I recently made my first visit to the tiny island nation of Malta – once the Mediterranean crossroads of crusaders, smugglers, pirates and profiteers, now better known as a way-stop on the marine route of refugees fleeing coastal North Africa for near-by Sicily and mainland Italy.
My impressions -- of a country and people with much to be modest about -- leave me uneasy, with Malta now touted as headquarters to a rapidly-expanding roster of European-based hedge funds – e.g., here and here.
This is not good news. Because if true, the fuse is lit and sparking on the next explosive weapons of financial destruction.
For all its storied history, today’s Malta is a backwater. The country’s low-wage economy survives on limited tourism for history buffs, and second-language schools serving a heavy demand for English because the native tongue with its Arabic origin and Latin orthography is unlearnably complex, marginalized, and disappearing.
In by far the smallest country in the Euro zone, with a population of 400,000 mainly unprepossessing Catholics, the focus of governance is limited to the legality of divorce. While, as I was told by the under-employed college graduate who drove our taxi from the airport, ”You’ll probably never see a policeman during your visit. There’s so little crime, they go into the parks and sleep in their cars behind the trees.”
Transport on Malta until last summer’s upgrading was dominated by fleets of clapped-out orange and yellow buses, of a vintage more worthy of pre-Castro Cuba than a full-fledged member of the European Union.
The inevitable question asked by a tourist looking over the pervasively sand-colored Italianate architecture is, “Doesn’t a country with aspirations to be taken seriously care enough to wash its cars and clean the dirt off its windows?” To which the prompt and unashamedly self-deprecating answer, “who cares?” is that the prevailing winds off the African desert make a daily layer of dust as inevitable as the sunrise itself.
After centuries of outside dominance, latterly in the form of British colonial oppression until independence in 1964 and eventual troop withdrawal in 1979, a legacy of brain drain and talent flight assures a vacuum of local vision and mediocrity of leadership.
“Maltese” evokes several things – post-Crusade centuries of knightly influence, toy-sized white dogs in the laps of ladies who lunch, and the elusive avian statue that so bedeviled Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade in the eponymous 1941 re-make of Dashiell Hammett’s noir novel.
What it does not call up is a legitimate industry of well-regulated financial institutions.
So what is nascent, with the explosive growth of a Maltese hedge fund sector, is dangerous regulatory arbitrage – the potential for a rush to the bottom not seen since “regulatory capture” in Antigua and Barbuda laid the foundations for Allen Stanford’s Ponzi scheming, through his purchase of a tin-plated knighthood along with the compliant gate-keepers’ keys to that country’s thatched-cottage banking industry.
The cases are legion that even big-country regulators have been asleep on the watch – from the SEC’s failure to finger Bernie Madoff, to OFHEO’s late-arriving blinking at the sub-prime mortgage trainwrecks of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, to the PCAOB’s belated discovery of something rotten in reverse-merger Chinese public companies coming to America to list on its exchanges.
So the chances that the Maltese have the competence to escape a worse fate, in response to the invading hordes of hedgies in their private jets and sharply tailored suits, are precisely nil.
I have been bold in this space to make an occasional prediction about the expected times and places for outbreaks of unpleasantness – in Islamic finance, a Madoff-related suicide, or the rates of white-collar recidivism exemplified by Barry Minkow’s return to prison – with a record that is almost distressingly robust.
Readers prepared to files these views on the likelihood of serious mischief erupting on Malta into a time capsule with a three-to-five year seal are invited to check back with me then.
In the meantime, pending the passage of time sufficient to prove me right, prudence suggests that investors seek a home for their hot and mobile Euros other than Malta.
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