My father was obsessed with money. When he was not working on the production line of the Vauxhall car factory, this Pakistani-born first generation immigrant would pore through the pages of the Financial Times in search of tips and insights that might help him make his fortune. He wished for money because to him it equated with respect, status and security — all things he lacked but craved.
My dad dreamt of amassing riches that he could pass down to his grateful children so when he died, a few days before my 24th birthday, we were stunned to learn that he had left us a considerable sum. Unfortunately, this was not money he had saved — it was money he owed. He dreamt of amassing a great fortune but sadly dad didn’t leave us a penny.
Memories of my late father flooded back this week when I read the report from the Institute of Fiscal Studies which revealed that about £17 billion is gifted or loaned informally each year from parents to their adult children. The idea of the Bank of Mum and Dad long felt like a concept from the pages of a fairytale: the desperate child calls home and out of thin air money materialises into their bank account.
The only thing I get when I call my family is an emotionally manipulative lecture reminding me that I am a terrible son for not visiting Luton more often.
The IFS report feels like a companion story to the current conversation around nepo babies — the children of famous parents, such as Eli Hewson, son of Bono, whose band Inhaler have just released a lauded new album; Cora Corré, granddaughter of Vivienne Westwood, who is on the cover of ES Magazine this week; and Hopper Penn, son of Sean Penn and Robin Wright, whose first film was directed by his father while he stars alongside his mother in his latest film.
“Nepotism is the wrong word for what this is,” he said this week before adding that an acting career “kind of just fell into my lap — I was given the opportunity with almost no preparation.” Sounds like nepotism is exactly the right word for it. But my unease about nepo babies and the bank of Mum and Dad is not about attacking individuals — it is about the ways both nepotism and parental money entrench and pass privilege down the generations.
That privilege can take the form of easing the career path of children or giving them a leg up with housing.
I said earlier that my late father did not leave his children with a penny. That is true, but he did leave a three -bedroom terraced house in Luton, and when that was recently sold the proceeds were split between his four children.
My share of the money helped me move one rung along the property ladder. I had forgotten about this until I started writing this column. I had always been critical of the bank of Mum and Dad when in fact I too had benefitted from it — I was not as innocent as I had always believed.
Is politics the new Asian aspiration?
Nikki Haley, the former South Carolina governor, launched her presidential campaign this week. Haley
is 51, as am I, and her parents are from the Punjab, as are mine. Thankfully, the similarities pretty much end there because Haley is a Republican who served as UN ambassador under Donald Trump. With Haley in the US and Priti Patel and Suella Braverman in this country, all with deeply unpleasant right-wing views, it does make me wonder what’s going on.
Haley’s politics are nothing like mine, nonetheless it is extraordinary that it is at least conceivable that come 2024 both Britain and the US could be led by children of Indian immigrants.
For Asian parents it seems as if politics is the new medicine — the dream shifting from “my son the doctor” to “my daughter the politician.”
