Whistleblowers: should they get more protection?

The process could be simplified.

With the current emphasis on corporate governance and paying your fair share of tax, whistleblowing is centre stage - isn’t it time the government revisited our laws in this controversial area?

With major scandals affecting our MP’s, financial institutions, the media and the police it is little wonder that by the end of 2012 corporate governance was the new “black” in the business world and looks set stay. The emphasis upon appropriate corporate controls and culture has been reinforced by the highly publicised tax offensive targeting the former no man’s land of offshore companies and bank accounts.

The overriding theme is clear - times are difficult, mistakes have been made and businesses and individuals have a duty to do the right thing.

Unfortunately, there is not a lot of money available to help promote this cultural shift and so 2012 also saw publication of the government’s plans for the introduction of deferred prosecution agreements – the newest weapon in the cash strapped armoury of the Serious Fraud Office (SFO) – where, if the case is suitable, entities self reporting on fraud can hope to do a deal. It is no coincidence that this has been put in place with an anticipated 2013 focus from the SFO and its new director on enforcing the provisions of the Bribery Act.

One has only to look carefully at the UK government’s guidance on whistleblowing to see where the problems lie

The SFO’s confidential reporting hotline is also doing brisk business and the soon to be reconfigured FSA has had a whistleblowing hotline for many years. So-called “bounty payments” by HMRC have also been in the press where informants have received discretionary payments for information that has led to additional tax recoveries.

In this climate the role of the whistleblower has never been more prominent and yet UK legislation does little to recognise the increased importance of this role. Any auditor will tell you that two of the most effective weapons a business can deploy against fraud are the establishment of a zero tolerance culture backed up by a fraud reporting hotline available to employees, customers, suppliers and anyone else who has dealings with the company.

In the UK whistleblowing legislation is set out within the Public Interest Disclosure Act 1998 although this will be amended by Vince Cable’s Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Bill which is expected to become law later this year and will remove a loophole where concerns about a personal employment contract could be raised.

Unfortunately, it is proposed the whistleblower will now also have to decide what is in the public interest.

In an environment where government, regulators and prosecutors are seeking to both reinforce and enhance controls within the business and wider community a more fundamental review of whistleblowing legislation in the UK is long overdue.

One has only to look carefully at the UK government’s guidance on whistleblowing to see where the problems lie. Potential whistleblowers are invited to check their employment contract or HR department to ascertain if their company has a whistleblowing procedure.

If I were an employee I would already be worried – the process seems likely to become legal and HR departments are not renowned for supporting the employee in a matter involving the behaviour of management. What do I do if I’m not an employee but a third party or a sub- contractor and if I am an employee what do I do if there is no whistleblowing policy? Government guidance fails to clearly address these points and the law itself is unclear.

The rest of this article appears on economia.

whistleblowing is centre stage. Photograph: Getty Images

Paul Smethurst is a partner in the forensic and investigation practice at accountancy firm, Carter Backer Winter LLP

Getty
Show Hide image

What happens when a president refuses to step down?

An approaching constitutional crisis has triggered deep political unrest in the Congo.

Franck Diongo reached his party’s headquarters shortly after 10am and stepped out of a Range Rover. Staff and hangers-on rose from plastic chairs to greet the president of the Mouvement Lumumbiste Progressiste (MLP), named after the first elected leader of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Diongo, a compact and powerfully built man, was so tightly wound that his teeth ground as he talked. When agitated, he slammed his palms on the table and his speech became shrill. “We live under a dictatorial regime, so it used the security forces to kill us with live rounds to prevent our demonstration,” he said.

The MLP is part of a coalition of opposition parties known as the Rassemblement. Its aim is to ensure that the Congolese president, Joseph Kabila, who has been president since 2001, leaves office on 19 December, at the end of his second and supposedly final term.

Yet the elections that were meant to take place late last month have not been organised. The government has blamed logistical and financial difficulties, but Kabila’s opponents claim that the president has hamstrung the electoral commission in the hope that he can use his extended mandate to change the rules. “Mr Kabila doesn’t want to quit power,” said Diongo, expressing a widespread belief here.

On 19 September, the Rassemblement planned a march in Kinshasa, the capital, to protest the failure to deliver elections and to remind the president that his departure from office was imminent. But the demonstration never took place. At sunrise, clashes broke out between police and protesters in opposition strongholds. The military was deployed. By the time peace was restored 36 hours later, dozens had died. Kabila’s interior minister, claiming that the government had faced down an insurrection, acknowledged the deaths of 32 people but said that they were killed by criminals during looting.

Subsequent inquiries by the United Nations and Human Rights Watch (HRW) told a different story. They recorded more fatalities – at least 53 and 56, respectively – and said that the state had been responsible for most of the deaths. They claimed that the Congolese authorities had obstructed the investigators, and the true number of casualties was likely higher. According to HRW, security forces had seized and removed bodies “in an apparent effort to hide the evidence”.

The UN found that the lethal response was directed from a “central command centre. . . jointly managed” by officials from the police, army, presidential bodyguard and intelligence agency that “authorised the use of force, including firearms”.

The reports validated claims made by the Rassemblement that it was soldiers who had set fire to several opposition parties’ headquarters on 20 September. Six men were killed when the compound of the UDPS party was attacked.

On 1 November, their funerals took place where they fell. White coffins, each draped in a UDPS flag, were shielded from the midday sun by a gazebo, while mourners found shade inside the charred building. Pierrot Tshibangu lost his younger sibling, Evariste, in the attack. “When we arrived, we found my brother’s body covered in stab marks and bullet wounds,” he recalled.

Once the government had suppressed the demonstration, the attorney general compiled a list of influential figures in the Rassemblement – including Diongo – and forbade them from leaving the capital. Kinshasa’s governor then outlawed all political protest.

It was easy to understand why Diongo felt embattled, even paranoid. Midway through our conversation, his staff apprehended a man loitering in the courtyard. Several minutes of mayhem ensued before he was restrained and confined under suspicion of spying for the government.

Kabila is seldom seen in public and almost never addresses the nation. His long-term intentions are unclear, but the president’s chief diplomatic adviser maintains that his boss has no designs on altering the constitution or securing a third term. He insists that Kabila will happily step down once the country is ready for the polls.

Most refuse to believe such assurances. On 18 October, Kabila’s ruling alliance struck a deal with a different, smaller opposition faction. It allows Kabila to stay in office until the next election, which has been postponed until April 2018. A rickety government of national unity is being put in place but discord is already rife.

Jean-Lucien Bussa of the CDER party helped to negotiate the deal and is now a front-runner for a ministerial portfolio. At a corner table in the national assembly’s restaurant, he told me that the Rassemblement was guilty of “a lack of realism”, and that its fears were misplaced because Kabila won’t be able to prolong his presidency any further.

“On 29 April 2018, the Congolese will go to the ballot box to vote for their next president,” he said. “There is no other alternative for democrats than to find a negotiated solution, and this accord has given us one.”

Diongo was scathing of the pact (he called it “a farce intended to deceive”) and he excommunicated its adherents from his faction. “They are Mr Kabila’s collaborators, who came to divide the opposition,” he told me. “What kind of oppositionist can give Mr Kabila the power to violate the constitution beyond 19 December?”

Diongo is convinced that the president has no intention of walking away from power in April 2018. “Kabila will never organise elections if he cannot change the constitution,” he warned.

Diongo’s anger peaked at the suggestion that it will be an uphill struggle to dislodge a head of state who has control of the security forces. “What you need to consider,” he said, “is that no army can defy a people determined to take control of their destiny . . . The Congolese people will have the last word!”

A recent poll suggested that the president would win less than 8 per cent of the vote if an election were held this year. One can only assume that Kabila is hoping that the population will have no say at all.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage