Showing posts with label Saudi Arabia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Saudi Arabia. Show all posts

Wednesday, 26 August 2020

The Lebanon Complex


In the wake of the devastating explosion in Beirut, the western media has had an almost universal response. That is to focus on corruption and incompetence in Lebanon’s ruling groups and to demand change. Lebanon’s populace is also exasperated with the political elites, and many protestors have even threatened to kill them. But an examination of Lebanon’s political system shows not only how it has been shaped by its former colonisers; its workings also follow from the limits that imperialism today places on economic and political development.

Confessional modes

Lebanon’s political system falls outside of the standard democratic model lauded by the Anglosphere, because there is an allocation of political positions according to the different religious groups in the country. Yet, looking a little more closely at the reality of the former model, one will find how the middle classes manipulate the system in their favour, how it depends on mutual favours, how rich families have multi-generational power and how they have legions of hangers on. But different strokes for different folks, so let us consider the evolution of Lebanon’s confessional one.
This mode of having a government shared out among different religious groups has a history dating back to the first half of the 19th century.[1] Lebanon was then a minor province of the Ottoman Empire and made up of a number of different religious communities, principally Maronite Christians but also Islamic sects. There were clashes between such communities in the Empire, sometimes ending in bloodshed, even massacres, and religious labels often fundamentally confused what was really a class struggle, particularly between peasants and landlords. Being aware of the different groups, the Ottoman’s policy was essentially one where people could follow their own religion and were left alone, as long as they paid their taxes to the Sublime Porte in Constantinople (later called Istanbul) and didn’t cause trouble.[2]
In May-June 1860, a massacre of Christians in Lebanon was the pretext for European powers to get involved and to take advantage of the declining Ottoman Empire. In an early version of today’s imperial hype of ‘responsibility to protect’, the Europeans, especially France, put pressure on the Ottomans to grant Mount Lebanon special status. France had interests in the Eastern Mediterranean region and had already developed links with the Catholic Maronites in Lebanon.[3]
A conference of European powers and the Ottoman Empire met in September 1860 to determine how Lebanon should be governed. The outcome was to create an autonomous sanjak or province of Mount Lebanon, with a non-Lebanese Christian governor chosen by the Ottoman sultan, assisted by a 12-member council chosen on a confessional basis. This was under the protection of the six powers – Britain, France, Russia, Prussia, Austria and Turkey. This new ‘autonomous Lebanon’ excluded Beirut, Tyre and Sidon on the coast and the Bekaa Valley to the East.
After some debate, in 1864 the 12-member council was amended. Instead of each of the six main religious groups having two members each – which under-represented the Maronites, who made up the majority of the population (perhaps 60% of the total)[4] – the Maronites were now to have four seats. Three seats were allocated to the Druze, two for Greek Orthodox Christians, one for a Greek Catholic, and one each from the Sunni and Shia communities. This gave the Christians a majority of 7:5, as well as a Christian governor. It also set the course for a sectarian representative system in Lebanon, rather than a system being based on political leaders chosen by the whole country in a democratic vote.

Political reallocation

There was a problem with France’s new pied à terre of Mount Lebanon. It was too small to be economically viable and even the Maronites, although happy to be in a majority, were concerned that there might be shortages of food and little room for development.[5] Feeling ever so free to reorganise somebody else’s land, like other colonists, France later dealt with that situation when it joined the British in carving up the Ottoman Empire.
France gained a Mandate from the League of Nations after World War One to rule the former Ottoman regions of Lebanon and Syria. Being worried about the viability of Mount Lebanon, and also worried about resurgent Arab nationalism in Syria, it decided to expand Lebanon at Syria’s expense. By adding the Beirut, Sidon, Tyre and Bekaa regions to Mount Lebanon, the geographical Lebanon we know today was born as Le Grand Liban, or Greater Lebanon. This reduced the numerical preponderance of the Maronites and other Christian groups versus the Muslims, but that was an easy price to pay when you could also fix the politics.


In 1926, France imposed a constitution for Lebanon that set up a bicameral parliament and a president. Seats in parliament and in the cabinet were distributed on the basis of religious affiliation: the president was always to be a Maronite, the prime minister a Sunni and the president of the Chamber of Deputies a Shia. There would always be a Greek Orthodox and a Druze member of the cabinet, while the Maronite president had the right to choose the prime minister.
So far so good for the French, but it was far from a lasting fait accompli.

Economic and political evolution

Arab nationalists in Syria and elsewhere opposed French control of Lebanon. Just as importantly, in Lebanon there was discontent with France’s limits on what the government could do and with whom it could have political and economic relationships. What made this troublesome for France was its weak position by the 1930s, when it had little to offer, while within Lebanon there was a growing cooperation between the Maronite and the Sunni elites.
What brought the latter together was a joint interest in developing commercial and financial relationships with other countries. Even the ‘Greater Lebanon’ was still only a very small state, with few natural resources and a tiny population of less than one million people. It was never going to be a base for significant industry or agriculture. However, Lebanon had several key ports, especially in Beirut, was well positioned on the eastern Mediterranean and had long been a trading centre with financing available. The Maronite elites had traditionally looked westerly, while the Sunni merchants had stronger relationships in the Arab hinterland. France had played a useful role for them both as a sponsoring power, and France had better ties with the Maronites, but they would both be open to other deals.
This came to a head by the early 1940s, prompted by the disruption of the Second World War. Lebanon got a version of independence from France in 1943, and the ‘Free French’ who had invaded Lebanon in 1941 to oust the Vichy regime left Lebanon in 1946 under pressure from the British.[6]
In 1943, a National Pact was agreed. This was a version of earlier deals in which the Maronites held on to the main sources of political power. The 1943 Pact gave the Christians a slightly lower 6:5 ministerial advantage, but still an advantage despite Christians no longer being a majority of the population. The previous rule was kept that the president was to be a Maronite and the prime minister a Sunni; the parliamentary speaker was to be a Shia. The wider political agreement in the Pact was that the Christians would no longer look to France and Muslims would not look to Syria or to Arab union. Ties with the west and with Arab states were allowed if Lebanon’s independence were recognised.
This continuing advantage of the Christians might look anomalous, but the Pact signalled the fundamental
‘unity of the Christian and Muslim [mainly Sunni - TN] members of the commercial-financial bourgeoisie … By working together in an independent Lebanon, the Muslim and Christian bourgeoisies could build a trading and banking centre which would serve as an entrepôt for the West and the Arab world.’[7]
It was in the Arab bourgeoisie’s interests to keep Christian majority rule. This was both because the ability to pursue their common interests with the Christians might otherwise be threatened, and also because increased Muslim representation, including more for the Shia, would have limited the Sunni control of state institutions. This had the desired effect. For example, the Sunni poor tended to see the rich as only the Christians, and they kept to an Arab/Muslim loyalty, rather than a class one. The Christian-dominated state and President in Lebanon were more likely to be the focus of their discontent, not capitalism or their own confessional leaders.

Some redistribution, on confessional lines

While the confessional form of government and political authority helped to hide class divisions, it also had a downside for the different ruling elites. They now had to deliver for their particular communities, and any inter-communal conflict would also put them on the spot: ‘what are you doing to defend us?’ To make the system workable, there had to be agreement between the different groups on sharing out jobs, privileges and influence, and to make sure that those in the weakest position would not cause trouble. This was reflected in the National Pact of 1943, and also in the various other forms of agreement that came after.
In practice, this still meant a strong position of the Christians, especially the Maronites, given their economic prominence. However, the Maronites depended upon the presence of other Christian sects to add to their number, and they too saw that a deal with the Muslims was essential.
On the Muslim side, the Sunni group was in the most favourable economic position. They had done relatively well in the Ottoman Empire and remained probably the largest of the Islamic sects up to the 1970s. The Shia, the second largest Muslim community up to that point (after which they probably outnumbered the Sunni) tend to be lower down the economic scale, and have made up most of the poor in rural, suburban and city areas. At least partly as a result, they have been the most under-represented in Lebanon’s political system. This is not saying that every Sunni is rich and every Shia is poor, but the characterisation holds for each group as a whole.
The result of this political evolution was a peculiar ‘welfare state’ managed largely through the different confessional groups. This is the origin of what the western media likes to disparage as ‘corruption’, but is the type of government that arose in an ex-colony that was unable to create a single, or a more united ruling class to lord it over the rest of the population.

No escape from the imperial environment

Lebanon had a prime position in the regional economy as a commercial and financial centre after the Second World War. Heading into the post-war boom, what could possibly go wrong? It turned out that the delicate balance of internal forces was easily disrupted even in the absence of direct colonial power, both by external forces and by internal ones. These combined to produce a bewildering array of multi-faceted and changing alliances – something that one might have expected, given the disparate nature of Lebanon’s domestic political groups that were also in the process of changing. This article will not attempt to cover all these issues, but to discuss only the most important ones.
On the external side, a very significant event for Lebanon was the turmoil caused by the big powers setting up the state of Israel in Palestine in 1948, and Israel’s expulsion of Palestinian refugees.[8] Broader events in the Middle East region likewise had an impact on Lebanon. For example, pro-western Christian President Camille Chamoun did not break relations with the French and British who, along with Israel, had invaded Egypt in the Suez adventure of 1956. He also seemed to be open to US and British plans for an anti-Soviet military alliance, the Baghdad Pact set up in 1955. In 1958, he opposed Lebanon joining the newly created (but short-lived) United Arab Republic of Syria and Egypt, and he invited the US to intervene with troops in the 1958 crisis that is sometimes called Lebanon’s first civil war. The Maronites were worried about the security of their position in the country, while at the same time going against a lot of Muslim opinion.
Together with the former ‘external factors’ – the quotation marks reflecting the more-than-usual artificial nature of country borders in the Middle East – Syria, Saudi Arabia and, after the 1979 revolution, later Iran, also had interests in Lebanon.

Palestinian refugees and repercussions

More than 100,000 Palestinian refugees went across the northern border to Lebanon in 1947-48; many more followed in later years, particularly after the war in 1967. This influx of mainly Muslim refugees was a problem for a country with less than 1.5 million people in 1948 and still only around 2.5 million by 1975.[9] Apart from being an economic burden, this further exacerbated Christian worries about Arab nationalism. As Palestinian militants fought back against their dispossession by Israel, this also made other Lebanese communities, particularly those in the south of the country, fearful that Israel would attack them too.
By the mid-1970s, the results were toxic, and also not entirely predictable. Many Shia in southern Lebanon resented the presence of Palestinian fighters and one group, the Amal Movement, principally made up of Shia, turned against and attacked them in 1976. However, Maronite forces were the main opponents of the Palestinians and their armed groups, the most important of which was the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO).
The principal Maronite political group was the Phalanges Party. It started as a paramilitary youth organisation in 1937, modelled after the Spanish and Italian fascist parties, and had a version of Lebanese nationalism that was opposed especially to pan-Arabism. It came to greater prominence from the 1950s. Until the 1980s, it ran the most organised militias in Lebanon, fighting both Palestinian and leftist groups. Its record shows how it gained a gruesome expertise in large-scale killings, with implicit or explicit help from other forces.
Events in Lebanon often have a murky chain of causation and even outcome, and there are sometimes plausible claims of ‘false flag’ attacks or assassinations to provoke a response between different armed groups in Lebanon. However, there is little dispute about the Phalange militia being involved in the 1975 bus massacre that killed 27 people and wounded 19, mainly Palestinians but also Lebanese. Many writers have even regarded this as the start of the prolonged 1975-1990 civil war.
Palestinians in Lebanon did not only face the Phalangists. In 1976, Syrian troops entered Lebanon on the invitation of the Lebanese president, and shortly began operations against the PLO whom they blamed for destabilising the country. In August 1976, supported by Syria, Maronite forces attacked the Tel-al-Zaatar Palestinian refugee camp in East Beirut and murdered 1,000-1,500 civilians.
The Maronite militia had been supplied with weapons and military advisers by Israel, which was pleased with the result. This relationship continued in an even more outrageous crime in 1982; one that has had a more prominent place in the history books, so it need only be noted briefly here: the massacres at Sabra and Chatila.
In 1982, after their second invasion of Lebanon (the first was in 1978), Israel moved to eliminate the Palestinians in Beirut, targeting areas where they claimed PLO fighters were based.[10] Principally, the Israelis used their Phalangist allies for this. The direct Israeli action was shelling the Sabra refugee camp and the Chatila neighbourhood, blocking off exits and illuminating the area with flares, then allowing the Phalangists to go to work. Killing and massacre are words too clinical to describe the murder, mutilation, gang rape and torture that resulted. From 16-18 September, anywhere from 1,400 to 3,500 people died, overwhelmingly civilians, both Palestinians and Lebanese Shia.[11]
Israeli intervention in Lebanon was undoubtedly a critical factor in the fracturing of Lebanese politics, but it was far from being the only one. Israel managed to engineer the expulsion of the PLO from Lebanon, but it was unable to cement a lasting alliance with the Maronites, who themselves were losing political ground in the country. The result of the 1982 episode of war, after Israeli troops eventually pulled out (except for their continued occupation of the Shebaa Farms area), was the increased presence of Syria and the rise of Hezbollah.

Syria

The rationale for the Syrian government’s intervention in Lebanon was its fear of regional disruption caused by conflict with the Israelis, including in Syria. This was together with its concern about growing Sunni influence via the PLO. Syria backed anti-PLO Palestinian and Lebanese groups and sought more influence in Lebanon. Syria’s political system, like Lebanon’s, was an uneasy compromise between rival groups. But in contrast to Lebanon, it was one that had resulted in a stronger central government.
From 1976 to 2005, Syria had more than 20,000 troops in Lebanon, and initially the Arab League endorsed these as a peacekeeping force. Although Lebanon had asked Syria to leave in 1986, Syria’s presence gained some legitimacy by 1991 and the two countries signed a treaty and a security pact. These gave Syria responsibility for the defence of Lebanon from external threats, while Lebanon promised that it would not be a threat to Syria. Over time, however, Syria’s military presence in Lebanon came to be opposed both by internal and external forces, and Syrian troops pulled out in 2005.

The Taif Agreement

Syria’s military exit was its delayed response to the 1989 Taif Agreement. This was a plan negotiated in Taif, Saudi Arabia, for ending the civil war and the implementing political changes in Lebanon. As one might have expected, a number of other countries were involved in drawing up the Agreement, otherwise known as the National Reconciliation Accord. These included Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Syria, France, Iran and the US.
The Agreement took away some of the Lebanese (Maronite) President’s powers, enhanced the power of the Sunni prime Minister and, a little more in line with demographic reality, gave the Christians and Muslims an equal number of seats in the Chamber of Deputies. This abolished the advantage previously favouring Christians, but they were still over-represented. Various studies have put the Christian share of the population at well below 50% at that point, and still lower today, partly due to emigration, but there has been no official government breakdown of the population by religion since 1932. Some statistics are just too dangerous, because they might contradict the (only?) political deal that the ruling elites find manageable.


One other important aspect of the Taif Agreement was how it called for the disarmament of the many armed groups within Lebanon. Such militias were rife, since a divided bourgeoisie does not often have a national army it can rely upon. However, there was an exception to the rule on militias: Hezbollah.

Hezbollah

If you were religious, it would be difficult to think of a better name for your political group than the ‘Party of God’. Due to Hezbollah’s important role in fighting Israel from 1982 and its wider significance in Lebanon, especially among the Shia community, the Taif Agreement allowed it to keep its arms as a ‘resistance force’.
Hezbollah began after 1979 as a rival to the older Amal Movement in southern Lebanon and was backed by Iran after the Islamic revolution of that year overthrew the Shah. It grew to have support in many areas of the country, with the key points of its 1985 manifesto gaining resonance: to expel the French and Americans from Lebanon, to bring the Phalangists to justice and to allow people to choose the form of government they want. Naturally, it also called on people to choose an Islamic government, but that did not stop it getting support from people who did not want one.
Together with Amal, Hezbollah today represents most of the Shia in Lebanon, but just noting that would greatly underestimate its political clout. It is a key player in Lebanon’s parliament, including having alliances with other parties, even Maronites; it has the most effective military force in the country and it runs an extensive social welfare programme in Lebanon, including hospitals and educational facilities.
In military terms, Hezbollah has many claims to fame, although it has not said that all the things attributed to it were its responsibility, and they may not be. Notable are: the April 1983 suicide bombing of the US Embassy in Beirut, with 17 US dead, including two senior CIA officers; in October 1983, more than 240 US marines and 58 French paratroopers were killed by a truck bomb in Beirut; in March 1984, the kidnapping of William Buckley, CIA station chief in Beirut (he died in captivity in June 1985). There were many more.
Perhaps the biggest episode was the war with Israel in July-August 2006. After Hezbollah fighters crossed into Israel and killed or imprisoned a number of Israeli soldiers, Israel bombed southern Lebanon and Beirut and began the massive destruction of civilian infrastructure, including schools, roads, bridges, mosques, churches and medical facilities. Over 1,000 Lebanese were killed, the vast majority civilians, more than 4,000 were injured and a million people were displaced. Israel’s land, sea and air blockade on Lebanon lasted until September 2006.[12]
Despite the destruction in Lebanon, Hezbollah gained political ground both in Lebanon and outside. It had managed to survive, not to surrender, and was able to inflict embarrassing losses on the much more powerful, US-funded Israeli forces. This has made Hezbollah difficult for Israel and western powers to deal with. The US and the UK have declared that Hezbollah is a ‘terrorist’ organisation, and the EU has used that term for its military wing. But its prominent status in Lebanon has been unchanged, and in recent years it has used its military experience to fight against ISIL both in Syria and in Iraq.

Saudi and Iranian money

While Israel’s mode of influence in Lebanon was via Christian politicians, as well as via direct military attacks and intervention, Saudi Arabian and Iranian influence has been through the Muslim community, which makes up more than half the population. The two biggest Muslim groups in Lebanon are the Sunnis and the Shia, roughly equal in size, and the principal links have been Saudi-Sunni and Iran-Shia.
Saudi influence in Lebanon has been led by money, including bribes. Along with some other Gulf states, Saudi Arabia has been an important source of subsidy for the Lebanese economy, helping to finance projects, including reconstruction after the 2006 war with Israel. To that extent, it has been of some benefit to all Lebanese, not just Sunnis, but this subsidy has been under threat in recent years. This is both because of Saudi Arabia’s anger at Iranian and Syrian involvement in Lebanon and because of lower oil prices reducing Saudi revenues.
Iran has far less available money than Saudi Arabia, but has also had a significant role in Lebanese politics. It is able to be far more effective in providing not only military supplies and training, but also food aid and other assistance. The western media focus is on Iran’s support for Hezbollah, but this should not be overstated. Just as the Saudis cannot entirely control the politics of the Sunnis, Iran is also limited in what it can do. Compromise between different Lebanese factions is a necessity that all domestic players accept, whatever the pressures may be from their external sponsors.

Lebanon’s economy

Data on Lebanon’s economy are patchy and unreliable. The war in Syria from 2011, which led at one point to more than a million refugees fleeing to Lebanon, has added to the data problem. But one has to deal with what is available. Here I briefly examine some balance of payments data that throw more light on Lebanon, rather than focus on the latest period of crisis that has seen inflation accelerate to around 90% and the economy in a state of collapse, even before the explosion at Beirut’s port.
At first sight, the broad patterns in these data are consistent with what one would expect from a small economy that was very involved in international trade. For example, exports and imports of goods and services are each a large share of GDP. However, the average for exports from 1990-2010 was a bit over 30% of GDP while the average for imports was nearly 60%.[13] This massive gap of close to 24% of GDP is unusual, and it was at close to the same rate in later years. The total of other factors on the current account did not reduce this gap in ‘current’ payments. Although one, remittances from expatriate Lebanese workers, saw significant inflows, others, including payments on debt servicing, saw big outflows. This implies – if the data are at all indicative of reality – that there had been a persistent and large net inflow of funds into Lebanon on the country’s financial accounts.
These net financial inflows tally with the sharp rise in Lebanon’s foreign debt to around 150% of its GDP. They also reflect the large scale of financial support for Lebanon from Saudi Arabia and others that are not fully documented. Part of this support has come in the form of foreign investment, especially into Lebanese real estate; other money has come in the form of deposits in Lebanese banks, including the central bank. Media reports in recent years have noted a flight of money from Lebanon. Saudi Arabia’s funding of Lebanon’s balance of payments, unwittingly or not, will have made this exit less costly for Lebanon’s capitalists.

Conclusion

Lebanon highlights many features of imperialism today. Despite its colonial past and a system of government that was bound to exacerbate communal tensions, it might still have managed to carve out a niche for itself and become a relatively prosperous trading centre in the Eastern Mediterranean.[14] But that prospect was crushed by the geopolitics of the region, from the creation of the Israeli state, to the interference of the major powers, to the impact of crises in surrounding countries as they too tried to forge some kind of future.
It is especially galling to have media pundits cite ‘corruption’ in Lebanon as the problem when the country’s history has been shaped by outside forces, and when the choices it faced for development meant fitting in with the colonial or imperial set up.
The imperial focus today is on Hezbollah. It has provided Lebanon with the only effective force to counter persistent attacks from Israel, and also runs a much-needed welfare system. That is bad enough for ‘western’ opinion; worse still are its links with Iran and Syria – other countries that do not do what they are told.
So, never letting a crisis go to waste, in the wake of the devastating explosion in the port of Beirut we find that curbing, or eliminating, Hezbollah’s role in Lebanon is a major imperial objective, one shared by both Saudi Arabia and Israel. This is the rationale behind their calls for ‘reform’ in Lebanon, and would appear to be a condition for giving the country anything more than minimal aid.
All citizens of Lebanon are angry at the political regime, and they have wanted to change it for decades. But there is no chance of them being able to decide on a new system without external pressure. Imperialism today presents many countries with problems that cannot be resolved. Lebanon is one of them.

Tony Norfield, 26 August 2020


[1] A valuable source for historical and more recent information is Samir Khalaf, Civil and Uncivil Violence in Lebanon, Columbia University Press, 2004.
[2] Taxes were higher on non-Muslims, yet they were also able to hold relatively prestigious positions within the Ottoman administration.
[3] The Maronites were a Christian sect that welcomed the First Crusade in 1096. Much later, they adopted Catholicism and the authority of the Pope.
[4] There are conflicting accounts of population sizes for the different groups, but an objective of the French was to maintain a significant grouping of Christians in any version of Lebanon. The Maronites need not be the majority of the population, however, and being in a minority would make them more dependent upon French support.
[5] There had been a famine in Beirut and Mount Lebanon with up to 200,000 deaths in World War One, due to a blockade, the Ottomans requisitioning food supplies for the army and a swarm of locusts devouring crops.
[6] The French had arrested Lebanese ministers in November 1943, but the British later forced their release. The British had some support from Muslims and Druze, and were concerned to balance out their other plans as well as undermining French influence in the region. There were more French attacks on attempts at independence in both Lebanon and Syria, but the British finally engineered a French withdrawal from both in 1945-46. France retaliated against the British by backing the Zionist militias in Palestine.
[7] Michael Johnson, Class & Client in Beirut, Ithaca Press, 1986, p118.
[8] The terror programme of Zionist militias began even before the new state was established in May 1948. Israel’s expulsions, and its pervasive land grabbing, also continued well after 1948. Most Palestinians fled to Jordan, fewer to Lebanon, and fewer still to Egypt. By September 1949, the UN estimated there were 711,000 Palestinian refugees from Israeli-controlled territory. Israel has prevented their return.
[9] Lebanon’s population rose to around six million by 2018. That includes nearly 200,000 Palestinian refugees and roughly a million refugees from Syria after 2011; it excludes the many Lebanese who had moved to other countries.
[10] Apart from attacks by missiles and aircraft, Israel has invaded Lebanon on many occasions – notably in 1978, 1982, 1993, 1996 and 2006. It has not only seized land across Lebanon’s southern border but also bombed and invaded Beirut.
[11] See Lebanon’s Legacy of Political Violence, International Center for Transitional Justice, September 2013, for more details of this and numerous other events in Lebanon from 1975 to 2008.
[12] Lebanon’s Legacy of Political Violence, pp83-88.
[13] Note that trade statistics data do not measure value added, just the value of the goods and services exported and imported, whereas the GDP data measure value added. This can mean that entrepôt centre countries might have exports or imports that are a very large share of GDP. The excess of imports over exports is nevertheless still a gap that has to be covered by other inflows on the international balance of payments.
[14] Back in 1981, I visited Beirut briefly as part of a business trip to the Middle East. I had an interview with a businessman who knew about the demand for certain products both in Lebanon and also more widely in the region. The interview was conducted to the sound of gunfire down the street.

Monday, 5 November 2018

Japan’s SoftBank: Tech Parasitism


The two Sons shake on $45bn
Masayoshi Son faced a dilemma in October: should the Japanese businessman go to an investment conference in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia? The guy running that conference had promised Son’s Vision Fund $45bn – that’s not a misprint, that’s forty-five thousand million US dollars – so not showing up would look more than a little ungrateful. He was also the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, next in line for the Saudi throne, and a person not known for taking lightly any lack of due respect. Yet the same guy had just been implicated in the murder and dismemberment of a journalist he did not like. While you and I would let this go as being just one of those things, the media and the political class of some powerful countries had shown themselves to be unhappy with the event. If Son attended the conference it could put his investment company SoftBank, and its Vision Fund, in an unfavourable light.
It was all so unfair. Nobody of any importance had complained about Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman’s exploits in Yemen that were killing off a whole population! Why make a fuss about a minor journalist being disappeared in the Saudi Consulate in Istanbul? It was evidently all a matter of big power politics, and who was allowed to do what to whom and when. But the dilemma was nonetheless real for Masayoshi Son, given the risk of negative publicity for his investments in projects for the tech-wonderland future. After much consideration, he decided on a diplomatic compromise. He travelled to Riyadh to talk to the oil oligarch, but did not attend the conference itself.
Most people will not have heard of the Vision Fund, or of SoftBank, not least because both names sound like they were suggested by a bored publicist suffering business cliché indigestion on a dull afternoon. But it is worth paying them attention for the light they throw upon today’s imperialist world economy and how innovation becomes entrapped by a parasitic machine. SoftBank itself does not rank highly in the list of global corporations, with a stockmarket capitalisation of just $82bn at end-October. Yet its Vision Fund is the world’s largest ‘venture capitalist’. It specialises in investments in the technology sector and is reported to have investment funds available of nearly $100bn – of which more below.



The rising Son

In 1981, Masayoshi Son founded SoftBank in Japan, but for many years the company was almost unknown outside the country. It began as a distributor of packaged software, also getting into computer magazine publishing and running business events. By 1998, it had become big enough to have its shares listed on the First Section of the Tokyo Stock Exchange, and in 1999 it became a pure holding company aiming to expand its presence in other areas of the Internet and mobile technology sector. From the mid-1990s, SoftBank did a number of very profitable deals in Japan with US web services provider Yahoo, including one with Yahoo Japan of around $9bn which gave SoftBank 43% of the company. It also bought Vodafone’s Japanese mobile operation for $15bn in 2006 and, from the late 1990s, it began to make its first significant deals outside Japan.
SoftBank’s most successful investment has been in Alibaba of China. In 2000, SoftBank advanced a mere $20m for a 29% stake in Jack Ma’s fledgling company, plus a modest later investment. The value of this holding soared to $60bn when Alibaba went public in 2014, and is now valued at around $100bn. Other major SoftBank investments have been in 2012, when it invested $23bn in Sprint, the fourth largest mobile network operator in the US, in 2016 with the $31bn takeover of ARM Holdings, a UK-based chip designer for smartphones, and in 2017 with the $9bn or so put into the US ride-hailing company Uber for a 15% stake.
None of these have gone anywhere near as well for SoftBank as Alibaba. For example, Sprint, 83% owned by SoftBank, after losing market share and subscribers is now in the process of being rescued by a merger with T-Mobile US, owned by Deutsche Telekom. If that goes ahead, SoftBank will own 27% of the new business.
There have been many reorganisations and name changes of companies in the SoftBank group. Its portfolio of holdings has also increased dramatically in recent years, with investments ranging from a complete or near-complete takeover of another company to deals that involve SoftBank owning perhaps only 5-10% of its shares. The prices SoftBank paid for these have not always been clear, since it has often been part of a consortium of other funds that have bid for a stake in the particular venture.
Given SoftBank’s promoted image, a natural assumption is that all of its investments are in the ‘technology’ sphere. This would suggest e-commerce, mobile communications, online services and so forth. But often the investments extend into other areas that have little or no connection with these and may be just an online application to contact a service. Although the latter is a pervasive feature of the economy today, it is not so far removed from telephoning a company to make a booking, rather than being a sign of ‘hi tech’. Notable in this respect is WeWork, a US company leasing out office space in which SoftBank (and its Vision Fund arm) has already invested more than $4bn, and the $300m invested in the US-based Wag, a dog walking service! I will not mention SoftBank’s investment in a Japanese baseball team, the Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks.
Elements of this remind me of the dotcom equity market bubble of the late 1990s. One anecdote from that time was that a laundry company saw its share price soar once it had changed its name to laundry.com or something similar. SoftBank is not the laundry company, but its share price had also boomed in that market bubble, to around ¥19,000 in early 2000, but by November 2002 it had slumped to just ¥300. Happily for Mr Son and his shareholders, SoftBank’s equity price has since risen and was at around ¥9,000 by end-October. But the vulnerability of the company to changing fashions is seen in the 20% drop through that month, partly prompted by the declining fortunes of another ‘son’, Mohammad bin Salman. Such volatility is not uncommon in the markets for financial securities, but an examination of SoftBank’s accounts, and the new Vision Fund, shows that there is a lot going on behind the headlines.

No, not this robot dog, a real dog!
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Assets, debt liabilities, income

SoftBank’s annual report for the year to end-March 2018 gives the basic picture for its assets, liabilities and income that still holds today. Two features stand out. Firstly, the company’s cash revenues have derived mainly from its telecom operations in Japan and the US; secondly, it has a lot of debt.
The telecom operations have the advantage of generating an inflow of cash, with regular subscriber payments and sales of mobile phones, and in the annual 2018 report these accounted for just over 70% of net sales and over 90% of adjusted earnings before interest, tax payments, etc, for the group as a whole. This cash comes in handy for SoftBank’s appetite to invest in other companies, but most of SoftBank’s requirements are instead met by its loans from banks or its issue of bonds. This has led Softbank to accumulate an unusually high level of debt, amounting to $160.4bn by the end of March 2018.
Financial markets focus on a measure of how much interest-bearing debt that the company has outstanding and compare that to the equity investment of the company’s owners in the company itself. This ‘debt-equity ratio’ is one indicator of a company’s ability to pay back its debt liabilities if its operations get into trouble. Outstanding debt levels and also the debt-equity ratio will be different for different kinds of company, but industrial and commercial companies rarely have a debt-equity ratio above 1 or 100%. In other words, their outstanding debt is not greater than how much equity the owners have invested in the company.
The debt-equity ratio is not necessarily high for companies in the tech sector. Even startups usually get funds from equity investors, rather than depending much, if at all, on long-term bank loans and issues of bonds. For example, in 2017 Alphabet-Google’s debt-equity ratio was less than 3% while Amazon’s, although higher, was still below the 100% level at 89%. In 2015, the year before SoftBank took it over, ARM Holdings had no outstanding debt at all. By stark contrast, SoftBank’s own debt-equity ratio in March 2018 was 271%, and a still high 220% counting only the long-term debt of $130.1bn.
This level of debt is a problem for SoftBank because the funds have been used to invest in a wide range of tech (and not so tech) companies, as already noted. As their market value changes, so will the value of these assets on SoftBank’s books, which makes the company very vulnerable to a change in financial market sentiment on the outlook for these ventures. Meanwhile, the debt remains until it is paid off, and until then it has to be serviced. In the year to March 2018, SoftBank’s net income from continuing operations was $11.7bn, but this figure had been reduced by the interest paid on its debt of $5.1bn.
How could SoftBank continue to expand its investment in tech companies when it already had high levels of debt? One way was to sell off some existing assets as a means to raise cash. An example earlier this year was the $4bn sale of its holding in Flipkart of India to the US giant retailer Wal-Mart, registering a gain of some $1.5bn. Back in April, SoftBank also used its stake in Alibaba as collateral for a bank loan of $8bn. Furthermore, there is a plan for the public sale of some shares in SoftBank’s mobile business in Japan, hoping to get as much as $30bn, although that hope is undermined by Japan’s regulator forcing mobile companies to cut their charges by as much as 40%. But the real scope for expansion lies with the venture noted at the beginning of this article: the Vision Fund.

Double Vision: $28bn becomes $72bn

SoftBank’s Vision Fund was set up in 2017 after being announced the previous year. It is included in SoftBank’s reports as a division that aims to target ‘long-term investments in companies and foundational platform businesses that seek to enable the next age of innovation’. While there are many other hyperbolic statements with which the Fund describes itself, and details of its structure can be confusing, I would recommend keeping the following points in mind to clarify what is going on.
The logic behind the fund’s existence is the limit on expansion that SoftBank faced with its high level of debt. Otherwise there would have been little reason for SoftBank to make big efforts to attract outside investors. Related to this, an important aspect of the Fund is that it has now given Masayoshi Son huge resources from these outside investors over which he has complete control. Meanwhile, SoftBank has not limited itself from undertaking any investments it likes outside of the Vision Fund set up.
SoftBank’s investment in the Vision Fund is reported as $28bn, with the other, external investors providing $72bn, to make up the $100bn when all funds are committed. That makes a good headline, but all is not what it seems. Not simply because most funds are committed rather than having yet been allocated, and the number does not yet quite add up to $100bn anyway. Let us assume that all the commitments will turn up. Instead, the main issue to puncture the headline bubble is that more than $15bn of the capital, and perhaps as much as $25bn or so, is not a pile of new cash waiting to be invested. It simply represents the value of existing investments held by SoftBank that the company has transferred from its main accounts to sit now under the Vision Fund heading.
At end-September 2018, the value of Vision Fund investments was $35.8bn, with an acquisition cost recorded at $28.1bn. A big chunk of this, represented by acquisition cost, consists of previous investments made by SoftBank. For example, a little over $8bn for 25% of SoftBank’s ownership of ARM Holdings, $5bn from its stake in Nvidia, a couple of billion from its stake in WeWork and some smaller investments, including in Wag. SoftBank’s $9bn holding of Uber will also be transferred to the Vision Fund, but this had not happened by end-September.[1]
These SoftBank ‘investments’ in the Vision Fund are not new cash that it can use to invest in other things. So its firepower is significantly less than the $100bn number promoted in the headlines, although it is still clearly a big number. The key point, however, is that by establishing the Vision Fund, SoftBank can get control of up to around $70bn more from the funds committed by other investors.
Under refurbishment: Vision Fund London office

Vision investors, debt and equity

SoftBank’s 28% of the Vision Fund would appear to give a higher weight to the external investors, who have 72%. But there is another complication: whether the investors have an equity stake in the fund or whether they buy the ‘preferred’ units of the Vision Fund that will pay them an annual coupon, as if they owned a debt security. According to a Financial Times report in June, the Vision Fund set up is where the external investors have 62% of debt and 38% of an equity stake in the Fund for every billion they put in. SoftBank therefore has a majority equity stake in the Vision Fund, given that all its 28% investment is for equity.
External investors in the Vision Fund are of two kinds, and each has a different motivation that I will give myself the freedom to speculate upon.
The first kind is the Gulf investors with $60bn of commitments: $45bn from the politically-devalued Crown Prince, allocated from Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund, and another $15bn from Abu Dhabi’s Mubadala Investment Company. These are funds that aim to boost the wealth of the already rich Gulf states by investing in something other than the low-yielding government bonds issued by the major powers.
It is not difficult for the Gulf investors in this venture to feel they are smart money capitalists when all they have to do is get a better return than on US Treasuries. The Vision Fund will have looked an attractive option, one full of a high tech optimism that helps obscure the reactionary reality back home, and doing so with a promised high return – for details of which see the next section.
The second kind of external investor is a group of four companies not new to the world of tech exploitation – Apple, Qualcomm, Foxconn and Sharp . They will offer $5bn in total to the Fund. For them, the amount is trivial, but it may give a reasonable return and it will also give them a valuable overview and early insight into developments that could impact their businesses.

‘Eat yourself’ returns and SoftBank upside

So what is the return for investors in the Vision Fund? These investors, and SoftBank itself, get paid in different ways, and this highlights that it is called the Vision Fund for a good reason.
Those who have equity stakes in the fund get the relevant portion of the returns from the portfolio of investments made, but that is after money has been deducted to pay for the annual 7% coupon on the Vision Fund debt securities purchased by external investors. While this 7% coupon looks attractive compared to other debt securities in the financial markets today, it may have escaped the external investors’ attention that this coupon payment will also reduce the return they will get from their equity stake. If the Vision Fund debt component amounts to $44.6bn (62% of the external $72bn), then around $3bn per annum will be deducted from the profits made on Vision Fund assets to deliver the external investors their coupon payments. They look to be protected from any downside in the equity and revenue performance by their fixed 7% coupon, but that leaves the tricky question of who will pay them the coupon money if the Fund’s return is insufficient.
The external investors will have noticed that they are paying SoftBank a management fee of around 1% for the privilege of running the Vision Fund, which could be up to $720m per annum. SoftBank will also cream off 20% of any return on investment over 8%. In the world of ‘venture capital’ investment funds, however, these conditions are, if anything, low cost.
Overall, the Vision Fund gives SoftBank a vast amount to finance future tech investments, and it gets around some of the constraints posed by SoftBank’s high debt levels. If there are difficulties paying the fixed 7% coupon, then that may be a Vision Fund problem with its investors, not a SoftBank problem of default on its bond liabilities.
Another important point is that the Vision Fund’s investments have delivered it very little in operating profit. Its recorded ‘income’ from its assets is overwhelmingly made up from capital gains on their market value, including unrealised gains. In the six months to end-September 2018, the operating income from the Vision Fund was around $5.5bn, but $1.5bn was from the gain on the sale of Flipkart and another $4bn or so was from increases in the value of Nvidia and some other assets. This points to problems that Mr Son’s venture will have in generating enough income when the market turns down.

Parasitic vision

In an interview with TechCrunch in September, a Vision Fund managing director set out the Fund’s investment policy. He explained that it was a ‘late stage growth fund’. It did not aim to give early advice to tech startups, but instead wanted to see how far they could become a key player in the market. If they were happy with a company’s plans, they would invest a minimum of $100m to finance its growth.
This reveals perhaps more than he realised. Yes, the Vision Fund provides a tech company with funds, but only after it has passed the difficult, uncertain, early stages of growth when survival is at risk, and when it now looks like the only barrier to dramatic expansion is a lack of funds. This is not so different from what a regular bank would do, except that the Vision Fund will make sure that it has an equity stake in what it hopes will be a rapidly growing business, rather than a bank that simply sees good market prospects as giving it confidence that a loan will be repaid. Far from being the daring investor backing ‘the next stage of innovation’, the Vision Fund is more like a money capitalist bean counter that will first ensure that all its boxes are ticked.
Another aspect of the Vision Fund shows that it understands the nature of the imperialist world market today, at least as it applies to the technology sector. The minimum $100m investment is to finance a big increase in the scale of operations of its chosen tech companies, both within their national sphere and internationally. A key feature of businesses that have communications technology as a core element is economies of scale. Here, much the same cost infrastructure is needed to service tens of millions of customers as for tens of thousands, except perhaps the need for a bigger computer server and some better software. Costs per customer will tend to fall rapidly and net revenues can rise sharply.
This is also something that leads to monopolisation of markets. Companies that are backed with funds to invest and expand when they have no operating profit and, like Uber, may be running at a loss, can still invest to sideline competitors. SoftBank and the Vision Fund are involved in this process. One example is the likelihood that SoftBank will play a part in carving up the ride hailing market, given its stake in Uber and in a number of other companies in that area, notably DiDi of China, but also Ola in India and Grab in Singapore. Recent business media reports suggest that these companies, which are often rivals in the same markets as well as having stakes in each other, could decide to ‘cooperate’.

Tech in the machine

What we find today are many examples of technical inventions and innovation, but all of these get bound up in the monopoly machine of imperialist economics and finance. Rather than communications technology being developed to benefit humanity, any good outcomes that may result depend first upon whether the innovation can meet the machine’s demands.
Paradoxes also abound, highlighted especially by how some of the most reactionary regimes in the world put up many billions of dollars to fund ‘progress’. One acute observer of the tech world, Evgeny Morozov, speculated that the ‘disruptive innovation’ backed by Saudi Arabia would include killer robots and the ability to smoothly dispose of dissidents’ bodies. But one must not lose sight of how these regimes are also part of the imperial money-go-round, with full backing from the US and the UK.
The tens of billions of dollars allocated to SoftBank’s Vision Fund are only a small sample of the massive funds potentially available worldwide to address everything from debilitating diseases, to malnutrition and environmental destruction. Instead they are advanced with a beady-eyed parasitism to find the right profitable niche in the market and monopolise it. Even then, the decisions on how the world’s resources will be used rest with a small number of multi-billionaires and the states that back them.

Tony Norfield, 5 November 2018


[1] In 2016, Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund had already invested $3.5bn in Uber, which faced strong competition from one of SoftBank’s other ride-hailing investments, in DiDi (which eventually took over Uber’s China operation, but also gave Uber a stake in the merged company). It has been reported that to avoid Saudi embarrassment of funding a competitor to Uber when it put money into the Vision Fund, SoftBank made sure that the DiDi holding was kept in a separate fund. This is shown in SoftBank accounts as the ‘Delta Fund’, but DiDi is its sole component as a $5bn investment.

Wednesday, 9 May 2018

Iran Sanctions, Imperial problems


Trump's anti-Iran move on Tuesday was deeply worrying for allies of the US. It is a blow for those countries, especially in Europe, that were hoping to build on the big expansion of trade with and investment in Iran after the July 2015 nuclear deal was signed. But it is more than just an economic opportunity under threat. As Germany’s Zeit Online commented ‘with nationalism and protectionism, Donald Trump is gradually eliminating the world order shaped by the USA’. Here I look at some implications of the latest US policy and the reasons for its timing.

Holy orders

The extent of the new US sanctions is at present unclear, although there will be some delay before full implementation. What worries the Europeans is that they are unlikely to apply only to US companies, like Boeing.
On past form, any company not doing as the US wishes could be liable to suffer financial penalties. They could also face problems of access to the US market and its banking system – the latter being necessary for all international companies that use the US dollar. This extra-territoriality of US sanctions, in the words of France’s Finance Minister, Bruno Le Maire, makes the US ‘the economic policeman of the planet’, and that is ‘not acceptable’.
Last October, the now ex-Secretary of State Rex Tillerson claimed that the US will not interfere in Europe’s business dealings with Iran. But the newly appointed US ambassador to Germany, Richard Grenell, has taken a very different tack. He followed up Trump’s statement with a threatening tweet: ‘German companies doing business in Iran should wind down operations immediately’.
It would be hard to top that as a sign of imperial arrogance, something that has become ever more embarrassing for US allies under the Trump regime. To have a smoothy like Obama advance US interests after a chat among ‘friends’ was acceptable. Now the veneer is off and the modus operandi of the nincompoop POTUS is to fart, blame someone else and carry on regardless.[1]

The little, big problem

Following the long years of sanctions, Iran is far from being a big economic partner for the major western powers. Last year it was only number 33 in the ranking of external trading partners of the European Union. Trade between the EU and Iran was close to €21bn, with a little over €10bn of both exports and imports, but this made up less than 1% of the EU’s total external trade. EU trade with India is four times bigger, and it is more than seven times bigger with Turkey. US trade with Iran is much smaller still, roughly $200m last year, which is barely a rounding error in the statistics.
Nevertheless, there had been rapid growth in trade for the EU in recent years, mostly imports of fuel from Iran and exports to Iran of manufactured goods, especially machinery and transport equipment. From 2014 to 2017, EU exports grew by nearly 70% and EU imports by nearly nine times.
Much more trade growth has been in prospect, together with attractive investment opportunities, for EU companies such as Renault, PSA Group, Airbus, Siemens, Total, Alstom and others. Iran’s half-wrecked economy offered a cornucopia of deals in the tens of billions to refurbish, resupply and rebuild.
All that is at risk with the new US policy. More important, however, is that the Iran deal was the result of a longwinded negotiation involving all the major powers, and now the US has walked away from it. This calls into doubt the status of more or less anything else the US has signed up for in the past, and also the status of the US as the unquestioned leader of the western powers.

Why now?

Why did former president Obama’s signing of the joint agreement with Iran look like the ‘worst deal ever’ for Trump? First, note that the US has sustained hostility to a country that dared to step out of line in 1979, when the Shah was overthrown, and has since not been cooperative enough. While the US has come around to accepting other miscreants – notably Vietnam, which beat it in a war – this is very rare and is, in any case, a very slow process. Similarly for Cuba. The irony in Iran’s case is that, aside from sections of the elite who make gains from managing the sanctions regime to their advantage, the country was overwhelmingly in favour of doing a deal with the west as a means of gaining access to technology and development. Nevertheless, despite signing the 2015 deal, Obama was not exactly friendly to Iran. Even afterwards, US political prejudice hindered American business prospects in Iran, with the Europeans much quicker to take advantage.
What seems to have scuppered the Iran deal now is the problem that US policy faces in the Middle East region. This is behind Trump’s long signalled change of course.
Apart from its own direct military intervention, the US has had two elements of control in the Middle East: Israel and Saudi Arabia. Each of these has become more unstable and problematic in recent years, causing trouble for western policy and some embarrassment when it comes to ‘human rights’ in family plutocracy Saudi Arabia and Palestinian rights in the racist gangster state of Israel. Yet the US has not been able to find alternative local tools. After the disaster of US policy in Iraq, another adventure, to replace Assad in Syria, and so to undermine Russia, has failed. This now leaves the US with two dysfunctional supports in a region scarred by imperialism, a mess that it cannot sort out.
The US inability to get rid of Assad has raised Saudi Arabian and Israeli paranoia about Iran. Worried about the stability of their own regimes, they see a long shadow from the bogeyman who does not necessarily do what the US wants and use this to disturb the US’s own discontent. This is neatly summed up in the invention of the so-called ‘Shia crescent’ of Iranian power and influence from Iran through Iraq, Syria and into Lebanon and the Gaza Strip. Saudi Arabia even sees Iran in Yemen, while Netanyahu starred in his own special anti-Iran video for Trump. In an inversion of reality that only someone of his powers can provide, Trump even outdid them with his latest comment that Iran backs al-Qaeda and ISIS.
Trump will tweet and things may change again. But it looks like the foundations of the world order are crumbling further.

Tony Norfield, 9 May 2018


[1] Apologies for lowering the tone, but the word ‘trump’ in colloquial English also means to break wind.

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

End of the Anglosphere




Big Ben no longer chimes, Trump tweets every quarter hour
Silence and media noise mock the fading imperial powers.
Governments of fools, though few fools can now be found
Brave enough to smirk at the turmoil all around.
Undone by popular will to revive their imperial benefits
Trump tears off the US veneer, and Brexit befuddles the Brits.
Comfort reigned for few while the Anglosphere held sway
War and chaos summon all as the Anglosphere decays.

Tony Norfield, 8 November 2017

Sunday, 27 August 2017

The Military Transport Network of Azerbaijan

If you are a jihadist or a rebel needing some military hardware, then you have two problems. Countries that would be very happy to buy the equipment for you, such as the US, Saudi Arabia and the UAE, do not want to be identified. It can also be trouble to get the supplies through, unless the mechanism can be hidden. Is there a solution? Step forward Silk Way Airlines, a state-run cargo airline based in Baku, Azerbaijan!

A fascinating report from a Bulgarian journalist, Dilyana Gaytandzhieva, documents how Silk Way did more than 350 flights delivering hundreds of tons of weapons. The weapons were mainly from East European states, including Bulgaria and Slovakia, and also from Israel. The destinations were mainly into Iraq and Syria. Flights were given diplomatic status, so that the 'luggage' would not be checked or stopped, and the financiers of these operations were principally the US and Saudi Arabia, but also included the UAE (and, I would guess, other Gulf states too). A key country in which the weapons were unloaded for later shipment on to Syrian and Iraqi rebels was Turkey.

US military-related companies were often involved in the transport deals, but they were facilitating the delivery of non-US origin weapons - an advantage to cover up the US role. Bulgarian weapons were found by the journalist to have turned up in an Al Nusra Front (the Al Qaeda affiliate) arms cache in Aleppo, Syria, and the Iraqi army also uncovered an ISIS warehouse of these weapons in Mosul, Iraq.

Tracking such a supply network is difficult, but the observations are supported by documents and also by other corresponding sources. This was just one network, based mainly from Bulgaria and Azerbaijan; others will also be used by the various powers involved in this deadly game, including those from Libya.

Gaytandzhieva's report was filed on a Bulgarian newspaper site in early July. This led to protests from Azerbaijan and to her questioning by Bulgaria's security services. She was dismissed from her job a few days ago, according to her interview on Al Jazeera news network today, a report from which is here.*

Tony Norfield, 27 August 2017

Note: * Al Jazeera was happy to make a lot of this report since its focus directly implicated Saudi Arabia and the UAE in financing terror networks but had no mention of Qatar's role in such things.

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Twitter's Stubborn Facts

I sometimes add entries on Twitter, using @StubbornFacts. These may refer to articles or notes on this blog, but often they are links to points made by others that I find of value and which do not often hit the media headlines.

Recent Twitter entries include a note on the scale of the 18-24 youth vote in the 8 June UK general election and on developments in Middle East politics, particularly focusing on Saudi Arabian and US policy (the latest issue being their policy on Qatar). Incidentally, here is my analysis of the evolution of Saudi power in the Middle East.

Tony Norfield, 20 June 2017

Thursday, 8 December 2016

Syria: White Helmet Whitewash

The conflict in Syria is a tragedy with many dimensions. One of the most scurrilous has been the western media's promotion of the so-called 'white helmet aid workers' in East Aleppo, when these are reactionary forces who would otherwise be labelled as terrorists, were it not for their opposition to Syria's government. A convincing characterisation of their real role is given in the interview here by Vanessa Beeley, a British investigative journalist. She notes that they have received some $100 million in aid from western powers, which is better explained as a cover for military equipment and support rather than for medical and aid supplies.

Listen to the full interview. Although made at end-September, it gives an interesting angle on the degree to which western media have no shame in persistently lying when this suits imperial strategy. Developments in Syria have not gone as they hoped, so the rhetoric is now being wound down, if only to cover up the embarrassment for the major powers delivered by Russia's actions.

If the Beeley interview does not enlighten you, then just consider the desperation of the British government in trying to disown the latest statements from its own Foreign Secretary, one Boris Johnson. He happened to be clumsy and truthful in noting some aspects of the role of Saudi Arabia in the many Middle East conflicts, when the demands of his position mean that he should have kept his mouth shut. At least he didn't make the mistake of referring to the 'Saudi regime', or suggest that regime change might be a good idea.

Tony Norfield, 8 December 2016


Wednesday, 4 May 2016

Tax Havens in the Imperial Network *


“We don’t pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes.” Leona Helmsley
The motto of the ineffable billionairess came to mind with the publication of the Panama Papers. This huge set of files leaked from a Panamanian law firm, Mossack Fonseca, documented the tax haven dealings of the world’s richer denizens. While the law firm’s name sounds like a toxic cocktail, the information revealed in its files has also been toxic for Iceland’s Prime Minister Gunnlaugsson, who had to resign. So far, there have been no other scalps, but there have been sleepless nights for many and plenty of work for their PR companies.
I would venture to predict that there will be no more casualties from the revelations. Although there will doubtless be more expressions of anger from those who believe an influx of previously elusive tax revenues into the national pot might cushion the iron heel of austerity, this elaborate tax haven-offshore network is entrenched in a capitalist system that most critics do not venture to criticise.

Avoidance and evasion

There is an important distinction, of which many people are unaware, between tax ‘avoidance’ and tax ‘evasion’. Tax avoidance is legal; it just means you arrange your affairs in a way that lowers how much tax you have to pay. However, that also includes putting money in a tax haven, having your revenues accounted for there, and paying their lower tax levels. Evasion, on the other hand, is illegal. It involves not paying the taxes due to the authority in the relevant jurisdiction, for example, not declaring that you have an income to the government and so not paying the tax on it. The distinction between avoidance and evasion can be complicated. Making sure you have the correct set up involves expensive advice, afforded only by the rich, and this is a source of income for tax lawyers like Mossack Fonseca. But this is not the only rationale for the existence of tax havens.
Tax havens rose to prominence largely in the post-1945 period, when income taxes in major countries were often very high for the rich. Havens offered lower rates of tax and, as a result, a flood of rich people from around the world began to park their financial assets, and the income flowing to them, in these welcoming climes, even if they did not move there themselves. This was often done by setting up shell companies that owned the assets. Directors of the shell companies may have been residents of the particular haven, but they were usually acting on instructions from the real owners of the assets and recipients of the income. It was not long before capitalist corporations began to see how they could also play the game, for example, by channelling revenues from the rest of the group that appeared as their ‘costs’ paid into a special company set up in a haven where little or no tax is paid. The subsidiaries doing the channelling could then argue that their ‘costs’ meant they earned little or no profit in the higher-taxed countries in which they were based.
These havens were not necessarily islands or ‘offshore’. Although many were islands, since this was a way for a one-dimensional economy to branch out, when it was otherwise dependent upon seasonal tourism or a single crop or mineral, there was also Monaco, Andorra and Luxembourg in the heart of Europe, plus Ireland and others, including Delaware in the US. In Switzerland, for example, the tiny lakeside canton of Zug is reputed to host 27,000 companies, about one for every four inhabitants! No, Swiss people do not have an unusually high degree of entrepreneurial spirit; this was many foreign people and companies taking advantage of local tax laws. The havens get important revenues – from financial fees paid to the local government, as money paid in the employment of locals who would be ‘directors’ of these companies, and in other ways, including the business generated by a rich elite who might like to go shopping, sail in a yacht or stay in a nice hotel.

Rich people, but powerful companies

Essentially, tax havens are a commonly used release valve for the burden on the revenues of rich people, and companies, from the costs of maintaining the state and public services financed from taxation. In more recent decades, especially from the 1980s as international financial flows became less regulated by the key powers, these offshore and other centres grew dramatically in size, attracting vast volumes of funds. In 2004, when the US Congress passed a Homeland Investment Act that gave corporations a tax break if they repatriated funds held overseas, nearly a thousand US companies later repatriated more than $300bn of cash! This is one indication that the individuals named in the Panama papers are really a side issue: big corporations are the main holders of the international funds.
Ironically, Panama, at the centre of the latest revelations is a relatively small-scale offshore centre. A good measure of size is given by the volume of funds going into and out from these centres. Panama, with $106bn of funds outstanding in 2015, is less than a twentieth of the size of the largest one, the Cayman Islands, which has $2,610bn of liabilities plus claims. This stupendous sum for the Caymans is made up from roughly $1,300bn coming in as liabilities (or deposits and other lending from overseas) and $1,300bn going out as claims (or loans and other investments outside the Caymans). This reflects the fact that the money is doing more or less nothing in the Caymans itself – apart from the hotel and shopping bills and paying some fees to the government and a small proportion of the population of less than 60,000 people. As you might expect, the locals do not actually own the $800bn or so of US equities and bonds that are registered in the name of Cayman Island corporate entities.
Another interesting detail of the Cayman Islands is that this is the main offshore location to which the UK banking system sends a net volume of funds, amounting to $53bn at the end of 2015. While the UK-based banking system obtains around a net $100bn from its own local offshore islands – Jersey and Guernsey, especially – it also plays a big part in redirecting funds to other locations. A theme song of the movie Cabaret, ‘Money makes the world go around’, very much applies to the role that tax havens/offshore centres play in the global capitalist system. The UK-based banking system is at the core of this international network and, not surprisingly, the UK economy accrues big revenues from doing the in/out deals involved.

God Save the Queen

The location of the Cayman Islands in the Caribbean Sea might make one think that they have little or nothing to do with far away Britain. Nevertheless, at official occasions they sing ‘God Save the Queen’, although, as far as I am aware, it is not a widely downloaded itunes song and has never won any music awards. The reason is that the Caymans, while not technically being part of UK territory, are given a special status by the UK authorities as a British Overseas Territory. Similarly, other offshore islands are members of the British Commonwealth (the Bahamas) or are British Crown Dependencies.
UK officials do not like to talk about them very much and, at most, only propose measures that would have little effect on the tax avoidance/evasion taking place, such as calling for a ‘central register’ of who owns the more than two million companies and partnerships registered in these havens. The proposal is not expected to make much difference. The UK has been heavily involved in establishing this financial network. UK-linked havens, particularly the Cayman Islands, the Bahamas, Jersey, Guernsey and the Isle of Man, not only sing the same national anthem, if added together they would rank as the sixth largest international banking centre, just behind Germany, despite their minuscule populations. Why should the UK bother to do anything about this, when the US and many other European countries are also involved in the same kinds of deals, and when all the capitalists benefit?
All offshore centres are closely linked to the interests of the major capitalist powers. Britain has the closest links with the largest number. My experience of working for London-based banks included several business trips to Jersey, and some contact with other centres. When it comes to hanging out as a member of the rich elite, Jersey has some way to go in competing with the ‘offshore’ centres in the Caribbean and Central America. Nevertheless, like other centres, it plays an important role in allowing the capitalist class to do what it likes. Such is the exercise of their freedom. They have been free to exploit the working class worldwide. Surely they should also be free to do what they want with the proceeds?

Who are you?

Another feature of these havens is that the identity of who owns the funds is usually hidden. Interestingly, that is not necessarily to avoid tax. For example, one of the individuals cited in the Panama Papers is King Salman of Saudi Arabia. Presumably, he has no reason to avoid taxes set by the rules of the government he controls. The rationale here was instead to use the offshore accounts as a means of hiding the fact that a Saudi-owned company was doing a particular investment. So ABC Corp registered in Offshore Island X, but owned by the ruling Saudi family, would be a shareholder in a major US, European, or Asian, etc, corporation, but nobody would be any the wiser.
The publication of the Panama Papers has been amusing for the embarrassment they have caused to usurpers of wealth, in particular to those whose hypocrisy is shown by their former public pose. But little or nothing should be expected to change in society if people are critical only of individual excesses, and not of the more systematic crushing of the life chances of those oppressed by capitalism, in which tax dodging is a relatively minor issue.

Tony Norfield, 4 May 2016

* This article puts in a broader context some points made previously on this blog. A copy of this article first appeared in the New York journal, BrooklynRail, in the Fieldnotes section. Further details of the role of tax havens in the international financial system are given in my new book, The City: London and the Global Power of Finance.