Shoosmiths’ partner Paul Carney examines how Shakespeare’s Coriolanus can explain the current testing times in Europe and how it shines a light to the Universities Superannuation Scheme debacle.
One of the Shakespearian plays I studied for A-level was Coriolanus, which involves a tragic hero — a Roman soldier who thrived during wartime but struggled to adjust during peacetime.
On the day Russia invaded the Ukraine, I was thinking of a line from Coriolanus, in which it was observed that peace makes “men” hate each other.
Since 1945, Europe has enjoyed, or endured (depending on one’s approach), an almost unprecedented, protracted period of peace. Rather than blowing one another up to settle arguments, states have tended to debate matters within the structure of a EU.
A number of the victims of the USS dispute are likely to be students who, having paid their tuition fees, may not have their examination papers marked – all because of a dispute over a pension scheme
There are arguments to support a thesis that these times of relative peace have caused people to hate each other and have contributed to the present Russian leader’s apparent desire for war. Perhaps that leader’s middle name is Coriolanus, although I have found no evidence in support of this theory.
Peace and longevity woes
One of the consequences of peace is that resources tend to be diverted into those areas of the economy geared to helping us live longer and enjoy life as we live more of it.
One of the consequences of people living longer is that it becomes more expensive to provide them with pensions, so somehow additional funds are needed to fund longer retirements at a time when it has become more difficult to invest money in a way that generates those additional funds.
The knock-on effect of this conjunction of circumstances is that scheme employers and members involved in occupational defined benefit pension schemes have had to pay more into those schemes.
A case in point when it comes to increased pension costs with fewer opportunities to meet those costs is the Universities Superannuation Scheme.
The USS is an occupational pension scheme that provides benefits on a DB basis for many teachers employed in higher education.
According to the Financial Times of February 23, the USS reported a deficit of £14.1bn in March 2020. Since then, efforts have been made by the USS trustee, the USS employers’ organisation Universities UK, and most scheme members’ trade union — the University and College Union — to manage the deficit.
Latest proposals, approved by UUK, involve an increase in contributions from employers and members and a cap on increases to benefits in payment. Employer contributions are to increase in April from 21.1 per cent of payroll to 21.6 per cent. Member contributions will increase from 9.6 to 9.8 per cent.
The UCU has been unimpressed by employer proposals and, on behalf of its members, has promised strike action and a marking boycott.
In expressing its feelings, the UCU has appeared particularly unimpressed at the rejection of its own proposal: a temporary increase in employer contributions while a new valuation was carried out. It may also have been struck by an updated valuation of the USS, which indicates that the USS deficit has fallen to £2.9bn, as reported by the FT.
While your, the reader’s, mind boggles at an apparent decrease of £11.2bn in the space of two years, the sheer size and scale of the USS should be borne in mind.
The ‘supertanker’ USS
Think of the USS as a supertanker in a sea of yachts. It is also significant that the revised valuation was based on an assumption that the UUK proposals had been implemented.
A number of the victims of the USS dispute are likely to be students who, having paid their tuition fees, may not have their examination papers marked — all because of a dispute over a pension scheme.
In such conflicts, it often seems that casualties are rarely confined to the combatants. All of which brings us back to Coriolanus, a successful soldier unable to transpose his talent as a military leader into a successful career as a politician.
According to my English literature teacher, Coriolanus was undone by his tragic flaw — arrogant pride — and his redemption in the audience’s eyes was possible only through death.
As an immature A-level student, I was privileged to have tragic flaws and their consequences explained to me.
The less immature version of the student wonders, along with Boyle, whether some of today’s protagonists would benefit from a lesson from Unsworth. It is a pity that he is not around to deliver it.
Paul Carney is a partner at Shoosmiths
