Early this month, dozens of people gathered outside the Claridge’s Hotel in central London to protest against the Federal Government of Somalia (FGS)’s decision to award oil exploration licences to foreign companies later this year. The hotel was the venue for the International Conference on Somalia Oil and Gas that was hosted by Spectrum, a leading seismic data processing company. The conference was aimed at showcasing possible locations in Somalia where crude oil reserves can be exploited.
Last year, the FGS announced a first round of bidding on 206 offshore oil blocks, mainly in southern Somalia. The decision by President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo’s government to put Somalia’s oil reserves on the predatory oil and extractive industries’ market is being viewed by many as a recipe for disaster in a country that has suffered from more than two decades of civil war and which has few or no regulatory frameworks or laws in place to manage its oil in the interest of the Somali state and its people.
Jamal Kassim Mursal, who was the permanent secretary in Somalia’s petroleum ministry until last month, when he resigned, told the Voice of America that Somalia was not yet ready for any oil exploration because “nothing has changed – petroleum law is not passed, tax law is not ready, capacity has not changed, institutions have not been built”.
The decision by President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo’s government to put Somalia’s oil reserves on the predatory oil and extractive industries’ market is being viewed by many as a recipe for disaster in a country that has suffered from more than two decades of civil war
A study published in 2014 by the Mogadishu-based Heritage Institute of Policy Studies cautioned that it was still too early for Somalia to be venturing into the oil industry because the country faces a host of challenges and obstacles that need to be addressed before any viable oil exploration and production can start. These challenges and obstacles include scant infrastructure for the transport and processing of oil, political volatility, institutional fragility, physical insecurity and ambiguous property rights.
If not handled with caution, warned the report, Somalia’s oil could prove to be a curse. Given the high levels corruption within the Somali government, and in light of the country’s fledgling state institutions, the absence of checks and balances, as well as nascent democratic structures, the hydrocarbon sector’s economic spoils are likely to also ruin politics, said the study’s author Dominik Balthasar. Lack of oversight and transparency could lead to conflict as competing forces seek to control the lucrative, but highly opaque, sector. “The problem arises in light of the fact that Somalia not only needs to counter the standard challenges arising from the resource curse, but must do so in the context of fragility.”
A study published in 2014 by the Mogadishu-based Heritage Institute of Policy Studies cautioned that it was still too early for Somalia to be venturing into the oil industry because the country faces a host of challenges and obstacles that need to be addressed before any viable oil exploration and production can start.
In his book, The Looting Machine: Warlords, Tycoons, Smugglers and the Systematic Theft of Africa’s Wealth, Tom Burgis describes how the discovery and exploitation of oil and other resources by foreign companies have left many African countries poorer and more conflict-ridden than they were before. From Nigeria to the Congo and South Sudan, the “resource curse” has left populations embroiled in violent conflicts and/or in debilitating poverty. Resources such as oil also distort economies, breed corruption and foster poor governance. Burgis explains:
“More often than not, some unpleasant things happen in countries where the extractive industries, as the oil and mining businesses are known, dominate the economy. The rest of the economy gets distorted, as dollars pour in to buy resources. The revenue that governments receive from their nations’ resources is unearned: states simply license foreign companies to pump crude or dig up ores. This kind of income is called ‘economic rent’ and does not make for good management. It creates a pot of money at the disposal of those who control the state. At extreme levels the contract between the rulers and the ruled breaks down because the ruling class does not need to tax the people to fund the government – so it has no need for their consent.”
Burgis shows how resource-funded regimes are “hard-wired for corruption” and that an economy based on just one pot of resources leads to “Big Man” dictatorial politics, as has been witnessed in Equatorial Guinea and Cameroon. And whereas before, Africa’s resources were often extracted at gunpoint or through violent colonisation, today “the looting machine has been modernized” through “phalanxes of lawyers representing oil and mineral companies” who “impose miserly terms on African governments and employ tax dodges to bleed profit from destitute nations”.
In his book, The Looting Machine: Warlords, Tycoons, Smugglers and the Systematic Theft of Africa’s Wealth, Tom Burgis describes how the discovery and exploitation of oil and other resources by foreign companies have left many African countries poorer and more conflict-ridden than they were before
Mursal, the former petroleum permanent secretary, is also against an agreement that gives the first choice for exploration blocks to Soma Oil and Gas, one of the companies that has been embroiled in several controversies with regard to Somalia in the past. The agreement allegedly gives Soma Oil and Gas 12 blocks to conduct oil exploration.
The controversy around Soma Oil began around the tenure of Yussur Abrar, Somalia’s first female Central Bank Governor. Abrar resigned in November 2013 after just seven weeks in the job on the grounds that she was being continuously asked to sanction deals and transactions that violated her responsibilities as governor.
In her resignation letter, Abrar stated that she had “vehemently refused to sanction the contract with the law firm Schulman & Rogers regarding the recovery of the Somali financial institutions’ assets frozen since the fall of Siad Barre’s regime”. She said that the contract did not “serve the interest of the Somali nation” and “put the frozen assets at risk” while opening the door to corruption. She also stated that the Central Bank she had been assigned to manage was in a poor state, with payroll processing being the only semi-functioning unit.
Abrar’s woes also had something to do with the fact that the then President Hassan Sheikh Mohamud was at the time making secretive deals with foreign oil companies. Barely a year after President Mohamud took office, stories began to emerge that the FGS had entered into a deal with Soma Oil. Apparently the Somali government had also held talks with Shell, Exxon, Mobil Corp and BP to revive pre-1991 oil contracts that were put on hold when the civil war broke out and when the government of Siad Barre collapsed. Observers were surprised that President Mohamud in the first year of his term agreed to an oil exploration deal after having earlier expressed fears that the country was too fragile to risk further conflict. Many observers warned that these oil deals would ignite further divisions and civil strife in oil-producing regions of the country, especially in the absence of legislative and regulatory provisions.
There were also concerns that oil deals would pave the way for more corruption in a country that has already gained the reputation of being amongst the most corrupt countries in the world. These concerns were so widespread that in July 2015 the UK’s Serious Fraud Office opened an investigation on Soma Oil’s dealings with the Somali government. Soma Oil, which was chaired by the former Conservative Party leader Michael Howard, dismissed the investigation, claiming that the British company’s conduct with the Somali government was “completely lawful and ethical”. Through its PR agency FTI Consulting, Soma Oil insisted that “broad terms” of the deal had been made public. (Interestingly, FTI Consulting is the same firm that was given a contract to “unfreeze” Somali assets abroad, the very contract that led to the resignation of Abrar.)
UN monitors reported that the deal would give Soma Oil the right to apply for up to 12 oil licences, covering a maximum of 60,000 square kilometres. In May 2015, Bloomberg Business revealed a draft production-sharing agreement between Soma Oil & Gas and the Somali government that indicated that Somalia could end up paying up to 90 per cent of its oil revenue to the British company, thereby conferring unusually high benefits to the latter. Barnaby Pace, a campaigner with the watchdog Global Witness, described the agreement as a “terrible deal for the Somali people”. In a private conversation with yours truly, a Somali MP asked, “How can you sign a deal with a patient who is in ICU? Does an ICU patient have the capacity to sign anything?”
Although there has been more funding in the recent years, from the World Bank and the European Union to introduce public finance reforms and to provide budget support to the FGS, these efforts have not yet borne fruit. The FGS still has little authority over large chunks of Somalia where clan-based fiefdoms and Al Shabaab rule with impunity and even collect “taxes” from the local population.
In May 2015, Bloomberg Business revealed a draft production-sharing agreement between Soma Oil & Gas and the Somali government that indicated that Somalia could end up paying up to 90 per cent of its oil revenue to the British company, thereby conferring unusually high benefits to the latter. Barnaby Pace, a campaigner with the watchdog Global Witness, described the agreement as a “terrible deal for the Somali people”
And despite attempts by Kenyan columnists like Peter Kagwanja to depict Somalia as “the poster child of an ‘Africa rising from the ashes of civil war’”, most analysts would agree that the FGS is ill-equipped to govern and that most state institutions in the country are not only severely degraded, but in many cases are completely absent. The idea of a Somalia being run from the capital Mogadishu is a myth that only comforts the international community that created the FGS. The FGS simply does not have the capacity to manage the entire country or to enforce its will and laws on the various clan-based federal states and the majority of the Somali people.
The auctioning off of Somalia’s oil could also lead to feuds with neighbouring countries like Kenya, which has a dispute with Somalia over a maritime boundary along its border – a triangular chunk of sea in the Indian Ocean of about 100,000 square kilometres
It is estimated that there could be as many as 110 billion barrels of oil and gas reserves in Somalia – equal to Kuwait’s reserves and nearly half of those of Saudi Arabia. It is no wonder that Britain, along with Norway, Australia, Qatar and Turkey, among other countries, have been eyeing Somalia’s oil and gas reserves for some time.
However, exploiting natural resources in an environment of fragility and near-anarchy can spell doom for a country that barely has functioning ministries and other public institutions and which does not have the regulatory frameworks that could protect the country from local and foreign predatory forces. In addition, the looting spree precipitated by oil could lead to further in-fighting between factions and clan-based rivalries and competition could be further aggravated in regions where oil reserves are found. Al Shabaab could also find another reason to rally its troops against the FGS in regions it controls.
The auctioning off of Somalia’s oil could also lead to feuds with neighbouring countries like Kenya, which has a dispute with Somalia over a maritime boundary along its border – a triangular chunk of sea in the Indian Ocean of about 100,000 square kilometres. Kenya has already recalled its ambassador to Somalia because since the dispute remains unsettled at the International Court of Justice, Somalia has no right to auction off the territory, which is believed to have vast amounts of oil and gas reserves.
The heavy presence of oil exploration teams and infrastructure in the Indian Ocean could also lead to more piracy, especially if coastal communities feel disenfranchised and left out of the deal. This could reverse all the gains made by the international community in stopping piracy along Somalia’s coastline, which at 3,300 kilometres, is the longest in Africa.
The heavy presence of oil exploration teams and infrastructure in the Indian Ocean could also lead to more piracy, especially if coastal communities feel disenfranchised and left out of the deal.
Somalia is simply not ready to enter into any oil agreements with foreign companies; the costs are simply too great and any economic benefits derived will most likely accrue to individual politicians and businesspeople rather than to the majority of the Somali people who have suffered from poverty, underdevelopment, lack of basic services and poor governance for nearly thirty years.
Support The Elephant.
The Elephant is helping to build a truly public platform, while producing consistent, quality investigations, opinions and analysis. The Elephant cannot survive and grow without your participation. Now, more than ever, it is vital for The Elephant to reach as many people as possible.
Your support helps protect The Elephant's independence and it means we can continue keeping the democratic space free, open and robust. Every contribution, however big or small, is so valuable for our collective future.
Unlike the Rest of the UN, Is WHO (Finally) Taking Sexual Abuse Seriously?
A disturbing report on the sexual exploitation and abuse of women and children in the DRC has laid bare the failure of UN agencies to protect vulnerable populations.
It is extremely unfortunate that at a time when the World Health Organization (WHO) is spearheading a campaign to get people vaccinated against COVID-19, and pushing rich countries to donate their vaccines to low-income countries instead of hoarding them, it is confronted with revelations that suggest deep systemic failures within the global health agency that have allowed its employees to get away with sexual exploitation and abuse of vulnerable populations.
Last month, WHO released a report that confirmed that there was sexual abuse of women and children by WHO employees in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) during an outbreak of Ebola in the country’s North Kivu and Ituri provinces between 2018 and 2020. This report was the result of an independent commission’s investigations following an exclusive media report last year that found that dozens of women in the DRC had been sexually exploited by aid workers, including WHO employees. The most disturbing revelation was that some of the perpetrators were medical doctors. Many of the abused women were offered jobs in exchange for sex; others were raped or coerced into having sex against their will. There were also stories of women being forced to have abortions after they were sexually abused. The independent commission stated that its findings showed that 21 of the 83 alleged perpetrators were WHO employees, and that “individual negligence” on the part of WHO staff may have amounted to “professional misconduct”.
This is not the first time that sexual abuse and exploitation of women and children by UN employees has been reported in the DRC. In 2004, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan ordered an investigation into sexual abuses by UN peacekeepers in the country after it became apparent that such abuse was widespread in this mineral-rich but conflict-ridden country. The investigation detailed various forms of abuse, including trading sex for money and food. It was in the DRC that the term “peacekeeper babies” first emerged. Women who had given birth after being raped by UN peacekeepers spoke about being abandoned by both their families and the peacekeepers who had impregnated them. However, the report had little impact on the UN’s peacekeeping mission in the DRC – none of the perpetrators were brought to book nor were the victims compensated.
Sexual abuse of vulnerable populations, especially women and children, is particularly rampant in UN peacekeeping missions. In 2017, the Associated Press revealed in an exclusive report that at least 134 Sri Lankan UN peacekeepers had exploited nine Haitian children in a sex ring from 2004 to 2007. Many of the victims were offered food or money after they were sexually violated. (These “sex-for-food” arrangements have also been reported in other countries experiencing conflict or disaster.) Although 114 of these peacekeepers were sent home after the report came out, none of them were prosecuted or court-martialled in their countries.
One reason why UN peacekeepers evade the consequences of their actions is that under the Status of Forces Agreement negotiated between the UN and troop-producing countries, UN peacekeepers fall under the exclusive jurisdiction of the country they come from. When cases of abuse are reported, they are either ignored by the countries, or the perpetrators are sent home—no questions asked.
Unfortunately, civilian UN staff who commit crimes such as rape also evade any legal action because the UN accords the UN and its employees immunity from prosecution. This immunity can only be waived by the UN Secretary-General, but the Secretary-General hardly ever waives this immunity even when there is overwhelming evidence against a UN staff member. This means that cases brought against UN employees cannot be tried in national courts, nor can the perpetrators be detained or arrested by national law enforcement agencies.
At a press conference held last month, WHO’s director-general, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, apologised to the victims of the abuse in the DRC at the hands of WHO employees and promised to take action to prevent such abuse from happening again. “I am sorry for what was done to you,” he said. “What happened to you should not happen to anyone.”
The head of WHO has also promised to review the organisation’s emergency response measures and internal structures and to discipline those staff members who fail to report cases of sexual exploitation and abuse. WHO member states have also called for an “immediate, thorough and detailed assessment of what went wrong”.
I have no doubt that Mr Ghebreyesus is serious about fixing a problem that has plagued the UN for decades. In fact, his response to the sexual abuse allegations is much more honest and sincere than the responses of other heads of UN agencies whose employees have been accused of allowing sexual exploitation and abuse to occur under their watch. One, he established an independent commission to look into the sexual abuse allegations, which rarely happens. (Most UN agencies either ignore the allegations or order an internal investigation, which invariably determines that the allegations “could not be substantiated”.) Two, he has publicly committed to undertake wholesale reforms in WHO’s structures and culture that allow sexual exploitation and abuse of vulnerable populations to go undetected, unreported and unpunished. Three, he has agreed to the independent commission’s recommendation that an independent monitoring group be set up within two months to ensure that the commission’s recommendations are enforced.
“What happened to you should not happen to anyone.”
Most UN agencies would not welcome such intense scrutiny of their operations by independent bodies, so WHO’s efforts in this regard are laudable. WHO’s actions could also be attributed to the fact that, unlike other UN agencies that report to the General Assembly, WHO reports to the World Health Assembly that comprises delegates that have technical competence in health matters and represent their governments’ ministries of health. Because it is a specialised UN agency not governed by the General Assembly, WHO can establish its own rules without deferring to the General Assembly. In this sense, WHO enjoys relative autonomy from the UN system’s gargantuan and highly opaque bureaucracy.
Cover-ups and impunity
WHO’s response is a far cry from the normal tendency of UN bosses to cover up cases of sexual abuse and exploitation taking place under the UN’s watch. In 2014, for instance, when a senior UN official reported to the French government that French peacekeepers operating in the Central African Republic were sexually abusing boys as young as eight years old, his bosses at the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) responded by asking him to resign. When he refused to do so, they suspended him for “unauthorized disclosure of confidential information”, and, in a typical case of “shooting the messenger”, they directed their internal investigations towards him rather than towards the peacekeepers who had allegedly abused the children. This case, which received wide media coverage, did not lead to significant changes in how the UN handles sexual abuse cases. On the contrary, Anders Kompass, the UN official who reported the abuse, was retaliated against, and eventually left the organisation in frustration.
Cases of UN employees sexually abusing or harassing their colleagues are also brushed under the carpet. In 2018, for example, when an Indian women’s rights activist accused the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)’s India representative of sexual harassment, the UN agency said that its preliminary investigations showed that her allegations could not be substantiated. The Code Blue Campaign, which tracks instances of sexual harassment and exploitation by UN employees, dismissed the findings of the investigation, calling them a “cover-up.” (Soon after the activist made her allegation, UNFPA evacuated the accused from India, which further muddied her case.)
This is not an isolated case. In 2004, when a staff member at the UN’s refugee agency accused the head of the organisation of sexual harassment, the UN Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, dismissed her claims. Recently, a woman working at UNAIDS lost her job soon after she filed a complaint of sexual harassment against UNAIDS’ deputy executive director. This was after Michel Sidibé, the then head of UNAIDS, told a staff meeting that people who complain about how the agency was handling sexual harassment “don’t have ethics.”
The UN’s highly patriarchal and misogynistic culture allows such abuse to continue unabated. In 2018, the UN conducted an internal survey that found that one-third of the UN employees surveyed had experienced sexual harassment. It revealed that the most vulnerable targets were women and transgender personnel aged between 25 and 44. Two out of three harassers were male and only one out of every three employees who were harassed took any action against the perpetrator. About one in ten women reported being touched inappropriately; a similar number said they had witnessed crude sexual gestures.
Another survey by the UN Staff Union found that sexual harassment was one among many abuses of authority that take place at the UN. Results of the survey showed that sexual harassment made up about 16 per cent of all forms of harassment. Forty-four per cent said that they had experienced abuse of authority; of these, 87 per cent said that the person who had abused his or her authority was a supervisor. Twenty per cent felt that they had experienced retaliation after reporting the misconduct.
The UN’s highly patriarchal and misogynistic culture allows such abuse to continue unabated.
Since then, the UN has established a new sexual harassment policy and a hot line for victims of sexual harassment. However, remedial actions spelled out in the policy appear to be mediation or counselling exercises rather than disciplinary ones. The emphasis is on psychosocial support and counselling (for the victims, of course) and “facilitated discussions” between the “offender” and the “affected individual”. Disciplinary measures include physical separation of the offender from the victim, reassignment, and temporary changes in reporting lines. Official internal investigations are permitted, but as I have tried to illustrate, most internal UN investigations into cases of sexual harassment and other kinds of wrongdoing inevitably conclude that the sexual harassment or wrongdoing “could not be substantiated.” This leaves victims vulnerable to retaliation.
Perhaps WHO can lead the way in showing the rest of the UN system how to tackle sexual exploitation, abuse and harassment by UN employees. WHO has already terminated the contracts of four of its employees who were accused of sexually exploiting women in the DRC. However, a true test of WHO and the UN’s commitment to end such abuses would be if they reinstated all those who were fired for reporting such cases. I for one am eagerly awaiting the independent monitoring group’s findings on whether or not WHO has taken tangible and impactful measures to protect people from being sexually abused and exploited by its employees and to safeguard the jobs of those who report such abuses.
The Retrospective Application of Constitutional Statutes: Notes From the High Court of Kenya
Katiba Institute adds to the growing comparative discussion around constitutional statutes and therefore ought to be keenly studied by students of comparative constitutional law.
Previously, I have discussed the concept of constitutional statutes. Recall that a constitutional statute is a law that is “enacted in pursuance of the State’s positive obligation to fulfil a constitutional right.” While certain constitutional rights are self-enforcing (such as, for example, the right to free speech ipso facto prohibits the State from engaging in arbitrary censorship), others – by their very nature – require a statutory framework to be made effective. For example, the right to vote cannot be made effective without an infrastructure in place to conduct free and fair elections, including the existence of an independent, non-partisan Election Commission. Insofar as such a legislative framework is not in existence, the state is arguably in breach of its positive obligations to fulfil the right in question. Thus, to refine the definition further, a constitutional statute is a statute that “provides a statutory framework towards implementing a fundamental right, thereby fulfilling the state’s positive obligation to do so.”
What follows from the finding that a particular law is a constitutional statute? On this blog, we have discussed constitutional statutes in the context of amendments to the Right to Information Act, which have sought to undermine the independence of the Information Commissioners. We have argued that, insofar as constitutional statutes stand between the individual and the State, mediating the effective enforcement of rights, legislative amendments that prevent them from fulfilling this function, are thereby unconstitutional. Furthermore, once a constitutional statute has been enacted, the principle of non-retrogression applies – that is, the legislature cannot simply repeal the law and go back to a position where the right in question was unprotected. Another example discussed on this blog is the recent judgment of the Kenyan Court of Appeal in David Ndii, where it was held that the implementation of the Popular Initiative to amend the Kenyan Constitution required a legislative scheme, as also its discussion of the previous judgment in Katiba Institute, where an attempt to reduce the quorum for resolutions of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission was held to be unconstitutional.
The judgment of the High Court of Kenya of 14 October 2021 – also titled Katiba Institute – provides an additional, fascinating implication that flows from the finding that a law is a constitutional statute. Katiba Institute arose out of the efforts of the Government of Kenya to implement a national biometric identification system called NIIMS, and the judgment of the High Court with respect to a challenge to the constitutionality of NIIMS (Nubian Rights Forum), which we discussed on this blog back in 2019. Recall that in Nubian Rights Forum, after a detailed analysis, the High Court struck down a part of NIIMS, and allowed the government to go ahead with the rest of the programme subject to the implementation of an effective data protection law. Therefore, as I had noted in that post:
The High Court’s decision – at least in part – is a conditional one, where the (legal) future of the NIIMS is expressly made dependant on what action the government will take. Thus, there remain a significant number of issues that remain open for (inevitable) litigation, even after the High Court’s judgment.
Notably, Kenya had enacted a data protection law in between the hearings and the judgment, but the High Court – in its verdict – was insistent that until the point of effective implementation, the continued rollout of NIIMS could not go on. And this was at the heart of the challenge in Katiba Institute: the applicant argued that NIIMS had been rolled out, in particular, without complying with Section 31 of the Kenyan Data Protection Act, which required a Data Impact Assessment as a pre-requisite to any data collection enterprise. In response, the state argued that the data collection in question had already been completed before the passage of the Data Protection Act, and that therefore – in accordance with the general principle that statutes are not meant to apply retrospectively – Section 31 was inapplicable to this case.
Engaging in impeccable constitutional statute analysis, Justice Jairus Ngaah noted that the Data Protection Act was “enacted against the backdrop of Article 31 of the Constitution.” Article 31 of the Constitution of Kenya 2010 guarantees the right to privacy. As the learned Justice noted, in its very preamble, the DPA stated that its purpose was to “give effect to Articles 31(c) and (d) of the Constitution.” Justice Ngaah then rightly observed, “The need to protect the constitutional right to privacy did not arise with the enactment of the Data Protection Act; the right accrued from the moment the Constitution was promulgated.”
The judgment of the High Court of Kenya provides an additional, fascinating implication that flows from the finding that a law is a constitutional statute.
It therefore followed that, on the balance, an interpretation that gave the DPA retrospective effect was to be preferred over one that did not. A contrary interpretation would mean that the state was entitled to collect data and infringe the right to privacy even in the absence of a legislative scheme. Or, in other words, having failed to implement its positive obligation to enact a constitutional statute to give effect to the right to privacy, the state could then take advantage of its own failure by nonetheless engaging in data collection enterprises anyway. This, naturally, could not be countenanced. And in any event, given that Article 31 had always existed, it followed that:
. . . there was always the duty on the part of the State to ensure that the Bill of Rights . . . is respected and protected. Section 31 of the Act does not impose any more obligation or duty on the state than that which the state, or the respondents . . . have hitherto had to bear.
On this basis, Justice Ngaah therefore held that NIIMS had been rolled out in breach of Section 31, and therefore, first, quashed the rollout itself, and secondly, issued a mandamus restraining the State from rolling it out again without first complying with Section 31.*
The judgment in Katiba Institute does not, of course, answer the number of questions that still remained to be resolved after the Nubian Rights Forum judgment, including some problematic aspects of the DPA itself. Those questions were not, however, before the court in this instance; on the other hand, the court’s finding that constitutional statutes apply retrospectively – and the reasons for that finding – make it a landmark judgment. Katiba Institute adds to the growing comparative discussion around constitutional statutes, Fourth Branch bodies, and “Guarantor Institutions”, and therefore ought to be keenly studied by students of comparative constitutional law.
* One cannot, of course, help comparing this with the judgment of the Indian Supreme Court in the Aadhaar case, where despite the fact that Aadhaar data was collected for more than five years without any law whatsoever, it was retrospectively validated by the Supreme Court.
The Pandora Papers Reveal the Dark Underbelly of the United Kingdom
Through its network of tax havens, the UK is the fulcrum of a system that benefits the rich and powerful.
There’s the role, for instance, played by the British Virgin Islands, an overseas territory of the UK that functions as a tax haven. Czechia’s multimillionaire prime minister used the territory to hide his ownership of a chateau in France. Others, including the family of Kenyan president Uhuru Kenyatta and Vladimir Putin’s PR man, have made similar use of the islands to conceal wealth – while Tony and Cherie Blair reportedly saved £312,000 in stamp duty when they bought a London property from a company registered in the British Virgin Islands in 2017.
Then there’s London itself. The leaked documents show how the King of Jordan squirreled personal cash away in the capital’s property market, as did key allies of Imran Khan, Pakistan’s president.
More details will emerge in the coming days. But one thing is already clear. This isn’t a story about countries on the periphery of the world economy. It is a story about how the British state drives a global system in which the richest extract wealth from the rest.
British through and through
The British Virgin Islands were captured by England from the Dutch in 1672. By then, the indigenous population had already gone – either slaughtered in an unrecorded genocide or fled for fear of one. The islands have been a haven for pirates of various sorts ever since.
But this is just one part of Britain’s offshore network. There are around 18 legislatures across the globe that Westminster is ultimately responsible for. These include some of the worst offenders in the world of money laundering, tax dodging and financial secrecy. The Cayman Islands are British. So is Gibraltar. So are Anguilla and Bermuda.
These places aren’t just British in an abstract sense. Under the 2002 British Overseas Territories Act, their citizens are British citizens. They operate under the protection of the British diplomatic service. And, when need be, they can rely on Her Majesty’s Armed Forces: in the last 40 years, Britain has twice gone to war to defend Overseas Territories. Once was when Argentina tried to claim back the Falklands/Malvinas. The other time was the invasion of Iraq, when the British government claimed that Saddam Hussein’s weapons programme threatened its military bases at Akrotiri and Dhekelia on the island of Cyprus.
This complexity is no accident
In total, experts estimate, Britain and its overseas territories are responsible for facilitating around a third of the total tax dodged around the world. And that’s before we consider money stolen by corrupt rulers, or the proceeds of crime. Not to mention the way that billionaires’ hidden wealth allows them to influence our political systems in secret.
This complexity is no accident. The UK, unlike almost any other country on earth, lacks a written constitution. The rules about how the rules are made are set through ‘convention’, an endless fudge that ultimately amounts to them being made up by our rulers as they go along.
We see this most clearly in how the domestic territories of the British state are governed: Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Greater London and the City of London each has its own arrangements, each absurd in its own way. Each of these messes leaves a different tangled thicket in which the crooks of the world can hide their cash.
Seen from the perspective of international capital, though, it is the Overseas Territories, as well as the Crown Dependencies of Jersey, Guernsey and Mann, which form the most significant part of this complex. They use the malleability of the British constitution to form a network of safes in which the rich can hide their cash.
A new era
Although no one knows for sure how much money is hidden in tax havens, of which the British territories make up a significant chunk, the figures involved are so vast that academics at the Transnational Institute in the Netherlands have described them as “the backbone of global capitalism”.
Seen this way, the constitutional flexibility of the British state isn’t just some post-medieval hangover. It’s a hyper-modern tool in an era of global surveillance capitalism, where the rich can flit around offshore while the rest are forever trapped by borders.
Through its empire, the British state played a key role in inventing modern capitalism. Now, the UK is helping reinvent capitalism once more, by extending the protection of a constitution designed by the powerful, for the powerful, to the billionaires, oligarchs and criminals of the world.
Adam Ramsay is openDemocracy’s main site editor. You can follow him at @adamramsay. Adam is a member of the Scottish Green Party, sits on the board of Voices for Scotland and advisory committees for the Economic Change Unit and the journal Soundings.
This article was first published by Progressive International
Op-Eds1 week ago
Miguna Miguna Must Return Home and Court Orders Must Be Obeyed
Culture2 weeks ago
Tea, Receipts and the Tabloidization of Kenyan Culture and Society
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
The Lies They Tell Us About Education, Work, and the Arts
Politics2 weeks ago
How Dadaab Has Changed the Fortunes of North-Eastern Kenya
Politics6 days ago
Laikipia Land Crisis: A Ticking Time Bomb
Politics2 weeks ago
The Assassination of President Jovenel Moïse and the Haitian Imbroglio
Culture2 weeks ago
The Pitfalls and Potentials for African Cinema
Politics2 weeks ago
Dadaab: Playing Politics With the Lives of Somali Refugees in Kenya