Cyprus: has the eurozone run out of road?

After the bank levy, citizens will lose confidence in the system and turn to extreme political alternatives.

The Eurogroup's decision on Friday to impose a one-off tax on depositors in Cyprus may mark a turning point in the euro crisis. Only, the single currency's decision makers might soon realise that in taking this particular turn, they also ran out of road.

Under pressure from several members of the eurozone – Germany in particular, if reports are accurate – the new Nicosia government agreed that deposits above 100,000 euros would be taxed 9.9 percent and those under 100,000 at a rate of 6.75 percent.

This is an unprecedented decision for a eurozone country. It is also one whose potential consequences reach much further than an island in the eastern Mediterranean. It threatens to cause the transmission system between the economic and financial sectors on one side and the political and social on the other to seize up. Without this, the euro cannot be propelled forward. It cannot function.

The choice to tax depositors has prompted an intense economic debate about whether it was the correct policy or not. Both sides have put forward points worth considering. Those arguing against the decision have pointed, for instance, to the risk of contagion in other eurozone countries that are facing economic problems. Those who defend the Eurogroup's stance say depositors in Cyprus earned high interest, which gave them profits over the last few years and carried a bigger risk.

Setting these arguments aside, the eurozone ignores at its peril the fact that these decisions do not happen in an economic or financial vacuum. They have political and social consequences that cannot be ignored if the single currency is to have a future. One need only look at the political changes that have taken place in Greece, Ireland, Portugal, Spain, Italy and elsewhere to realize that the euro area is running out of leaders who have the backing needed to implement the decisions being taken.

Cypriot President Nicos Anastasiades, elected just last month, has to clarify to his people why he is adopting a bank deposit tax when he told voters a few weeks ago that he was absolutely opposed to it. Even before Anastasiades had returned from Brussels, his political opponents were demanding a referendum on the deposit tax. Some were even calling for new elections or an exit from the euro.

Anastasiades also has to explain to Cypriots why small-time depositors have to pay a similar levy to the one some eurozone countries supposedly demanded so alleged Russian oligarchs would be forced to pay for bailing out the island's banking system. Furthermore, he has to inform them why the Cypriot government's pledge to guarantee deposits up to 100,000 euros – supposedly even in the most extreme circumstances – is not even worth the paper it was written on.

The implications for people's trust in their government and financial system are obvious. It would be remiss to think that this wariness will be contained just to Cyprus. While many will be watching next week for signs of financial contagion from the Cypriot decision in other parts of the eurozone, with Spaniards or Italians possibly withdrawing savings from their banks, there is a more insidious infection that could spread.

Cypriots will be given equity in their banks in return for the tax but what value will this have when they no longer have faith in the banking system? Cypriots will be told that the deposit tax will stave off further measures but they only have to look to Greece or Portugal to see that promises of no more taxes or cuts have little value. They will be told that there was no alternative but then they will hear about pressure from other single currency members and concerns about the upcoming German elections.

And, all the time, citizens in other troubled eurozone countries will watch and grow warier. They will interpret the policies advocated by the stronger members as punitive for the weaker. They will consider the hypocrisy of leaders who cry foul about money laundering in Cyprus but turn a blind eye if it is happening in Lichtenstein, Switzerland, Luxembourg, the City of London or anywhere else in Europe. They will realize that their government’s promises carry no value when measured against the ideas, motives or obsessions of the single currency’s big players.

This is the point at which the political and social sectors will experience a complete disconnect from the economic and financial. Restoring the connection will be an immense task.

Then, these same citizens will begin to ask themselves where their interests lie, what’s in the euro for them and whether other options would be better. And, as they are mulling over these thoughts, they will look to other parts of Europe and see people like them but also analysts and policy makers wondering what all the fuss is about. They will hear others who have not had to suffer any hardship or financial losses wonder why there is such a negative reaction to wages being slashed, taxes being hiked or deposits being taxed.

This is the point at which the links within the eurozone will begin to pop apart, when citizens will turn to Beppe Grillo-style solutions, to nationalists, extremists or to anyone who promises a different path.

This is the point at which the vehicle stops functioning and the road ends.

Nick Malkoutzis is deputy editor of the Greek English-language daily Kathimerini, where this post first appeared. He blogs at Inside Greece. Follow him on Twitter @NickMalkoutzis.

A souvenir shop in Nicosia, Cyprus, on 17 March. (Photo: Getty.)
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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.