Five questions answered on HSBC’s money laundering provisions

Mexican drug money has passed through the bank.

HSBC has announced it has put more money aside to deal with US money laundering fines. We answer five questions on HSBC’s money laundering provisions.

How much more money has HSBC put aside?

A further 4800 million (£500 million) to cover potential money laundering fines imposed by the US. It had previously put aside $700 million.

Why does HSBC have to pay money laundering fines?

Because a report by the US Senate said that Mexican drug money had almost certainly passed through HSBC.

How much could these future fines cost HSBC?

HSBC is currently in discussion with US authorities in regards to a final settlement in fines. However, it did tell the BBC the "final amount of the financial penalties could be higher, possibly significantly higher [than the $1.5bn already set aside]".

The bank may also face corporate criminal charges, as well as civil penalties. In a statement released with its third quarter results the bank said:

"While the prosecution of corporate criminal charges in these types of cases has most often been deferred through an agreement with the relevant authorities, the US authorities have substantial discretion, and prior settlements can provide no assurance as to how the US authorities will proceed in these matters."

What about HSBC’s other finances?

Pre-tax profits for HSBC were announced by the bank as $3.5bn from July to September, down $3.7bn from a year earlier. However, underlying profits for the quarter totaled $5bn, more than double the figure recorded for the same quarter a year ago.

Is HSBC, like other banks in the UK, also embroiled in the PPI mis-selling scandal?

Yes. This is also costing the bank significant sums of money. It has set aside a further £223m in the UK to pay for PPI compensation claims, taking its total provisions to £1.3bn and the total for the UK banking industry as a whole to almost £13bn.

HSBC has put money aside to deal with laundering fines. Photograph: Getty Images

Heidi Vella is a features writer for Nridigital.com

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear