By Laura Rena Murray and Beth Morrissey
[dropcap type=”3″]I[/dropcap]t was already nighttime when Mahmoud Thiam’s flight to Conakry landed on the tarmac of Guinea’s decrepit capital in 2009. Young guerilla soldiers brandishing guns roamed the streets, and basic necessities like water and electricity were in short supply. It was chaos.
The car that met Thiam at the airport went directly to a military camp where he was to have his first meeting with Moussa Dadis Camara, the young army captain who had just taken over the government in a coup d’etat following the death of long-time dictator Lansana Conté.
The former UBS banker had returned to Guinea, the homeland he fled as a boy when his father, a prominent Guinean banker accused of treason, was arrested and executed in 1971 by the country’s first president. Nearly four decades later, when Guinea’s new regime asked Thiam to serve as mining minister in 2008, he felt a duty to return, he said.
Although Guinea sits on billions of dollars worth of iron, bauxite, gold, diamonds, oil and other prized minerals, the country had failed to capitalize on its vast resources because of government instability, corruption and inadequate infrastructure. Thiam returned to Guinea, he later said, with a master plan to overhaul the mining sector and break the so-called resource curse. He described himself as a buffer between apprehensive mining companies and what he called “a new, inexperienced, very aggressive military government.”
Three years later, a new Guinean government accused him of lining his own pockets while helping to sell off Guinea’s richest resources to the highest bidders. The accusations of corruption – levied against Thiam and others – have left some of the country’s most promising development projects suspended while drawing international scrutiny. The F.B.I. and investigators from multiple other countries, including the United Kingdom, France, Switzerland and Guinea, are examining people and companies connected to some of the deals Thiam helped broker during his tenure.
Middlemen like Thiam were once considered necessary for multinational investors and businesses hoping to land lucrative contracts. Now those intermediaries can become liabilities, as countries like Guinea retroactively review suspect contracts, nullifying those they determine were obtained via corruption.
“What Guinea has shown is the past doesn’t go away,” said Mark Malloch-Brown, former U.K. minister of state and Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations. “It catches up with you. It’s going to lead to ever greater vigilance.”
Night Court and Guinea’s Military Junta
Moussa Dadis Camara was young, brash and paranoid. Convinced that coups happen during the day, Guinea’s new leader ruled by night and televised his meetings on the “Dadis Show,” where he grilled mining executives and politicians on camera. Prior to Thiam’s arrival, Camara had cancelled all mining contracts, claiming it was a necessary move to root out corruption in the industry.
Camara sought the assistance of Revenue Watch, a New York-based nonprofit policy institute, but Camara’s eccentric and inept government raised doubts and he was turned down. Representatives of group who travelled to Conakry describe being put off by Camara’s televised midnight kangaroo court. In such an environment, Thiam said a major restructuring of the mining sector was impossible.
The first time they met, Thiam told Camara he would reverse the decision to cancel all mining contracts. “We are a country of laws and we respect our contracts,” Thiam recalled telling the leader. Thiam said he reinstated the contracts with stipulations that they be scrutinized for clauses unfair to Guinea and that companies would be accountable for failing to fulfill their contracts.
“The ultimate goal was to make certain projects irreversible,” he recalls. “So that no matter what happens after you leave, those projects will end up producing.”
Thiam’s list of projects to make irreversible included Simandou, a mountain of one of the world’s largest untapped deposits of iron ore, worth up to $140 billion.
At the time, British-Australian mining giant Rio Tinto had the rights to half of Simandou. Although the company was awarded rights to the entire mountain in the late 1990s, exploratory licenses for half of Simandou were signed over by Camara’s predecessor to BSG Resources Ltd. (BSGR), a private diamond mining company founded by billionaire Beny Steinmetz.
With Thiam’s arrival, Rio Tinto purportedly hoped to have the deal with BSGR reversed and the rest of Simandou returned. However, Thiam said he doubted Rio Tinto’s intentions to develop the mines quickly enough, citing their previous failures to meet promised timelines.
Even as Thiam’s relationship with Rio Tinto became more fraught, he said he was getting along well with BSGR. Thiam described Steinmetz as “daring” for willing to risk millions on the Simandou venture. And when Steinmetz invited Camara to his daughter’s wedding, Thiam attended on his behalf.
While the mining giants fought over Simandou, chaos broke out again in Guinea. In September 2009, less than a year after Camara’s junta took power, the Presidential Guard opened fire on political protestors at Conakry stadium. The soldiers killed more than 150 people, wounded more than 1,000 and raped dozens of women in the stadium. The international community condemned the bloodbath and the U.S., European Union and the African Union imposed sanctions.
In the massacre’s wake, international investors started pulling out of Guinea. But not everyone was running in the other direction.
Twelve days after the massacre, Thiam brokered an agreement between Guinea and two companies associated with the obscure, privately owned China International Fund (C.I.F.) to create a national mining company that would hold rights to all of Guinea’s unexploited mining and gas reserves. Thiam’s detractors were suspicious. According to the agreement, the C.I.F.-related entities–China Sonangol and China International Fund Singapore–would own an 85 percent initial capital share of the national mining company. In exchange, the government publicly announced, C.I.F. had promised to build infrastructure projects valued at $7 to $9 billion. These pledges, however, were not enshrined in the agreement. Thiam became president of two branches of the new mining company while still serving as Guinea’s mining minister.
“This is the scam of the century,” said former Mining Minister Ahmed Kanté, who saw the contract as a sellout of Guinea’s resources to private interests. Imprisoned under Camara’s junta, Kanté would later be reinstated as director of Guinea’s state mining fund in 2011 and tasked with reforming the mining code.
Within weeks of signing the contract, C.I.F. lent the Guinean government $3.3 million to pay for an audit of its competitor’s activities in Guinea.
In December 2009 Camara’s top aide, who had led the presidential guard during the stadium massacre, shot Camara in the head during a confrontation. Seriously wounded, Camara stepped down and his vice president took over.
State Department cables from the following February, released by WikiLeaks, reveal how the political instability was affecting investors: “Many mining companies fear that Thiam, who is reportedly still working closely with junta President Dadis Camara, will use the transition period [to the newly elected government] to guarantee contracts that will personally benefit [members of Camara’s political party].” The cable went on to quote Rio Tinto’s Stephen Din as saying he believes that, “The Minister will use the next six months to ensure that companies like the Chinese International Fund (CIF) and Israeli mining company BSG Resources (BSGR) are able to secure their contracts in return for bribes.”
In December 2009 Thiam signed an agreement with BSGR to develop two blocks of Simandou. BSGR had invested over $160 million in exploring the Simandou blocks from 2006 to 2010, according to the company’s website. It received the concession at no immediate cost, but pledged to develop the mine, build housing, infrastructure and a railroad to get the iron ore to a port in Liberia, at a cost of $2.5 billion.
BSGR agreed to form a joint venture with Vale, which would pay $2.5 billion for a 51 percent controlling stake in the new company, VBG. Thiam says he gave Vale eight weeks for due diligence before granting permission for the deal. Although he admits the timeframe was “extraordinarily short,” Thiam says he “wanted to render some projects irreversible. I was on a clock.”
Vale says it “acquired its interest in VBG after the completion of extensive due diligence conducted by outside professional advisors and on the basis of representations that BSGR had obtained its mining rights lawfully and without any corrupt or improper promises or payments.”
Not everyone agreed with Vale’s version. In August, Rio Tinto filed suit in the U.S. against Vale, BSGR, Steinmetz and Thiam claiming the companies had been conspiring to steal Rio Tinto’s Simandou concessions since 2008, violating the U.S. Racketeer Influence and Corrupt Organizations Act. In its suit, Rio Tinto claims Vale feigned an interest in partnering with it in order to gain access to Rio Tinto’s confidential documents, which Vale then handed over to BSGR. Rio Tinto alleged that the Israeli company used the inside information to wrangle concessions by bribing the former government and, subsequently, Thiam.
When asked about the suit, BSGR said that it had acquired the concession lawfully. “Rio Tinto chose to do nothing with its mining rights so the mining rights were taken away,” a spokesman for the company wrote in an email. “Baseless and bizarre lawsuits won’t change that fact.”
Vale said that it unequivocally condemns the use of corrupt practices and reiterated its commitment to transparent corporate governance. The company filed an arbitration claim against BSGR in the London Court of International Arbitration earlier this year.
Thiam maintains he struck the best deals to fill Guinea’s coffers and says the contracts he negotiated were “fully compliant with the Guinean law.”