Lessons from a Pathbreaking DfID Anticorruption Project in Tanzania

Britain’s Department for International Development is funding thoughtful, ambitious projects in Ghana, Tanzania, and Uganda to help those governments step up the enforcement of national anticorruption laws.  What makes the three thoughtful is their recognition that improving anticorruption law enforcement requires the simultaneous strengthening of the entire criminal justice chain – from the entities that turn up possible corruption violations to the agencies which investigate these leads to prosecution services and courts – together with measures to improve  collaboration among them.  What makes the three projects ambitious is that they provide assistance from one end of the chain to another;  building capacity in a single agency can be challenge, building it in several simultaneously even more so.

Yet if developing countries are to do better at catching, prosecuting, and convicting corrupt officials and those who corrupt them, more programs like these three, whether donor- or self-funded, are needed.  It does no good to improve the ability of an anticorruption agency to investigate corruption if prosecutors don’t have the skill to present a convincing case.  And no matter how skilled the prosecution, it will be for naught if the courts don’t understand the law or the evidence.

The 4 ½ year, £11.3 million Tanzania project, dubbed “STACA” for Strengthening Tanzania’s Anticorruption Action, was the first of the three DfID projects to tackle the criminal justice chain in one fell swoop, and along with the U4 Anticorruption Resource Center and REPOA, a Tanzanian think-tank, I reviewed its progress at roughly the half- way mark in implementation.  While we trust close study of the review is merited, below I summarize three points that came out of it that I think are particularly critical, both for developing country policymakers looking for ways to enhance the enforcement of their nation’s anticorruption laws and for donor organizations wanting to help them. Continue reading

Will the Panama Papers Lead to Criminal Prosecutions?

 

“[T]housands of prosecutions could stem from the Panama Papers, if only law enforcement could access and evaluate the actual documents. [But] ICIJ and its partner publications have rightly stated that they will not provide them to law enforcement agencies.”

Manifesto of “John Doe,” the Panama Papers leaker, May 6, 2016

Is Mr. Doe correct?  Will thousands of tax cheats, corrupt politicians and other crooks get off scot free because prosecutors, anticorruption commissions, tax and customs authorities, and other law enforcement agencies can’t obtain the documents that constitute the Panama Papers?

This is surely a possibility.  In some countries the stories written on the Panama Papers do not identify who used the services of Panamanian law firm Mossack Fonseca to establish a corporation in the British Virgin Islands, Nevada, or other offshore jurisdiction.  The rules governing the opening of a criminal investigation in most countries are (with very good reason) quite stringent, and without knowing who actually opened an offshore corporation the authorities in some countries will be powerless to proceed.  Even in those countries where the owners of offshore corporations have been revealed, that may not be enough for a criminal investigation.  As Mossack Fonseca and its defenders have reminded the public (ad nauseam), owning a corporation in another country is not by itself illegal.

One tact authorities in these countries could take would be to focus on the law firms, banks, and other entities in their countries that introduced their nationals to Mossack Fonseca.  As explained in earlier posts (here, here and here), these “introducers” are the critical link in the chain of transactions that starts with a tax evader or corrupt politician’s need to hide money and ends with his or her ownership of an offshore corporation that cannot be traced to them. Moreover, not only are the introducers the critical link; they are the vulnerable link as well. Continue reading

Lacey Act Corruption-Based Risks Should Prompt Wood Importers to Branch Out

The Lacey Act, a century-old U.S. statute, provides a unified set of penalties for possession of illegally procured animals or plants from the U.S. and, after amendments five years ago, those procured in violation of foreign laws as well. The Act was envisioned as a conservation statute, not an anticorruption statute; big cats (Siberian tigers) rather than big cronies were named as the motivation behind a recent prosecution under the new amendments. Yet in finalizing that case—involving retailer Lumber Liquidators’ purchase and import of illegally sourced wood—the Department of Justice (DOJ) seemed to suggest that companies could be held to a higher standard of diligence where they source natural goods from countries with high levels of corruption. In announcing Lumber Liquidators’ agreement to plead guilty to various Lacey Act charges for importing timber procured in violation of foreign logging laws, the DOJ emphasized the company’s failure to address red flags that the imports were illegally acquired. Those flags included that the imported wood came from a region known “to carry a high risk of [timber] being illegally sourced due to corruption and illegal harvesting.” Furthermore, the case suggests heightened scrutiny when natural resource products travel through intermediary agents whose countries also suffer from corruption or lack of robust enforcement of laws against illegal logging and the like. (In the Lumber Liquidators case, Russia was the source of the stock in question, and China was the intermediary seller’s base.)

The fate of Lumber Liquidators should put companies sourcing wood from regions with entrenched corruption on alert. The DOJ’s statement, if it is carried forward, foreshadows positive results. The Lacey’s Act’s potential in the fight against corruption is significant, straightforward, and good for everyone. A Bloomberg analysis notes that enforcement of foreign laws benefits U.S. producers as well as combatting foreign corruption. The Sierra Club emphasizes the role that corruption plays in global illegal logging and the Lacey Act’s role in “leading the fight” against it. The Natural Resources Defense Council blog also advocated the role of the Act in helping “countries establish rule of law and crackdown on corruption.” Such commentary highlights a second takeaway from the DOJ order: to reach the corruption-combatting potential of the statute, wood sourcing companies need to allow the Lacey Act threat to improve compliance in their source nations, rather than leaving for greener pastures. Indeed, using the Lacey Act to incentivize companies to “engage their supply chain” to avoid forestry corruption is both achievable and worthwhile:

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Can Private Prosecution Fill the Corruption Enforcement Gap?

A common lament within the anticorruption community is that too few corrupt officials are prosecuted.  The reasons offered are several: a lack of resources, the want of expertise, political pressure.  Whatever the case, for countries struggling to combat corruption, stepping up prosecutions is essential, for deterrence theory teaches that until public officials face a real threat of prosecution for raiding the public purse, corruption levels will continue to remain unacceptably high.

Where corruption prosecutions are lagging, it is often assumed that the only remedy is to strengthen government prosecution agencies, but this is in fact not always the case.  In many countries the public prosecutor is not the only one with the right to prosecute those accused of a crime.  Thailand, Taiwan, certain American states, and virtually all 53 members of the British Commonwealth allow private citizens to prosecute offenders, and there is no reason other countries couldn’t allow private prosecution as well.

In “Private Prosecutions: A Potential Anticorruption Tool in English Law,” British lawyers Tamlyn Edmonds and David Jugnarain explain the role private prosecution has played in the enforcement of the criminal law in England and Wales and argue it is one way to boost  corruption prosecutions in these jurisdictions and perhaps in others as well.  The Edmonds and Jugnarain paper is the fourth in the series of papers commissioned by the Open Society Justice Initiative on civil society and anticorruption litigation.  It follows earlier ones on standing by GAB editor-in-chief Matthew Stephenson, on civil society litigation in India by Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy Director Arghya Sengupta, and on the American experience with the False Claims Act by Houston Law Center Professor David Kwok.  As with the papers by Matthew, Arghya, and David, Tamlyn and David’s contribution provides civil society activists and policymakers wanting to bolster the enforcement of anticorruption laws in their country much to consider.

Welcome (Back) to The Jungle: Why Privatization of Meat Inspections Will Increase Corruption and Threaten Food Safety

Over a century ago, the tales of squalid meat production in Upton Sinclair’s famous novel The Jungle shocked the United States, contributing to a public outcry that ultimately led to regulations requiring a government inspector to examine every single meat carcass intended for human consumption. The U.S. Department of Agriculture’s FSIS (Food Safety Inspection Service) is responsible for the inspection regime. The established assessment program requires multiple FSIS inspectors to be on-site, performing a process of continual, carcass-by-carcass inspection during slaughter. The system is far from perfect and has never been a stranger to scandal (see here, here, and here). Yet it has been seen as vital to safeguarding public health from foodborne illnesses, including e.coli and salmonella outbreaks. It is also backed by a robust legal regime designed to insulate the inspectors from bribery and other forms of improper influence.

Unfortunately, throughout its history, FSIS has faced pressure to favor in-house inspectors over government inspectors in the name of creating a “flexible, more efficient” system. The most recent experiment with limiting the role of FSIS inspectors is HIMP (Hazard Analysis and Critical Control Point-Based Inspection Management Program), a program being piloted in a handful of pork plants and set to be proposed as a final regulation soon. (The related New Poultry Inspection System is being phased in now despite legal challenges.) HIMP uses in-house staff to conduct most of the inspections, particularly early on. A limited number of FSIS personnel do paperwork oversight and spot checks at particular points on the line.

However one chooses to balance competing calls for efficiency and safety, this is a short-sighted idea. Government inspectors and regulatory personnel are not perfect, but they are covered by anti-bribery laws and whistleblower protections that in-house inspectors are not, making them a safer bet for the safety of the meat supply. Filth and disease garner headlines, but civil society should continue to fight for an active role for government inspectors for another reason—public corruption is easier to fight than private influence. Even if one agrees that government inspectors are less efficient (a questionable proposition, despite how often it’s repeated), there are a number of laws and regulations in place designed to prevent (or expose) the corruption of these inspectors by the meat industry; there is no comparable regulatory regime in place to prevent equivalent corruption, or other forms of more subtle improper influence, from distorting the decisions of in-house private inspectors. Consider a few key areas of separation:

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Should Other Countries Enact a False Claims Act?

For governments looking for a cheap, easy way to curb fraud and corruption in government contracts, the American False Claims Act seems like a no lose proposition.  It authorizes private citizens to file civil suits against companies they believe have cheated the federal government, and if their suit succeeds, the citizen is entitled to anywhere between 15 to 30 percent of any damages the government collects.  The offer of a reward creates an army of volunteer investigators and lawyers willing to invest their own time and energy into ferreting out fraud and corruption.  If they win the case, the government recoups most of its losses.  If they lose, the government isn’t out a cent.  The data suggests that False Claims Act suits have indeed been a bonanza for the U.S. government.  Recoveries in recent years have exceeded $2 billion per year with an average of $1.7 billion going to the government and the rest to citizen sleuths.

Before copying the False Claims Act verbatim, however, policymakers will want to consider University of Houston Law Center Professor David Kwok’s paper on why the statute seems to work well in the U.S., why an exact copy might not work so well elsewhere, and how it might be changed to fit countries where conditions differ from those in the United States.  The paper is the third in the series of papers commissioned by the Open Society Justice Initiative on civil society and anticorruption litigation, following earlier ones on standing by GAB editor-in-chief Matthew Stephenson and on civil society litigation in India by Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy Director Arghya Sengupta. As with those by Matthew and Arghya, David’s paper provides civil society activists and policymakers wanting to bolster the enforcement of anticorruption laws in their country much to deliberate on.

Claims Against Petrobras Highlight Prospects for Shareholder Enforcement in US Courts

The fallout continues from the ongoing investigation of corruption at Petrobras, Brazil’s giant state-owned oil company. (See New York Times coverage here, and helpful timelines of the scandal here and here.) In March of 2014, Brazilian prosecutors alleged that Petrobras leadership colluded with a cartel of construction companies in order to overcharge Petrobras for everything from building pipelines to servicing oil rigs. Senior Petrobras executives who facilitated the price-fixing rewarded themselves, the cartel, and public officials with kickbacks, and concealed the scheme through false financial reporting and money laundering. The scandal has exacted a significant human toll: workers and local economies that relied on Petrobras contracts have watched business collapse: several major construction projects are suspended, and over 200 companies have lost their lines of credit. One economist predicted unemployment may rise 1.5% as a direct result of the scandal.

The enormous scale of the corruption scheme reaches into Brazil’s political and business elite. The CEO of Petrobras has resigned. As of last August, “117 indictments have been issued, five politicians have been arrested, and criminal cases have been brought against 13 companies.” In recent months, the national Congress has initiated impeachment proceedings against President Dilma Rousseff, who was chairwoman of Petrobras for part of the time the price-fixing was allegedly underway. And last month, federal investigators even received approval from the Brazilian Supreme Court to detain former President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva for questioning. (Lula was President from 2003 to 2010—during the same period of time that Ms. Rousseff was chairwoman of Petrobras.) Meanwhile, the House Speaker leading calls for President Rousseff’s impeachment has himself been charged with accepting up to $40 million in bribes.

As Brazilian prosecutors continue their own investigations, another enforcement process is underway in the United States. Shareholders who hold Petrobras stock are beginning to file “derivative suits,” through which shareholders can sue a company’s directors and officers for breaching their fiduciary duties to that company. Thus far, hundreds of Petrobras investors have filed suits. In one of the most prominent examples, In Re Petrobras Securities Litigation, a group of shareholders allege that Petrobras issued “materially false and misleading” financial statements, as well as “false and misleading statements regarding the integrity of its management and the effectiveness of its financial controls.” (For example, before the scandal broke, Petrobras publicly praised its Code of Ethics and corruption prevention program.) The claimants allege that as a result of the price-fixing and cover-up, the price of Petrobras common stock fell by approximately 80%. In another case, WGI Emerging Markets Fund, LLC et al v. Petroleo, the investment fund managing the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation has alleged that the failure of Petrobras to adhere to U.S. federal securities law resulted in misleading shareholders and overstating the value of the company by $17 billion. As a result, the plaintiffs claim they “lost tens of millions on their Petrobras investments.”

Thus, in addition to any civil or criminal charges brought by public prosecutors, private derivative suits offer a way for ordinary shareholders to hold company leadership accountable for its misconduct. In these derivative suits, any damages would be paid back to the company as compensation for mismanagement; the main purpose of the suits is not to secure a payout for shareholders, but to protect the company from bad leadership. The Petrobras cases illustrate how derivative suits can offer a valuable mechanism for anticorruption enforcement, but they also face a number of practical challenges.

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What Others Can Take from Anticorruption Litigation in India

As Ken Hurwtiz of the Open Society Justice Initiative explained here in February, the Justice Initiative has commissioned a series of papers on civil society and anticorruption litigation to, among other things, alert anticorruption activists and litigators in one country to legal developments in another they can adapt, if not borrow wholesale, for use in cases they are pursuing.

The second paper in the series, Arghya Sengupta’s “Anti-Corruption Litigation in the Supreme Court of India,” just released and now available on the JI web site, fills this bill admirably.   As Sengupta, Founder and Research Director of the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy in Delhi, explains, there is much in the Indian experience of value to lawyers in other nations.  Since the late 1990s Indian courts have issued a series of extraordinary, precedent setting decisions to address the rampant corruption that infects India’s public sector.  In response to cases brought by civil society, they have ordered law enforcement authorities to investigate grand corruption cases they had been ignoring, appointed civil society monitors to ensure the investigations are faithfully conducted, and invalidated executive actions tainted by corruption.

Sifting through the massive number of precedents to find ones useful elsewhere would be a daunting task for the non-Indian jurist or researcher.  Sengupta’s paper makes it easy.  He organizes the cases by theme and summarizes the holdings of the key decisions.  He notes too where the courts’ decisions have had unintended effects and where critics argue that the cost of a court’s intervention may have exceeded the benefit. While litigators in other common law countries will find the paper an invaluable guide to cases they can lift directly, lawyers in civil law countries will be able to make great use of it as well, suggesting innovative arguments for a judicial solution to the chronic corruption problems affecting their nations.

Time to Investigate Nike’s ‘Commitment Bonus’ to Kenya’s Track and Field Authority

Since last November Kenya has been rife with claims (here and here for press reports) that American shoemaker Nike bribed the nation’s track and field authority to ensure the country’s runners compete wearing Nike shoes.  While Nike denies wrongdoing, the March 6 issue of the New York Times provides details which suggest the allegations are true.  Yet despite the mounting evidence that an American company is at the center of a high profile corruption case in Kenya, the Times reports the U.S. has not opened an investigation.  Its failure to do so, in the face of President Obama’s stern lecture about corruption to the Kenyan elite during his July 2015 visit to the country and the agreement reached during his visit pledging the U.S. to help Kenya fight corruption, has left Kenyans frustrated and angry at America.  It is “hypocritical,” famed Kenyan corruption fighter John Githongo told the Times, for the American government to “bang on” about Kenya without investigating allegations against the iconic American company.

According to the Times, American officials believe the U.S. is powerless to investigate because, even if Nike did indeed pay a bribe, it was to employees of a private entity, and private sector bribery is not covered by the anti-bribery provisions of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act.  But while private sector bribery itself is not an FCPA offense, this does not mean Nike is off the hook.  If an American company bribes an employee of a private entity, as it is alleged Nike has, it runs afoul of numerous state and federal statutes, anyone of which could provide the basis for launching an investigation.  Four that come to mind immediately are:   Continue reading

Judge Sullivan Calls Out the DOJ: What Corporate Settlements Reflect About The Broader Criminal Justice System

After the DOJ released the Yates Memo last September, I suggested that the DOJ was probably very serious about focusing attention on prosecuting individuals involved in corporate misconduct (including FCPA violations). This would constitute a significant shift away from the DOJ’s recent practice of resolving most allegations of corporate wrongdoing through deferred or non-prosecution agreements (known as DPAs and NPAs). Some proponents of DPAs and NPAs claim that such settlements—which allow companies to avoid formal legal charges if they cooperate with a DOJ investigation, disclose desired information, improve compliance measures, and perhaps pay a fine—are actually a “a more powerful tool” than convictions in changing corporate behavior. But many critics—such as Judge Rakoff—have argued that settlements usually obscure who is actually responsible for the misconduct, and “ever more expensive” compliance programs may do little to prevent future misconduct. As Judge Rakoff suggested:

“[T]he impact of sending a few guilty executives to prison for orchestrating corporate crimes might have a far greater effect than any compliance program in discouraging misconduct, at far less expense and without the unwanted collateral consequences of punishing innocent employees and shareholders.”

Federal judges, including Judge Rakoff, are responsible for approving the DOJ’s settlements with corporations. The scope of their review is quite limited, and they are required to defer to the prosecution decisions of the DOJ. But even before the Yates Memo, judges had begun reviewing settlements more carefully when individuals were not charged. At least one federal judge is still dissatisfied with the DOJ’s enforcement strategy, and recently took the opportunity—in a corruption case—to urge the DOJ to adhere to the Yates Memo and deal directly with individual wrongdoers. Moreover, he suggested this could have broader significance for how we think about the rest of the criminal justice system.

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