Chinese NPAs Target the Wrong Firms

Settlement agreements, such as non-prosecution agreements (NPAs) and deferred prosecution agreements (DPAs), have come to play a central role in resolving corporate criminal cases, including bribery cases. These settlement mechanisms are thought to improve overall enforcement by encouraging companies to voluntarily disclose wrongdoing and cooperate with investigators, in order to avoid the reputational and economic harm that would come with a criminal prosecution. The United States pioneered the use of NPAs and DPAs, but variants on these mechanisms have been adopted by many other countries as well (see here, here, and here).

The People’s Republic of China has also begun to explore a version of this mechanism. After some initial pilot programs at the local level, in June 2021 the Supreme People’s Procuratorate Office, together with eight other top authorities, promulgated Guiding Opinions on Establishing a Mechanism for Third-party Monitoring and Evaluation of Corporate Compliance Programs for Trial Implementation (or, more succinctly, the “Non-Prosecution for Compliance” mechanism). This mechanism, which can be used to resolve bribery cases as well as cases involving other types of corporate crime, resembles the NPA mechanism used in the United States: If a company accused of criminal violations admits wrongdoing, cooperates with the government’s investigation, agrees to pay certain fines, implements a compliance program that satisfies the requirements of the procuratorate office, and is overseen by a third-party monitor for up to one year, then prosecutors will agree not to prosecute the company, thus sparing the company not only the risk of criminal conviction but also the costs associated with defending against a criminal prosecution.

But there’s a big difference between the U.S. NPA system and the Chinese version: The U.S. (and other countries, like the U.K.) have used NPAs and DPAs to settle major cases against giant firms. In China so far, prosecutors (in the ten provinces and municipalities that piloted the NPA system) have only concluded NPAs with small and medium enterprises (SMEs), and have done so only when the offenses involved were minor crimes (those for which the responsible persons may be sentenced to less than three years in prison, the lowest permissible punishment for most crimes). This enforcement approach gets things exactly backwards: While the availability of NPAs can be very helpful in combating corruption and other crime in large companies—by giving those companies stronger incentives to disclose and cooperate, and by inducing them to enhance their compliance systems—offering NPAs to SMEs adds little value and is costly to the government. Rather than offering NPAs only to SMEs, as seems to have been the approach of Chinese prosecutors thus far, it would be better if SMEs were deemed ineligible for NPAs.

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Guest Post: Corporate Criminal Liability and Corruption in Italy — Early Findings from an Ongoing Research Project

In Italy, as in many other countries, little data is available to evaluate the effect of the corporate liability regime — on deterring corporate crime and on the companies themselves. A research project supported by the Milan-based Fondazione Centro Nazionale di Prevenzione e Difesa Sociale (the National Center for Social Protection and Defense Foundation or CNPDS) has set out to fill the void. Coordinated by Professors Stefano Manacorda and Francesco Centonze, the project has enlisted Italian judicial institutions and the private sector in the collection of empirical data.

For the first time the Ministry of Justice, the Office of the General Public Prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Cassation, and two business associations, — Confindustria, which represents more than 150,000 Italian companies, and Assonime, representing the Italian companies listed on the Italian stock market, — are collaborating to gather information on the impact of a law.  Below Marco Colacurci of the Università della Campania and Pierpaolo Astorina of the Università di Bergamo, two assistant Professors involved in the project, explain the data they are gathering and summarize what they have learned so far about corporate liability for corruption.

Their findings will likely be of great interest not only to GAB readers but to the OECD, which will soon assess Italy’s compliance with the Anti-Bribery Convention. Thanks to Professors Colacurci and Astorina for sharing their work with GAB and to Professor Stefano Manacorda for facilitating it.

Twenty years have passed since Italy introduced liability for companies (the liability is formally administrative but modelled on the criminal features). Possible reforms to the legislation are now a matter of intense debate.. Anniversaries indeed represent valuable occasions to reflect on what works and what does not, and the same goes for Legislative Decree n. 231/2001. Conferences and seminars are underway in Italy both to celebrate the law that introduced the direct liability of corporations for crimes committed by individuals acting for them, and, at the same time, to highlight the critiques that have emerged over the years.

These latter have several aspects, such as the under-use of international standards in the creation and judicial evaluation of compliance programs, the intense discretionary powers of public prosecutors and criminal judges, the lack of recognition of pretrial diversion mechanisms apt to stimulate effective forms of corporate cooperation, the failure to consider the size and organizational complexity of companies, and the list could go on.

Most of all, and despite the growing attention which scholars (and law firms) have been directing towards liability over the last two decades, the praxis seems to show that prosecutions for corporate crimes are rare. Consequently, judgments too are rare, and decisions acknowledging the adequacy of the compliance programs adopted by indicted companies are scarce. This could reflect a degree of indifference in this area, on the part of the public prosecutors’ offices or, alternatively, could be interpreted as a sign of the preventive effects of the Decree 231.

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Guest Post: The New French Ruling on Successor Liability Gives French Prosecutors New Leverage to Fight Corruption and Other Corporate Crime

For today’s guest post, GAB is delighted to welcome back Frederick Davis, a member of the New York and Paris Bars and a Lecturer in Law at Columbia Law School:

Commentators have aptly observed that US prosecutions of firms for foreign bribery and similar crimes has developed into a “US model of corporate crime deterrence,” a model that is based on aggressive pursuit of corporate entities to induce them to cooperate by “detecting, reporting, and helping prove” criminal acts by individuals in return for a negotiated resolution of the criminal charges against the corporation itself, one that avoids a corporate criminal conviction.

Earlier posts on this blog by myself and by others have noted the absence of this model in France, and the relative ineffectiveness of French prosecutors in pursuing corruption and other forms of corporate crime, in significant part because of the difficulty of proving corporate criminal responsibility under French law. As I noted last year, though, efforts by the Legislature to provide new investigative and prosecutorial tools, by the National Financial Prosecutor to use them, and by the courts in clarifying the principles of corporate criminal responsibility have produced encouraging results. French prosecutors have pursued, and French courts have convicted, both French and non-French corporations for serious crimes. On November 25, 2020, the French Supreme Court (Cour de Cassation) took an important additional step by ruling, for the first time, that in an acquisition situation the successor corporation will generally be criminally responsible for acts committed by the acquired company. The decision closes a significant gap in French corporate criminal deterrence, and will have an immediate and positive impact on corporate criminal investigations in France. Continue reading

Fixing the Brazilian Anticorruption Leniency Program

When the Brazilian Anticorruption Law came into force in 2014, pundits celebrated the enactment of a statute that finally authorized action against corporations and other legal entities involved in public corruption, and that provided for substantial penalties. The statute’s most important innovations, however, were not so much its substantive provisions but rather the procedural reforms it introduced, chief among them the Anticorruption Leniency Program, which, alongside the criminal plea bargains for accomplice cooperation created by the Organized Crime Act (enacted on the same day as the Anticorruption Law), authorizes enforcement agencies to settle corruption-related cases.

            The Anticorruption Leniency Program largely reproduces the key features of Brazil’s Antitrust Leniency Program, which, in turn, was inspired by the amnesty program adopted by the U.S. Department of Justice’s Antitrust Division. To qualify for a leniency agreement, a company must be the first among those involved in a corruption scheme to state its interest in cooperating, admit its participation in the wrongdoing, cease any further involvement, cooperate fully with the investigation, and agree to pay compensation for any harm caused to the Public Administration. In exchange, the qualifying company can receive a significant reduction in the administrative fine, as well as protection against debarment or suspension from doing business with the Public Administration. (In contrast to the Antitrust Leniency Program, however, an Anticorruption Leniency agreement does not shield individuals associated with the qualifying company from criminal prosecution.)

Despite its importance in high-profile investigations such as the Lava Jato investigation (Operation Car Wash), critics have emphasized shortcomings of the Anticorruption Leniency Program. Coordination – or rather the lack thereof – between different enforcement agencies is often considered the most significant weak point of the program. However, I want to suggest a different source for the relative ineffectiveness (so far) of the Anticorruption Leniency Program: the requirement that, in order to be eligible for leniency, a company must admit its participation in the wrongdoing. Importantly, this requirement is not (merely) that the company accepts legal responsibility; rather, the program requires admissions of facts—facts that the company cannot subsequently dispute in other proceedings, which, from an enforcement standpoint, is precisely what creates the need for coordination between agencies. But such admissions can also entail additional collateral consequences:

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The Goldman Sachs 1MDB Settlement Was Just and Appropriate

In late October, the United States Department of Justice announced a major settlement with the global investment bank Goldman Sachs for its involvement in the 1MDB scandal, an international bribery scheme in which high-level Malaysian officials embezzled an estimated $4.5 billion from a fund designed to finance infrastructure and other economic development projects. Between 2012 and 2013, Goldman Sachs helped raise $6.5 billion for 1MDB in three bond sales, and at least two Goldman bankers aided Jho Low, an advisor to the fund, in embezzling much of the capital. As part of the settlement with DOJ, Goldman agreed to pay over $2.9 billion to authorities in the US, Hong Kong, UK, and Singapore. Of the nearly $3 billion in fines, approximately $1.85 billion will go to the United States, over $600 million to Malaysia (on top of a $3.9 billion settlement the Malaysian branch of Goldman reached with the country in July), and $440 million to financial regulators in other nations.

Despite these eye-popping numbers—including what appears to be the largest fine to date levied under the U.S. Foreign Corrupt Practices Act—some experts have characterized the $2.9 billion penalty as “surprisingly small” or even “virtually meaningless” for a company that made $3.6 billion this last quarter alone. And, in what has become a common refrain among critics of these sorts of settlements with big firms, many complain that no senior Goldman Sachs executives were held personally, criminally liable for the bank’s role in the 1MDB fiasco.

Yet an assessment of the punishment must also include the penalties that extend beyond these government-imposed fines. Indeed, while some regard Goldman Sachs’ settlement as a slap on the wrist for a global corporation that’s a glutton for punishment, the implications of the settlement reveal a more just outcome than appears at first blush.

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Guest Post: Australia Considers New Approaches to Corporate Criminal Liability

Today’s guest post is from Matt Corrigan and Samuel Walpole, respectively General Counsel and Legal Officer at the Australian Law Reform Commission (ALRC).

The growth of multinational corporations in both size and number has raised concerns in many jurisdictions about the State’s capacity to hold corporations liable for crimes committed in the course of their business activities, including (but not limited to) bribery of foreign officials. One of the challenges of using the criminal law to address corporate misconduct is that the traditional criminal law evolved with “natural persons” (that is, real people) in mind. The law therefore typically focuses on the conduct and states of mind of individuals to determine whether a criminal offense has been committed. Corporations are comprised of, and act through, individuals, but corporations are greater than the sum of their parts. The law developed principles of attribution of responsibility—legal principles for ascribing conduct and states of mind of a particular person or persons to a corporation—in order to hold the corporation liable for ordinary criminal offenses. In practice, however, these do not produce a perfect fit, particularly in the case of large decentralized corporations.

The perceived inadequacy of traditional notions of criminal responsibility when applied to problems like corporate bribery has led some jurisdictions to introduce novel approaches to corporate criminal liability for such crimes. Perhaps most notably, in 2010, the United Kingdom enacted the Bribery Act, which introduced a novel criminal offense, specific to corporate defendants, of failing to prevent foreign bribery. Under this provision, corporations are liable if they fail to prevent their associates—including agents engaged to act on behalf of the corporation to win contracts and expand operations in foreign jurisdictions—from committing bribery, subject to an affirmative defense that the corporation had in place adequate procedures to prevent such bribery. The “failure to prevent bribery” offense, together with the deferred prosecution agreement (DPA) scheme introduced in 2014, have been important steps forward. As Professor Liz Campbell has explained, the “failure to prevent” model involves utilizing the criminal law “as leverage to effect change in corporate behaviour,” rather than an accountability framework that operates only after the fact. In reviewing the operation of the UK Bribery Act in 2019, the House of Lords Bribery Act Committee described the “failure to prevent” reforms as “remarkably successful” in promoting compliance.

Australia is now considering adopting a similar approach to the United Kingdom. In December 2019, the Australian government introduced the Crimes Legislation Amendment (Combating Corporate Crime) Bill. This Bill, which is currently before Australia’s federal Parliament, would introduce an offense of failure to prevent bribery of foreign public officials by a corporation into Australia’s federal Criminal Code, along with a DPA scheme for foreign bribery. More generally, Australia is considering more seriously the limitations of traditional notions of criminal responsibility when applied in the context of corporate crime. The Australian Law Reform Commission (ALRC), on which we serve, recently undertook an extensive inquiry into this issue and published a Final Report that made 20 recommendations for reform of Australia’s corporate criminal liability regime. Among these recommendations, a few seem especially pertinent to the debates over the Crimes Legislation Amendment, and the effective control of corporate bribery more generally: Continue reading

Possible Reforms to Australia’s Approach to Corporate Criminal Liability: “Failure to Prevent”, Strict Liability, or Something Else?

Many of the most significant bribery offenses, both domestically and internationally, involve corporations. When, and under what conditions, should the corporation itself—as opposed to, or in addition to, the individual employees involved in the wrongdoing—be held criminally liable? The attribution of criminal liability is sometimes thought to be conceptually or philosophically problematic: As Baron Thurlow LC once observed, a corporation has “no soul to be damned and no body to be kicked.” Yet it is clear that corporations can do wrong, and the prospect, and extent, of corporate criminal liability can have significant impacts on corporate behavior. Various legal systems have developed different approaches, but in some jurisdictions there has been considerable dissatisfaction with the status quo, and agitation for reform.

Australia is one such jurisdiction. In response to concerns about the Australian legal system’s approach to corporate criminal liability (an issue that is important in, but not limited to, the corruption context), last April the Commonwealth Attorney General of Australia, Christian Porter, announced that the Australian Law Reform Commission (ALRC)—the Australian Federal Government’s highly influential law reform agency—would conduct an inquiry into this issue. The Terms of Reference required the ALRC to review, among other things, the policy rationale behind Australia’s current framework for imposing criminal liability on corporations, as well as the availability of alternate mechanisms for attributing corporate criminal liability. This past November, the ALRC released a 279-page Discussion Paper that thoroughly canvasses potential approaches to reforming Australia’s corporate criminal liability regime; the ALRC is currently receiving comments on that paper, which are due at the end of this month (January 31, 2020), and after considering these submissions, the ALRC will release its final report by April 30, 2020.

The ALRC paper covers many issues, but perhaps the most fundamental concerns the basic rules for attributing criminal responsibility to the corporation. The ALRC, and the Australian government, faces a choice among several plausible alternatives: Continue reading

Making Political Parties Liable for Corruption

When corrupt politicians are caught and convicted, they may suffer a variety of penalties, including fines and incarceration, and the government might also seize assets that were the proceeds of the wrongdoing. But punishing the individual politicians is not enough to deter wrongdoing or to compensate for the harm that the corruption causes. Moreover, even when an individual politician was the only actor who deliberately and intentionally engaged in corrupt criminal activity, that individual politician is not the only one at fault. Politicians’ decisions are affected by norms within a political party— for example, by expectations (sometimes unstated) that politicians will bring in a certain amount of money for campaign funds through graft.

For these reasons, political parties— in addition to the individual politicians— should be held liable for corrupt acts committed by their members in the course of their political activities or official duties. And such liability should attach even if the political parties’ leaders did not specifically know about or overtly endorse the corrupt acts in question.

This may seem like a radical suggestion, but in fact there are many contexts in which the law imposes so-called “vicarious liability” on organizations for acts committed by the organization’s members or agents. For example, the legal doctrine of respondeat superior (Latin for “let the master answer”) says that an employer (or other principal) can be held accountable for the wrongful actions of an employee (or agent), if the wrongful actions were within the normal “scope of employment.” Common examples include suing a hospital for the malpractice of one of its physicians or holding the government financially liable for wrongful conduct by law enforcement officers. (Although respondeat superior derives from English common law, other legal systems, such as those of Brazil and France have broadly similar concepts of vicarious liability.) Similarly, under the law of many jurisdictions, a corporation may be held liable (not only civilly, but also criminally) for acts committed by corporate employees—even if corporate management did not condone or even know about the criminal acts. These vicarious liability doctrines are important because a single employee frequently does not have the resources to redress the wrongs committed, and also because the employer often bears some responsibility for whatever the employee did, due to company culture, training, and incentive schemes. Because of this, economists point out that vicarious liability can be more socially efficient: The organization may be in a better position to detect and prevent wrongful conduct, so placing the liability on the organization can give it the appropriate incentives to take cost-justified measures to prevent the wrongful activity from occurring in the first place.

Although vicarious liability is a well-established legal principle, often used to hold employers responsible for the conduct of their employees, that concept has not yet been extended to hold political parties, as organizations, legally responsible for the corrupt acts of their members. Such an extension may seem radical, and in a sense it is, but it would be justified.

To make this case, I’ll apply the three-pronged standard that Black’s Law Dictionary lays out for respondeat superior liability to be appropriate in the employment context: (1) The individual was an employee when the occurred; (2) The employee was acting within the scope of his or her employment; and (3) The activities of the employee were a benefit to the employer. Continue reading

Are Corporate Anticorruption Compliance Programs Effective?

Requiring business corporations to institute an anticorruption compliance program should be a part of any national strategy to fight corruption.  The argument is simple.  Corporate employees or their agents are always on the paying side of a bribery offense and often a facilitator of conflict of interest and other forms of corruption.  Making it against company policy for employees or agents to participate in any corrupt act with stringent sanctions up to and including termination for a violation will help shut down the supply side of the corruption equation.

Even where a company’s compliance program is a sham, established simply to comply with the law, it can still help in combating corruption.  A sham program would be a violation of law, and were the company investigated, the existence of a sham program would be easy for investigators to spot, easing their task of determining wrongdoing.  So there seems to be no reason why lawmakers shouldn’t insist that firms subject to their law, whether state-owned or privately-held, establish a program.  And between the many guides published by international organizations (examples here and here), NGOs (here and here), academics, the burgeoning compliance industry, and the issuance of an international standard for such programs, there is no dearth of information on how to create and operate an effective one.

I have argued the case for a compliance requirement in several posts (examples here and here), as have many other GAB contributors (examples here and here).  My most recent plea for mandating private sector compliance programs came in this one noting such a requirement in Vietnam’s new anticorruption law.  But one thing I have not done is address two obvious questions about compliance programs that Matthew posed in a comment to the Vietnam post: How are compliance requirement laws enforced? How effective are they in practice?

It turns out these obvious, innocent sounding questions (the kind law professors always seem to ask) aren’t all that easy to answer.  What I have found so far follows.  Readers with more information earnestly requested to supplement it. Continue reading

The UK Parliament Should Broaden and Sharpen the Legal Advice Privilege in Order to Encourage More Internal Investigations into Corruption

On September 5, 2018, the compliance departments and outside counsel of large corporations operating in the UK breathed a collective sigh of relief. In a much anticipated ruling, the Court of Appeal of England and Wales overturned a trial judge’s order that would have compelled a London-based international mining company, Eurasian Natural Resources Corporation Limited (ENRC), to hand over documents to UK prosecutors investigating the enterprise for bribery in Kazakhstan and Africa. Those documents were the product of an investigation that ENRC’s outside legal counsel had conducted following an internal whistleblower report that surfaced in late 2010. In conducting that internal investigation, lawyers from the law firm interviewed witnesses, reviewed financial records, and advised ENRC’s management on the company’s possible criminal exposure. Though the company tried to keep everything quiet, the UK’s Serious Fraud Office (SFO) came knocking in mid-2011. The SFO agreed to let ENRC and its lawyers continue to investigate on their own, periodically updating the SFO on their progress. In 2013, ENRC’s legal counsel submitted its findings to the SFO in a report arguing that, on the basis of the facts presented, the company should not be charged. The SFO disagreed and launched a formal criminal investigation. But the SFO then also demanded that ENRC turn over all of the files and documents underpinning its report—including presentations given by the lawyers to ENRC’s management and the lawyers’ notes from their interviews with 184 potential witnesses.

ENRC refused to comply, claiming that these documents were covered by two legal privileges under UK law: the “litigation privilege,” which guarantees the confidentiality of documents created by lawyers for the “dominant purpose” of adversarial litigation (including prosecution) that is “in reasonable contemplation,” and the “legal advice privilege,” which protects communications between lawyers and clients exchanged for legal advice. The trial court rejected ENRC’s privilege claims, a decision that sent shockwaves through the English defense bar and spurred much criticism on legal and policy grounds. But the Court of Appeal reversed, holding that ENRC’s lawyers didn’t have to share the documents. The Court’s ruling relied on the litigation privilege, holding, first, that documents created to help avoid criminal prosecution counted as those created for the “dominant purpose” of litigation, and, second, that criminal legal proceedings were in “reasonable contemplation” for ENRC once the SFO contacted the company in 2011.

Many commentators have hailed the Appeal Court’s decision (which the SFO declined to appeal) as a “landmark ruling” and a “decisive victory” for defense lawyers. The reality is a bit more nuanced. The Court of Appeal’s fact-specific ruling was very conservative in its legal conclusions, and it’s unlikely that its holding regarding the litigation privilege is sufficient to create the right incentives for companies and their lawyers. It’s also unlikely that further judicial tinkering with the scope of the litigation privilege will resolve the problem promptly or satisfactorily. The better solution would involve a different institutional actor and a different privilege: Parliament should step in and expand the scope of the legal advice privilege to cover all communications between a company’s lawyers and the company’s current and former employees. Continue reading