Compliance
The Pandora Papers One Year On: Lessons Learned And To Learn
Today, the idea appears to grow that holding wealth is something deserving of opprobrium. The more discreetly wealth is held, the stronger the assumption that what is being concealed are social, if not actual, crimes. What are the boundaries of legitimate privacy?
The so-called Pandora Papers, a haul of details of 330
politicians’ financial affairs, were revealed by the Washington
DC-based
International Consortium of Investigative
Journalists last October.
This outfit has shone a light on
Panama and other international financial centres. (See here
for the
"Paradise Papers" saga.) Politicians in Pakistan, the
Czech Republic Prime Minister Andrej Babis and Jordan’s King
Abdullah, were among those mentioned. The consortium also took
aim at Switzerland, claiming that steps by the Alpine state to
crack down on bad actors had not been successful. However,
it is worth noting that some of the “leaks” relate to events
which happened as far back as 2005, before Swiss bank secrecy
laws were changed with regard to foreigners.
The ICIJ did not go into detail on how this data was provided, or
by whom. What is particularly notable about this leak is the
number of politicians alleged to have been involved, a damaging
fact – assuming claims are correct – given that so many
policymakers have been keen to go after offshore centres over
recent years. In a new departure, the consortium pointed the
finger at US jurisdictions, for instance South Dakota, rather
than traditional offshore hubs outside the US such as
Switzerland, Panama and the Cayman Islands.
As with other “papers,” the ICIJ was careful not to directly
accuse those whose data it “leaked” of criminal offences.
And, as before, the behaviour begs questions about whether the
group has violated legitimate privacy in acquiring such a huge
trove of information.
In the following commentary, John Gould, senior partner at
Russell-Cooke,
and author of the "Law of Legal Services and
Practice," second edition, published by LexisNexis, 2019,
examines the saga one year on. The editors are pleased to share
the analysis. The usual editorial disclaimers apply. We welcome
responses from readers, so please get involved in the
conversation. Email tom.burroughes@wealthbriefing.com
It was once clear that very substantial wealth brought high
social status. Those who advised and represented the globally
wealthy were able to take satisfaction in the lustre that that
status reflected upon them. The rich chose the best of everything
and so their chosen professionals might be expected to be the
stars of their fields. Times have changed.
There has always been a sentiment that great wealth must often be
the result of luck, inheritance, an unfair system, ruthlessness
or shady dealing. It has never been the thing to display wealth
too ostentatiously. Nowadays, however, there seems to be an
advancing idea that the possession of wealth alone is something
deserving of opprobrium. The more discreetly wealth is held, the
stronger the assumption that what is being concealed are social,
if not actual, crimes.
These social changes present reputational challenges to those who
earn a living from advising or representing the wealthy.
Once the boundary was as simple as the law. No professional of
integrity would facilitate breaking the law whether by
way of tax evasion, regulatory breaches or fraud. Professional
codes were essentially about maintaining the professional
standards and reputation of the profession, not the advancement
of broader social objectives or essentially political points of
view. Professional work was generally performed confidentially
with no prospect of it being randomly exposed to public
view.
Now professionals who advise the wealthy must consider the “brand
risk” involved in their choice of clients and the services they
provide. This is so even if the client is entirely legitimate and
the service provided completely lawful.
Over the last few months there have been numbers of very wealthy
Russians with problems in search of professional advisors. It
cannot be right or lawful to refuse to provide a professional
service to any individual just because they are or were
previously a Russian citizen. It should also be clear that
complying with the restrictions on sanctioned individuals is not
optional.
If individuals linked to the regimes in various countries have
great wealth, it may be right to assume (in the absence of strong
evidence to the contrary) that the original source of that wealth
was related to state corruption, but the more remote the source
the harder it is to know. Full compliance with anti-money
laundering processes may be sufficient to keep on the right side
of the law but it is unlikely to be enough to mitigate the
reputational risks of finding oneself acting for the modern day
equivalent of Rasputin.
Even great care in choosing clients may not be enough. Sometimes
simply being associated with something [or someone] can prove
damaging if it unexpectedly reaches the public domain.
In October 2021 the release began of what were called the Pandora
Papers.
The documents span five decades but mostly date from the period
between 1996 and 2020. They include information on 29,000
beneficial owners tied to 27,000 companies. The documents come
from fourteen “offshore service providers” which operate in
jurisdictions including Anguilla, Belize, Singapore, Switzerland,
Panama, Barbados, Cyprus, the United Arab Emirates, the Bahamas,
the British Virgin Islands, the Seychelles and Vietnam.
Their clients come from more than 200 countries and territories.
The documents are said to include: spreadsheets; tax
declarations; invoices; PowerPoint presentations; emails and
company records listing directors and shareholders. They also
include: suspicious activity reports; sanctions lists; due
diligence reports; know-your-customer forms; passports; utility
bills and photos. One can only speculate whether the leak was
from one source or many sources but it seems likely that laws
have been broken.
Within a football stadium’s worth of beneficial owners, there are
said to have been more than 330 politicians and public officials.
There are “big political donors,” billionaires and
celebrities. The general point made by the consortium of
journalists responsible for the disclosures is that secrecy can
give cover to illicit money flows enabling bribery, money
laundering, tax evasion, terrorist financing, human trafficking
and other human rights abuses. Against such evils, rooting
through the affairs of numerous individuals who are not in those
categories and breaking the law, are, it is suggested, amply
justified.
Poor nations may suffer disproportionately by wealth being
stashed in tax havens and the very leaders who might make that
more difficult are themselves implicated. The consortium denies
that offshore service providers judiciously vet clients or strive
to act within the law. Links, sometimes apparently very indirect,
are made by the journalists between financial secrecy and
numerous types of activity including: impeding criminal or civil
proceedings; the smuggling of art and antiquities; complex
inheritance arrangements; profiteering from evictions and even
sex abuse. It was said that the publication came at a
critical moment in the debate over the role of Western
professionals in the “shadow economy.” It’s a bit like
reasoning that criminals use banks and therefore anyone who also
uses a bank should allow open access to their bank statements
just in case.
It does not seem to be alleged that any particular number of the
29,000 beneficial owners whose information has been scrutinised
by presumably self-selected individuals in numerous countries
have done anything wrong. Celebrity status seems to have been as
likely to attract attention as being a member of the Sinaloa
Cartel.
This industrial scale trawling raises new risks for the high net
worth advisor. Just as blameless individuals may have suffered
reputational damage simply by association with the journalistic
assertions relating to some of the beneficial owners, so might
advisors who may have nothing to do with the criminal or the
corrupt.
The Pandora Papers were neither the first nor the last of their
kind. In early 2022 the details of accounts linked to 30,000
Credit Suisse clients all over the world were leaked, “unmasking”
the beneficiaries of more than £80 billion ($92.5 billion). The
anonymous source of the information was reported as believing
that Swiss banking secrecy laws are immoral.
Against media reporting that the beneficiaries included a human
trafficker, a stock exchange boss jailed for bribery, a
billionaire who ordered the murder of his girlfriend, looters of
the Venezuela’s state oil company and corrupt politicians, Credit
Suisse’s response that the reports were “tendentious
interpretations” based on selective information supporting
historical allegations dating back to a time when laws, practices
and expectations were very different from now, didn’t receive
much prominence.
The fact that this sort of vigilante journalism is
indiscriminate, usually based on stolen information and is
unjustified in relation to the great majority of those
“exposed,” doesn’t mean that there isn’t a problem.
In December 2021 Chatham House, the respected international
affairs think tank based in London, published a report called
“The UK’s kleptocracy problem – How servicing post-Soviet elites
weakens the rule of law” (Heathershaw, Cooley, Mayne, Michel,
Prelec, Sharman and de Oliveira).
Kleptocracy is a system in which ruling elites are able to steal
public funds. It is a worldwide phenomenon, but countries such as
Russia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Ukraine and Uzbekistan are often
mentioned. In summary, the report considers that globalisation
and de-regulation at the same time as the disintegration of the
Soviet Union allowed a transnational kleptocracy to develop in
which British professionals enabled post-Soviet elites to launder
both their money and their reputations.
The report puts forward a troubling analysis:
“London has no shortage of lawyers, estate agents and wealth
managers offering bespoke instruments for post-Soviet elites to
hide their money and gain respectability. Individually, each of
these service providers may facilitate a transaction that is
legal and within established norms and codes of ethical conduct
of these professions……
Such companies will … often work with law firms who will be able
to help the client purchase property, prevent critical press
coverage via ‘cease and desist letters’ to journalists and NGOs,
and suggest ‘family office’ wealth managers who can place the
client’s funds in safe, profitable projects.
Reputations are burnished in different ways: through the creation
of charitable foundations; philanthropic giving; the support of
think tanks and academic programmes at elite universities; the
acquisition of prestigious commodities such as football clubs; or
the endorsement of a member of the Western elite. There is often
a distinct contrast between an individual’s philanthropic
activities – which must be publicised – and his or her private
wealth, investments and assets – where the emphasis is on
maintaining secrecy at all costs.”
The charge that states, banks and professionals have not
succeeded in excluding the thieves and the pushers from the
security of their wealth is a powerful one. In the end, however,
the solution must lie in enforcing the law, not attempts to shame
the wealthy by breaking it.