Sinking In A Sea Of Scandal: If the world has been left open-mouthed by the Panama Papers, it is largely on account of the sudden transition of fiction to fact. No matter how painstakingly John Le Carré or John Grisham construct their plots; no matter how realistically they draw their characters; their readers have, until now, been able to console themselves with the thought that, in the end, it’s only a story. Well, not anymore!
THEY’RE CALLING THEM “The Panama Papers”. A vast haul of
electronic documents, said to be several orders of magnitude bigger than the
infamous Wikileaks “dump” of 2010, which is leaving the world open-mouthed.
Stolen from the secretive Panamanian-based law firm, Mossack Fonseca, the
Panama Papers have exposed the dodgy financial dealings of the global elites
for all to see. Or, at least, read about.
But how shocked are we, really? For decades now, novelists
and screenwriters have been entertaining us with dark tales of criminal law
firms and offshore tax havens. We’ve been told, in detail, how arms dealers and
drug traffickers launder their ill-gotten gains through the international
financial system. We know all about front organisations, dummy companies and
blind trusts. In the world of fiction, none of this is new.
This coming Sunday, for example, tens-of-thousands of New
Zealanders will watch the final episode of the BBC’s superb thriller, The Night Manager, hoping against hope
that the devilish arms dealer, Richard Roper (played to perfection by Hugh
Laurie) will get what’s coming to him.
But, we will not be surprised (because John Le Carré has
taught us not to be) if the villain somehow manages to slip through the hero’s
fingers. Happy endings aren’t what they used to be. If the global financial
crisis proved that some banks are “too big to fail”, is it really that big a
stretch to believe that some people are too big to catch? And, if we’re honest,
don’t we find the unrepentant arrogance of the 1 Percenters just a teeny bit
thrilling?
If the world has been left open-mouthed by the Panama
Papers, isn’t it more likely on account of the sudden transition of fiction to
fact? No matter how painstakingly Le Carré or John Grisham construct their
plots; no matter how realistically they draw their characters; their readers
have, until now, been able to console themselves with the thought that, in the
end, it’s only a story. They think about the hum-drum nature of their own
lives, and, reluctantly file the whole the notion of swashbuckling villainy,
enacted on a global scale, under “I” – for implausible.
Well, not anymore!
It was F. Scott Fitzgerald who wrote: “Let me tell you about
the very rich. They are different from you and me.”
It’s not something those of us who are not very rich care to
admit, but the Panama Papers prove beyond all reasonable doubt that Fitzgerald
was right. The very rich are very different from us.
It’s not that they’re immoral, more that they are absolutely
certain that the morality that constrains the rest of humanity simply doesn’t
apply to them. As Fitzgerald put it: “They think, deep in their hearts, that
they are better than we are because we had to discover the compensations and refuges
of life for ourselves. Even when they enter deep into our world or sink below
us, they still think that they are better than we are.”
That’s why they need law firms like Mossack Fonseca: to hide
their dealings from the eyes of all those silly people who subscribe to the
utterly ridiculous notion that we are all equal. People like that, ordinary
people, just don’t understand – will never understand – the needs of the very
rich.
Not that the very rich think about ordinary people very
often – why would they? What does get their attention, however, is the
frightening news that ordinary people are thinking about them. Nothing turns a
genial Bertie Wooster into a ferocious Richard Roper faster than the
unwarranted scrutiny of the lower orders. Popular envy the very rich can
tolerate, even enjoy: but popular interference; that is another matter
altogether.
John Key’s reaction to the global release of the Panama
Papers has been interesting. Where the Opposition parties have greeted the news
that their country’s less-than-robust tax laws are being exploited by the likes
of Mossack Fonseca with demands for official inquiries and swift legislative
action, New Zealand’s Prime Minister has evinced a lofty nonchalance.
There were many, perfectly legitimate, reasons that a
foreign investor might set up in New Zealand, Mr Key told journalists. It was
quite wrong, he insisted, to call his country a “tax haven”.
A very different response from the one people like you and
me might expect. But, then, Mr Key is very rich.
This essay was
originally published in The Waikato Times, The Taranaki Daily News, The
Timaru Herald, The Otago Daily Times and The Greymouth Star of Friday, 8 April 2016.