Time to Hang Up the Bowler Hat

Article excerpt

London is the world's undisputed international financial capital. But recession and technology could change all that, writes David Kynaston

"The City is never likely to collapse suddenly, with a broken mainspring," wrote Anthony Sampson in 1962, in his Anatomy of Britain. "Its danger is that it might, like the Habsburg court, gradually become irrelevant to modern Europe." Such was the City's reputation for complacent, insular mediocrity that this was a perfectly reasonable forecast, from which few would have dissented. Yet even as Sampson wrote, the City was in the midst of reinventing itself -- so successfully that, before long, it was entering its second golden age. We are still living in that age. How much longer will it last?

A little ancient history is in order. London had long been an important trading centre, but during the 18th century the position of top international financial centre belonged to Amsterdam. More than 20 years of almost continuous warfare on the Continent changed everything, and London seized its chance, becoming indispensable by 1815. Above all, it attracted gifted, often Jewish, merchants and financiers from abroad, epitomised by Nathan Rothschild.

Between 1815 and 1914, London was top dog. Paris put up a spirited fight in the 1850s and 1860s, before being knocked out by the Franco-Prussian war, while New York was on the rise towards the end, but overall this was indisputably London's century. The sheer reach of the British empire (both formal and informal), the smooth working of the international gold standard, London's position at the centre of a world of largely unfettered flows of trade and capital -- all these things came together in an almost miraculously virtuous circle.

The guns of August 1914 destroyed that world and, with it, London's dominance. The baton of top international financial centre passed to New York, crucially helped by America's three years of neutrality; from then until the 1950s -- years including a world slump and another world war -- there was never a realistic chance of London getting it back. Inevitably, the City became an increasingly inward-looking place, a place of bowler hats, rolled-up umbrellas and, as Sampson also observed, "quasi-sexual fascination with money concealed behind large layers of humbug".

The turning point, noticed by few at the time, was the arrival, in the 1960s, of the Euromarkets. These were mainly dollar-denominated markets that sprang up offshore after being driven away from their natural home, New York, as a result of restrictive measures arising from American anxiety over its balance-of-payments position.

The two major Euromarkets -- the short-term Eurodollar money market and the long-term Eurobond capital market -- could in theory have gone to Paris or Zurich or Frankfurt, but they settled in London, as much because of its light regulatory touch as anything else. Indeed, the way in which the Bank of England kept everyone else (including the Treasury) off the back of the young Euromarkets was arguably that institution's greatest ever service to the City.

By the 1970s, there were in effect two Cities: the international City centred on the Euromarkets and largely dominated by foreign (especially American) banks and bankers; and the domestic, UK-oriented City centred on the Stock Exchange and still dominated by the natives, only grudgingly becoming more modern and meritocratic. What in essence happened in the 1980s was that the Thatcher government imposed the "Big Bang" upon a reluctant domestic City, thereby simultaneously opening up to all comers the hitherto ring-fenced London securities market and merging the two Cities into one, international City. It was merely n logical sequel that, between 1989 and 2000, most of the City's prestigious merchant banks, once the creme de la creme of the square mile, succumbed to foreign predators.

London (which includes Canary Wharf as well as the City) is now, by most standards, the world's leading financial centre. …