Sunday, March 10, 2013

Fiji: Bainimarama has a tiger by the tail

All in the same boat

Friday's Daily Mail article about the vicious mistreatment of escaped prisoners in Fiji is throwing sparks into the parched political underbrush. Although the story - based on a widely-viewed YouTube video uploaded on 4 March - appears to relate to events from last year, its publication comes at a very sensitive time, as the militaristic Bainimarama regime prepares to introduce a new Constitution. The mainstream coverage is now feeding back into local blogs like this one.

Washington-based consultants Qorvis have been working with the Fijian Government. In the face of this latest PR disaster they have yet to issue a public statement, but the day before the Mail piece came out Fiji Sun journalist Graham Davis was playing down the incident, placing it in the context of the long-standing culture of physical violence in Fiji and referencing similar police outrages in Australia, South Africa and the USA. Buried in the footnotes is the disclosure that he is a "regional adviser to Qorvis" (since when?)

Davis' spinning is a little too enthusiastic, perhaps, describing the September 2012 Naboro Prison breakout by five inmates as seeing "much of Suva terrorised" and opining that "many law abiding Fijians actually like being ruled with an iron fist if it means being able to sleep soundly in their beds at night". But thanks to past British interference, particularly in the matter of importing thousands of indentured labourers from India under terms that ensured most would settle permanently, Fiji is racially divided and prone to coup and counter-coup. In its way, it is the Northern Ireland of the South Pacific.

Accordingly, Australia is warning travellers in Suva to "exercise a high degree of caution"; New Zealand says "there is some risk to your security"; the USA advises "exercise caution" and "avoid demonstrations and large crowds, remembering that even peaceful demonstrations can turn violent unexpectedly."

The UK is more sanguine ("No restrictions in this travel advice") while counselling that "travellers should exercise caution and monitor the local situation for developments. Avoid all political rallies and avoid openly discussing political issues." Good old FCO; doubtless Our Man in Suva will be on hand with tea and crumpets for stranded Brits when the war-clubs get pulled out of the thatch. But the prize for innocence abroad goes to the Saturday Evening Post's travelogue "Fabulous Fiji", which keeps its goggly eyes focused on kava, coral and cannibalism (rendered cute by time).

Back in the real world, Qorvis declares on behalf of its client that "The Government, under the leadership of Prime Minister Josaia Voreqe Bainimarama, is currently in the process of drafting a new constitution, one that will enable the country's first-ever truly democratic elections: one person, one vote, one value." The "path to true democracy", as it calls this, has a road-block in the form of the regime's January decree on party political registration, designed (illegally in the opinion of international lawyers) to exclude much of the opposition including Mick Beddoes, leader of the United People's Party until the decree banned it (and the Fiji Labour Party is similarly threatened, according to the same link).

Another block to progress is the fact that the government scrapped a draft Constitution in the same month, after nearly a year of consultation. The proposed arrangement would have restricted the powers of the military. The regime has designed a version more to its own liking and Commodore Bainimarama says the new draft is now before him and will be submitted to the Constituent Assembly once the "bit of a problem with the registration of political parties" has been resolved.

The situation is decidedly ugly. Thousands of Indian descent have fled Fiji in the turmoil of recent years, and ethnic Fijians have more than doubled their numbers since 1966. The immediate postwar ethnic balance (about 46% each) has changed to 57% Fijian / 38% Indian. The perception of Bainimarama as heading a dwindling and partisan minority makes the task of reconciliation extremely challenging, especially when the incumbent President seems determined to use methods calculated to inflame his domestic opposition and defy foreign legal and media opinion.

Some current blogs and sites:


Most of the above are anti-government - please help us if you know of others that will serve as a counter-balance.

All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy.

Saturday, March 09, 2013

Feeding Frenzy at the Subsidy Trough

The EDF nuclear subsidy game rumbles on with another batch of orchestrated leaks. The stakes could hardly be higher.

And haven't the lobbyists and briefers been busy ! How convenient that the Telegraph can always be persuaded to publish their radioactive releases. From the EDF camp, we learn that unless HMG comes up with the readies (well, forces electricity bill-payers to come up with the readies), not only will there be no EDF nukes for the UK, the Japs will pull out too - along with every potential developer of UK infrastructure !'No big infrastructure investor will ever trust the Government again' if that happens, is the bleak verdict of one industry insider" - quoth the ever-helpful Telegraph. The whippers-in have indeed been out in force. Every b*****d wants a monster subsidy: who'd have guessed ?

So stick that in your pipe, David Cameron. And not just lots of readies are required, mind - it must be a 40-year deal, and government under-writing for the capital costs, and indemnity for EDF on cost over-runs. And to think all they wanted just a couple of short years ago was a carbon-price floor (already long-since delivered and banked, of course).

The government side wants it to be known that, err, they are prepared to walk away if they can't get a 'good deal' - such tough negotiators, eh ? - and will certainly keep the nameplate price lower than £100/MWh. But we all know this is fairly arbitrary when 40-year indexed-linked games are being played, and so much is on offer by way of guarantees. "The truth is likely to become much clearer in the next few weeks", opines the Telegraph. How very trusting.

Whatever we get to know about the dirty deal, it will go straight into the long grass of an EC State Aid review, and there will be no binding commitment from EDF for, oooh, 18 months minimum. So - no start-up until 2022 earliest ? Which means in turn that all the practical problems of keeping the lights on post the LCPD shut-downs will have to be solved without new nukes. Which means ...

It was not always thus.  A mere decade ago there was a parallel issue in UK natural gas: North Sea gas production was forecast to decline to the extent that new import sources would be needed from around 2005. The UK government had played a clever strategic hand several years earlier, but otherwise stood back and let the market work. Sure enough, the companies that make up the UK gas industry invested in sufficient new import pipelines and LNG import facilities to replace the declining North Sea production entirely, if needed (which it won't be for several years yet). Invested. Their own money, with no subsidies !

They did so because (a) there was a clear business case, and (b) there was no hint that subsidies might be forthcoming if they just held back a bit. Happy days.

[This post first appeared on Capitalists@Work]


All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy. The blog author may have, or intend to change, a personal position in any stock or other kind of investment mentioned.

France: John Ward back up and fighting


Major UK blogger John Ward has just moved from Devon to south-west France, and is bringing the farmhouse up to scratch. But he still finds time to continue his furious examination of the worlds of finance and politics, which are so interlinked, corrupt and disastrous that he reflects on the survivalist advantages of his new home:

Over the last few days, it has become unnecessary here to have the main log-burner on 24/7, while sporting thermal underwear in bed at night. Today I didn’t actually light the fire at all until 7pm, and even now at 10 pm it is bubbling along without bashing out too much heat. The winters here are fierce, but short. This one has been longer than most, but it is at last releasing its frigid grip: buds are budding, winds are warming, and daffodils are flowering. You never know, it just might be Spring.

I’m still fixing things up. The last and most truculent floodlight has finally given up its resistance to my efforts to make it work, and is as I speak shining a light towards the old pig-sties down at the bottom of the front garden. There was an anxious moment when I had to figure out how to chisel a route through the door-jamb minus available chisels, given I lack a three-foot drill to go through the walls. But a steady hand and a hammer applied to a knackered old screwdriver did the trick. There was an even more stressful moment when – having rewired the obstinate little bastard – just prior to screwing it into the external masonry – it decided not to work. But then the kitchen lights flickered back on again, and I realised we’d had a power cut without me noticing. So all is well.

My neighbour Ange came up yesterday. He’d heard the gossip about Jan and I, so was keen to know what was what. One thing that never ceases to stagger me about apparently rigid old French agrarians is how – when you go through the “sh*t happens” explanation of life – far from offering sour disapproval, they seem keen to sympathise, to help, and to discuss the philosophy of marriage, emotions, or indeed anything else you care to bring up. On a day-to-day basis I have very little in c0mmon with the local French farmers, but beyond tractors and seed costs you can (with perseverance) plug into deeper concerns. Ange’s wife Michelle, for instance, is a keen fan of certain French writers. Once I’d discovered her passion for Georges Simenon and Molière, we never looked back. Five years ago an undiscovered Dumas novel was unearthed, and so it was my great pleasure to give Michelle an internet link to the prose. We have also prepared melons together for charity dinners in aid of Mali, but perhaps I should draw a discreet veil over that.

Tomorrow the replacement dishwasher and the serviced/repaired tractor mower are due to make an appearance. I rather fancy that soon after this point, things will return to something approaching normal. Window boxes will be filled and watered, windfall kindling gathered up, water retainers reinstigated, and guests prodded to confirm arrival dates.

Of course, in the macro boulevards of all those financial centres beyond Slogger’s Roost II, things will continue to be perversely abnormal. The Dow will go up instead of down, Gold will go down instead of up, silver up instead of down, the euro up against Sterling and down against the Dollar, and the US, UK and Eurozone debts up and up and up and up. But to the folks down here, none of it really matters. One of the undeniable things about France is that it has the biggest land area per head of population and highest proportion of cultivable in-use land in the entire EU. So if every currency, bond, bank, and bourse goes tits up, the French will still have more than enough to eat.

Should we feel resentful about this? No of course we shouldn’t: rather, we should feel anger about our own UK élites’ inability to understand such basics. With careful thought, Britain could’ve continued to make things and poured investment into those people who wish to grow things. France still makes cars and exports them very profitably. It still plans crops to produce cheap bread – and produces enough milk, meat, fruit and wine to keep everyone cruising along nicely. It still has the best cheeses in the world.

There are major bits of French culture (for example, pharmacy advice and the tax system) that continue to confuse and worry me. But when it comes to the price of lunch, bread, beer, wine, fresh veg, wonderful tomatoes and magret de canard, down here in the South West it is hard to fault the way they live. The sense of community, the familial glue and the lack of crime all bear witness to an achievement which, let’s face it, Britain cannot even begin to imagine.Will the British ever be true Europeans? Within the confines of the EU, I very much doubt it. We are an island seafaring race obsessed with the idea that we might still have some major global role to play.In the banking sector, we do. But is that a role we should want to embrace? I would emphatically say no: the UK’s future prosperity lies in making high-quality items and then knowing how to market them in an equalising world. My instinct is to stay close to Britain, but my insight tells me that Britain has forgotten how to stay close to itself.

This post originally appeared here and is reproduced with the kind permission of the author. John Ward's current blog is here and the archives of his previous one (Not Born Yesterday) are here. Writing since 2006, John is prolific, sparky and always informative.

All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy. The blog author may have, or intend to change, a personal position in any stock or other kind of investment mentioned.

Friday, March 08, 2013

Djibouti: When giving is taking


Recently, Emily in Sierra Leone confronted burglars who had been her friends. What made the crowd gasp most was not her overlooking the theft, but her offer to continue the friendship. She comments, "Just goes to show you how they are more relationally minded than money minded."

On the other side of the continent, Rachel Pieh Jones was finding out how quickly money undermines those values:

My language helper…

Before she worked for me:

One day her son fell into the open, coal-burning fire pit and burned his hand. Neighbors heard the screams, ran for help, and within minutes the boy was in a car zooming toward the Djiboutian hospital. Someone paid the entrance fee. Someone else paid the taxi. Someone else brought meals while he healed. Someone else watched the other children. Someone else covered her hours mopping in the Minister for Sports’ office…

After she started working for me:

Her uncle died and the family needed money for the burial. “Get it from your American friend,” her brother said.

That same brother owed money to a Kenyan. “Get it from your American friend,” he said.

Her son fell off a wall at school and needed stitches. “Get the money from your American friend,” her neighbors said.

Read the rest of Rachel's guest post on Jessica Goudeau's website, "Love is what you do".

Both Rachel and Emily think deeply about their actions and don't necessarily expect the world to pat their heads and cheer them on. They are prepared to take risks and lose if need be.

Not just emotionally: at another point in her blog Emily tells us, "I've already researched how to make sure they do NOT send in any Special Forces to rescue me if I decide to be an idiot and stay when things get bad."

Extract reproduced with the kind permission of Rachel and Jessica. All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

Two great new stories on World Voices!

The smells of New York City, and how a Christian girl confronted Muslim burglars in Sierra Leone.

All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy.

Two great new stories on World Voices!

The smells of New York City, and how a Christian girl confronted Muslim burglars in Sierra Leone.

All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy.

Tuesday, March 05, 2013

USA: New York Nose Nav


Since moving to New York I have developed a rather odd and disgusting skill of being able to differentiate between the smells of the city. Not the nice ones, like freshly baked bagels or cupcakes, or even hot dogs (I know they are gross, but why do they always smell so good?), but the bad ones. The really gross, I don't even want to know what that is, kind of smells. I can differentiate between dog, cat and horse pooh. I can smell a homeless person a block away and know the difference between the smell of vomit and garbage. Lovely.

Unfortunately, New York is a very smelly city. What with the rubbish being piled high on the streets and most public areas being used at dog toilets (I think it's worst on the Upper West Side and in Chelsea), my new heightened sense of smell had come in useful on occasion. I have managed to avoid (although not always) treading in various sorts of pooh, side-stepped a rather large pile of well-disguised puke and narrowly missed getting on a subway carriage with a homeless guy who last washed in 1987. I also know the stinkiest streets to avoid in my neighbourhood and the best place to stand at my local subway station.

A strong stomach definitely comes in handy when you live here, but I prefer to try an avoid the nasty smells when I can. I have learnt a lot about living in New York over the past 2 1/2 years, but I can safely say that being able to tell the difference between animal pooh isn't something I thought would come in useful!

Reproduced with the kind permission of the author, whose blog is here.

All original material is copyright of its author. Fair use permitted. Contact via comment. Nothing here should be taken as personal advice, financial or otherwise. No liability is accepted for third-party content, whether incorporated in or linked to this blog; or for unintentional error and inaccuracy.