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Are Sinn Féin and the DUP about to return to power-sharing in Northern Ireland?

Theresa May has long since been criticised for taking little interest in the crisis at Stormont.

It turns out that power-sharing in Northern Ireland was only mostly dead. After a day of negotiations brokered by Theresa May and Leo Varadkar, government may return to Stormont.

If this latest breakthrough does bear fruit, it will be a weight off Downing Street's mind. There is barely enough legislative time to complete Brexit, let alone the legislation that the resumption of direct rule would require.

What's changed is the introduction of four new people to the talks: Mary Lou McDonald and Michelle O'Neill, the new leader and deputy leader of Sinn Féin respectively, Karen Bradley, the newish Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, and Theresa May.

The PM has long since been criticised for taking very little interest in the crisis at Stormont, and her previous Secretary of State, James Brokenshire, had, fairly or unfairly, become seen as a wholly owned subsidiary of the DUP. (One Northern Irish politician once rolled their eyes at the mention of Brokenshire and said they could "talk to Arlene directly" if they wanted to.) May has, however briefly, involved herself, while Bradley has successfully injected new life into the process and is, for the moment at least, seen as more of a referee and less of a participant than Brokenshire was.

But of equal importance is that Sinn Féin has now finished its leadership transition from its longstanding leaders, Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness and the time may be ripe as far as that party's interests are concerned to make a deal, too.

Of course, looming over all of this is Brexit with its consequences for the Irish border. We shouldn't forget that Sinn Féin opposed the Lisbon Treaty in both Ireland and the north of Ireland, while the DUP has had no objection to divergence between Northern Ireland and the rest of the United Kingdom as far as equal marriage, abortion and a range of other issues are concerned. What really matters to both is the century long constitutional question, and the significant change is that, for now at least,  both Sinn Féin and the DUP believe that a return to Stormont may be in their best interests.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman and the PSA's Journalist of the Year. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics.

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Can Britain’s new powers to investigate unexplained wealth prevent real-life McMafias?

The government is waking up to the fact that global criminals are fond of London. 

The BBC’s McMafia, a story of high-flying Russian mobsters and international money launderers woven into the fabric of London, ended this month. Despite the dramatic TV twists, the subject matter has its basis in reality. As a barrister dealing with cases that involve Russia and former Soviet states, my experience is that politicians and business people use the apparatus of the state to put rivals out of business by any means possible.

In McMafia, previously straight-laced fund manager Alex Godman (played by James Norton) begins transferring money under the cover of a new investment fund. With a click of a button, he can transfer a shady partner’s money around the world. As the Paradise Papers underlined, money can indeed be hidden through the use of complex company structures registered in different countries, many of which do not easily disclose the names of owners and beneficiaries. One company can be owned by another, so the owner of Company A (in Panama) might be Company B (in the Cayman Islands) which is owned by Company C (in the Seychelles) which owns property in London. To find out who owns the property, at least three separate jurisdictions must be contacted and international co-operation arranged – and that’s a simple structure. Many companies will have multiple owners, making it even more difficult to work out who the actual beneficiary is.

I represent individuals before the UK extradition and immigration courts. They are bankers, business people and politicians who have fled persecution in Russia and Ukraine or face fabricated charges in their home country and face extradition or deportation and will often be tortured or put on show trial if we lose. Their opponents will deploy spies, who may pay visits to co-defendants in Russia for “psychological work” (aka torture). Sometimes the threat of torture or ruin against a person’s family is enough to make them confess to crimes they didn’t commit. I have seen family members of my clients issued with threats of explicit violence and the implicit destruction of their life. Outside their close relatives’ homes in Russia, cars have been set on fire. Violence and intimidation are part of the creed that permeates the country’s business and political rivalries.

As in McMafia, London has long played a bit part in these rivalries, but the UK government has been slow to act. In 2006, Alexander Litvinenko, a former Russian security agent turned defector, was killed in London using Polonium 210 – a radioactive substance put into a cup of tea. Although Russian state involvement was suspected from the beginning, the UK government tried to block certain material being released into the public domain, leading his family to complain that the UK’s relations with Russia were being put before the truth. In 2016, a decade after his death, the inquiry finally delivered its verdict: there was a “strong probability” Litvinenko was murdered on the personal orders of Vladimir Putin. Yet in the same breath as condemning the act, David Cameron’s spokeswoman said the UK would have to “weigh carefully” the incident against “the broader need to work with Russia on certain issues”.

The government of Cameron’s successor has however been quick to use McMafia as a spring-board to publicise its new Unexplained Wealth Orders (UWO). These new investigatory powers are purportedly to be used to stop the likes of Alex from hiding money from the authorities. Anyone with over £50,000 of property who is politically exposed or suspected of a serious crime, will be forced to disclose the source of their wealth on request. While most British homeowners would own more than £50,000, the individuals are likely to be high profile politicians or under investigation already by the authorities. If they fail to respond punctually, they risk forfeiting their property.

The anti-corruption organisation Transparency International has long campaigned for such measures, highlighting cases such as the first family of Azerbaijan owning property in Hampstead or senior Russian politicians believed to own flats in Whitehall. Previously, confiscating hidden assets has been a lengthy and complex process: when the High Court confiscated an £11m London house belonging to a Kazakh dissident, the legal process took seven years.

The new Unexplained Wealth Orders mean that the onus is shifted to the owner of the property to prove legitimacy and the origin of the wealth. The authorities will have much greater power to investigate where finance and investment originated. But in order for them to work effectively, they will have to be backed up by expert prosecutors. The government still has a long way to go before it makes London a less attractive place to hide money.

Ben Keith is a barrister at 5 St Andrew’s Hill specialising in extradition, immigration, serious fraud, human rights and public law.