Death forces us to confront the meaning of life, which is perhaps why death is so full of euphemisms and other ways of sugar-coating its sting. The death of Allan Hubbard is no different: it forces us to think of not just what he did, and the trouble he faced, but who he was.
Who he was to those who knew him personally, to those whose lives he touched by his donations, his financial accommodation, to those who counted him dear and to those who admired the good things he did, is, to some extent, not the answer to this question. It is these people, and their image of him, or personal experience with him, that we do not want to upset by speaking ill of the dead. We don't want to take away who he was to them by contradicting how they wish to remember him.
Of course those who knew him personally, or whose lives were touched by his dealings, and came away with adverse perceptions of the man exist, but take his death as an opportunity to show some tact and restraint towards those for whom Allan Hubbard was a different man. They don't speak ill of the dead but not because it changes their perceptions.
More than most, Allan Hubbard was a man who, when in financial trouble and accused of an expanding list of misdeeds, created a gulf between those who were convinced he was an honourable man and those who thought he was intentionally engaged in serious and complex fraud over a long period of time. This polarisation of opinion highlights the difference between who he really was, and who he was to those who knew him or knew of him.
In reality the man was an enigma. We don't know who he was, or what was really going through his head when he was doing the doings that earned him praise or those that resulted in criminal charges. In the same way we don't know what was really going through the minds of those who are accused of persecuting him either.
I've always analysed Mr Hubbard's affairs and accusations with the nagging doubt that I can't figure the man out. Sure I've got theories, but none have the status of knowledge, and few would even have the status of belief. The biggest unanswered question about is about the man himself rather than his conduct: Is Allan Hubbard a fraud, is the perception and image just a handy facade for building a business empire operated with widespread corner cutting, obligation breaching and trust-abusing practices? If I answered this in the affirmative, it would have to be the most total dismissal of the man and his life and work. Of course I never answered my question, probably never would have, and now never will.
Being unable to answer the question of who Mr Hubbard really was with any confidence brings me to two places:
- back to who he was to us, and
- what lessons can we make from his life (and possibly, his death).
This leaves us with some more general lessons we can take from his life and death:
No one forced us to trust Mr Hubbard or invest money with him. Even if Mr Hubbard let down people who trusted him or invested money with him, it is not solely Mr Hubbard's fault. We should be careful who we trust and how much we trust them. This applies not only to money, but with power. As absolute power corrupts, blind trust in anyone is an invitation to be visited by human frailty. (I should write a lenghty rant about governance here but I'll save that for another day).
The virtue of simplicity of affairs is also a lesson from Mr Hubbard's life. Whether it was a complex web of deceit or a complex web of mismanagement (or a complex web of mismanagement and deceit), the result of complexity is often poor. Complexity can hide both mismanagement and deceit. Simplicity and transparency are the anti-dote.
If we're going to have a government, and I'm not a fan of the idea despite its popularity, it should keep well away from regulating and supervising and guaranteeing or insuring financial instruments or financial institutions. Many of the highly questionable transactions and practices of South Canterbury Finance while it was distressed would not have happened if the Crown Retail Deposit Gurantee had not been put in place. Sure the company would still have failed, but sooner and with a lower toll of financial and social loss.
The final lesson is that we should question the merits of punishing people who are associated with business failures. Punishment is expensive, and its effectiveness is questionable. That is not to say there should not be consequences for failure, but those consequences need not involve trying people on criminal charges, putting people in jail and so forth. I'll not elaborate on the manner in which investors can get remedies from wrongdoers or avoid suffering wrongdoing in the future, as they are manifold and complex. The point is that the use of criminal prosecution and punishment involves a regressive and legalistic approach to our problems in life and to those who do wrong or are accused of it. This approach polarises people and creates needless contention in society. It raises the stakes and creates a highly adversarial and legalistic environment rather than promoting an open-ended process of seeking composure of disputes, work out of problems and restoration of peace to the community.
1 comments:
Interesting post David ... not so much the bits about Hubbard, but certainly your final paragraphs.
And I second the need for simplicity over complexity: a pity so much complexity has been regulated into all aspects of doing business, and just plain living, in New Zealand. We are way over-governed.
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