Vodafone UK considering T-Mobile UK Takeover
June 29, 2009
In a move that would forge the largest mobile phone operator in Great Britain, Vodafone’s UK branch (VOD.L : 151.60 : +1.80) are looking at potentially buying the UK branch of T-Mobile, the Times Online is reporting.
T-Mobile UK has been placed on the market by Deutsche Telekom, it’s owner, who have appointed J.P. Morgan to advise it on its options. Compared to other operators in Great Britain, T-Mobile is a comparatively small player valued between £2.5 billion and £3.4 billion. It commands a market share of just 15% compared to Vodafone’s 25%. Deutsche Telekom is thought to want out of the fiercely competitive and low-margin British market which, with five big companies, is more congested than most in Europe.
A joint venture or an outright acquisition are among the options on the table however regulators will have to approve any deal. As well as being bound by the competition rules, the industry is regulated by Ofcom, which is investigating charges that operators levy customers for connecting to other networks.
Some analysts believe that consolidation is more likely for Vodafone, as they have previously stated they are constantly vigilant of opportunities of this sort, and Vodafone Australia has recently merged with Hutchison Whampoa.
Vittorio Colao, who became chief executive last July, said that he was an “active supporter” of consolidation with T-Mobile, the No 4 in Britain, and Hutchison 3G, the fifth-largest operator. Mr Colao said last month: “I don’t know if there is a three-way [merger], I don’t know if there is a two-way, I don’t know if there is a way at all — but it is clear to me that there are a few markets around the world where consolidation would make sense and we are one of the leading players, so we have a duty to look at everything. If things make sense and improves the conditions in the market, we will try our best.”
Vodafone announced a fresh wave of costcutting last month after nearly £6 billion of writedowns halved its full-year profits to £3.08 billion. It is the world’s largest operator, by revenue. It wrote down the value of its Spanish business by £3.4 billion and took a £500 million hit on its Turkish division as the global downturn and increasingly tough competition took their toll.
T-Mobile and Vodafone declined to comment last night, however one source said that Vodafone was examining its options.
Guardian Journalist Arrested for Trying to Penetrate Secret Bilderberg Meeting
May 17, 2009
Our man at Bilderberg: in pursuit of the world’s most powerful cabal.
May 12, 2009
Once a year, it is rumoured, the global elite gather at a luxury hotel to chew the fat and fine-tune their secret plans for world domination. We sent Charlie Skelton in pursuit.
I don’t quite know why I’m on a flight to Athens, except that it seems like the right thing to do. I’m flying out on a last minute whim to hang around outside a conference which may, or may not, be happening and to which I’ve not been invited. None of you has.
You won’t have read about it. You won’t have seen a guest list, you won’t see photographs of it. It isn’t happening. It doesn’t exist. I’m flying out to Athens for no reason at all. To have a holiday I don’t deserve and can’t really afford. Maybe catch a little sunstroke, grab some food poisoning, and come home. Pointless.
Unless, of course, the rumours are true. Unless, as a handful of people are saying, this weekend is Bilderberg. The yearly alignment of the distant stars that shape our destiny. A long weekend at a luxury hotel, where the world’s elite get to shake hands, clink glasses, fine-tune their global agenda and squabble over who gets the best sun loungers. I’m guessing that Henry Kissinger brings his own, has it helicoptered in and guarded 24/7 by a CIA special ops team.
If it’s happening at all, Kissinger will be here. David Rockefeller will be here. Presidents of banks, and chairmen of boards. The Ben Bernankes and Condoleezza Rices of this world. Heads of oil companies, media magnates, the Queen of the Netherlands and Peter Mandelson. Probably Ben Bernanke, possibly David Cameron. Politicians and financiers from all five corners of the globe (don’t let them tell you there are four). And me.
I arrived last night, under cover of darkness. I told the cab driver to stop 50 metres from the hotel. He asked why. I couldn’t tell him that it was so I could case the entrance for FBI lenses. I simply muttered that I couldn’t explain. His eyes lit up. “Aha! I see! I know!” What did he know? And who is that following us? A man in a BMW. Definite spook.
Get a grip.
The driver drops me on a dark corner of the Athenian Riviera, pats me on the shoulder and says: “You want to smoke some dope?” I decline. I need my senses sharp. I scurry into the hotel, glancing into parked cars, looking for vans with mirrored windows. There aren’t any. At reception they seem to have lost my booking (the tentacles of Bilderberg reach far!), but eventually I get checked in, go upstairs, unpack, have a shower, go downstairs, step outside, look across the street and realise I’ve scurried into the wrong hotel. This is who Bilderberg are up against.
An embarrassing hour later, I set out again from the right hotel, determined to find the location where Bilderberg is said to be happening. Get some early photos, maybe see Hillary Clinton arrive. Although I’ll settle for Ken Clarke. It’s getting late. Joggers are out. FBI? Secret service? Almost certainly. I trudge on determinedly. After about half an hour I realise I turned the wrong way out of my hotel and I am walking up a deserted coastline towards Athens. I go back to bed. Another untroubled night for Bilderberg.
At breakfast, a heavy-set man with hairy forearms sits opposite me and fiddles with his mobile phone. Definite spook. He eats a hard-boiled egg and watches me struggling with my Coco Pops. My first discovery of the day is to find out what happens to Coco Pops when they’re left to sit for a decade in a Greek presentation dish. They turn to gravel.
The spook leaves before me. He got what he came for: a photo of me, sneaked on his mobile and wired already to Quantico in Virginia. And a hard-boiled egg.
Outside, it’s a beautiful day, the air smells of sun and seashells, and there is no sign of a global cabal meeting anywhere near. I have a wander. From my meagre, third-hand, internet forum sources, I think I know the hotel where Bilderberg is happening: the Astir Palace resort. Further from my hotel than it looked on Google maps. Note to self: always check the scale on the zoom.
A dozen promontories and dusty dead-ends later, and I’m ready to give up. It’s too hot. I don’t have a sunhat. The world is going to hell and Vouliagmeni is full of litter. What is it with the Greeks and bins? Do they not see them? Do they not believe they exist? Hidden in plain sight … it’s the Bilderberg way. It’s too hot. I need some water.
And then, on the pavement ahead, there he was. I recognised him from the videos. The braces, the loose shirt, the grizzle. The tattered leather briefcase, packed with dark secrets. It was the doyen of Bilderberg hunters himself, Jim Tucker. I addressed him.
“Excuse me … Mr Tucker?”
“Let’s go into my hotel and talk.”
Tucker is a man in a hurry. He’s not getting any younger, and his old enemy Bilderberg is getting stronger.
“Hot enough for you?” I venture.
“Too hot for a fatboy,” he growls.
The exchange makes me feel like a resistance fighter exchanging codewords. Assured of my credentials, Tucker gestures me into his hotel lobby. I can’t believe my luck. Suddenly I’m not alone, I’m not hallucinating. Bilderberg is here. Where you find Jim Tucker, you know Bilderberg isn’t far away. He’s a herring gull, telling me there are whales beneath.
Tucker lights a non-filter cigarette, lays his hat upon the table, and settles back into the lobby sofa to talk …
Charlie Skelton will be filing regular updates from Athens until he is arrested by shadowy figures in dark glasses.
Our man at Bilderberg: Close, but still no cabal
May 12, 2009
With the annual secret meeting of the global elite only hours away, the shadowy corporatocracy remains tantalisingly elusive, writes Charlie Skelton
t’s B minus one, the day before Bilderberg. And it is definitely happening: I’ve seen the guns. I thought it might be a good idea to go to the Astir Palace resort for lunch. See just what kind of a cheese omelette the president of the Federal Reserve is going to be enjoying. I didn’t get far. At the gates, there were machine guns and men in loose jackets and guards checking under cars for bombs with those mirrors on sticks that morbidly obese people use to check whether they’ve taken their knickers off.
I should have come for breakfast. Maybe I would have got in. A security guard opened the cab door, leaned in, and asked me if I was staying at the hotel. I gave it my best shot. Not much of a shot, but my best one. “I’m here for lunch.” Smile feebly.
“We’re closed now. Only guests.” And to the driver, a bark of instructions to turn around. We turned around. I explained to the driver what was happening at the hotel, trying to avoid words like “globalisation”, “corporatocracy” and “dissolution of sovereignties leading to supranational control structures”. I think he got the gist. “They come to here? The leaders of the world?” He honked amiably at a girl in a bikini. “To have conference, or to have holiday? Now is time for holiday! Look to the beach!”
I looked to the beach. Everyone was splishing about in the shallows, batting tennis balls at each other and reading whatever the Greek equivalent of John Grisham is. John Grisham, probably. The sky is blue; the sea is calm. Even the dogs that sleep on the sand are well fed from the restaurant bins. What could possibly be wrong with the world?
Just up the hill, a small group of people are meeting for the weekend. Might play a bit of ping pong. Where’s the harm in that? Might thrash out a few broad brushstroke policies. Microchipping? World Bank? These things need to be discussed. And this is as nice a place as any to discuss them.
The hotel offers “gourmet dining, atmospheric bars, and extensive meeting & events areas and services.” And the spa has a steam room. And you know how much Kissinger loves to steam (“Hotter! I vont it hotter!”)
Independently of me, Jim Tucker failed to get in for a snoop. He stubs out a weary cigarette. I don’t sense it’s his first. I ask him about the order of business. “This year? They’ll be talking about that ridiculous swiiiiiiine flu.” And in the five raked-out syllables he gives the word “swine”, he paints his distaste of the subject. “They want to use it to turn the World Health Organisation into the global department of health.” I have to ask. “Isn’t it already?”
“Only for members of the United Nations. Also, they’ll be talking about ratifying the international criminal court. Obama is waiting until he gets a sympathetic senate, after the 2010 elections. Then he’ll pass it one evening, late in the week: too late for the Sunday papers, too late for the talk shows. It’ll happen, and no one will notice. First part of 2011.”
I’ll say this for Mr Tucker: for a fortune teller, he’s giving us details. Nothing about “You will travel overseas” or “Watch out for a man with a D in his name.”
Like David Rockefeller? “He’s 93, but if he’s alive, he’ll be here,” growls Jim. But again, why is this a problem? Why is anyone bothered that a bunch of powerful psychopaths – sorry, sociopaths … sorry, bankers and politicians – have a yearly get-together? Many people admit to attending. As one of the commenters on my previous piece rightly points out, George Osborne mentioned going to Bilderberg 2008 in his official expenses (apparently he paid for the flights himself). So why worry? Why interrupt your John Grisham for a single second as the limousines roll up the hill?
Perhaps the problem is not that people are meeting up. If there’s a problem at all, it’s whether or not there is a coherent global agenda, whether this agenda is something towards which people in power are doing their best to advance things, and whether this agenda (if it exists at all!) is a benign one.
For now, my jury is out. Except to say that when it comes to global politics I’m reminded of that Edgar Allan Poe short story: the one in which [WARNING: SPOILER] a purloined letter is concealed out in the open, where everyone can see it. Like large letters written across a map, so large they can’t be seen. I can’t for the life of me remember which tale it is, Murders on the Rue Morgue or The Purloined Letter. One of those two.
I’m going back to the Astir Palace now. The heat of the day is passing, and afternoon sun looks good on the barrel of a machine gun.
Charlie Skelton will be filing regular updates from Athens until he is arrested by shadowy figures in dark glasses.
Bilderberg: One mention of Sylvester McCoy and it all kicks off
Charlie Skelton is menaced by police with guns (and mirrors on sticks) in his third dispatch from (near) the Bilderberg summit of the global elite
You know your day’s gone badly when it ends with you being shouted at in a Greek police station.
It wasn’t meant to end this way. I’d gone for a gentle sunset walk, up by the Bilderberg hotel, to relax before the big opening day of the elite globalist shindig, watch Phoebus plunge headlong into the western sea, and (yes) maybe sneak a couple of short-lens pictures of the mounting security.
Opposite the hotel gates I took a casual photo out over the bay, limbering up to swivel round and snap off some naturalistic “armed guard having fag and chatting up policewoman” sort of shots. A plainclothes officer jogged across the road and got in my face.
“No photos.”
“Of the sea?”
“Give me your camera.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Passport.”
“I’ve got my Oyster card”.
“Passport.”
“Driving licence?”
He takes my licence. A group of policemen have sauntered over, and mutter Greekly about the enormous threat to the smooth running of Bilderberg I seem to represent.
“What is this?” asks one of the local militia. He takes my notebook. Opens it at random.
“What are you writing? What here?”
He points to an old 8 Out of 10 Cats joke (well, barely) about what would happen if we had a female Doctor Who. He jabs at it, proof, in black and white, of my status as an agitator. I read it out: “I’m not saying we’ve already had a female Doctor Who, but Sylvester McCoy put cracks in the glass ceiling.”
“Who is this? Syl… Syl…”
“Sylvester McCoy.”
“A friend of yours? He is staying here?”
I bite back telling them that Sylvester McCoy is a noted anti-globalist freedom fighter who is here to lead the people’s revolt against Bilderberg’s liberty-stripping agenda. “It’s nothing. Can I have my book back?”
They confer. An imp in my brain tells my hand to reach for my camera and take a photo. Click. Whir. At which point, on a gorgeous May evening on the Athens Riviera, began one of the more stressful hours of my life. Hands went to holsters.
“NO PHOTOS!”
“HE TAKE FOTOGRAFIA!”
“NO FOTOGRAFIA!”
Over came the man with the machine gun. Over came the man with the special mirror-on-a-stick for car bombs. It was the first time in my life, and hopefully the last, that I’ve been intimidated by a mirror on a stick. They circled round me. One of them, the one in the photo with one hand up and the other on his pistol, kept prodding me in the shoulder, and shouting: “Give the camera! Just give the camera!”
All around me: “Delete! Delete photos!” followed by a lame tug of war for the camera with no great self-belief on either side, which I won. Camera back in pocket.
Then it became: “Get in the car!” Get in the car!” I wasn’t about to get in the car. I remember saying: “One of you has a machine gun, you’re shouting at me, I don’t understand why, I took one photograph, this all seems a bit strange. What’s going on here?”
One of the nicer policemen, who looked a bit like the short guy from LA Law, the one married to Jill Eikenberry (note to self, update this reference), took me aside. “Very important people coming. Very important. No photograph. Please get in car, we take details, put in computer, you can go.”
I complained, reasonably I think, that they could simply phone my details through to the station, and check that I wasn’t wanted on three continents for acts of terror, but they were having none of it. Prod, prod, prod. Eventually I got in the car. I had to.
They drove me to the police station. Other cars followed. At the station, officers gathered from all quarters. They’d sniffed an incident. A dozen of them stood round me. The Greek chorus reached full voice: “Give the camera! Delete photos! You understand?!” I hated my hands for trembling when I wrote down my father’s name so they could look me up on “computer”. But at least I got a chuckle hearing them try and pronounce Melvyn.
One of the policewomen smiled. “Delete photos and you can go, no trouble.” She looked like Christina Aguilera’s slightly butch cousin and I fell on her smile with a thirst. Nearly gave her the camera. Understood in a flash the whole good cop, bad cop thing. Kept my camera in my pocket. Smiled back. “I just want you to tell me if I’ve broken the law, and if so, are you arresting me?” God, I sound like a cliché of a protester. Oh god, I’m a protester. What are my rights here?
“Charge me or release me!” is what I didn’t shout. I sat quietly and tried to still my hands in my lap. I smiled at Christina. I was winning.
Suddenly, a “you can go” from the sergeant at the computer. I went. I had my camera. I had my photo. I was free. It was the end of Midnight Express. The Breakfast Club fist in the air. Except that I felt sick and wanted to go to sleep.
I slept. This morning, feeling stronger after a slice of breakfast cake, I think I understand: I was the trouble kicking off. I was the agitation they’d been warned about. Very important people. No mistakes. They were wired, pumped up for confrontation, and my photo had been the spark. It’s why they’d blown up in my face. Important people arriving. No fotografia.
And then it struck me: there really ISN’T any fotografia. There’s none. Not a single member of the mainstream press. Not a single newshound camera on a tripod. Nothing. Nothing is happening here. Nothing to report.
The limousines have started to arrive. Nothing to report.
They’ve closed off an entire peninsula. There are roadblocks. Machine guns. Nothing to report.
This is Bilderberg’s 57th annual meeting. Nothing to report.
Susan Boyle plucks eyebrows! Finally, something to report.
Charlie Skelton will be filing regular updates from Athens – even though he has been warned and may not be so lucky next time.
Our man at Bilderberg: They’re watching and following me, I tell you
May 14, 2009
Charlie Skelton is now being followed by the police and still hasn’t done much more than eat a club sandwich. Global secret cabals have no sense of humour.
Now I’ve got too much to report.
I’ll talk later about the strange secret circus of limousines, blacked-out windows, sirens, helicopters. No time to relate being detained for a SECOND time, for the crime of being half a mile from the Bilderberg hotel gates trying to take “arty” photographs of limousine wheels as they whisked past. Doing so little wrong that I was doing it while standing next to three policemen who were fine about it. Until the call came through on the radio and the motorbikes and squad cars squealed around me like a bad dream. I’ll tell that story later. I have to talk now about what just happened.
But before I begin, please believe me when I say: I haven’t gone nuts. I really haven’t. Nine times seven is 63 and the capital of Italy is Rome. I know what I know. And I know that I’m being followed. I know because I’ve just been chatting to the plainclothes policemen I caught following me. As absurd as it sounds, I’ve just “made my tail”.
They’re watching me now. REALLY. They’re sitting on the wall outside the cafe Oceania or whatever this is called, watching me type this sentence. I asked them in for a coffee but they declined. They laughed sheepishly when I called them Starsky and Hutch. They asked my name. “I told your colleagues. Twice.”
They asked again. I told them. I asked back. There was an awkward pause. They’re not very good at this. “… … Nick … … … … and … John.”
So there we were, me and my shadows. Nick and John. “We’re just walking up and down.” That was their cover story, and they didn’t bother sticking to it. They simply couldn’t resist: “How many days you spend here?” – “Where you from exactly?” – “You staying here alone?” I was laughing. It was too bizarre. “What is your job?”
I told “John” I wrote jokes for television programmes. He almost instantly forgot. It wasn’t on the profile he’d just learned, clearly. “So what papers you write for?”
I noticed them in reception after breakfast. Like I’d noticed the similarly dressed, early-30s, bland-looking fellow the night before. He seemed to be staring at me. I turned round and caught him whispering to the receptionist and looking at me. I swear to God. I know this makes me sound like a lunatic, and if it weren’t for my chat just now with Starsky and Hutch I might start assuming I’ve had a touch of the sun. Last night, the phone rang in my hotel room and someone hung up when I answered. The call came from inside the hotel. I assumed it was one of the other reporters ringing the wrong room. Maybe it was.
I’m just remembering now. I had a shorter than usual breakfast this morning. I came out. “Nick” was alone in the lobby. He was on his mobile. I trotted upstairs to my room. Down the stairs comes “John”, also on his phone. I’m slotting together memories now, as I type. I haven’t gone mad. This is happening.
Was he in my room? They knew I was in breakfast. This is crazy.
Here’s what happened next: I headed out of the hotel with my laptop. And I thought to myself: you know what, if they’re REALLY cops, they’ll follow me. So I stopped, turned round, and waited. Ten seconds. I felt an idiot, standing there, waiting for an imaginary policeman to follow me out. Fifteen seconds. Eureka! Out comes “John” on his mobile phone. He looks confused to see me standing there and crosses the road. I sit down on a wall. He dawdles by a lamppost. I get up, walk to the seafront, turn left, walk a bit, cross the road (gives me a chance to look both ways – and yes, there’s “John”).
I walk into the far entrance of the cafe. I’m in an episode of The Wire. The cafe is long and thin. I double back on myself and stand, hidden, by the earlier entrance. I’m standing behind a shrub, clutching a laptop to my chest, my heart beating like a Phil Collins solo (on drums, not piano).
I’m just an ordinary guy. A concerned citizen. For this week at least, a blogger. Barely a reporter. A terrible photographer. No threat to anyone. I’m nobody. But just up the hill, in a luxury hotel, there’s a meeting of the most powerful somebodies in the world. Bilderberg. I’ve been hauled off to the police station twice. Before this week, I’ve never had so much as a cross word with a policeman IN MY LIFE. I once drove at night with my lights off and was pulled over and told not to drive like an idiot. And that’s it. I’m not a bad person. I don’t even know what I am any more. I think I write jokes for a living. I think maybe I used to. I’m a man clutching a laptop to his chest, trying to breathe quietly. Ten seconds. Fifteen. “John” comes round the shrub and steps back, bewildered.
“Hi”.
“I’m no threat, you know that, don’t you?”
Poor “John”. I felt sorry for him. He wasn’t very good at this. I’m not the smartest shoe in the window but it took me all of four minutes to blow his cover.
They didn’t want to come for coffee. I asked them to take my photo. They did. I took one of them. “No fotografia! Show me the camera!” Poor “Nick”, he was in a real bind. He couldn’t remember if he was a policeman or not.
They seem nice, mostly, the police who have been harassing me for standing around and taking bad photos with a cheap digital camera. Yesterday, I got chatting with one of the motorcycle cops before I was bundled off in the squad car. I told him that I hoped tomorrow there would be protests here – not riots, but protests. He agreed. “It would be nice to hear another voice,” he said, sadly. A big man in leathers, caught up in something far bigger. “But today I have to do my job. This is not a good situation.”
This is not a good situation. It would be nice to hear another voice.
I’m going to pay for my coffee now and head back to the hotel. Just the three of me.
Charlie Skelton will continue to file regular updates from Athens because it seems safer that way.
Our man at Bilderberg: I’m ready to lose control, but they’re not
May 14, 2009
Charlie Skelton feels a sudden need to apologise for the trouble he’s caused, swiftly followed by a rush of revolutionary rage against the powers that be being so, well, powerful
I want to talk about Bilderberg 2009. But beyond a simple “yes, it’s happening, it’s real, the leaders of the world are hanging out here for the weekend”, what can I say? It’s a private meeting.
I don’t know if they’re discussing global financial unification or the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy over their prawn cocktails. I don’t even know what the vegetarian option is for starters. Butternut squash?
You’re going to have to forgive me for speculating, but that’s all I can do. I’m not a proper reporter. I don’t have the foggiest of my rights (if any) to stand on public footpaths and point cameras. I don’t even have a proper camera. But what I do have is this: a sense of something rotten in the state of Greece. To my nose, there’s not a healthy smell wafting down from the Astir Palace. Or maybe that was the egg and pepper roll I had for breakfast.
Sorry if some of these speculations are wrongheaded, but I’m doing a lot of this thinking for the first time and I’ve only just shaken off my police escort. Sorry if I sound shrill or petulant, self-righteous or precious, sorry if my perceptions have been tilted by anger … sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Sorry for bothering you Mr Bilderberg. I’ve spent the last three days apologising to everyone. Sorry to the staff at my hotel for having plainclothes officers loafing around in their lobby. Sorry to the plainclothes officers themselves for having to drag them around Vougliameni on a wild goose chase (I bought them some chilled water, and took it to them while they shuffled awkwardly behind a tree). Sorry then to the desk sergeant for bothering her with my predicament: “I’m being followed around like a criminal, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind asking them to stop? I’m not doing anything wrong, and it’s getting … well … a bit annoying.”
I’m going to stop apologising now. I’m going to try and make sense of my experiences. It’s not easy; I don’t want to sound feeble-minded, but this has been a lot to take in. I feel a bit like I’ve driven down the wrong alley and suddenly don’t recognise anything, and people are staring at me and not simply to admire my hair. I’m jumpy. I think someone has been in my room and moved my laptop. I know this sounds bonkers, I know it does, but I took a photo of it before I left the room and it wasn’t where I left it.
Listen to me. I sound like a fruitcake. Three days and I’ve been turned into a suspect, a troublemaker, unwanted, ill at ease, tired and a bit afraid. And I haven’t even walked up the road to the Bilderberg hotel since the whole “get in the car!” incident. I’ve been trying to stay out of trouble, but trouble has followed me down the hill.
So – to make sense of it. I’m going to begin here: with the face of the first Bilderberg delgate I saw in the flesh. I was trying, lamely, to get a snap of some delegates as they swooshed through Vougliameni in their mirrored limos with their plainclothes motorcycle outriders and police escorts. And one of them had their window open. I was so excited I forgot to bring the camera to my face and took a photo of the hubcap. What I saw I won’t forget. It was a 40-something man with his head thrown back, laughing and laughing, the perfect photograph that only my retina will ever see.
And you know what: no wonder he was happy. It must be WAY COOL to be sirened through Greek streets in the back of bulletproof limo on your way to the COOLEST party in the world. You’ve been invited by the coolest of the cool kids to hang out for the weekend. Your cool cousin’s über-cool older brother and his way cool friends have got a keg of beer and a pool in the yard, and their parents are away and you think Jessica might be going. THIS IS THE BEST PARTY EVER! Turn on the sirens! We’re coming through! Woohoo!
And your life is already pretty cool. You already own a newspaper or head a thinktank, or you’re the UK secretary of state for business, enterprise and regulatory reform, or you run Fiat, or you’re chairman of the Federal Reserve or Queen of the Netherlands, or president of Shell Oil. You run stuff. You have big ideas. You’re in control, and control is fun.
Bilderberg is all about control. It’s about “what shall we do next?” We run lots of stuff already, how about we run some more? How about we make it easier to run stuff? More efficient. Efficiency is good. It would be so much easier with a single bank, a single currency, a single market, a single government. How about a single army? That would be pretty cool. We wouldn’t have any wars then. This prawn cocktail is GOOD. How about a single way of thinking? How about a controlled internet?
How about not.
I am so unbelievably backteeth sick of power being flexed by the few. I’ve had it flexed in my face for three days, and it’s up my nose like a wasp. I don’t care whether the Bilderberg Group is planning to save the world or shove it in a blender and drink the juice, I don’t think politics should be done like this. This might be a facile point, but if they were organising a charity snooker league, they could do it upstairs at Starbucks. If they were trying to cure cancer they could do it with the lights on. Innocent thoughts can be minuted.
Or maybe they’re simply swingers. Maybe that’s why the curtains are drawn. Imagine chucking your key in the tub and pulling out Ken Clarke. Sorry Timothy Geithner, that’s the cost of doing business.
I have a confession. (I’m not a swinger, that’s not it.) My confession is that being tailed today by Greek special branch, and doubling back through a cafe and catching them out, and buying them chilled water on a hot day like in Beverley Hills Cop, when Eddie Murphy has room service sent to their car – all this was pretty exciting. It’s was my own little episode of the Equaliser. (The Greequaliser? No, really no, I’m tired). Being tailed was exciting and funny and absurd and confusing and terrifying and utterly, utterly wrong. And I know this sounds pathetic but I got a bit teary in the police station when I was telling the nice desk sergeant lady that I’m not a bad person and not a threat to anyone, and it would be nice if someone could call off the goons. I don’t like to be made to feel like this. I’ve been “put” in this position, and I haven’t deserved it.
Bilderberg is about positions of control. I get within half a mile of it, and suddenly I’m one of the controlled. I’m followed, watched, logged, detained, detained again. I’d been put in that position by the “power” that was up the road.
Likewise, the Bilderberg delegates occupy a position of power over the bobbing ignorance of the people patting beach balls in the sea, and me with my crappy little camera and my curiosity and my ill-formed sense of citizenship. I may not be very good at bearing witness here, but I’m doing my best. I haven’t shinned over the fence and shoved a camera in David Rockefeller’s face but I don’t want to be shot in the forehead.
A final thought for the day. In the fable, the men may have been blind but they did at least get to grope the elephant before trying to describe it. Now shove that elephant in the back of a blacked-out Mercedes S600, whisk it off into a luxury Greek resort, circle it with heavily armed guards and helicopters, hand it a Martini, and pay the local police to harass, detain and follow anyone showing even the slightest interest of grabbing a flank. That, my friend, is the beast that is Bilderberg 2009.
Thanks to Charlie Skelton and The Guardian for covering this issue. Copyright remains with the aforementioned.
ICO (Information Commissioner’s Office) Issues Statement: The Communications Data Bill.
February 24, 2009
The ICO has released a statement expressing concerns about the Government plans for a Communications Data Bill.
The Government plans for a Communications Data Bill, outlined in its draft legislative programme, have received a pretty distrustful reaction from the ICO.
The ICO’s John Bamford, Assistant Information Commissioner, commented on the proposed government database:
‘If the intention is to bring all mobile and Internet records together under one system, this would give us serious concerns and may well be a step too far. We are not aware of any justification for the state to hold every UK citizen’s phone and internet records. We have real doubts that such a measure can be justified, or is proportionate or desirable. Such a measure would require wider public discussion. Proper safeguards would be needed to ensure that the data is only used for the proper purpose of detecting crime.
We have warned before that we are sleepwalking into a surveillance society. Holding large collections of data is always risky; the more data that is collected and stored, the bigger the problem when the data is lost, traded or stolen. Defeating crime and terrorism is of the utmost importance, but we are not aware of any pressing need to justify the government itself holding this sort of data. If there is a problem with the current arrangements, we stand ready to advise on how they can be improved, rather than creating an additional system to house all records’.
The Government outline in its legislative programme states that the purpose of the Bill is to allow communications data capabilities for the prevention and detection of crime and protection of national security to keep up with changing technology through providing for the collection and retention of such data, including data not required for the business purposes of communications service providers; and to ensure strict safeguards continue to strike the proper balance between privacy and protecting the public.
The main elements of the Bill involve modifications to the procedures for acquiring communications data and increasing powers for this data to be retained. It wil also transpose EU Directive 2006/24/EC on the retention of communications data into UK law. The Government claims that the main benefits of the Bill are that ‘communications data plays a key role in counter-terrorism investigations, the prevention and detection of crime and protecting the public. The Bill would bring the legislative framework on access to communications data up to date with changes taking place in the telecommunications industry and the move to using Internet Protocol (IP) core networks. Unless the legislation is updated to reflect these changes, the ability of public authorities to carry out their crime prevention and public safety duties and to counter these threats will be undermined’.
That early outline has since, reportedly, been fleshed out but no public document is available.
UK Superdatabase (uberdatabase) aka The Communications Data Bill
February 24, 2009
The purpose of the Bill is to:
Allow communications data capabilities for the prevention and detection of crime and protection of national security to keep up with changing technology through providing for the collection and retention of such data, including data not required for the business purposes of communications service providers; and to ensure strict safeguards continue to strike the proper balance between privacy and protecting the public.
The main elements of the Bill would:
Modify the procedures for acquiring communications data and allow this data to be retained;
The main benefits of the Bill are:
Communications data plays a key role in counter-terrorism investigations, the prevention and detection of crime and protecting the public. The Bill would bring the legislative framework on access to communications data up to date with changes taking place in the telecommunications industry and the move to using Internet Protocol (IP) communications services;
Unless the legislation is updated to reflect these changes, the ability of public authorities to carry out their crime prevention and public safety duties and to counter these threats will be undermined.
Territorial Extent:
United Kingdom
Theme:
Personalisation and Improvement of Public Services
Consultation:
The Government will be launching a consultation, outlining the emerging problem, possible solutions, and the necessary safeguards these would involve. This consultation will begin early in 2009 and will be available to read or download on www.homeoffice.gov.uk.
Dependent on the outcome of the consultation, the Government will consider whether to bring forward proposals. In the meantime, any comments or questions about these proposals should be directed to CommsData@homeoffice.gsi.gov.uk.
Reference:
http://www.commonsleader.gov.uk/output/page2667.asp
Big Brother Will Have His 3rd Eye: Jacqui Smith’s SuperDatabase Plan
February 24, 2009
Jacqui Smith, The Home Secretary is preparing to pass what has been dubbed a “personal data hell house” by the mainstream press. Within weeks the home secretary will outline options for a UK-wide centralised superdatabase.
One of the biggest assaults on human rights in modern history: The database is to track the telephone and Internet records of Brits and would be accompanied by tough sanctions against leaks or information security breaches.
TXT Messaging, Cellphone communications, Fixed Line Communications, Voice over IP communications (including services like Skype), Email, Instant messaging (including MSN Live Messenger), Internet Search queries, Online Identities, Cellphone Contacts lists, Email Contacts lists, and Profile Site (like Myspace, Bebo and Facebook) communications are all rumored to be included in the proposed database which will provide security forces with live information on all of the above.
Sir Ken Macdonald, the former director of public prosecutions, told The Guardian that the proposed assurances on information security under consideration by the government are nothing but a facade that is likely to crumble sooner rather than later.
“Authorisations for access might be written into statute. The most senior ministers and officials might be designated as scrutineers. But none of this means anything. All history tells us that reassurances like these are worthless in the long run. In the first security crisis the locks would loosen,” Macdonald said.
Legislation to establish the superdatabase was postponed in October in favour of a further round of consultation by the Home Office. The Home Secretary argues that a database on call records (including location but not the actual content of conversations and SMS) and internet use data is needed as part of plans to modernise the UK’s existing interception regime. As things stand, ISPs and telcos supply such data in response to requests by law enforcement agencies or the security services.
Estimates for the cost of establishing a super-database suggest it might cost anything up to £12bn ($17.4bn), or twice as expensive as the ID cards scheme. Ministers hope that putting the project into the hands of the private sector will help to reduce costs.
Macdonald argued that creating the über-database represents a further move towards a Big Brother-style “surveillance society”. He further argued that, over time, and especially in the event of a security crisis, more and more officials would be given access to information on the database.
“The tendency of the state to seek ever more powers of surveillance over its citizens may be driven by protective zeal. But the notion of total security is a paranoid fantasy which would destroy everything that makes living worthwhile. We must avoid surrendering our freedom as autonomous human beings to such an ugly future. We should make judgments that are compatible with our status as free people,”
“This database would be an unimaginable hell-house of personal private information. It would be a complete readout of every citizen’s life in the most intimate and demeaning detail. No government of any colour is to be trusted with such a roadmap to our souls.”
Estimates for the cost of establishing a super-database suggest it might cost anything up to £12bn ($17.4bn), or twice as expensive as the ID cards scheme. Ministers hope that putting the project into the hands of the private sector will help to reduce costs.
Andrew Rawnsley on Politics Home made the following statement in response to a question to their “Expert Panel 100″ panel:
Jacqui Smith is being cast as Big Brother – though perhaps that should be Big Mother – over plans to further extend the amount of information on citizens held by the state. The terrorism watchdog is one of those concerned with the idea of a database holding information about every phone call, email and internet visit.
The Home Secretary will go ahead regardless of strong opposition.
A big majority (seventy three per cent) of the politically balanced panel think that Ministers intend to proceed anyway. Only a small minority of the panel (seven per cent) think that there will not be strong opposition to the database scheme.
About a quarter of the panel (twenty six per cent) reckon the Government will drop the plan.
Comments from panellists are almost uniformly hostile to the proposal.
One panel member calls the plan ‘intrusive, illiberal and a waste of money.’
Another panellist remarks: ‘The Government is obsessed with this sort of stuff while people increasingly worry about their privacy and the Government’s true intentions.’
A third panel member reckons that Ministers are under pressure from the spooks: ‘It will proceed more slowly and tentatively than 42 days but security services are 100% behind this one so goverment can’t drop it.’
A fourth panellist rages: ‘The plan is mad, bad and dangerous, but that never seems to stop loony tune security ideas being pursued by Brown and Smith.’
References:
http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/12/31/superdatabase_latest/
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2008/dec/31/privacy-civil-liberties
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2009/feb/13/laws-communication-superdatabase
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2009/feb/06/surveillance-freedom-peers
ASBO preventing hoodie lawful?
February 19, 2009
An ASBO (anti-social behaviour order) under section 1 of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998 can be granted if a person aged 10 or over has acted in a manner that caused or was likely to cause harassment, alarm or distress to one or more persons not of the same household and that an ASBO is needed to protect relevant persons from further such anti-social acts.
Following R. v. Boness and others [2005] EWCA Crim 2395 (Mitting J and Latham LJ) is clear that a condition of an ASBO must be ‘clear, necessary and proportionate’.
The Claimant was subject to an ASBO prohibiting him from ’wearing any article of clothing with an attached hood in any public place in the London Borough of Greenwich, whether the hood is up or down’. He claimed that this was unreasonable in that it purpose and effect was not to reduce anti-social behaviour but to prohibit or restrict a particular appearance or style that the Claimant might wish to wear. In addition this restriction arguably could or did infringe his right to freedom of expression.
However, the Divisional Court on 10 November 2008 (R (B) v. Greenwich Magistrates’ Court [2008] EWHC 2882) agreed with the District Judge that the prohibition was imposed to reduce in two ways the swagger, menace and fear caused byintimidating group activity. These were to prohibit wearing what appears to be part of a gang uniform and also by diminishing the confidence of those who wear the uniform that they may escape detection by wearing and raising the hood. It was clear that the Claimant wore the hood for both these purposes. Consequently the prohibition satisfied the tests of clarity, necessity and proportionality identified in Boness.
Nicholas Dobson
Senior Consultant, Local and Public Law.
Lloyds TSB Moves Against Gaza Aid Charity: Interpal
February 17, 2009
Interpal, the controversial UK-based Palestinian charity, is facing closure after Lloyds TSB instructed the Islamic Bank of Britain to shut its bank account.
Interpal (pictured), which is on a list of banned organisations in the US because of suspected links with terrorists, is also under investigation by the UK Charity Commission for the third time.
The first two investigations by the Commission, which concluded in 1996 and 2003, found no evidence of any wrongdoing by the charity. The latest one, which opened in December 2006, is examining fresh concerns about the potential for inappropriate links between the charity and terrorist supporters of Hamas, the government of Gaza.
Yet the suspicions of US intelligence services appear to have proved enough of a warning bell for Lloyds, which has told the Islamic Bank of Britain (IBB) to close Interpal’s account on 8 December. Lloyds has the power to do this because it is a clearing bank and clears all the IBB’s cheques.
In light of the news, Interpal’s chair Ibrahim Hewitt issued a statement to supporters warning that the situation “has the potential to force us to cease operations early next month”. Early December is also the start of the Muslim festival Eid, traditionally a time of prolific charitable giving.
Potential to damage community cohesion
“This has the potential to not only damage Interpal but also to affect community relations and cohesion in Britain,” he said.
“It is, at the very least, an example of the utter lack of respect faced by the Muslim community from some hostile quarters in this country.”
Hewitt added that IBB had offered its total support but is “apparently powerless, throwing into question the autonomy of Britan’s burgeoing Islamic finance sector”.
In a further statement on the charity’s website this week, Interpal said the Islamic Bank “remains threatened by Lloyds’ demands and thus faces closure itself”.
It accused Lloyds TSB of treating IBB in a discriminatory fashion and called it “an Islamophobic attack on the rights of all British Muslims”.
‘Dangerous precedent’
“Other Muslim charities now face the same discrimination and their accounts can be closed down without adequate warning or explanation. At a time when ties amongst communities need to be strengthened, this sets a dangerous precedent for discrimination on all British citizens and account-holders.”
Interpal blamed “pressures from foreign groups” for Lloyds TSB’s action. It has asked its supporters to write to Lloyds and the IBB demanding they rescind the “outrageous, unfair and arbitrary” decision.
If the account is closed, it will be the second time Interpal has had to find a new bank – NatWest “reluctantly” closed its account in April 2007 after a group of families of Israeli suicide bomb victims launched a claim against the bank in the US.
Supporters of the charity say it is only prudent for Interpal to have some dealings with Hamas. One supporter wrote on the Muslimmatters website: “How is a charity meant to avoid interacting with members of a country’s democratically-elected government? Especially in a place as chaotic as Palestine, where one needs to have good contacts at every level in order to get anything done.”
Lloyds TSB and the Islamic Bank of Britain both refused to comment.
iengage.org.uk has released the following statement:
Ever since Lloyds TSB issued their demand on 8th October 2008 to the Islamic Bank of Britain to cease all its dealings with the British charity Interpal – which since 1994 has been engaged in relief efforts particularly amongst orphans and the poor in occupied Palestine – they have been inundated with complaints from members of the public.
Responding to complainants, Lloyds TSB issued a letter claiming that they were actually devoted to Islamic causes and would never use their clout as one of the top four UK clearing banks to force another bank to cease dealings with Interpal. The following is an extract from their letter:
“Thank you for getting in touch about the Islamic Bank of Britain (IBB) and Interpal…We hope to reassure you about our commitment not only to our Muslim customers but to building relationships with the wider Muslim community. We can confirm that Lloyds TSB does not hold accounts for Interpal. Furthermore, we would not direct, nor would it be appropriate for us, to direct another institution on how to deal with its own customers.”
Unfortunately for Lloyds TSB, a letter it sent to the Islamic Bank of Britain on 8th October clearly shows that they are being rather economical with the truth.
The 8th October letter from Lloyds TSB which Interpal have now published on their website says unambiguously:
“We are writing to you to give you notice that, from the date falling on the sixtieth calendar day following the date of this letter we do not wish you to transfer, receive, process or in any way deal with any funds, or in any way whatsoever (acting either as banker or agent on behalf of the Customer) be involved with any type of banking arrangements for Interpal which either uses or involves any products or services provided by us. Furthermore we will not process any payments or credits or allow the completion of any transaction that we believe is or connected with Interpal. By signing and returning a copy of this letter you agree and undertake with us that you will, to the fullest extent possible, ensure that Interpal will not, nor will you on behalf of Interpal, use any products or services provided to you by us.”
Readers will know that Palestinian relief organisations are constantly targeted by Zionist groups who wish them to be closed down so as to increase pressure on the besieged population of the occupied territories. But why would Lloyds TSB take such partisan action against Interpal?
The Chairman of Lloyds TSB is Sir Victor Blank. According to the Jewish Chronicle, Sir Victor ‘is a former chair of the Union of Jewish Students Hillel, he is involved with Labour Friends of Israel, is a governor of Tel Aviv University and has also been brought on to the Jewish Leadership Council, meaning he is both Jewish and a leader…Yes, Sir Victor is one Jewish hombre.’
Despite what the Jewish Chronicle says about Sir Victor we at ENGAGE are confident that a distinguished gentleman such as he would not take a partisan stand against a charitable organisation like Interpal. Indeed, we at ENGAGE are sure that Sir Victor Blank – as Chairman of Lloyds TSB – must be utterly horrified at the actions that some of his staff have undertaken against Interpal. After all, Palestinian orphans – in the words of the former Palestinian representative to the UK, Afif Safieh – are not children of a lesser God.
The latest news is that Lloyds TSB has reportedly agreed to postpone the closure of Interpal’s bank account from 8 December until 30 January 2009 after representations from Interpal’s bank, the Islamic Bank of Britain (IBB).
It is vital that all people who value justice and are opposed to illegal occupation and intimidation write to Sir Victor Blank and demand that Lloyds TSB publicly withdraw its action against Interpal and apologise for its appallingly underhand and deceitful behaviour.
Sir Victor Blank, Chairman of Lloyds TSB: Lloyds TSB Group plc
25 Gresham Street, London EC2V 7HN. Tel: 020 7356 2493
ENGAGE request that you forward this link to all your friends and colleagues and urge them to write in and insist that Lloyds TSB reconsider their actions.
References:
