There’s a folk tale’s moral about the aggressive bird, who filches a whole length of sausage from the butcher’s market stall, eats his larcenous fill, and celebrates by singing from the treetops at full voice – only to be spotted and shot for a hunter’s dinner:
When you’re full of bologna, keep your mouth shut!
Or as attributed to Voltaire, with rather more gentility – “better to keep silent and be thought a fool, than speak up and remove all doubt.”
As calendar-year American public companies face their deadlines for annual filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission, there are benefits to a blogger’s ability to keep quiet – a comfort compared with my prior writing life under the regularity of a newspaper deadline – especially in resisting the siren call to publish for the sole sake of reader traffic above all else.
But even for want of a compelling subject, fingers get itchy at the keyboard. Something feels ominous in the world of financial scandal and accountancy distress. It’s just been too quiet out there.
It could simply be impatience with officialdom’s combination of lassitude, inattention and inertia:
- Michel Barnier’s EU-level initiative of a green paper consultation on the fragile state of the global audit franchise has come out as the predictably damp non-event (here).
- America’s Dodd-Frank legislation addressed not a word to the obsolescence of the entire financial reporting and assurance model.
- Regulators have walked on tip-toes around the implications of issues from the degraded state of Citibank’s internal controls (here) to the Bank of England’s body language that enabled clean audit reports on the UK banks (here).[1]
- And the re-cycled trio of new members at the PCAOB, with old SEC hand Jim Doty in the chair, has offered only more of the same likely inaction that has characterized the torpor of its first nine years (here).
Not for nothing do major financial scandals emerge around the time of full-year information release. Investors’ expectations are whetted. Ponzi schemes escalate toward their inevitable explosion. And those pesky auditors are poking and prodding in dark and unwelcome corners.
Think back: Parmalat broke in December 2004; the rogue trading at Société Générale came out in January 2008; Bernie Madoff was exposed in December 2008; the CEO’s letter of confession in Satyam was delivered in January 2009; and January 2010 unveiled the looting via Amex card at Koss.
There are ample examples validating the risks concealed in the calm before the storm: the crime-solving deduction by Sherlock Holmes from the dog that didn’t bark, the siege guns’ silence just before the invasion, the receding waters before the tsunami, the movie cliché when the hero’s B-list sidekick whispers in terror that the native drums have suddenly stopped.
The looming sound of silence is not always a signal. Sometimes the other shoe never does fall. An extended period of quiet does not mean that an outbreak must occur. But that is not ground for comfort or complacency either – it’s a flawed and mistaken inference that because the scandal level has been muted, it won’t erupt.
Somewhere out there, instinct cries, fresh new trouble is brewing.
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