In praise of the cash economy

Young Foundation Fellow Sean Carey argues that some

Mauritius has changed. Long feted by economists and political scientists as an example to other African states with its open economy and multi-party democracy, the palm-fringed Indian Ocean island which lies some 600 miles east of Madagascar, has become a victim of its own success and is now officially classified as a "Middle Income" country.

With GDP per capita expected soon to reach $6000 Mauritius, with its population of 1.2 million, finds that it is no longer eligible for the sort of aid provided to the world’s poorest countries. And with guaranteed prices from sugar exports to the EU also about to end there is an urgent need to raise revenue.

All sorts of new taxes have been introduced and Prime Minister Navin Ramgoolam has brought in personnel from abroad to beef up the tax and customs services.

Amongst other things this has resulted in a clampdown on tax avoidance. Even the street vendors who sell snacks from the roadside, bus stations, busy market areas and beaches are feeling the pinch.

In Mauritius snacks are something of a cultural institution and bought by locals from all the island’s ethnic groups of diverse origins - north and south Indian Hindus, Gujarati Muslims, Chinese, French and ethnically mixed Creoles - and more adventurous tourists.

They include samosas, pakora, and gateaux piment, the small marble-sized balls of crushed dal, spring onions and herbs including a good amount of fresh, green chilli which are deep fried and have a wonderful, crunchy texture.

But no list of snacks would be complete without the inclusion of the dholl puri, an Indian-inspired soft, flat bread made from wheat flour, crushed yellow lentils, oil and water which is then wrapped around a dollop of chutney or vegetable curry. It is a Mauritian favourite, the country’s original fast-food.

The street vendors, mainly older men, hail predominantly from the Indian Hindu and Muslim communities and they are not happy.

According to one local commentator Saoud Baccus writing in L’Express, however, if expatriate personnel increase the amount of tax revenue and decrease the level of corruption in the customs service then this is an unreservedly good thing.

Furthermore, the considerable salaries of these new recruits are small when compared to the financial benefits, revenues and sound practices they deliver. "They are doing a wonderful job for the country ... for which we should be grateful", he writes.

It all sounds very plausible. If officers demand to be paid extra from private individuals or companies for clearing and checking goods, or bending the rules in some way, it is not advantageous to anyone -except, of course, themselves and the immediate beneficiaries of their activities.

We can all agree that customs regulation in particular should be a clean, honest and transparent endeavour.

And it is especially important in controlling the importation of illegal supplies of drugs and alcohol.

Comparative evidence suggests that the low cost and easy availability of such substances - particularly as part of an illegal trade - has a disproportionately negative effect on the behaviour and attitudes of members of the poorest sections in society.

It also has a massively adverse impact on their take up of educational and mainstream employment opportunities. This pattern is as true of paradise island Mauritius, which has a small but significant hard drug and alcohol problem among its urban and rural poor, as any other country with an open economy.

However, the issue of taxation is slightly different. Some Mauritian commentators argue that all responsible citizens should pay their fair share of taxes but I am not so sure.

Or rather I am in the case of billionaires and millionaires who, in any case, tend to employ a small army of very good accountants and lawyers to exploit the many and varied loopholes in the taxation system. So I don't feel too sorry for them - they are undoubtedly fair game and play their own game very well.

But I am concerned when the state wants to extend the reach of the bureaucrats to the people like street vendors and others like vegetable and egg sellers who have small cottage industries which supplement other forms of income and who are not rich by any stretch of imagination.

Put simply, I want to defend the little people who probably haven't had the social and educational advantages of the government functionaries who are busily pursuing them but wouldn’t mind securing the futures of their children or grandchildren.

In fact, I am a great admirer of the cash economy. Indeed, I have conducted research and seen at first hand its positive effect in certain sections of the catering sector in London.

The posh restaurants at the top end of the booming London market aren't really part of the cash (notes and coins) economy at all.

These include the Michelin-starred restaurants run by famous British restaurateurs including Gordon Ramsay, Gary Rhodes and Marco Pierre White as well as British-based ethnic minority ones like Vineet Bhatia, Atul Kochhar and Alan Yau.

Nearly all the transactions in these businesses are done by credit card and other forms of electronic payment. These enterprises undoubtedly pay their taxes and make a significant contribution to the advanced service sector of the UK and, thus, to the general welfare of society.

The phenomenal success of these restaurant groups led by celebrity chefs has even meant the appearance of gastronomic outposts in the last four or five years at some of the top-end hotels catering for the well-heeled tourists who visit Mauritius (and comparable destinations around the world).

A particularly good example is provided by Vineet Bhatia who was head chef at Zaika, the first Indian restaurant to win a Michelin star in London (or anywhere else) in 2001. He now owns his own Michelin-starred establishment, Rasoi Vineet Bhatia, in London's Sloane Square and also set up the highly acclaimed Safran restaurant (now run by fellow Indian chef, Atul Kocchar) at Le Touessrok, one of Mauritius' finest hotels.

However, the story is quite different at the other end of the catering sector in London. For example, it would not be possible to keep open all of the restaurants, cafes and take-aways in the ethnic enclaves of inner London and those that punctuate high street locations elsewhere in the capital if everything that was done was legitimate and above board.

These small catering establishments simply couldn’t continue to attract the hungry hordes of locals and tourists who turn up every day if they weren't involved in some creative fiddling, financial and otherwise.

Apart from anything else, the fixed business costs are often too high. Without cash payments to staff (thus avoiding the constraints imposed by the minimum wage) and tax avoidance, huge numbers of cafes and restaurants in the London area (and across the UK) would be forced out of business. And this would undoubtedly have massive and deleterious effects on members of the diverse local communities in the UK’s capital who often depend on the catering trade for work.

Let me be clear, these people really don’t have a choice of jobs. The vast majority come from poorly educated ethnic minority groups who migrated from rural areas unlike, for example, Vineet Bhatia who hails, as he proudly states on his website, from "an educated, middle-class family in Bombay " (although I bet that none of his sons and daughters will be following him into the kitchen).

Don't get me wrong - I don't think tax avoidance is an ideal situation but I don’t think it’s the end of the world either.

The cash economy often creates the social space and momentum for members of migrant and other disadvantaged groups, particularly the younger members, to achieve a degree of upward social mobility that would otherwise be denied to them.

I have long been aware of an interesting social pattern found among some relatively poor ethnic minority communities involved in the UK catering trade whose members have experienced a high level of social mobility.

Part of the economic surplus, legitimate or otherwise, has traditionally been used to pay for extra educational tuition (secular rather than religious) for the children of the family.

More recently, funds have also gone towards the purchase of technologies like the Internet which bring profound educational benefits to the younger (and sometimes to the older) members of the household.

This pattern of consumption is often absent or radically different in socially and economically comparable white families where a much greater emphasis is placed on the fun and leisure aspects of the technology.

An example of exceptional educational and social progress can be found in a section of the British Chinese community, the poor rice farming families who fled Hong Kong’s rice famine in the 1950s and moved into the catering trade.

The parents may still be running the restaurants and take-aways scattered across Britain but most of their children certainly aren’t. They have done very well at school, gone to university and have taken up senior positions from accountancy to law and medicine and all professions in between.

Something similar is beginning to emerge among some of the children in the British Bangladeshi community whose families come from rural Sylhet in the north-east of the country.

The men of the first generation of migrants - fathers and sons - operate around 85 per cent of Britain’s "Indian" restaurants.

Now after a relatively slow start, their children have overtaken Pakistanis in terms of GCSE results and are narrowing the gap with children of Indian origin, the most successful south Asian group whose older members like their Chinese counterparts, are already well represented in the professions.

So the UK can provide Mauritius with a useful lesson: while some areas of a nation's economy, like customs and excise, need a high degree of regulation, other areas are best left alone or very lightly controlled.

Turning a bureaucratic blind eye to financial irregularities in certain areas of the economy is often the smart thing to do and is certainly preferable to some of the possible alternatives - welfare dependency or livelihoods derived from drug, alcohol and prostitution-related crime.

The evidence suggests that too much of the wrong sort of government interference in the lives of a country's citizens stifles enterprise and may well have serious and unintended consequences not envisaged by those who champion the hard-nosed "audit culture".

Of course, another way of addressing these issues would be to reform the tax system so that, instead of focusing on avoidance, it positively encouraged behaviour that tends to generate educational success.

For example, tax relief on computers and fast Internet connections for poor and low income households with direct links to local educational institutions would boost income declaration and promote learning and social mobility in an increasingly information-based, commercial world.

Fleshing out the precise details of such a scheme is another matter and probably best left to financial and educational experts. But the overall direction could certainly be set by politicians - and that lesson is applicable to both Mauritius and the UK.

Now where can I buy a decent dholl puri?

Dr Sean Carey is a Fellow of the Young Foundation

A version of this article first ran in the Mauritius Times

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Why the elites always rule

Since an Italian sociologist coined the word “elite” in 1902, it has become a term of abuse. But history is the story of one elite replacing another – as the votes for Trump and Brexit have shown.

Donald Trump’s successful presidential campaign was based on the rejection of the “establishment”. Theresa May condemned the rootless “international elites” in her leader’s speech at last October’s Conservative party conference. On the European continent, increasingly popular right-wing parties such as Marine Le Pen’s Front National and the German Alternative für Deutschland, as well as Poland’s ruling Law and Justice party, delight in denouncing the “Eurocratic” elites. But where does the term “elite” come from, and what does it mean?

It was Vilfredo Pareto who, in 1902, gave the term the meaning that it has today. We mostly think of Pareto as the economist who came up with ideas such as “Pareto efficiency” and the “Pareto principle”. The latter – sometimes known as the “power law”, or the “80/20 rule” – stipulates that 80 per cent of the land always ends up belonging to 20 per cent of the population. Pareto deduced this by studying land distribution in Italy at the turn of the 20th century. He also found that 20 per cent of the pea pods in his garden produced 80 per cent of the peas. Pareto, however, was not only an economist. In later life, he turned his hand to sociology, and it was in this field that he developed his theory of the “circulation of elites”.

The term élite, used in its current socio­logical sense, first appeared in his 1902 book Les systèmes socialistes (“socialist systems”). Its aim was to analyse Marxism as a new form of “secular” religion. And it was the French word élite that he used: naturally, one might say, for a book written in French. Pareto, who was bilingual, wrote in French and Italian. He was born in Paris in 1848 to a French mother and an Italian father; his father was a Genoese marquis who had accompanied the political activist Giuseppe Mazzini into exile. In honour of the revolution that was taking place in Germany at the time, Pareto was at first named Fritz Wilfried. This was latinised into Vilfredo Federico on the family’s return to Italy in 1858.

When Pareto wrote his masterpiece – the 3,000-page Trattato di sociologia ­generale (“treatise on general sociology”) – in 1916, he retained the French word élite even though the work was in Italian. Previously, he had used “aristocracy”, but that didn’t seem to fit the democratic regime that had come into existence after Italian unification. Nor did he want to use his rival Gaetano Mosca’s term “ruling class”; the two had bitter arguments about who first came up with the idea of a ruling minority.

Pareto wanted to capture the idea that a minority will always rule without recourse to outdated notions of heredity or Marxist concepts of class. So he settled on élite, an old French word that has its origins in the Latin eligere, meaning “to select” (the best).

In the Trattato, he offered his definition of an elite. His idea was to rank everyone on a scale of one to ten and that those with the highest marks in their field would be considered the elite. Pareto was willing to judge lawyers, politicians, swindlers, courtesans or chess players. This ranking was to be morally neutral: beyond “good and evil”, to use the language of the time. So one could identify the best thief, whether that was considered a worthy profession or not.

Napoleon was his prime example: whether he was a good or a bad man was irrelevant, as were the policies he might have pursued. Napoleon had undeniable political qualities that, according to Pareto, marked him out as one of the elite. Napoleon is important
because Pareto made a distinction within the elite – everyone with the highest indices within their branch of activity was a member of an elite – separating out the governing from the non-governing elite. The former was what interested him most.

This is not to suggest that the non-governing elite and the non-elite were of no interest to him, but they had a specific and limited role to play, which was the replenishment of the governing elite. For Pareto, this group was the key to understanding society as a whole – for whatever values this elite incarnated would be reflected in society. But he believed that there was an inevitable “physiological” law that stipulated the continuous decline of the elite, thereby making way for a new elite. As he put it in one of his most memorable phrases, “History is the graveyard of elites.”

***

Pareto’s thesis was that elites always rule. There is always the domination of the minority over the majority. And history is just the story of one elite replacing another. This is what he called the “circulation of elites”. When the current elite starts to decline, it is challenged and makes way for another. Pareto thought that this came about in two ways: either through assimilation, the new elite merging with elements of the old, or through revolution, the new elite wiping out the old. He used the metaphor of a river to make his point. Most of the time, the river flows continuously, smoothly incorporating its tributaries, but sometimes, after a storm, it floods and breaks its banks.

Drawing on his Italian predecessor Machiavelli, Pareto identified two types of elite rulers. The first, whom he called the “foxes”, are those who dominate mainly through combinazioni (“combination”): deceit, cunning, manipulation and co-optation. Their rule is characterised by decentralisation, plurality and scepticism, and they are uneasy with the use of force. “Lions”, on the other hand, are more conservative. They emphasise unity, homogeneity, established ways, the established faith, and rule through small, centralised and hierarchical bureaucracies, and they are far more at ease with the use of force than the devious foxes. History is the slow swing of the pendulum from one type of elite to the other, from foxes to lions and back again.

The relevance of Pareto’s theories to the world today is clear. After a period of foxes in power, the lions are back with renewed vigour. Donald Trump, as his behaviour during the US presidential campaign confirmed, is perfectly at ease with the use of intimidation and violence. He claimed that he wants to have a wall built between the United States and Mexico. His mooted economic policies are largely based on protectionism and tariffs. Regardless of his dubious personal ethics – a classic separation between the elite and the people – he stands for the traditional (white) American way of life and religion.

This is in stark contrast to the Obama administration and the Cameron government, both of which, compared to what has come since the votes for Trump and Brexit, were relatively open and liberal. Pareto’s schema goes beyond the left/right divide; the whole point of his Systèmes socialistes was to demonstrate that Marxism, as a secular religion, signalled a return to faith, and thus the return of the lions in politics.

In today’s context, the foxes are the forces of globalisation and liberalism – in the positive sense of developing an open, inter­connected and tolerant world; and in the negative sense of neoliberalism and the dehumanising extension of an economic calculus to all aspects of human life. The lions represent the reaction, centring themselves in the community, to which they may be more attentive, but bringing increased xenophobia, intolerance and conservatism. For Pareto, the lions and foxes are two different types of rule, both with strengths and weaknesses. Yet the elite is always composed of the two elements. The question is: which one dominates at any given time?

What we know of Theresa May’s government suggests that she runs a tight ship. She has a close – and closed – group of confidants, and she keeps a firm grip on the people under her. She is willing to dispense with parliament in her negotiation of Brexit, deeming it within the royal prerogative. Nobody yet knows her plan.

The European Union is a quintessentially foxlike project, based on negotiation, compromise and combination. Its rejection is a victory of the lions over the foxes. The lions are gaining prominence across the Western world, not just in Trumpland and Brexit Britain. Far-right movements have risen by rejecting the EU. It should come as no surprise that many of these movements (including Trump in the US) admire Vladimir Putin, at least for his strongman style.

Asia hasn’t been spared this movement, either. After years of tentative openness in China, at least with the economy, Xi Jinping has declared himself the “core” leader, in the mould of the previous strongmen Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping. Japan’s prime minister, Shinzo Abe, has also hardened his stance, and he was the first world leader to meet with President-Elect Donald Trump. Narendra Modi in India and Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines are in the same mould, the latter coming to power on the back of promising to kill criminals and drug dealers. After the failed coup against him in July, Recep Tayyip Erdogan has also been cracking down on Turkey.

***


In Les systèmes socialistes, Pareto elaborated on how a new elite replaces the old. A, the old elite, would be challenged by B, the new, in alliance with C, the people. B would win the support of C by making promises that, once in power, it wouldn’t keep. If that sounds like the behaviour of most politicians, that is because it probably is. But what Pareto was pointing out was how, in its struggle for power, the new elite politicised groups that were not political before.

What we know of Trump supporters and Brexiteers is that many feel disenfranchised: the turnout in the EU referendum could not have been greater than in the 2015 general election otherwise, and significant numbers of those who voted for Trump had never voted before. There is no reason to think that they, too, won’t be betrayed by the new leaders they helped to bring to power.

In the last years of his life, Pareto offered a commentary on Italy in the 1920s. He denounced the state’s inability to enforce its decisions and the way that Italians spent their time flaunting their ability to break the law and get away with it. He coined the phrase “demagogic plutocracy” to characterise the period, in which the rich ruled behind a façade of democratic politics. He thought this particularly insidious for two reasons: those in power were more interested in siphoning off wealth for their personal ends than encouraging the production of new wealth, and consequently undermined national prosperity (remember Pareto’s training as an economist); and, as the demagogic elites govern through deceit and cunning, they are able to mask their rule for longer periods.

Much has been made of Trump’s “populism”, but the term “demagogic plutocrat” seems particularly apt for him, too: he is a wealthy man who will advance the interests of his small clique to the detriment of the well-being of the nation, all behind the smokescreen of democratic politics.

There are other ways in which Pareto can help us understand our predicament. After all, he coined the 80/20 rule, of which we hear an intensified echo in the idea of “the One Per Cent”. Trump is a fully paid-up member of the One Per Cent, a group that he claims to be defending the 99 Per Cent from (or, perhaps, he is an unpaid-up member, given that what unites the One Per Cent is its reluctance to pay taxes). When we perceive the natural inequality of the distribution of resources as expressed through Pareto’s “power law”, we are intellectually empowered to try to do something about it.

Those writings on 1920s Italy landed Pareto in trouble, as his theory of the circulation of elites predicted that a “demagogic plutocracy”, dominated by foxes, would necessarily make way for a “military plutocracy”, this time led by lions willing to restore the power of the state. In this, he was often considered a defender of Mussolini, and Il Duce certainly tried to make the best of that possibility by making Pareto a senator. Yet there is a difference between prediction and endorsement, and Pareto, who died in 1923, had already been living as a recluse in Céligny in Switzerland for some time – earning him the nickname “the hermit of Céligny” – with only his cats for company, far removed from day-to-day Italian politics. He remained a liberal to his death, content to stay above the fray.

Like all good liberals, Pareto admired Britain above all. As an economist, he had vehemently defended its system of free trade in the face of outraged opposition in Italy. He also advocated British pluralism and tolerance. Liberalism is important here: in proposing to set up new trade barriers and restrict freedom of movement, exacerbated by their more or less blatant xenophobia, Trump and Brexit challenge the values at the heart of the liberal world.

***


What was crucial for Pareto was that new elites would rise and challenge the old. It was through the “circulation of elites” that history moved. Yet the fear today is that history has come to a standstill, that elites have ­become fossilised. Electors are fed up with choosing between the same old candidates, who seem to be proposing the same old thing. No wonder people are willing to try something new.

This fear of the immobility of elites has been expressed before. In 1956, the American sociologist C Wright Mills published The Power Elite. The book has not been out of print since. It is thanks to him that the term was anglicised and took on the pejorative sense it has today. For Mills, Cold War America had come to be dominated by a unified political, commercial and military elite. With the 20th century came the growth of nationwide US corporations, replacing the older, more self-sufficient farmers of the 19th century.

This made it increasingly difficult to ­distinguish between the interests of large US companies and those of the nation as a whole. “What’s good for General Motors,” as the phrase went, “is good for America.” As a result, political and commercial interests were becoming ever more intertwined. One had only to add the Cold War to the mix to see how the military would join such a nexus.

Mills theorised what President Dwight D Eisenhower denounced in his January 1961 farewell speech as the “military-industrial complex” (Eisenhower had wanted to add the word “congressional”, but that was thought to be too risky and was struck out of the speech). For Mills, the circulation of elites – a new elite rising to challenge the old – had come to an end. If there was any circulation at all, it was the ease with which this new power elite moved from one part of the elite to the other: the “revolving door”.

The Cold War is over but there is a similar sense of immobility at present concerning the political elite. Must one be the child or wife of a past US president to run for that office? After Hillary Clinton, will Chelsea run, too? Must one have gone to Eton, or at least Oxford or Cambridge, to reach the cabinet? In France is it Sciences Po and Éna?

The vote for Brexit, Trump and the rise of the far right are, beyond doubt, reactions to this sentiment. And they bear out Pareto’s theses: the new elites have aligned themselves with the people to challenge the old elites. The lions are challenging the foxes. Needless to say, the lions, too, are prototypically elites. Trump is a plutocrat. Boris Johnson, the co-leader of the Leave campaign, is as “establishment” as they come (he is an Old Etonian and an Oxford graduate). Nigel Farage is a public-school-educated, multimillionaire ex-stockbroker. Marine Le Pen is the daughter of Jean-Marie Le Pen. Putin is ex-KGB.

Pareto placed his hopes for the continuing circulation of elites in technological, economic and social developments. He believed that these transformations would give rise to new elites that would challenge the old political ruling class.

We are now living through one of the biggest ever technological revolutions, brought about by the internet. Some have argued that social media tipped the vote in favour of Brexit. Arron Banks’s Leave.EU website relentlessly targeted disgruntled blue-collar workers through social media, using simple, sometimes grotesque anti-immigration messages (as a recent profile of Banks in the New Statesman made clear) that mimicked the strategies of the US hard right.

Trump’s most vocal supporters include the conspiracy theorist Alex Jones, who has found the internet a valuable tool for propagating his ideas. In Poland, Jarosław Kaczynski, the leader of the Law and Justice party, claims that the Russian plane crash in 2010 that killed his twin brother (then the country’s president) was a political assassination, and has accused the Polish prime minister of the time, Donald Tusk, now the president of the European Council, of being “at least morally” responsible. (The official explanation is that the poorly trained pilots crashed the plane in heavy fog.)

It need not be like this. Silicon Valley is a world unto itself, but when some of its members – a new technological elite – start to play a more active role in politics, that might become a catalyst for change. In the UK, it has been the legal, financial and technological sectors that so far have led the pushback against a “hard” Brexit. And we should not forget how the social movements that grew out of Occupy have already been changing the nature of politics in many southern European countries.

The pendulum is swinging back to the lions. In some respects, this might be welcome, because globalisation has left too many behind and they need to be helped. However, Pareto’s lesson was one of moderation. Both lions and foxes have their strengths and weaknesses, and political elites are a combination of the two, with one element dominating temporarily. Pareto, as he did in Italy in the 1920s, would have predicted a return of the lions. But as a liberal, he would have cautioned against xenophobia, protectionism and violence.

If the lions can serve as correctives to the excesses of globalisation, their return is salutary. Yet the circulation of elites is a process more often of amalgamation than replacement. The challenge to liberal politics is to articulate a balance between the values of an open, welcoming society and of one that takes care of its most vulnerable members. Now, as ever, the task is to find the balance between the lions and the foxes. l

Hugo Drochon is the author of “Nietzsche’s Great Politics” (Princeton University Press)

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge