Treasure Islands - Nicholas Shaxson [127]
Voter turnout reflects the absence of local democracy. The 33 percent turnout in the November 2005 election would have put Jersey in 165th position of 173 countries in a world ranking: marginally better than Sudan and far below the 77 percent European average since 1945.31 Poorer voters are especially disenfranchised, facing endless little hurdles that deter them from voting. Much of the Portuguese-origin working class subgroup that makes up nearly 10 percent of the population is unaware they even can vote, Southern said; voters must reregister every three years, and he has found dead people on his voters’ rolls.
The connétables, by virtue of the parochial system through which they emerge, are intrinsically conservative and inexperienced, and make a powerful voting bloc—voting with the establishment every time. They tend to be small shopkeepers, farmers, guest house owners, and plumbers, and they get into major positions of power, and into the finance sector. When it comes to decisions on whether Jersey should adopt a global standard of banking regulation, they are unable to judge responsibly. A Wall Street Journal article in 1996 noticed, “Jersey is an island that until two decades ago lived off boat building, cod fishing, agriculture and tourism. It is run by a group who, although they form a social and political elite on Jersey, are mostly small-business owners and farmers who now find themselves overseeing an industry of global scope involving billions of dollars.”32 The article goes on to report the judgment of John Christensen, who was Jersey’s economic adviser at the time: “By and large they are totally out of their depth.”
Christensen remembers a legislature made up largely of small-town politicians with no understanding of the complex currents of international finance and who simply pass legislation through on the nod. “When I talked to the politicians on the Finance and Economics Committee,” he said, “time and time again I talked about proposals coming forward. They said, ‘I’m being honest John: I don’t understand the detail, but I trust the lawyers and the bankers when they say it is necessary.’” The similarities with what members of the Delaware legislature were saying in 1980–81 are striking.
It is as if a vast global financial center had been tacked onto a couple of small-town parish councils in England or a smaller U.S. county. “They can argue at enormous length about the budget for the local pony club,” said Christensen, “but a new limited liability law or a new trust law will go unchallenged. It’s the captured state.”
Syvret also noticed that Senator Reg Jeune, one of the most powerful politicians on the island and a major supporter of the LLP legislation, was simultaneously a consultant to Mourant du Feu & Jeune, the lawyers who had brought in the legislation in the first place: He had a direct financial interest in supporting it. “I thought, ‘Whoa!’ This is extraordinarily brazen,” said Syvret. “When the States Assembly convened I stood up and said that Jeune has a conflict of interest—a financial interest. Jeune looked as though somebody had shot him. He staggered out of the chamber.”33
Syvret came under ferocious pressure from the Jersey establishment to apologize. He declined, was pressed again, and refused again. Another top politician threatened him with “serious implications” if he did not recant, adding, “which is a pity, since you had such a lot to offer.” The politician emphasized the word had, which Syvret took as a threat.
He stood his ground. “I just wasn’t going to take that crap,” he said. He was suspended from parliament, and in States Assembly deliberations in his absence he and Matthews were referred to as “The Enemy Within.” Sikka, for his part, was called “Enemy of the State.”
Senator John Rothwell, responding to Matthews’s concerns, pointed to the Jersey establishment’s approach to ethics. “The Island has done extremely well in projecting an image of low-profile respectability,” he said, “but