts of the country, like Llanelli and Plymouth, that voted leave as the ultimate kick against the pricks of a hollow economy and a deaf government.

The succinct definition of our current model comes from the head of the Bank of England. The UK relies, said Mark Carney in 2016, on the “kindness of strangers”. The willingness of overseas investors to keep ploughing in their cash keeps us in the style to which we’ve grown accustomed. Out of all the 28 members of the European Union, the UK is second only to Ireland in its dependence on investment from abroad. Margaret Thatcher’s eagerness to sell off whatever she could get her hands on and her mandarins’ carelessness over ownership has turned us into one of the biggest foreign-capital junkies in the developed world. 

Those investors don’t come here out of charity. Our government competes with others around the world to lure in cash from overseas. But look what inducements we offer. Just weeks before the Brexit referendum, David Cameron’s government published its Invest in the UK brochure, promising “the most competitive” labour costs in western Europe, and “the least strict regulation in the EU.”. Why buy euros when you can have Poundland?

No other country does this. Analysis by Kevin Farnsworth at York University shows that, while all states assure investors they’re competitive locations, Sweden boasts of its “anti-corruption” and “good industrial relations”, while Germany highlights its “efficiency” and “training”. The UK, he writes, “uniquely competes for international capital by offering a package of a low-tax, low-cost, low regulatory business environment”.

Here, whether Conservative or Labour, successive governments have marketed us as the open-all-hours, bargain-basement landing strip off mainland Europe. Until, that is, Britons vote in a referendum to kick away two of the three legs of the post-Thatcherite economic model, namely openness and closeness to the continent. What’s left then is our cheapness – in taxes, in wages and in regulation.

This is Britain in 2018, paying the price for decades of underinvestment and cutprice competition. We have a highly skilled workforce, with almost half of Britain’s young people holding a university degree. And yet in 2014, Charlie Mayfield, former boss of John Lewis and then head of the UK Commission on Employment and Skills, pointed out that over one in five British jobs required only primary-school education. We have a world-class car-manufacturing industry, yet over half of the components in the cars that roll off the lines in Sunderland or Ellesmere Port come from abroad.

This is the point at which the kindness of strangers starts to get rather strained. In a survey this spring, well before the chaos of the past few weeks, EY found that 30% of foreign investors now expect to move money out of the UK after Brexit. The current value of foreign direct investment in the UK is estimated by the government to be over £1 trillion. If even a quarter of that were to move abroad, then £75 billion of assets are already at risk. No wonder the Welsh government is offering sweeteners to Ford to stay at Bridgend. No wonder when Nissan made noises about scaling back at Sunderland, May immediately opened the door of No 10 and offered some kind of deal – although precisely what, the voting public was never told.

You can expect a lot more of this over coming months and years: panicky politicians paying your tax money to grumpy-looking corporate executives. You can expect other countries to try to poach our businesses, just as after the 2016 vote Paris began advertising itself as the ideal post-Brexit corporate headquarters. Their posters read: “Tired of fog? Try the frogs”

You can also expect this government to press even harder the case that Britain is the low-tax, low-wage capital of the rich world. But ministers will get a disappointing response from businesses, believes EY’s chief economist in the UK, Mark Gregory. He thinks multinationals will shift away from using Britain as a stepping stone into Europe and the rest of the world – which is logical, given that any new trading arrangements will take years to settle and will almost certainly not be as smooth as the regime Britain currently has. Instead of building factories to make things to sell to the world, big businesses will instead put their money into storage and showrooms to sell things to Britons. The UK will become, Gregory says, “a warehouse economy: low skills, low productivity and low growth”.

That projection was already a reality for lots of people I met who plumped for Brexit in 2016. They were on minimum wage and had minimum rights and minimum prospects. If Brexit is to be radically changed now, it is those voters – the disenfranchised Labourites, the sod-them-all brigade – whose support is needed. A second referendum, in which well-meaning metropolitans offer those in the Rhondda the status quo, probably deserves to fail. Instead, any remain option will have to come with a worked-out argument about rebalancing power in this country. And that means reshaping the relationship between capital and the rest of us.

A fast bowler and the slow life: Great article on Munaf Patel

By Sriram Veera in The Indian Express

What lies ahead for a cricketer past his best? If you are Munaf Patel, the pacer from Gujarat undazzled by fame and riches, all you need is a village, and the art of chilling

In a room, somewhere in West Indies, Sachin Tendulkar approaches Munaf Patel. It’s 2007, India has been evicted from the World Cup but they can’t go home yet. The Bermuda versus Bangladesh game is yet to be played and the players wait for a miracle. Back home, things have turned. Sachin Tendulkar’s and Sourav Ganguly’s restaurants have been attacked, Zaheer Khan’s house stoned, a wall of MS Dhoni’s house broken. Patel recalls the players downloading the public outrage from the internet. Tendulkar asks Patel: “Something or other is happening at everyone’s house. What’s on at your home, Munna?” “Paaji, jahan main rahta hoon na, udhar aath hazaar log hai and 8,000 mera security hai! (There are 8,000 people where I stay, and those are my security.)” Tendulkar laughs, “We might all have to come to your home from here.”

Couple of us journalists are at his home in his village Ikhar in the Bharuch district of Gujarat. Seven years down the line, Patel’s fortunes have swung the whole arc. He has been a part of a team that lifted the World Cup in 2011, and now, as the team heads for another World Cup, his name doesn’t even figure in the list of probables. But the 31-year-old remains a hero at Ikhar — and remarkably, for someone who has seen both fame and riches come and go, at peace with himself, in this village from where he started his dream run.

Hailed by India’s then bowling coach Eric Simons as the “unsung hero of the 2011 World Cup win”, Patel had ended the tournament as India’s third-highest wicket-taker, behind Zaheer Khan and Yuvraj Singh, with 11 wickets. He could have been the fastest Indian bowler ever but a shoulder injury in 2004 forced him to forsake pace. He played just 13 Tests but starred in 70 ODIs, picking up 86 wickets, and was indispensable to the team between 2009 and 2011. These days, when he is not playing Ranji Trophy for Baroda, he is at Ikhar, probably leaning against a well in a kheth (field) with his friends or lolling at the swing in his home.

It’s a fairly big house. A kilometre or two past a railway gate, beyond the cotton fields, it is caressed by a gentle breeze on a warm but pleasant day. A bike approaches from behind and Patel gets down. Dressed in track pants and a T-shirt, he welcomes us with an earthy smile: “I was chatting in the field.” We walk down the pathway, lined by trees and shrubs, to a small six-pillared portico with a swing. Patel understands and can speak English but we mostly converse in Hindi. Often philosophical, and with an ever-present smile even when talking about struggle, the man who says he just likes to have fun — “Masti chahiye bas” — opens up on his journey.

It’s the 1990s and Patel is in the ninth standard at the village school. He is already the fastest bowler but doesn’t want to play cricket anymore. Guilt is in the air. His father works on someone else’s farm, there isn’t much food at home. The children get new clothes on Id, but only in a good year. For the last couple of years, during vacations, young Munaf has been at a tile factory choosing the best “export-quality” tiles, packing them in boxes and going home with Rs 35 for an eight-hour shift. “Dukh hi dukh tha lekin jhelne ki aadat ho gayi thi. Kisi ko sunaon toh lagega kya din tha but when you are used to it, and there is no other option, then you feel kya yaar, yeh to roz ka kaam hai. Paisey nahi hai to kya kar sakte hain? Father akela kaam raha hai and we were in school. (It was a hard life, but it had become a habit. There wasn’t enough money, but what could we do? Father was the only one earning, and we were in school),” he says. A friend urges a teacher to intervene: “What’s your age? You can work once you get out of school. Now just play.”

A few years on, Patel receives his first ehsaan (favour), a constant theme in our chat. He requests a well-connected person in the village, Yusuf Bhai, to take him to Baroda to get his cricket career going. Yusuf even buys a pair of shoes for Patel, who used to play in chappals till then. “He bought me Rs 400-worth shoes, and introduced me to a cricket club. Ehsaan rahega zindagi bhar.” (Even today, whenever Yusuf comes down from UK, Munaf hops over to his house. “Kuch bhi kaam hai toh bata dena, bhai.”)

Meanwhile, his father isn’t happy. Every day, at dinner, young Munaf is asked to quit playing cricket and join him at work. And eventually go to Africa. “I would just stay silent; my mother would tell him to let me play.” For Ikhar, a village of poor cotton farmers, Africa was the passport out of poverty. Every year, a youngster or two would land up at a friend, relative or acquaintance’s house in Zambia, Mozambique, South Africa or Zimbabwe to find work in a factory or a shop. Patel had an uncle in Zambia and so his future seemed set in stone. “You can’t blame my father. No one here really knew that cricket had this kind of scope. That I can even earn money from this.”

But the doors kept opening, through the kindness of strangers who spotted talent in the gangly youth. Former India wicketkeeper Kiran More, “who hasn’t taken a single paisa from me and even bought me my first branded cricket shoes (Gunn & Moore)”, trained him at his academy in Baroda, also sent him to the MRF pace school in Chennai. A city where “they never spoke Hindi” and “auto drivers matlab fight” but a place close to his heart. He recounts a tale that captures his personality then. An English batsman, along with Sajid Mahmood and Simon Jones, had come down to the school. Patel can’t remember his name. “Gora tha (He was white), left-handed and the pitches were fast then. I bowled four-five bouncers; one hit his shoulder, one his helmet and other his gloves. He started to come towards me, saying something in English. Mujhe toh English aati nahi tab. But I see that he is angry. So I slip away quickly and dive into the swimming pool. I thought he will complain to Sir, who will throw me out of the academy!”

Patel started to learn the ways of the world at MRF. “I lived there for five-six months. I learnt how to wear good clothes, how to speak, kuch bhi nahi aata tha. Dennis Lillee (Australia’s legendary fast bowler who coached at MRF) would say something and I used to look at someone else’s face! Kya bol raha hai? Lillee Sir always used to laugh, and ask someone to translate.”

Around this time, Australian cricketer Steve Waugh dropped by the academy, saw Patel in action and was impressed. He told as much to Tendulkar, who convinced Patel to join the Mumbai Ranji team. “I learnt a lot about cricket but not its lifestyle,” he says. The Mumbai cricketers would invite him to parties but Patel wasn’t ready. Only later, on a foreign tour, did he go to a club. “I thought I had to drink if I go there. Only after Gautam Gambhir (Patel’s closest cricketing friend) told me that there is no need to drink, and that even he doesn’t drink, did I go. I still don’t drink to this day.”

Patel with friends in his village, no one with a request is turned away from his house

Early on in his life, Patel had learnt to live with an unshakeable sense of right. Principled, unwilling to bend, quick on temper and willing to take seemingly rash decisions. Like in South Africa in 2009, when he shut the door on his captain Shane Warne and threatened to quit. Piqued at not being given any over in an IPL game, which the Rajasthan Royals eventually lost, he stormed to his hotel room and asked team owner Manoj Badale for his passport back. Soon, a knock on the door. Patel peeped through the eyehole to see Warne. “Please open the door”. ‘Shane Sir, I won’t’. “Let me explain.” “I don’t want to hear a thing. Bye.” Of course, he had admiration for Warne’s captaincy. “He was magic. He had the ability to get the best performances from everyone.”

Always frank, he once fobbed off a national selector because of perceived mockery. A day before a game after he was already selected, the selector asked him, “Are you fit?” Patel lost it. “How did you select me then? Tu khila raha hai toh cricket hi nahi khelna mujhe (If you think you are a doing a favour to me by selecting, then I don’t want to play).” The selector disappeared into the lift. “Tu yeda hai kya?” (Are you mad?) said Wasim Jaffer, who was with him then.

Patel was a man often criticised, at times even for his sartorial choices. A furore broke once about him not tucking in his shirt on the field with former players criticizing him on air. The dressing room too reflected the difference in personalities. Rahul Dravid, the captain, suggested he tuck in his shirt to end the controversy. “Voh ekdum sincere, padhe-likhe type (educated man) “ On the other side, Sehwag, Harbhajan, Yuvraj said, ‘Chodna yaar, hum bhi tuck in nahin karenge kal sey! ( We also won’t tuck our shirts in)’. I was not doing it on purpose. I hadn’t come from a school where kids wear white shoes, and tuck in their shirts!”

It set him off from the others, the straight talk, the no-nonsense attitude that anchored his feet to the ground. It would make him tick off young boys who would let fame get to their head— “Stop acting silly. Cricket hai bhai, anything can happen. Ek injury and sab khatam, finish. Then what will you do?” And it allowed him to look at the transformation of diffident young boys into celebrities with detachment. “See it’s the atmosphere you grow up. If you live in a city, are well-off, and more importantly, play for the country, your group will change. Where is an ordinary man, a poor man, going to be in that group?”

Here, in Ikhar, away from the adrenaline rush of victory and fame, the bright lights of the city and its lures, he knows that playing for India is many worlds away. “After the 2011 World Cup, I was injured for five-six months and by then, the selection approach had changed. They wanted to look beyond me and Nehra and give youngsters a chance. Which is fine. I will probably play for Baroda for two more years. Let’s see how long the body holds,” he says. But he also knows he is free of the favours and the ehsaan that has powered his run. “Bahut logon ka ehsaan mujh pey chada. I used to wonder how I shall pay them back. In between I thought I will even quit. Jitne logon ka ehsaan chadta hai, aap utne neeche jaate ho (The more people oblige you, the lower you slip).”

He has found a way now. The Patels never turn away a man who comes to their house, looking for help. It could be a request for Rs 50,000 for a wedding or money for hospital expenses. People come in, ask for the keys and take his cars for a ride. His father encourages him to do more. “If I ask any question to anyone who comes to home, my father will say, ‘Why are you asking questions? That won’t feed him. Just give him the money’.” The village has a trust which helps people in need. “We all know each other in the village. People always take care of each other.” And that’s why Patel doesn’t see himself leaving Ikhar. “Shaanti hai idhar, peaceful. Why will I go anywhere else?” 

Sex for tuition fees anyone? Students being offered up to £15,000 a year to cover cost of studies, in exchange for having sex with strangers

Students are being offered up to £15,000 a year to cover their university studies in exchange for having sex with a stranger, an undercover investigation by The Independent has revealed.

The website SponsorAScholar.co.uk claims to have arranged for 1,400 women aged between 17 and 24 to be funded through their studies by wealthy businessmen seeking “discreet adventures”.

But in a secretly filmed encounter with an Independent reporter posing as a student, a male “assessor” from the website asked that she undertake a “practical assessment” with him at a nearby flat to prove “the level of intimacy” she was prepared to give before being permitted to find a sponsor online.

He said this was required for “quality control”. He told her that the more she was prepared to do, the more money she would get.

The website’s claims to have a roster of hundreds of students could not be verified. The reporter asked for evidence that scholarships had been awarded and was told that she would have to come back to the flat with the man.

But the requirement for potential “scholars” to submit to a “practical assessment” raises fears that young women students may have been exploited.

The elaborately constructed site gives the appearance of operating in the grey area in Britain’s sex laws which allow escort agencies to function legitimately by offering introductions between clients and sex workers.

Young women facing financial hardship brought on by the rise in the cost of studying were urged tonight not to be tempted into using the website.

Rachel Griffin, director of the Suzy Lamplugh Trust, which promotes personal safety, said: “Meeting a complete stranger in private could be highly dangerous at any time but when it is in connection with a scheme like this, the risks are sky-high.” The National Union of Students accused those behind the website of seeking to “capitalise on the poverty and financial hardship of women students”.

SponsorAScholar.co.uk offers young women “up to 100% of your Tuition Fees” in return for two-hour sessions with men in hotel rooms or private flats up to four times per term.

“Because of the considerable sums of money our sponsors are offering in scholarship, they tell us that they have expectations of a high level of sexual intimacy with their chosen student,” the website says.

During the meeting between the “assessor” and our reporter – which our reporter insisted must begin in a public place, choosing a fast food restaurant in south London – the man said: “The more you’re prepared to do, the more interest you're going to get, obviously the more sponsorship amount you’re going to get for that.”

SponsorAScholar.co.uk uses a false company and VAT number belonging to the legitimate dating site Match.com. A spokesman for the company said: “The website is not affiliated with Match.com in any way and we are in the process of contacting them to legally require that all references to Match.com are removed immediately.”

SponsorAScholar.co.uk purports to be registered at the former address of a senior academic from a leading British university, and the man claiming to be the assessor used the lecturer’s name in the encounter with the reporter – as well as in email correspondence and on his answerphone message.

The academic, approached by The Independent last Friday, said he had no idea that the website had been registered to his name and former address. He did not recognise the man in our undercover footage. Yesterday he added that he had now contacted the police to report the matter.

The meeting took place at the Powis Street branch of McDonalds in Woolwich, south London, last Thursday at 6.45pm.

As other diners tucked into burgers, the “assessor”, who said he lived near Leicester, bought the reporter coffee and sought to reassure her that the prospective “sponsors” had been vetted and were safe to meet.

Our reporter asked the “assessor” whether the “sponsors” have health checks. He answered: “We do invite them to do that, not all of them choose to do that but you can choose to have protection or not have protection on that basis.”

He described the need for her to first of all have the “practical assessment” with him as like “quality control for us”, adding: “Whatever you put on your sheet what level of intimacy you’re prepared to go into, you and I will go through that today. We’ve got a questionnaire we’ll go through, your likes and dislikes and the kind of thing you’re comfortable doing.”

He added: “We have to do that, to make sure when we put you in front of your sponsor you’re confident in doing the things you said you would do.”

The man added: “You see what you’re trying to do is attract a certain level of sponsorship, you don’t want to go up there saying you know you’re not even going to hold hands type of thing… cause you’re not going to attract any interest at all.”

After the initial 10-minute meeting – which our reporter ended by saying that she would like to reconsider his proposal rather than immediately follow him to the nearby flat for the “practical” – the man walked back to a large block of flats around the corner where he said he was staying on the fifth floor.

SponsorAScholar.co.uk claims to have been operating since 2006, but the website was registered earlier this year.

The site claims to charge “sponsors” a £100 fee and to take three per cent commission from the final “scholarship” total.

When a male reporter approached the site as a potential sponsor, however, he was told there was a “waiting list” and would be contacted in the new year. By contrast the meeting with the woman reporter posing as the female student was immediately arranged.

The “assessor” said our reporter’s decision not to go back to the flat with him was “ok”, adding: “I’ve got other candidates I need to see this evening”, before asking again if she wanted to “do the questionnaire or stop now”.

After being told stop, he suggested meeting on 13 December in Stratford, south-east London: “If we don’t do it tonight I can’t fit you in until then.”

Attempts to confirm the true identity of the “assessor” have since proved unsuccessful.

The man was today no longer returning repeated telephone calls, emails or text messages from The Independent.

Kelley Temple, NUS Women’s Officer, said: “It appears to be… exploiting the fact that women students are in dire financial situations in pursuit of an education.”

SponsorAScholar.co.uk had been changed  tonight to say simply: “Sorry website unavailable for maintenance”.