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Wednesday 4 April 2018

Broadcaster Bias and Ball Tampering

Sidharth Monga in Cricinfo


There is a cricket match on. Not high-profile but still an international. Like all internationals, it is being televised. The broadcast director spots a player from Team A tampering with the ball. He shares the footage with the match referee, who brushes the matter under the carpet and hands out a slap on the wrist. The director has done his job; it is up to the match referee to determine the degree of offence.

It is not the end of the story, though. The manager of Team A, the away team in this case, confronts the channel. "You are only after our guys," he says. The footage is not aired on TV but a token punishment has been handed out. A commentator on the broadcast, a former player from Team B, the host team in this case, gets wind of it, and puts pressure on the broadcaster, through his board, for the footage to be aired, because the punishments handed out tend to be more severe when the evidence is made public, once the righteousness kicks in. The TV channel doesn't know what to do. It can't really afford to antagonise either board because it is in business with both. So to get the local board off his back, the director tells the home board that if he airs the footage he is being urged to, he will have to be equally vigilant with the home team and air any footage that the cameramen come up with. The threat works.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a short story about ball-tampering, but it tells you more than any other yarn can.

On paper the umpires run the game, but they can only act if they have video evidence, because the ICC's code-of-conduct charges must be able to stick in a court of law. And remember what happened the last time an umpire acted without video evidence, at The Oval in 2006?

Which brings us to commentators. Many of them - not all - still consider themselves part of the teams they once represented. They fight their team's PR battles in the commentary box, and some often go beyond, in trying to make sure "their boys" are on the right side of calls of ball-tampering and player behaviour.

There are exceptions - like the one who asked the broadcast director in a match to keep an eye on the team that commentator once played for because he could sense something dodgy happening. It resulted in the discovery of a new tampering technique and a hefty fine. Needless to say, the "boys" don't like the commentator now, but they haven't yet got to the level of entitlement where it drives them enough to get him fired.

The way teams react makes it clear how commonplace tampering is. The manager of the guilty team says his side is being targeted; he knows other teams are guilty just as often. The other board has no reason to back off, other than, well, its team also does it. And whenever anything happens, the ICC, the commentators, the teams and their boards, all run to the broadcasters.

Since that Oval match, all the ball-tampering incidents that have officially been termed as such have relied on broadcasters. On all occasions, it is away players who have been caught tampering: Faf du Plessis in the UAE and in Australia, Vernon Philander in Sri Lanka, Shahid Afridi in Australia, and Dasun Shanaka in India. Aspersions were cast against Stuart Broad and James Anderson in South Africa, where too now the Cape Town three have been caught.

Neutral broadcasts - during ICC events - have not caught a single player tampering with the ball (though there was a match in the 2013 Champions Trophy where the umpires quietly changed the ball without imposing penalty runs, to avoid the morality furore that accompanies the laying of a ball-tampering charge, and also because the broadcast didn't have footage to back them).


"Would there have been footage against a home player? Would the broadcaster have even gone looking? More importantly, should cricket be comfortable with broadcasters wielding so much influence practically unwatched and unchecked?"



The Cape Town scandal is a perfect example of the role the broadcaster needs to play for a ball-tampering offence to not just come to light but for the charge to stick. Various broadcast directors have told ESPNcricinfo they don't usually follow the ball as closely as was done here. For example, in the normal course, they follow the ball into the keeper's gloves, through to slip, and then cut away to some other action. One of them says it is mostly so they can turn a blind eye to some of the tampering, without which, he believes reverse swing is not possible. He means that the use of lozenge-laden spit, and fake shining - when the thumb hidden between the ball and the thigh goes to work - is actually often overlooked. Call it the thieves' code but this much has been acceptable and well known.

Also, broadcasters don't usually want to play dirty and expose only the visiting side, given both teams might equally be doing things that are considered, among cricketers, as Derek Pringle once wrote, "little more than mischief". No director wants to live with that guilt until he is asked to look for something - in which case, the moral responsibility lies with someone else.

In Cape Town last month, though, the broadcasters were on Australia all along. David Warner's heavily taped hand came under the scanner first. Warner knew it too. When visuals first emerged, the tape on his hand was unmarked. The next day he had his wife's name written on it - a possible wink to the broadcasters that he knew what they were up to. Was the focus on Warner a possible reason for ball-handling duties being transferred to Cameron Bancroft?

The actual footage that led to the nabbing of Bancroft had a shot from the midwicket camera between overs. Not only is it rare for cameras to be following the ball between overs, but also for between-overs footage to be recorded on the EVS platform. EVS is a Belgian company that manufactures live outdoor broadcast digital production systems. For something to be replayed, the EVS system has to record it first. Between-overs footage from midwicket cameras is not often recorded. When Bancroft shoved the sandpaper into his pants, however, he was at short extra cover, which happened to be the perfect position for the Ultra Motion camera - usually placed at reverse slip - to catch him in the act. That said, once the broadcast wants to go after you, there is no fielding position that is safer than others.

Fanie de Villiers, the former South Africa cricketer, now a commentator, has since said to RSN Breakfast, a radio show, that they, the commentators, had asked the cameramen to look for tampering. The version coming from the Australian media is that the South Africa players had made a request through the commentators. Alvin Naicker, head of production at Supersport, was soon quoted by Supersport as saying they spotted something first and then went looking closely, not the other way around.

"If we go looking for it," says another director familiar with at least two ball-tampering incidents in the past, "over a three- or four-Test series, we can catch any team. Everybody does it. Every time there is some reverse, there is something behind it." Unless, of course, it is one of those replaced balls that begin to "go" immediately, like for Dale Steyn in Nagpur in 2010, or for Mitchell Starc in Durban in this series.

South Africa are no saints when it comes to ball-tampering, as their record will show, but they have never been caught at home. The last time they were caught, in Australia, they were incensed. Not because they didn't do it - it was on tape - but presumably because it was such a minor and acceptable act that they must have felt the thieves' code had been broken. Footage that was either not seen during the broadcast or was too insignificant to have been noticed, had conveniently made its way to - surprise, surprise - a news channel. The ICC's hands were now tied. It had to act. It did. Faf du Plessis and South Africa were furious.


There has been an unspoken rule among broadcast directors to not have cameras follow the ball when it is not in play, so a blind eye can be turned to "routine" tampering, without which reverse swing is not possible 

Naicker obviously rubbished any suggestions his channel might have acted on instructions or as a response to what happened in Australia. "We don't want it to seem like we are going after the Australian team," he was quoted as saying by Supersport's website. "If that was a South African, we would have broadcast the footage for sure. We have a responsibility to entertain, but just like journalists, we have a moral obligation to provide unbiased editorial."

The question, though, is: would there have been footage against a home player in the first place? Would they have even gone looking? More importantly, should cricket be comfortable with broadcasters wielding so much influence practically unwatched and unchecked?

As cricket continues to embrace technology, host broadcasters have assumed huge significance. ESPNcricinfo knows of a case where a broadcast didn't air footage of, or alert match officials to, a home player tampering with the ball; and it is a fact that they hardly ever go looking for tampering with home players. There have been various other instances where the umpires have seen something but can't find footage to back their claims.

The ICC has practically outsourced decision-making to the broadcasters, and it is not restricted to ball-tampering. ESPNcricinfo has learnt that on day four of the Bangalore Test between India and Australia last year, India's coaching staff asked a commentator to ask the broadcaster to keep an eye on Australia because they had suspected dressing-room assistance on DRS. It just so happened that that was the day Steve Smith was caughtsoliciting such assistance , but what resort do India have if they suspect something similar on an away tour? Malcolm Conn, a former cricket writer with News Corporation, and now Cricket Australia communications manager, might well have been referring to these cases when he pointed to the "hypocrisy of home advantage" in lashing out at yet another tweet by British media enjoying the Australians' suffering. Home advantage is not restricted to pitches and conditions anymore. If it wants to be, the broadcaster can well and truly be the 12th man for the home team, and the ICC can do nothing about it.

The ICC, in fact, trusts broadcasters more than it does its own umpires, who are not allowed to stand in matches in which their country is playing. The broadcaster, on the other hand pays for, controls, and mans the technology required for all the decision- making. Projected paths used for DRS lbw calls are off limits for any independent scrutiny because the technology is "proprietary". And yet, even if the broadcasters don't like it, they are forced to pay for Hawk-Eye because the ICC has made it mandatory for the DRS.

Broadcasters, like everyone else, are open to biases. Biases of nationality, biases of what is best for business (home teams losing or their players getting caught cheating certainly aren't). The biases weren't born with the DRS either. If you remember Jonty Rhodes' low catch to dismiss Sachin Tendulkar in the washed-out 1996-97 tri-series final in Durban, you will remember Rahul Dravid fell to a similar low catch but replays of that were not shown. When Kapil Dev mankaded Peter Kirsten, Kepler Wessels hit Kapil on the shin with his bat - visuals we have never seen. Google "Matthew Wade Virat Kohli sendoff", and you will find many videos of Wade arguing with Kohli for sneaking in a bye when Wade was hit by the ball - incidentally the very kind of moralising that resulted in such schadenfreude at Australia's recent fall - but you will not be able to find footage of the sendoff that Kohli gave later in the same match.

Yet it remains next to impossible for a broadcaster to cheat - be it "losing" a key visual, providing a wrong replay to determine a no-ball, or playing around with other evidence - because it is just impossible for something dodgy to have happened and for it to stay in the production control room. These things travel, unless the manipulation is systemic or institutionalised. There is no evidence of this having happened yet, but like with other conflicts of interest, it is the possibility of it that should make people uncomfortable.


"Broadcasters, it needs to be stressed, don't like to be in a position to influence results, no matter what they do to influence public opinion with their commentary and other output"


Broadcasters, it needs to be stressed, don't like to be in a position to influence results, no matter what they do to influence public opinion with their commentary and other output. What are they to say to the home captain if he wants extra scrutiny on the opposition? They are in the entertainment business, and they would rather they didn't have to carry the additional burden of decision-making in these contexts. In fact, they hate it when they are told to turn down the volume of the stump mics because the players are abusive. They don't pay astronomical sums to be told what they can or cannot show. They want the ICC to control the players instead of controlling the broadcast, which is enhanced by the observations and quips of a wicketkeeper such as MS Dhoni. They want the ICC to take control of decision-making technology so that they, the broadcasters, are not seen as all too powerful.

They are not happy that the third umpire doesn't sit with them and take charge of what he wants, but for that the ICC has a valid explanation. The third umpire sits alone because any conversation he has with others is liable to directly or indirectly influence his decision-making.

While the ICC has made strides towards training its third umpires in the use of technology, there remain inconsistencies. "One match referee tells me I must give the third umpire only what he asks for," a director says, "while another says I must give him everything that can help him arrive at the correct decision. As an organisation, ICC seems happy with not taking absolute control and the accountability that comes with it."

Recently in a PSL match, Karachi Kings' celebrations were halted when it was discovered the last ball of the match was a no-ball. No umpire had suspected one in this case but the broadcasters alerted them. This no-ball resulted in a Super Over, which Karachi lost. What are the odds of this happening to the home team in a bitterly fought contest between Australia and South Africa?

It is not that the ICC is not aware or not uncomfortable. It has been discussed in the ICC that only away players get caught tampering with the ball. Like with most things ICC, the governing body can't do much more. It cannot take any action without video evidence, nor can it look away when a broadcaster puts evidence out there. When umpires come back to the ICC with suspicions of ball-tampering, they review the available footage and find nothing. Even at The Oval in 2006, Pakistan accepted the decision at first, and hit back at the umpires when they were sure there was no footage to implicate them, an ICC source has revealed. It is not practical for the ICC to ask the broadcaster for additional footage that might help implicate a home player, because of the blowback that will immediately ensue. And yet when footage appears of du Plessis going to his lozenge to shine the ball, the ICC has to act, even though a blind eye is turned to this kind of thing most times.

The ICC is also aware its trust in broadcasters for the DRS and third umpires is blind. The only direct solution is to pay for all the technology and also have a few cameras at every international match to monitor ball-tampering. This is not cost-effective, and it has not gone beyond ICC board meetings. Ultimately if the ICC does pay for all the technology, the money has to come from the member boards - and, like in the matter of the Associates, we all know what the decision has been there, and is likely to be in future. The other solution to this was to accept ball-tampering as an offence of the nature of over-appealing or showing dissent, but that ship sailed long ago, as was obvious in this most recent episode from the sadistic sanctimony of various former captains.

So as usual, the ICC is likely to look only for indirect solutions when it undertakes a review of its code of conduct, and ball-tampering in particular. If the indications are anything to go by, ball-tampering will become a more grave, more clearly defined offence. The "spirit of cricket" will be defined more clearly. It will be made clearer that the onus is on captains, and possibly boards, to play in the spirit. This is going to increase the pressure on visiting captains even more. This review will be considered successful only if the
 ICC can somehow find a way to break the home advantage that comes with broadcasters.

Tuesday 3 April 2018

Oligarchs hide billions in shell companies. Here's how we stop them

The Panama Papers have helped tax authorities recover over $500m around the world. Property registries could ensure that even more is recovered

Frederik Obermaier and Bastian Obermayer in The Guardian 

 
According to Navi Pillay, the former UN high commissioner for human rights, ‘The money stolen through corruption every year is enough to feed the world’s hungry 80 times over.’ Photograph: Arnulfo Franco/AP


Two years ago we published the Panama Papers after an anonymous source provided 2.6 terabytes of internal data from the dubious Panamanian law firm of Mossack Fonseca. We shared the data with 400 journalists worldwide and together revealed how the wealthy and powerful use shell companies to hide their assets. Such companies are exploited by dictators, drug cartels, mafia clans, fraudsters, weapons dealers and regimes like North Korea and Iran to hide their shady business transactions.


As a consequence, Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson, the prime minister of Iceland, resigned. Pakistani prime minister Nawaz Sharif did the same, and in the United Kingdom even David Cameron’s father was implicated. So far, the Panama Papers have helped tax authorities around the world to recover more than $500m in unpaid taxes and penalties. It could be far more if lawmakers finally take action.

After publishing the Panama Papers, we have heard a lot of promises from politicians around the world. They have talked about the need for transparency, and while the discussion is warm, the details are complicated: a multilateral exchange of information and stronger anti-money laundering regulations are as difficult to implement and control as they sound.

But why bother? There is a far less bureaucratic and more powerful measure: public beneficial ownership registries. Databases in which citizens can easily access and explore the owners of companies. Not the nominee director, not the fake shareholder – the real owner. The person at the center of the matryoshka-like corporate structures, or, as experts refer to them: the ultimate beneficial owner of a company.

A database of actual owners would enable companies to check with whom they are actually doing business with. It would enable activists, journalists and skeptical citizens to investigate the individuals running dubious companies which earn millions in alleged “consulting contracts”, which are in many cases nothing more than concealed payments of corruption money. It would also give prosecutors the opportunity to follow dark money without having to rely on nerve-racking, time-consuming legal maneuvers with foreign governments.

Searchable by company and by individual names, it would enable investigators to see if Dictator X or Autocrat Y owns companies in Country Z. Combined with a public property register, it would narrow, if not close, loopholes which allow oligarchs and their relatives to betray their own citizens and stash plundered money across the globe.

Creating beneficial ownership registries will not be easy. Recently, the UK House of Lords rejected an attempt to force overseas territories under British control to create said registries. And in the United States, where some states make it more difficult to vote than to start a company, there has yet to be any reasonable public discussion about creating these transparent registries, making America a willing accomplice in global corruption. The treasury department in 2015 estimated that approximately $300bn in illicit proceeds are generated in the US per year!

Critics of public beneficial ownership registries often say that exposing company owners could put them in danger of blackmail or even kidnapping. However, no data supports such claims and there will likely never be any. As it is, the financial elite often surround themselves with the symbols and spoils of wealth, such as big cars, yachts and villas. There is no desire to hide their treasure; in fact, they often flaunt it.

Corruption is a scourge. It hits the poor first and hits them hard. Whole continents are plundered, the proceeds of human trafficking are laundered, wars are financed and violent religious extremism is supported.

The word “corruption” comes from the Latin “corrumpere”, which can mean “to destroy”. Corruption destroys democracy. Corruption costs citizens extraordinary amounts of money. According to estimates, corruption consumes more than 5% of the global gross domestic product.

Developing regions lose more than 10 times the money they receive in foreign aid to illicit financial schemes. Without corruption and the shell companies that make it possible, there might be no need for aid to Africa or Asia. Most importantly, corruption kills. According to Navi Pillay, the former United Nations high commissioner for human rights, “The money stolen through corruption every year is enough to feed the world’s hungry 80 times over”.

As Louis Brandeis, the late associate justice of the supreme court of the United States, once pointed out sunlight is the best disinfectant. Hence let the sunshine in! Lawmakers must make public beneficial ownership registries a priority to ensure that institutions remain transparent and democratic.

There is no legitimate reason to allow individuals to own anonymous companies or to help new “entrepreneurs” to create them. Lava Jato in Brazil, the Fifa scandal and nearly every other major corruption case have involved opaque company structures created to bribe, receive bribes or to hide dirty money.

Financial crimes rely on exploiting anonymous companies and trusts, and secrecy jurisdictions like the British Virgin Islands, the Cayman Islands and the states of Delaware and Nevada are partners in those crimes. They must be held accountable.

Waiting for a global solution means waiting a long time, if not forever. The only way to draw the corporate curtain back and expose corruption is for lawmakers to work in the public interest and create public beneficial ownership registries and public property registries now. The more countries that adopt these measures, the less places dictators, human traffickers, weapons dealers and oligarchs can hide.

Lawmakers that claim to stand against corruption should do so by fighting for these kinds of registries now, or forever hold their peace.

India's 'cheating mafia' gets to work as school exam season hits

Vast network profits from the desperation of students and parents to get ahead in a country where university places and jobs are limited


Michael Safi in The Guardian
 
Men at stalls selling schoolbooks on College Road in Kolkata at the height of India’s annual exam season Photograph: Michael Safi


Afew minutes into the final year maths exam at his Delhi high school, Raghav asked to use the bathroom. Inside, he texted pictures of the test paper he had secretly photographed to a phone number he was sent days before. Minutes later, answers materialised on the screen.

“It isn’t cheating,” insists his mother Sunita, who paid 16,000 rupees (£175) for her son to obtain the phone number. “It’s a way out.”

India’s annual exam season has gripped the country in the last month, with tens of millions of students undertaking gruelling tests to qualify for the limited slots available at Indian universities – the best of them with admission rates about one-tenth those of Oxford and Cambridge.

Also hard at work is the country’s so-called “cheating mafia”, the vast network aimed at profiting from the desperation of students and parents to get ahead in a country where, each year, an estimated 17 million people join a workforce adding only 5.5m jobs.

Last week, in the latest high-profile breach, the papers for two secondary exams were found to have been leaked on WhatsApp about 90 minutes before the tests. More than 2.8 million students in Delhi and the surrounding areas have been ordered to resit the exams later in April.

“It is mental torture,” said Kirath Kaul, 15, an east Delhi student who will be forced to sit a new maths exam this month. “I was spending all day study [for the last one] and even getting up at night to prepare.”

‘A broken education system’

Cheating on exams in India is endemic, organised and elaborate. In Bihar, one of the poorest states in the country, more than 1,000 students were expelled for cheating in February.

Last year, the student who topped the state in one subject, arts, turned out to be a 42-year-old man. The student with the highest arts score in 2016 was stripped of her certificate after arousing suspicions, including by telling a TV interviewer she believed political science was the study of cooking.

In 2015, Bihar made global headlines when videos emerged showing parents literally scaling a five-storey building to pass answers to their children taking exams inside. This year, to ensure probity, the state installed CCTV cameras in exam halls and made every student leave their shoes and socks at the door.

“This is very much the sign of a broken education system,” says Yamini Aiyar, the chief executive of the Centre for Policy Research.

She blames the widespread fraud on a cocktail of intense pressure to earn a university qualification and a system that has been focused on building new schools, but unconcerned about what happens inside them.

“Studies tell us that on average about half of students that get to Standard 5 can read a Standard 2 text,” she says.

Incentives for teachers and administrators are also askew, she adds, measuring success and doling out promotions based on what percentage of children in a school or district are passing their exams. Officials are incentivised either to assist in the cheating or overlook it.

Sunita, who asked for her name to be changed for legal reasons, came into contact with India’s “cheating mafia” through the exam coaching centre Raghav have been attending before his final exams last year.

“The teacher said, your son is very weak ma’am,” she recalls. “My son was not interested in studying and I didn’t want him to repeat the year.”

The private tutor offered to connect with someone who could send Raghav the answers for his economics and mathematics papers. Nobody on either end of the phone would know each others’ identity. She signed up with four or five other families.

“It is totally common,” she says. And lucrative. “All of us probably paid this man about 60,000 rupees.”

India’s cheating industry has proliferated alongside others kinds of organised fraud such as call-centre scams, and is driven by a similar mentality, says Snigdha Poonam, author of a new book about the ambition and guile of Indian youth.

Social mobility in India is improving, according to surveys. But not fast enough to match the expectations of a generation reared on social media, western pop culture, and promises that India’s time has finally come. “The same forces drive young Indians into entering these economies built on fraud,” she says.

“[It is] the lack of legitimate options in the formal job market, a blurring of lines between honest and dishonest work, an ability to identify market gaps for services, and the resourcefulness to turn them into avenues for easy money.”

With the aid of his cheating hotline, Raghav passed all his subjects. He is now taking private photography classes and aims to make a career with his camera. Kaul, meanwhile, is studying hard, preparing to take her maths exam again on 25 April.

“But I’m worried the cheaters will perform better [than me],” she says. “I work very hard, but people only see the result – not that someone has cheated.”

Monday 2 April 2018

Religion is not simply a set of beliefs. It is also a means of creating a sense of community

Kenan Malik in The Guardian

Dante and Virgil cross the Styx river in Gustave Doré’s interpretation of the poet’s vision of hell


Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. So runs the inscription above the gates of hell in Dante’s Inferno. Through those gates walks Dante with his guide Virgil:

Now sighs, loud wailing, lamentation
Resounded through the starless air,
So that I too began to weep.
Unfamiliar tongues, horrendous accents,
Words of suffering, cries of rage, voices
Loud and faint, the sound of slapping hands…


Inferno is the first part, or canticle, of the Divine Comedy, Dante’s great triptych of journeys through hell, purgatory and heaven. Today, we read it as poetry, even if it is poetry that seems to have been touched by the divine. Seven hundred years ago, it was read as a glimpse of something far more real. Dante’s imaginative recreation of both the physical and the moral universe, and of the interlacing of the two, infused medieval culture and allowed Europeans to understand both their place in the physical architecture of the cosmos and their duties in the moral architecture of Christian society.

So far have we moved today from Dante’s reality that even the pope, if we are to believe the Italian journalist Eugenio Scalfari, no longer acknowledges the existence of hell. Scalfari asked Pope Francis where “bad souls” go after death. Hell, Francis supposedly replied, “doesn’t exist”. “Sinning souls” simply “disappear”.

The Vatican has condemned the article, published in La Repubblica, insisting that the pope was misquoted. Whatever the truth, the controversy nevertheless points up the dilemma in which religion finds itself in the modern world. Religious values are immensely flexible over time. Christian beliefs on many issues have changed enormously in the past two millennia. Yet an institution like the Catholic church can never be truly “modern”.

Christianity, like all monotheistic religions, views human desires and beliefs as unreliable guides to notions of good and bad. Values derive primarily from God, and the authority of the church rests on its claim to be able to interpret the Bible and God’s word. Were the church to modify its teaching to meet the wishes of its flock, the authority of the institution would inevitably weaken. But were it not to do so, a chasm would emerge between official teaching and actual practice. Dante’s hell may be difficult to believe in, but to jettison difficult beliefs is to question the need for religion itself.

A recent pan-European survey by Stephen Bullivant, professor of theology at St Mary’s University in London, showed that in a dozen countries, including Britain, a majority of young people are irreligious. And even those who identify as religious have attitudes increasingly like those of their irreligious neighbours.

A survey of the social attitudes of British believers published in 2013 by Linda Woodhead, professor of sociology of religion at Lancaster University, suggested that two thirds of Catholics accepted abortion of some kind. Half said that they are primarily guided by their own reason, intuition or feelings. Fewer than one in 10 sought guidance from the church or Bible.


Religion is not simply a set of beliefs. It is also a means of creating a sense of community


Meanwhile, Woodward observes,, a minority of believers have marched in the opposite direction. They possess an absolute belief in God, make moral decisions primarily on the basis of religious sources, and are deeply conservative on issues of social morality. The literalism of fundamentalist Muslims and evangelical Christians speaks to a yearning for the restoration of strong identities and moral lines. The sectarianism of fundamentalist religion is reflected also in the political sphere. Witness the rise of tribal politics and of social movements built around excluding the Other.

All this poses a challenge, not just for believers, but for non-believers, too. Religion is not simply a set of beliefs. It is also a means of creating a sense of community, identity and meaning. One reason for the growth of fundamentalism is that all these seem in short supply today. The world appears increasingly trapped between an atomised liberalism, on the one hand, and a sense of community created by fundamentalist religion or reactionary politics, on the other.

In his 1946 book Man’s Search for Meaning, the Austrian psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, who spent three years incarcerated in German concentration camps, meditates on that experience; a meditation on surviving hell.

“This is a profoundly religious book,” suggested the rabbi Howard Kushner in the foreword to the second edition. Frankl’s faith is, however, very different to that embodied in religion. It is a hymn not to a transcendent deity but to the human spirit that, through its own efforts, can transcend the immediacy of its being in the world. Humans, he suggests, find themselves only through creating meaning in the world. Meaning is not something to be discovered through God. It is something that humans create. “Man is ultimately self-determining,” Frankl wrote. “Man does not simply exist but always decides what his existence will be.”

Today, it is that very capacity to “decide what our existence will be” that seems to have ebbed away. For all the material improvements in the world, life feels more precarious for millions of people. They seem to have less control in shaping the direction of their world.

Liberals often laud the Enlightenment as the moment when faith was replaced by reason. The new moral vision was, however, also rooted in faith, though of a different kind – faith that humans were capable of acting rationally and morally without guidance from beyond. It was that faith upon which Frankl drew. It was expressed not just through science and technology but also through politics that helped overthrow tyranny and bring about democracy. That faith, too, has eroded, as have the movements in which it was embodied.

Religion once helped provide meaning and identity through sublimating human agency to God’s will. Not only is it less capable of doing so these days, but when it does so, it often takes sectarian or bigoted forms. Equally, as the optimism that once suffused the humanist impulse has ebbed away, politics, too, is less capable of providing a means through which people can express agency. The politics that today seeks to do this is also often sectarian or bigoted.

“God is dead,” Nietzsche wrote, before adding: “Yet his shadow still looms.” That shadow is in reality our failure to create movements and institutions that can nurture a sense of meaning and belongingness and dignity. Disbelief in God carries little weight without also a faith in ourselves as human beings. Otherwise, we find ourselves in a different kind of hell.

Sunday 1 April 2018

Columbus shows Trump how to thrive in the new world order



Rana Foroohar in The Financial Times


A day or two after Donald Trump announced tariffs on a spate of Chinese goods, the world was gripped by fears of a trade war. More than a week later, there is a storyline building that perhaps the US president had the right idea. China is negotiating with the US; the US and South Korea will probably cut a new trade deal. While the administration is right to call China out over unfair trade practices, however, there is also a risk of taking away the wrong message, which is that tariffs are the best way to protect the US Rust Belt. 

China may not play fair, but it plays the long game. This is the crucial point. While Mr Trump rails mostly against the trade deficit, China has an industrial policy designed to win the jobs of the future in strategic high-tech industries. This is the better strategy, as evidenced not only by what is happening in the Middle Kingdom, but also in the US. 

Consider the success of Columbus, Ohio, a city whose fortunes I have followed closely for many years because it is an economic and political bellwether for the country. Politicos come here to take the pre-election temperature of the nation and companies to test drive new products. Columbus is in the heart of the Rust Belt territory that helped elect the president. Mr Trump has visited Ohio in recent days, offering modest federal incentives with the aim of creating a boom in local infrastructure spending (unlikely, given the dismal fiscal picture in many US states and cities). 

Columbus is the third-biggest national market for employment in the manufacture of motor vehicles. Yet the city fathers are not too bothered either way about what the president does or does not do around tariffs. 

“Some industries will win, some will lose,” says Kenny McDonald, the head of Columbus 2020, the regional economic development strategy. “But there’s plenty of people at JPMorgan, Honda and Nationwide [all large local employers] that are right now working on algorithms that may replace their jobs.” 

This statement reflects important truths. During the past four decades, technology has created just as much job disruption, if not more, in the Rust Belt as has trade. After the global financial crisis, Columbus was one of the US cities that suffered most. While it didn’t fall quite as far as the rest of the state thanks to a diversified economy (Columbus is the state capital and also has a strong education sector), it was faced with chopping $100m in municipal spending — more than 15 per cent of its total operating budget — in 2009. 

The city did all the usual back-end trimming of public services. But then, rather than become Detroit, which for a period of time literally couldn’t keep the lights or water on, Columbus also did something else: it thought ahead. 

The Democratic mayor went to the Republican city fathers and persuaded them to support a tax rise, the first in nearly four decades. They agreed, on condition that a chunk of that money would go into a public-private economic development partnership that focused on how to cultivate human capital for an era in which all value will reside in intellectual property, data and ideas. 

They connected community colleges with local companies, domestic and global (L Brands, JPMorgan, Worthington Industries, Honda) to train up a digitally savvy technical workforce. They renovated the crumbling downtown and created new housing stock to appeal to the millennials who had been leaving for greener pastures after their studies. 

Columbus is now one of the top 10 areas that young workers are pouring into (it ranks number three as a city of choice for fashion designers, after Los Angeles and New York). In an effort to move from making bumpers and hubcaps to being part of the internet of things, Columbus bid for, and won, a $40m Department of Transportation grant to become a “smart city” focused on electric vehicles. About $500m of additional investment has followed. 

“This isn’t a five-year plan for economic development, it’s a 100-year plan,” says Alex Fischer, head of the chief executives group the Columbus Partnership. 

The city is part of Elon Musk’s “hyper-loop” plan to create a train that can connect Chicago, Columbus and Pittsburgh in minutes. Ohio State and Columbus State Community College have started some of the first degree programmes in data analytics. Tesla, AWS and Apple have moved into town. Accenture now has an innovation lab on what used to be the site of a large buggy manufacturer. 

It is hard to imagine a greater symbol of change. The Columbus region has, since 2010, created roughly half of all the new jobs in Ohio. Harvard Business School recently wrote a case study about the city’s accomplishments. 

The city’s success is a great example of what American industrial policy can yield. Many countries — not just China, but also a number of European nations — create multiyear plans for economic development. The US does not, of course. Industrial policy have always been dirty words here. 

Mr Trump, and many others, rail against Chinese state-run capitalism. But by demonising the outsider, rather than creating a real national economic development strategy at home, the US is missing the point. Columbus is, in a way, showing how to do Chinese economic development with American characteristics. It’s a strategy worth copying.

GKN will be stripped and sold for parts by ghouls who have no interest in making things

Will Hutton in The Guardian


 
A GKN engineer at work. The £8bn battle for control of Britain’s third largest engineering group has been won by Melrose. Photograph: GKN


The past is never dead. When the wheeling, dealing, asset-stripping Hanson Trust finally collapsed in 2007, having played a major part in the deindustrialisation of Britain – but having greatly enriched its Thatcherite founder Lord Hanson – I thought a stake had finally being driven through the heart of a particular ghoul.

Never again would our Westminster, Whitehall and City establishments indulge a glorified super-accountant who knew the price of everything but the value of nothing. And, in the name of “culture change” and rigorous “management”, had laid waste to industrial Britain. I was wrong.

The ghoul lives on, reincarnated as Chris Miller, the executive chair of Melrose, a company self-consciously cast in Hanson Trust’s image, and now the victor in the £8bn battle for control of Britain’s third largest engineering group, GKN. Miller is in fact a Hanson protege and, like his former boss James Hanson, he trained as an accountant – the perfect professional background for asset stripping.

For what glory days were those! The young Miller will have been part of the finance team working to Hanson and his chief accomplice, Gordon White, at their headquarters overlooking Buckingham Palace. It was a company wholly controlled by the two men, insisting on approving every expenditure above £500 by the companies they acquired – even while they pioneered stowing profits in tax havens and raiding pension funds of the companies they took over.

Crucially, Miller will have seen firsthand how Hanson and White stalked their takeover targets, set about winning the battles and then made a fortune from breaking up the victim company while running its core businesses to incredibly stringent financial targets. I have no doubt that, like Hanson and White, both ennobled by Margaret Thatcher who admired them uncritically, he believes in the virtue of what he does. Since founding Melrose, the financial returns have been stratospheric. Miller has yet to be named capitalist of the year by the Times as Hanson was in 1986 – but he is on his way.

But, like Hanson’s, Miller’s is a capitalism organised entirely around extracting rather than creating value. Hanson’s model was brutally simple, exemplified by the 1982 takeover of Berec, the manufacturer of Eveready batteries, and its subsequent breakup – Miller will have had a ringside seat.

Like GKN, it was a proud Midlands-based British engineering company setting about the hazardous business of becoming the international brand leader in batteries, based on high investment in research and development. Who knows? In a different business culture, Berec might now be the world’s leading battery manufacturer, set to exploit the electrification of cars. Instead, it does not exist.

For, like GKN, it made a mis-step – the share price dipped and Hanson launched his bid. The European division was sold off to its chief competitor, Duracell, thus recouping most of the cost of the takeover. Battery prices were increased across the board, so that Eveready quickly lost market share. All new investment could only be justified if the cash was returned in four years while making a 20% return. Ten years later, Eveready had been milked dry, and Hanson sold out to Ralston Purina. Its verdict on Eveready as it assessed its purchase: a company “a number of years behind the times… a business in decline… the whole infrastructure was pretty thin”.

Hanson had made a fortune – but Britain had lost another pivotal company. So it continued. Two years before he left Hanson to found his own Hanson-like shell company, Miller would have been in the thick of the 1986 bid for Imperial Tobacco – then dismembered like Eveready. But the Hanson business model was inherently unstable. To grow and maintain his own share price, he had to go for ever bigger targets to feed the beast. Hanson had an unsuccessful shot at ICI, which saw him off – but only at the price of ICI changing its declared business purpose from bettering society through science to maximising the share price. ICI then broke itself up – but so did Hanson, with the company ignominiously being sold to a German cement company.

We can foretell what will happen to GKN. Businesses will be sold to repay the £8bn. Prices will increase, and market share will be foregone: there is no other option given the millstone of debt around Melrose’s neck. R&D will be frozen at the current levels, already running at half to two thirds the rate of its chief competitors, rendering virtually valueless the promise to the business secretary, Greg Clark, to maintain it. Investment will only be allowed on Hanson-type terms – four-year paybacks and 20% returns. Yes, the company headquarters will remain in Britain – but in Mayfair, not in Redditch. In 10 years’ time, some company will buy the rump of GKN, only to find it in the same condition as Ralston Purina found Eveready.

Melrose’s future is also foretold. For all the hundreds of millions it is making, it will wind up like Hanson. Britain, which already has no major indigenous company in an array of sectors, will have them in even fewer – with all the implications for work, wages, careers and skills. For most of the young analysts at the asset management groups who took the decision to accept Melrose’s offer for GKN, the events I describe will seem like ancient history.

But the same mistakes keep being repeated. To prevent them, the government simply has to rule that only shareholders who own shares at the time of the bid can vote, so disenfranchising the arbitrageurs and hedge funds who swung the decision. But the City establishment lobbies ferociously against this move. For the City is wedded to the value extraction on which its fees depend.