Speculators set up a casino where the chips were the stomachs of millions. What does it say about our system that we can so casually inflict so much pain?
2 July,2010
 
Johann Hari
2 July,2010
Johann Hari
By now, you probably think your opinion of Goldman  Sachs and its swarm of Wall Street allies has rock-bottomed at raw  loathing. You're wrong. There's more. It turns out that the most  destructive of all their recent acts has barely been discussed at all.  Here's the rest. This is the story of how some of the richest people in  the world – Goldman, Deutsche Bank, the traders at Merrill Lynch, and  more – have caused the starvation of some of the poorest people in the  world. 
It starts with an apparent mystery. At the end of  2006, food prices across the world started to rise, suddenly and  stratospherically. Within a year, the price of wheat had shot up by 80  per cent, maize by 90 per cent, rice by 320 per cent. In a global jolt  of hunger, 200 million people – mostly children – couldn't afford to get  food any more, and sank into malnutrition or starvation. There were  riots in more than 30 countries, and at least one government was  violently overthrown. Then, in spring 2008, prices just as mysteriously  fell back to their previous level. Jean Ziegler, the UN Special  Rapporteur on the Right to Food, calls it "a silent mass murder",  entirely due to "man-made actions."
Earlier this year I was in Ethiopia, one of the  worst-hit countries, and people there remember the food crisis as if  they had been struck by a tsunami. "My children stopped growing," a  woman my age called Abiba Getaneh, told me. "I felt like battery acid  had been poured into my stomach as I starved. I took my two daughters  out of school and got into debt. If it had gone on much longer, I think  my baby would have died."
Most of the  explanations we were given at the time have turned out to be false. It  didn't happen because supply fell: the International Grain Council says  global production of wheat actually increased during that period, for  example. It isn't because demand grew either: as Professor Jayati Ghosh  of the Centre for Economic Studies in New Delhi has shown, demand  actually fell by 3 per cent. Other factors – like the rise of biofuels,  and the spike in the oil price – made a contribution, but they aren't  enough on their own to explain such a violent shift.
To  understand the biggest cause, you have to plough through some concepts  that will make your head ache – but not half as much as they made the  poor world's stomachs ache. 
For over a century,  farmers in wealthy countries have been able to engage in a process  where they protect themselves against risk. Farmer Giles can agree in  January to sell his crop to a trader in August at a fixed price. If he  has a great summer, he'll lose some cash, but if there's a lousy summer  or the global price collapses, he'll do well from the deal. When this  process was tightly regulated and only companies with a direct interest  in the field could get involved, it worked.
Then,  through the 1990s, Goldman Sachs and others lobbied hard and the  regulations were abolished. Suddenly, these contracts were turned into  "derivatives" that could be bought and sold among traders who had  nothing to do with agriculture. A market in "food speculation" was born.  
So Farmer Giles still agrees to sell his crop  in advance to a trader for £10,000. But now, that contract can be sold  on to speculators, who treat the contract itself as an object of  potential wealth. Goldman Sachs can buy it and sell it on for £20,000 to  Deutsche Bank, who sell it on for £30,000 to Merrill Lynch – and on and  on until it seems to bear almost no relationship to Farmer Giles's crop  at all.
If this seems mystifying, it is. John  Lanchester, in his superb guide to the world of finance, Whoops! Why  Everybody Owes Everyone and No One Can Pay, explains: "Finance, like  other forms of human behaviour, underwent a change in the 20th century, a  shift equivalent to the emergence of modernism in the arts – a break  with common sense, a turn towards self-referentiality and abstraction  and notions that couldn't be explained in workaday English." Poetry  found its break with realism when T S Eliot wrote "The Wasteland".  Finance found its Wasteland moment in the 1970s, when it began to be  dominated by complex financial instruments that even the people selling  them didn't fully understand. 
So what has this  got to do with the bread on Abiba's plate? Until deregulation, the price  for food was set by the forces of supply and demand for food itself.  (This was already deeply imperfect: it left a billion people hungry.)  But after deregulation, it was no longer just a market in food. It  became, at the same time, a market in food contracts based on  theoretical future crops – and the speculators drove the price through  the roof. 
Here's how it happened. In 2006,  financial speculators like Goldmans pulled out of the collapsing US real  estate market. They reckoned food prices would stay steady or rise  while the rest of the economy tanked, so they switched their funds  there. Suddenly, the world's frightened investors stampeded on to this  ground. 
So while the supply and demand of food  stayed pretty much the same, the supply and demand for derivatives based  on food massively rose – which meant the all-rolled-into-one price shot  up, and the starvation began. The bubble only burst in March 2008 when  the situation got so bad in the US that the speculators had to slash  their spending to cover their losses back home. 
When  I asked Merrill Lynch's spokesman to comment on the charge of causing  mass hunger, he said: "Huh. I didn't know about that." He later emailed  to say: "I am going to decline comment." Deutsche Bank also refused to  comment. Goldman Sachs were more detailed, saying they sold their index  in early 2007 and pointing out that "serious analyses ... have concluded  index funds did not cause a bubble in commodity futures prices",  offering as evidence a statement by the OECD.
How  do we know this is wrong? As Professor Ghosh points out, some vital  crops are not traded on the futures markets, including millet, cassava,  and potatoes. Their price rose a little during this period – but only a  fraction as much as the ones affected by speculation. Her research shows  that speculation was "the main cause" of the rise.
So it has come to this. The world's wealthiest speculators set up a  casino where the chips were the stomachs of hundreds of millions of  innocent people. They gambled on increasing starvation, and won. Their  Wasteland moment created a real wasteland. What does it say about our  political and economic system that we can so casually inflict so much  pain?
If we don't re-regulate, it is only a  matter of time before this all happens again. How many people would it  kill next time? The moves to restore the pre-1990s rules on commodities  trading have been stunningly sluggish. In the US, the House has passed  some regulation, but there are fears that the Senate – drenched in  speculator-donations – may dilute it into meaninglessness. The EU is  lagging far behind even this, while in Britain, where most of this  "trade" takes place, advocacy groups are worried that David Cameron's  government will block reform entirely to please his own friends and  donors in the City. 
Only one force can stop  another speculation-starvation-bubble. The decent people in developed  countries need to shout louder than the lobbyists from Goldman Sachs.  The World Development Movement is launching a week of pressure this  summer as crucial decisions on this are taken: text WDM to 82055 to find  out what you can do. 
The last time I spoke to  her, Abiba said: "We can't go through that another time. Please – make  sure they never, never do that to us again." 
 
 

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