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How important is the kingdom of Saudi Arabia to the global economy? Does Riyadh hold the world’s economic destiny in its hands? These questions are not academic given the profound uncertainty over how the Jamal Khashoggi case will play out in the coming days and over how western governments could respond if credible evidence emerges that the dissident Saudi journalist’s killing was not a “mistake” made by “rogue” operatives but was, in fact, explicitly ordered by the all-powerful crown prince Mohammed bin Salman himself.

Donald Trump has threatened “very severe” consequences under those circumstances. And, for their part, the Saudi government also last week made it clear they would not passively soak up western sanctions or other forms of punishment.

“The kingdom emphasises that it will respond to any measure against it with an even stronger measure,” its Foreign Ministry said in a defiant statement. “The kingdom’s economy has an influential and vital role in the global economy.” Oil was not specifically mentioned. But then it doesn’t really need to be.

The Saudi-led oil embargo of 1973, when Gulf states stopped sales to the likes of the US, the UK, Canada and Japan in retaliation for western support of Israel, was one of the most significant economic shocks to the global economy since the end of the Second World War.

It is branded in the memory of politicians and civil servants of a certain age, but also on the inherited folk memory of the current generation. The Saudi embargo quadrupled world oil prices, pushed consumer inflation into double digits and tipped the US and states across Europe into painful recessions. Some argue that it even helped wreck the credibility of centre-left governments in the 1970s, clearing the way for the neoliberal revolution of the following decade.

So would we be going back to the 1970s? How much economic and political disruption would a Saudi oil embargo actually do today? It would certainly be painful, but far less so than in the past, is the best guess.

The global energy market has evolved significantly over the past half century. Western countries have strategic reserves of oil and a wider range of suppliers. Recent years have highlighted the market’s resilience in the face of handbrake supply and demand turns.

The recent spike in oil prices in 2010, when prices hit $125 a barrel, stimulated the domestic US shale oil and gas production sector. The industry grew so fast that domestic energy production today is almost 90 per cent of US consumption. A decade ago the US had net daily imports of 10 million barrels of oil and petroleum products. In 1973 it was 6.4 million. Today that is down to just 2.3 million.

When the oil price collapsed in 2016, falling all the way down to $30, Saudi Arabia held off from supporting the global price by moderating production for a long time precisely because it hoped the low price would help push highly indebted US shale producers into bankruptcy and restore the Saudi global market share for the long term. By and large that strategy was a failure and US shale production survived.

It’s true that the UK and western Europe are still heavily reliant on imported energy and therefore appear particularly vulnerable to a sudden jump in global oil prices. But the European share of renewables as a source of final energy consumption has also been rising rapidly, hitting 17 per cent in 2016. A spike in oil prices would be likely to accelerate this switch away from fossil fuels (just as the 1973 embargo encouraged western energy conservation measures such as the Nixon administration’s 50mph US highway speed limit). Again, while this could actually be beneficial in the medium term for the west, it would hardly be in the Saudi economic interest.

The oil price has been rising since the middle of last year and is now close to a four-year high at $80. One Saudi newspaper columnist has suggested that, if faced with severe western sanctions, Riyadh could slash its roughly 10-million-barrel-a-day production by two-thirds, sending the global price back to $100, or perhaps even on to a record $400 a barrel.

Yet there was little of that kind of sabre waving at the Saudi “Davos in the Desert” business investment event in Riyadh last week. The Saudi business folk to whom I spoke were, instead, keen to see western alliances preserved and almost desperate for the present crisis to dissipate.

It’s clear why. An act of economic warfare like an extreme oil production cut would destroy Mohammed bin Salman’s “Vision 2030” economic reforms. The crown prince’s $500bn dream of a high-tech city in the desert will never materialise without tapping western expertise, implying a free flow of knowledge, people and investment. And Saudi will not become a tourist destination, as the current leadership fervently hopes, if relations with the west utterly disintegrate. Saudi Arabia itself has the most to lose economically in any standoff.

There are certainly reasons why the west should tread carefully with Saudi Arabia, from state-to-state cooperation on terror intelligence, to considerations of geopolitical stability. But fears of a repeat of the 1970s oil embargo should not, whatever folk memory holds, be high on the list.


How important is the kingdom of Saudi Arabia to the global economy? Does Riyadh hold the world's economic destiny in its hands? These questions are not academic given the profound uncertainty over how the Jamal Khashoggi case will play out in the coming days and over how western governments could respond if credible evidence emerges that the dissident Saudi journalist's killing was not a "mistake" made by "rogue" operatives but was, in fact, explicitly ordered by the all-powerful crown prince Mohammed bin Salman himself.


Donald Trump has threatened "very severe" consequences under those circumstances. And, for their part, the Saudi government also last week made it clear they would not passively soak up western sanctions or other forms of punishment.


"The kingdom emphasises that it will respond to any measure against it with an even stronger measure," its Foreign Ministry said in a defiant statement. "The kingdom's economy has an influential and vital role in the global economy." Oil was not specifically mentioned. But then it doesn't really need to be.


The Saudi-led oil embargo of 1973, when Gulf states stopped sales to the likes of the US, the UK, Canada and Japan in retaliation for western support of Israel, was one of the most significant economic shocks to the global economy since the end of the Second World War.


It is branded in the memory of politicians and civil servants of a certain age, but also on the inherited folk memory of the current generation. The Saudi embargo quadrupled world oil prices, pushed consumer inflation into double digits and tipped the US and states across Europe into painful recessions. Some argue that it even helped wreck the credibility of centre-left governments in the 1970s, clearing the way for the neoliberal revolution of the following decade.

So would we be going back to the 1970s? How much economic and political disruption would a Saudi oil embargo actually do today? It would certainly be painful, but far less so than in the past, is the best guess.


The global energy market has evolved significantly over the past half century. Western countries have strategic reserves of oil and a wider range of suppliers. Recent years have highlighted the market's resilience in the face of handbrake supply and demand turns.


The recent spike in oil prices in 2010, when prices hit $125 a barrel, stimulated the domestic US shale oil and gas production sector. The industry grew so fast that domestic energy production today is almost 90 per cent of US consumption. A decade ago the US had net daily imports of 10 million barrels of oil and petroleum products. In 1973 it was 6.4 million. Today that is down to just 2.3 million.


When the oil price collapsed in 2016, falling all the way down to $30, Saudi Arabia held off from supporting the global price by moderating production for a long time precisely because it hoped the low price would help push highly indebted US shale producers into bankruptcy and restore the Saudi global market share for the long term. By and large that strategy was a failure and US shale production survived.


It's true that the UK and western Europe are still heavily reliant on imported energy and therefore appear particularly vulnerable to a sudden jump in global oil prices. But the European share of renewables as a source of final energy consumption has also been rising rapidly, hitting 17 per cent in 2016. A spike in oil prices would be likely to accelerate this switch away from fossil fuels (just as the 1973 embargo encouraged western energy conservation measures such as the Nixon administration's 50mph US highway speed limit). Again, while this could actually be beneficial in the medium term for the west, it would hardly be in the Saudi economic interest.

The oil price has been rising since the middle of last year and is now close to a four-year high at $80. One Saudi newspaper columnist has suggested that, if faced with severe western sanctions, Riyadh could slash its roughly 10-million-barrel-a-day production by two-thirds, sending the global price back to $100, or perhaps even on to a record $400 a barrel.


Yet there was little of that kind of sabre waving at the Saudi "Davos in the Desert" business investment event in Riyadh last week. The Saudi business folk to whom I spoke were, instead, keen to see western alliances preserved and almost desperate for the present crisis to dissipate.

It's clear why. An act of economic warfare like an extreme oil production cut would destroy Mohammed bin Salman's "Vision 2030" economic reforms. The crown prince's $500bn dream of a high-tech city in the desert will never materialise without tapping western expertise, implying a free flow of knowledge, people and investment. And Saudi will not become a tourist destination, as the current leadership fervently hopes, if relations with the west utterly disintegrate. Saudi Arabia itself has the most to lose economically in any standoff.


There are certainly reasons why the west should tread carefully with Saudi Arabia, from state-to-state cooperation on terror intelligence, to considerations of geopolitical stability. But fears of a repeat of the 1970s oil embargo should not, whatever folk memory holds, be high on the list.


“Even if they never got anything for it, it was cheap at that price. I had given them the best show that was ever staged in their territory since the landing of the pilgrims!” That was how the conman Carlo Ponzi described his infamous scam which extracted $15m out of Americans in the 1910s.

What we now call “Ponzi schemes” have the same basic features. Original “investors” are lured in with the promise of getting rich quick. They get a payout, essentially funded by the contributions handed over by subsequent joiners rather than any genuine investment returns. More people, seeing the impressive profits earned by the original crew, rush to get involved themselves. Then, when new members stop coming through the door and the cash flow dries up, the whole thing collapses.

The launches of new cryptocurrencies – digital payment tokens – could be described as the pre-eminent Ponzi schemes of our time.

The pattern from the less scrupulous schemes is as follows. Some “entrepreneurs” announce a new digital currency, piggybacking on the relentless media hype around bitcoin. They pay a celebrity to endorse their “initial coin offering” (ICO) through his or her social media channels. The founders take receipt of the money and extract their copious “expenses”.

They watch the price of the new cryptocurrency spike in value as it tends to when there’s media coverage and celebrity-driven interest, which attracts more investors. And then… well, a study by Boston College has found that more than half of crypto startups seem to die within four months.

“The strongest return is actually in the first month,” according to one of the authors.

The investors in Carlo Ponzi’s “international reply coupon” scheme would have found something similar.

The founders of Centra Tech, who used the boxer Floyd “Money” Mayweather to promote their “centra token” in 2017, were arrested earlier this year for securities fraud. And Mayweather himself is now being sued by those who lost money.

But the official charges against the Centra Tech founders, who raised $32m ($25m), are related to their false claims in the ICO, including that they had a relationship with Visa and Mastercard.

An ICO itself, even though it shares the classic features of a Ponzi scheme, is not illegal. Such exercises raised a total of $12bn in the first half of 2018 alone, up from $7bn in the whole of 2017.

Most economists think that the claims that cryptocurrencies will one day replace the likes of sterling and the euro in the financial payments system are fantasy because these new digital tokens have none of the fundamental attributes of viable currencies.

They are, currently, neither a store of value (due to extreme swings in price), nor a unit of account (when did you last see something priced in bitcoin?), nor a medium of exchange (when did you last pay for something with a crypto token?).

But no one, certainly not economists, knows for certain what the future holds. Perhaps cryptocurrencies will one day take on these features. Perhaps the fact that the volume of a cryptocurrency is limited and they cannot be created by governments will prove to be as transformative as the hype-merchants claim.

Perhaps the anonymity they allow will prove to be what most people really want. Perhaps we will one day discover that the moon really is made of cheese after all.

There’s no law against dreaming that that ICO you just bought into may really have invented the new dollar, however unlikely it might seem to most people.

Maybe people want the entertainment; “a show”, as Ponzi put it.

Ponzi spent 14 years in prison after his scam finally collapsed. His misfortune was to have been born in the wrong century.

© 2020 by Ben Chu.

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