In the popular imaginary, corrupt officials and criminal elites have populated the global South – and especially Africa – since the 1980s. In the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis and with the recent leaks about tax evasion, this symbolic containment of fraud and corruption in the global South has become brittle. The global economic order as a whole is increasingly haunted by suspicions of fraud and corruption. The editors David Whyte and Jörg Wiegratz explore this rise of fraud and its societal underpinnings on a global scale with their collected edition Neoliberalism and the moral economy of fraud. In an introduction and a final chapter, the editors argue that such deviant practices occur not because of a lack of morality or individual greed, but are guided by particular norms: ‘practices of fraud and corruption are encouraged by a moral culture, i.e. a distinct set of ideas, norms and values’ (1). They define moral culture as denoting neither a geographically bound group nor a set of capitalist ideas, but a moral order within societies. While neoliberal (political) reform is framed as a fight against deviant economic practices (especially in the global South), it has actually disseminated this specific moral culture. Only a small group of actors embraces these norms, such as banking professionals and the political elite, and they are largely unshared by wider society. Neoliberalism is, as they later explore, ‘based on blatant lies’ that current public and academic discourses have failed to uncover (232). Overall, ‘fraud is not merely an epiphenomenon but is a core feature of the structure of neoliberal capitalism’ (6).
Based on fascinating case studies, Neoliberalism and the moral economy of fraud is an important contribution to a nascent research field. It overcomes the notion that fraud and corruption are problems of the global South, and instead challenges readers to reconsider which moral orders underpin these practices and how these moralities circulate worldwide.
Between the introduction and the concluding chapter, 15 other chapters cover a multitude of topics and locations: bankers, tax professionals, property owners and supermarket managers in Britain, financial elites in Kyrgyzstan, business owners in Greece, justice workers in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the insurance industry in South Africa, a Ponzi scheme in Benin, sweatshops in Argentina, bureaucrats in post-socialist Europe and one theoretical contribution. Some chapters are based on extended empirical research while others are more essayistic in style. While Britain is overrepresented, the focus on case studies from there overcomes the dichotomy of a corrupt global South versus an ethical-standards-setting global North. Written by sociologists, anthropologists and criminologists, all contributions speak to each other by relating their cases to the key terms of the introduction. The collected edition successfully paints a broad picture, in which very different case studies contribute to understanding fraud and corruption as a global phenomenon.
While the approach offers an analytically productive way of understanding fraud and corruption, this perspective also has certain limitations. Many contributions narrow their explanatory scope by overusing the term neoliberalism: neoliberalism becomes the main actor, a force from outside that has comprehensively transformed various economic practices and cultural norms; it is often used as an umbrella term, merging distinct policies and practices. In his interesting contribution on public discourses and judicial proceedings in Britain after the 2008 financial crisis, Steve Tombs writes that the vilifications of certain bankers were mere ‘morality plays’ that only served to reaffirm the neoliberal moral order. The editors likewise query whether such moral anti-fraud resistance can fundamentally ‘move society off the market society track’ (234). In their view, even the resistance to neoliberalism strengthens its hold on society. This use of the concept leaves little room for the potentiality of political movements, contradictory everyday morals and, above all, of actors’ agency. This is also discussed in the book, and the authors Steve Hall and Georgios Antonopoulos raise the same objection in their chapter on a Greek confectioner who is involved in shady deals to make ends meet: ‘[C]an our beleaguered small business owners in Greece be seen as either willingly or unwillingly incorporated subjects of neoliberalism’s brutal and corrupt moral economy?’ (120). The most fascinating contributions in the book leave room for empirical material that does not neatly fit into the grand narrative that the book otherwise puts forward.
The editors’ and authors’ moral and political positionality is expressed in their understanding of fraud. The authors are rarely concerned with petty corruption, conventional con artists and small-time fraud (with the notable exception of the Greek confectioner). They see the managers, politicians and the wealthy – in short, the upper class – as the true fraudsters. As the authors themselves recognise, the interest in fraud in academia is part of a wider societal shift: the anger about the lack of prosecution after the 2008 financial crash, the outrage over the hidden wealth uncovered by the Panama Papers, and the countless investigations into dubious politicians. While I agree with the authors on political terms, their selection of certain kinds of fraud is indicative of the fact that fraud is not simply ‘out there’. I would argue that practices, persons and organisations become fraudulent by producing them as such: by raising suspicions, by judicial proceedings or by categorising some of them – and not others – as fraudulent in an academic text. The perception of practices as fraudulent emerges from public discourses, political decisions and judicial processes on the morality and legality of these practices. Stepping back, it becomes apparent that Neoliberalism and the moral economy of fraud takes part in the making of fraud: it uses the term fraud to label certain practices as immoral, or, more precisely, as being guided by a neoliberal moral order. The collected edition is the expression of the (re-)emergence of alternative moral order and the editors, especially in the closing pages, explicitly propagate a different kind of politics and a cultural shift.
Yet it could be worthwhile to complicate further studies of fraud by looking at the way it is produced, i.e. by actors questioning or validating trustworthiness. The history of fraud is certainly older than any neoliberal project. The book assumes that there has been an unprecedented change over the last decade. In an historical perspective, however, the notion that fraud and corruption have become all-pervasive is a recurrent phenomenon in commodified societies. It seems plausible that such situations are less indicative of an actual increase in fraud and more of a fundamental change regarding the way it is assessed, or, more precisely, of increasing difficulties in distinguishing the trustworthy and authentic from the fraudulent and fake.
Indeed, the contemporary politics of the making of fraud are contradictory. There probably is more blatant large-scale tax financial fraud and corruption, but also more moral outrage about it, and both of these changes can be seen as the result of changes brought on by neoliberalism. But many other practices that could be conceived of as fraudulent cannot be explored productively with the concepts that Neoliberalism and the moral economy of fraud puts forward, even some of the practices described in its contributions: for instance, Sitna Quiroz describes ambiguous entanglements between religious Pentecostalist discourse and pyramid schemes in Benin. In anthropology, the Comaroffs’ work on ‘occult economies’ (Comaroff and Comaroff 2000) has explored how such popular forms of fraud mirror and relate to the finance industry in the global North. More recently, John Cox (2018) in his work on pyramid schemes in Papua New Guinea has shown that such popular frauds can even allow people to express and share emancipatory visions of a more equal society. How can such fraudulent business schemes reproduce neoliberal rationalities in the most blatant way but, simultaneously, provide alternative political imaginaries?
James Carrier’s contribution to the book provides a fascinating historical perspective, drawing parallels between 18th century peasants and modern political dissenters, because both groups emphasise that social interactions should not only be guided by market rationality but should also be embedded in moral and personal meanings. This point is particularly interesting because financial professionals and policy makers do not want to understand fraud in moral terms. Coming back to the creation of trustworthiness, there are currently many attempts to design systems and (digital) technologies that prevent fraud in the first place, for instance by using algorithms that immediately disallow certain transactions. At the core, such techno-political solutions attempt to create inherently trustworthy systems. In contrast, the emergence of a public discourse that scandalises fraudulent acts implies a different perspective. It suggests that trustworthiness emerges in certain relationships that are embedded in moral orders beyond market rationality. How do these highly contradictory currents relate to each other?
To further complicate the issue, we could also look at the use of fraud as a political method of undermining dominant political orders and their ideological underpinnings. In 2019, activists (fraudulently) impersonated a Russian oligarch, and the video recordings of the event led to the collapse of the right-wing populist government in Austria. Activists like the Yes Men have long used fraud as a means of destabilising the common sense of capitalist thought. Fake news is currently discussed only as a threat to public discourse, but frauds and fakes are apparently able to convey new insights about society.
While the focus on the grand narrative of neoliberalism closes off such explorative avenues, it is also the book’s strength. The moral outrage that fuels this collected edition enables fascinating new insights into current fraudulent practices and rationalities, as in the case of Nick, the Greek confectioner, and his struggles in a crisis-torn economy. Steve Hall and Georgios Antonopoulos locate his dilemmas in the history of capitalist expansion in general and the Greek austerity crisis in particular. In their view, the threat of imminent poverty and the absence of strong social ties and political solidarity make illegal activities the pragmatic solution for everyone involved, from the small business person to the wealthy elite. John Christensen’s contribution on tax professionals, who call themselves ‘wealth creators’, provides fascinating insight into the professional norms of the perpetrators of tax avoidance that could be seen as illegal. In their view, they do not need to concern themselves with the public interest, because their attempt to maximise their clients’ commercial interests will, via Adam Smith’s invisible hand and trickle-down economics, be beneficial to society in the end. There is even some hope: Christopher Swader’s chapter on the norms among managers of enterprises worldwide, based on quantitative methodology, argues that – even in the capitalist class – pro-social values have a large impact on inhibiting fraud. The contributions are most thought-provoking when we learn about the actors involved and their intricate moral dilemmas and entanglements.