She's desperate to be liked by the City. Jose Sarmento Matos/Bloomberg via Getty Images


January 16, 2025   5 mins

The curse of finance ministers whose country’s business model is broken is that they are powerless to transform the economy, yet too powerful not to take the blame. But when the economy is merely stagnating, not yet in free-fall, preventing the descent into a financial crisis should require no more than average competence. Sadly, the evidence so far suggests that Rachel Reeves cannot even meet this low bar.

Seeking to combine the image of a radical reformer with the reputation of a safe pair of hands, Reeves began her litany of mixed messages before she moved into 11 Downing Street. While she acknowledged the “severe damage” inflicted by George Osborne’s austerity programme, she adopted his language to liken Britain to a person who had “maxed out the credit card”. Then, once in the Treasury, she demonstrated how using such language leads inexorably to a contractionary fiscal programme. Turning John Maynard Keynes’ dictum “Anything we can actually do, we can afford” into its opposite (“If we cannot afford it, we cannot do it”), Reeves embarked on an austerian downward spiral.

First came expenditure caps on caring for the elderly, which would save the measly amount of £1 billion annually. Having warmed up, she followed with the termination of winter-fuel payments for pensioners, shortly before one of recent history’s coldest winters. Along with cancellations of urgent hospital and railway works, these cuts saved another £5 billion, with a further £16 billion tax rises in the works. Then, in her autumn mini budget, Reeves broke her promise not to touch National Insurance Contributions by extracting an additional £25 billion from employers. Hoping to frame this final measure as pro-labour, her tactic fell terribly flat once workers realised they would be paying for most of it in the form of dampened wages.

By that stage, the new Chancellor was caught in the same doom cycle that typified Osborne’s tenure: each austerian measure meant to rein in the deficit boosted the borrowing requirement, spooked debt markets, elevated interest payments, reduced its fiscal space and caused the Chancellor to seek more austerian measures. These, in turn, deepened the economy’s stagnation. And so it would go on.

Tory critics have taken Reeves to task for being too ready to talk Britain down. But they seem to have forgotten that her claim of inheriting a £22 billion black hole from the Tories was a faithful imitation of Osborne’s strategy to blame his own austerity programme on the “scorched earth” situation he had inherited from Labour. The Tories have also accused her of being insufficiently austerian, which is disingenuous: if deeper austerity were the right remedy, why was the doom loop under Osborne just as bad? If anything, deeper cuts in expenditure today would only worsen Reeves’s predicament.

Obviously, the Tories are trying to exploit Reeves’s woes. But what is truly startling about her stewardship of the Treasury is both how faithfully she has stuck to Osborne’s playbook, and how similarly the UK economy has reacted. And this despite the quite monumental difference in the circumstances the two Chancellors faced as they took office. Soon after his appointment, Osborne received a windfall from the Bank of England — in total, £124 billion was transferred from the Bank of England to the Treasury between 2010 and 2020. In sharp contrast, Rachel Reeves will be sending to the Bank of England £34 billion of taxpayer money every year for the next four years. Essentially, all the money her austerity raises will be sent to the Bank. And all because of a flawed set of monetary rules which she is refusing to change.

This madness all dates back to the financial crash and the subsequent fallout when, in addition to the taxpayers’ bank bailouts and ultra-low interest rates, the Bank of England created £875 billion to buy government bonds from the bankers. It flushed the banks with cash that they would then hand out in loans to stressed households and firms. In the process, the Bank of England made money from the interest rate difference — between the ultra-low official interest rates it was paying banks and the higher interest accrued by the government bonds. Hence the £124 billion windfall for the Treasury.

However, the situation was reversed after 2022. With the pandemic disrupting supply chains and triggering inflation, the Bank raised interest rates tenfold and began selling the government bonds back to the bankers in the hope that prices would stop rising. But bonds come with fixed interest rates. And by raising interest rates, the Bank of England had effectively pushed down the value of the older bonds it was selling off, thus inflicting large losses on itself.

These losses could have been avoided in two simple ways, reflecting the wiser practices of other major central banks. First, it could refrain from selling government bonds at knockdown prices — and instead hold them to maturity. Second, it needn’t pay bankers the high official interest rate on every pound they choose to hoard at the central bank.

Indeed, many leading central banks pay the bankers the going interest rate only for part of their deposits, the rest at zero. This is precisely how the European Central Bank (which, by the way, no one can accuse me of being a lackey of) avoided major losses when deflation gave way to inflation. There are no good arguments for why the Bank of England should not follow the ECB’s example — except that the City bankers would not like it. And only a cowardly Chancellor would think this was a good enough reason to maintain a £34-billion subsidy for the banking sector every year.

“There are no good arguments for why the Bank of England should not follow the ECB’s example — except that the City bankers would not like it.”

Given the Bank is supposedly independent, some may ask whether Rachel Reeves is really to blame. But the issues at stake are in the remit of Parliament: the mindless fire sale of government bonds; the high interest accrued to bankers’ money; and, most crucially, the assumption, first promised by Philip Hammond, that the taxpayer would indemnify the Bank of England for whatever losses it might suffer. These fall under the Chancellor’s responsibility. And given that it is her duty to legislate for the common good, she could change them.

Just look at Reeves’s predecessors. Before Philip Hammond’s promises, George Osborne and Alistair Darling legislated that the Bank of England could print money for the bankers but not for households — against the advice of the not-exactly-Leftist IMF. And now Rachel Reeves has decided not to legislate away the stealthy BoE subsidy to the bankers, adopting instead their inane, self-evidently self-serving arguments. Chancellors, in short, cannot hide their responsibility behind a distortion of the notion of central bank independence.

Taking a broader perspective, ever since Margaret Thatcher vandalised Britain’s ailing heavy industry and replaced it with a vicious financial system, it was only a matter of time before a global financial crisis would bring Britain to its knees. Following the 2008 crash, overgenerous money printing for the bankers and austerity for everyone else trapped the UK into a low-wage, low-productivity, low-growth, low-take-home-pay, low-rent equilibrium. That is why, for a while now, Britain has felt like an advanced rentier society that has run out of rents.

But let’s be honest. Labour was never going to fix Britain’s broken business model. Nothing in their manifesto warranted any such hope. Nevertheless, it isn’t too much to expect minimal levels of competence and enough courage from a new Chancellor to rescind an annual handout of £34 billion to bankers already flash with taxpayer cash. Alas, overpowered by an urge to be accepted by the City, Blackrock and the Davos crowd, Reeves has fallen into a trap of her own making.

John Kenneth Galbraith once quipped that “[t]he process by which money is created is so simple that the mind is repelled”. Today, it is hard not to be repelled by how Britain’s scarce fiscal resources are sacrificed on the altar of the Chancellor’s cravenness.


Yanis Varoufakis is an economist and former Greek Minister of Finance. He is the author of several best-selling books, most recently Another Now: Dispatches from an Alternative Present.

yanisvaroufakis