
INTERVIEW: THE PROPERTY developer Bernard McNamara has said he is “broke” and has debts in the region of €1.5 billion.
Asked if he could lose his luxurious home on Dublin’s Ailesbury Road, he said this was “probable”.
In an extensive interview with RTÉ radio’s Drivetime programme, Mr McNamara said he was involved in a number of businesses but they were not “interlinked” as had been reported by some media, and that the building company founded by his father, Michael McNamara Co, was a viable company with approximately 270 direct employees and a number of projects on the go.
He said he had looked for time in discussions with the Davy investors who had a judgment for €62.5 million registered against him yesterday, and had discussed a possible settlement of between €5 million and €10 million.
He said he could not pay the debt. He had given some consideration to seeking court protection, “the Liam Carroll route”, but had decided not to.
Mr McNamara was asked about the Irish Glass Bottle site in Ringsend, Dublin. He was part of a consortium that bought the site for €412 million in 2006, and it is now being valued at €50 million.
He said he had used valuers at the time. “How come they were all so wrong?”
He said he apologised to anyone who’d been hurt by the fact he had “waded too deep” into the property market and that he would do all he could to repay his debts. “Everything I’ve had since I was a young fella” was being put on the line, he said. “I’m not running anywhere. I’ll stand here and face whatever music there is.”
Ruth Sunderland
The Observer, Sunday 10 January 2010.
The credit crunch raises some profound questions about the nature of financial journalism; the types of story we write and how we write them. Over the past 30 years, there has been an expansion of financial coverage mirroring the liberalisation of markets. The credit crunch has itself created some unlikely new media stars: the BBC's business editor, Robert Peston, has gained a cult following for his dark-haired good looks and drawling delivery as much as for his scoops on Northern Rock.
Too much of the reporting, though, has been caught up with the drama of the mega-bid, the mega-bonus, or the mega-bust. Too little attention has been paid to the broader picture.
Business journalism in its current form was born in the 1980s when Margaret Thatcher embarked on her projects to open up the City through the Big Bang. She conducted parallel missions to expand home ownership by breaking up the old building society cartel, to widen pension provision and to democratise share ownership by selling off nationalised industries. Her over-arching belief in freeing individuals from the "dead hand" of the state spawned countless personal finance and property supplements.
Plenty of financial journalism tapped either into aspiration – how the readers, too, could become wealthy – or resentment, as the first fat cat pay packages, such as Cedric Brown's at British Gas, emerged in the 1990s. In tandem with the burgeoning business media, the City PR industry grew massively in the 1980s and 1990s, while older reporting beats such as industrial correspondent declined in importance along with the trades unions.
The dotcom boom of the early Noughties was a fresh seam of excitement for financial hacks. Some lost their critical faculties as they watched young entrepreneurs – including some of their own former colleagues – make millions. Reporters and editors were fixated by the big deals, preferably involving big personalities, such as Sir Philip Green's unsuccessful attempt to take over Marks & Spencer. Deals were and are typically reported in terms of high drama; issues such as likely job losses, the effect on regional economies and the long-term strategic interests of the UK generally took a back seat.
Large swathes of the financial universe were under-reported. Blue-chip companies quoted on the stock market received a big share of attention, partly because they are obliged to reveal information about their profits and trading on a regular basis. As private equity took over household names such as Alliance Boots and the AA, it became apparent that disclosure in that area urgently needed to improve. The state of company pension funds, on which millions of people rely for a retirement income, was and is insufficiently scrutinised – again, partly because of a lack of timely information. Although companies do report information in their annual accounts, actuarial valuations are only carried out once every three years. This gap is worrying, especially in the case of companies such as British Airways, which has essentially become a big pension fund with a little airline on the side.
There are huge questions for financial writers to address in these chastened times, including how an average person, with limited assets and financial knowledge, can be expected to navigate through the hazards of a liberalised financial system. Beyond the credit crunch there is the threat of the pensions crisis and how – or even whether – tomorrow's old people will ever be able to retire.
There are also important questions about companies' responsibility towards communities and the planet, as opposed to just serving the narrow interests of their shareholders. Issues such as dealing with the deficits have become highly politicised and will be a huge factor in the general election; more than ever, well-informed and lucid financial journalism is necessary for democracy to function properly.
This comes as the old media model is under threat from the internet. Money is tight at conventional media groups, with little cash to spare for investigations and reporters under pressure to produce instant news coverage to feed websites, and even less time to stand back and analyse.
But the picture is not all gloom; the internet has opened up access to customers and employees and could democratise financial journalism, lessening the influence of the PR machine. But whatever form it takes, the need for top-quality, independent financial journalism has never been greater.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/jan/10/financial-journalism-big-bang-mega-deals
We are at a time when many news enterprises are shutting down or scaling back. No doubt you will hear some tell you that journalism is in dire shape, and the triumph of digital is to blame.
My message is just the opposite. The future of journalism is more promising than ever—limited only by editors and producers unwilling to fight for their readers and viewers, or government using its heavy hand either to overregulate or subsidize us.
From the beginning, newspapers have prospered for one reason: the trust that comes from representing their readers' interests and giving them the news that's important to them. That means covering the communities where they live, exposing government or business corruption, and standing up to the rich and powerful.
Technology now allows us to do this on a much greater scale. That means we have the means to reach billions of people who until now have had no honest or independent sources of the information they need to rise in society, hold their governments accountable, and pursue their needs and dreams.
Does this mean we are all going to succeed? Of course not. Some newspapers and news organizations will not adapt to the digital realities of our day—and they will fail. We should not blame technology for these failures. The future of journalism belongs to the bold, and the companies that prosper will be those that find new and better ways to meet the needs of their viewers, listeners, and readers.
First, media companies need to give people the news they want. I can't tell you how many papers I have visited where they have a wall of journalism prizes—and a rapidly declining circulation. This tells me the editors are producing news for themselves—instead of news that is relevant to their customers. A news organization's most important asset is the trust it has with its readers, a bond that reflects the readers' confidence that editors are looking out for their needs and interests.
At News Corp., we have been working for two years on a project that would use a portion of our broadcast spectrum to bring our TV offerings—and maybe even our newspaper content—to mobile devices. Today's news consumers do not want to be chained to a box in their homes or offices to get their favorite news and entertainment—and our plan includes the needs of the next wave of TV viewing by going mobile.
The same is true with newspapers. More and more, our readers are using different technologies to access our papers during different parts of the day. For example, they might read some of their Wall Street Journal on their BlackBerries while commuting into the office, read it on the computer when they arrive, and read it on a larger and clearer e-reader wherever they may be.
My second point follows from my first: Quality content is not free. In the future, good journalism will depend on the ability of a news organization to attract customers by providing news and information they are willing to pay for.
The old business model based mainly on advertising is dead. Let's face it: A business model that relies primarily on online advertising cannot sustain newspapers over the long term. The reason is simple arithmetic. Though online advertising is increasing, that increase is only a fraction of what is being lost with print advertising.
That's not going to change, even in a boom. The reason is that the old model was founded on quasimonopolies such as classified advertising, which has been decimated by new and cheaper competitors such as Craigslist, Monster.com, and so on.
In the new business model, we will be charging consumers for the news we provide on our Internet sites. The critics say people won't pay. I believe they will, but only if we give them something of good and useful value. Our customers are smart enough to know that you don't get something for nothing.
That goes for some of our friends online too. And yet there are those who think they have a right to take our news content and use it for their own purposes without contributing a penny to its production. Some rewrite, at times without attribution, the news stories of expensive and distinguished journalists who invested days, weeks or even months in their stories—all under the tattered veil of "fair use."
Eric Schmidt: How Google Can Help Newspapers
Seth Lipsky: All the News That's Fit to Subsidize
Peter Kann: Quality Reporting Doesn't Come Cheap
These people are not investing in journalism. They are feeding off the hard-earned efforts and investments of others. And their almost wholesale misappropriation of our stories is not "fair use." To be impolite, it's theft.
Right now content creators bear all the costs, while aggregators enjoy many of the benefits. In the long term, this is untenable. We are open to different pay models. But the principle is clear: To paraphrase a famous economist, there's no such thing as a free news story, and we are going to ensure that we get a fair but modest price for the value we provide.
Finally, a few words about government. In the last two or three decades, we have seen the emergence of new platforms and opportunities that no one could have predicted—from social networking sites and iPhones and BlackBerries, to Internet sites for newspapers, radio and television. And we are only at the beginning.
The government has a role here. Unfortunately, too many of the mechanisms government uses to regulate the news and information business in this new century are based on 20th-century assumptions and business models. If we are really concerned about the survival of newspapers and other journalistic enterprises, the best thing government can do is to get rid of the arbitrary and contradictory regulations that actually prevent people from investing in these businesses.
One example of outdated thinking is the FCC's cross-ownership rule that prevents people from owning, say, a television station and a newspaper in the same market. Many of these rules were written when competition was limited because of the huge up-front costs. If you are a newspaper today, your competition is not necessarily the TV station in the same city. It can be a Web site on the other side of the world, or even an icon on someone's cell phone.
These developments mean increased competition, and that is good for consumers. But just as businesses are adapting to new realities, the government needs to adapt too. In this new and more globally competitive news world, restricting cross-ownership between television and newspapers makes as little sense as would banning newspapers from having Web sites.
In my view, the growing drumbeat for government assistance for newspapers is as alarming as overregulation. One idea gaining in popularity is providing taxpayer funds for journalists. Or giving newspapers "nonprofit" status—in exchange, of course, for papers giving up their right to endorse political candidates. The most damning problem with government "help" is what we saw with the bailout of the U.S. auto industry: Help props up those who are producing things that customers do not want.
The prospect of the U.S. government becoming directly involved in commercial journalism ought to be chilling for anyone who cares about freedom of speech. The Founding Fathers knew that the key to independence was to allow enterprises to prosper and serve as a counterweight to government power. It is precisely because newspapers make profits and do not depend on the government for their livelihood that they have the resources and wherewithal to hold the government accountable.
When the representatives of 13 former British colonies established a new order for the ages, they built it on a sturdy foundation: a free and informed citizenry. They understood that an informed citizenry requires news that is independent from government. That is one reason they put the First Amendment first.
Our modern world is faster moving and far more complex than theirs. But the basic truth remains: To make informed decisions, free men and women require honest and reliable news about events affecting their countries and their lives. Whether the newspaper of the future is delivered with electrons or dead trees is ultimately not that important. What is most important is that the news industry remains free, independent—and competitive.
Mr. Murdoch is chairman and CEO of News Corp. This is adapted from his Dec. 1 remarks before the Federal Trade Commission's workshop on journalism and the Internet.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704107104574570191223415268.html
Two-and-a-half years ago, before the financial crisis struck, the private equity industry was fast becoming the bete noire of unions, politicians, the media and a plentiful number of company boards.
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Then, almost overnight, the industry disappeared from view, the credit crunch making its highly leveraged deals impossible to fund. And as the banks began teetering on the edge of collapse, a new generation of villains replaced the private equity buccaneers.
But over the past week, there have been indications that the moribund private equity industry is again showing signs of life."Keynes: The Return of the Master is a masterly book. It is impossible to argue that finance has done its job. The essential principle of modern financial theory is that holding a diversified portfolio of assets eliminates market risk. In practice, securitisation — creating marketable securities out of loans and selling them to investors — created a contagion of bad debts that infected the real economy. Yet the foundations of modern theory still have more validity than Skidelsky allows.
The pursuit of wealth is not the overriding value in life, but, unlike a love of books or the value of friendship, it is measurable. Financial markets are the least bad means yet devised of coping with the uncertainty of future wealth. They involve giving up immediate consumption so that we can make provision for the future. Financial models try to estimate what future cash flows (interest payments and dividends) are worth now. They assign a lower value to cash flows in the far future because they are less certain. The calculations are always inexact, but this is not mumbo jumbo. Capital is a scarce resource. Modern financial markets have generally allocated it to companies that can make good use of it.
The true problem, which Keynes brilliantly foresaw, is that financial firms are herd-like in their attachment to fads. With heavy irony, Keynes defined a sound banker as “one who, when he is ruined, is ruined in a conventional and orthodox way, so that no one can really blame him”. That is the full story of today’s financial crisis, in which banks took on risks they did not understand and made acquisitions out of the purest self-aggrandisement.