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Money Flies Across Borders
ZNet Commentary by Vijay Prashad
9 May 2005
New Britain Avenue in Hartford is one of those familiar American streets
that bristle with urban alienation: from the fast food franchises to the
fast oil change franchises, from the liquor stores to the gas stations.
Battered cars zip by, as people commute between impoverished jobs and the
oasis of family life. New Britain Avenue is a way-station; you feed your
car, you feed yourself, and you pick up a video or a drink. The street is
neither beautiful nor does it welcome you to sit and recuperate: it delivers
some services and sends you on your way.
In less than a mile, sandwiched between a store called Dollar Dreams and Pho
Boston sits two branches of MoneyGram, a vast international money transfer
conglomerate. One of the MoneyGram stores is run by Spanish speakers who
cater to the Mexican and Puerto Rican population, while the other is run by
a Vietnamese family (and is right next to the local Asian supermarket). On a
Friday afternoon, the stores are full of immigrants whose facility with the
forms and the argot of the money transfer business is apparent. They don't
linger in the lines, but quickly send a few hundred dollars on average to
their families far away who have come to rely on these transactions for
their survival.
These hundreds of dollars add up. The World Bank and the United Nations
point out that the recorded total of all remittance flows in 2003 totaled
$93 billion, while they estimate that the real figure lies between $200 and
$300 billion. International agencies explain this discrepancy by the money
that travels through unregulated networks (such as the hawala system that
rings north Africa, west and southern Asia).
Of the recorded amount, migrants in the US sent $28.4 billion to their
various homelands in 2001 (a number that eclipsed the second largest source
of remittance payments, Saudi Arabia, $15.1 billion). Despite the down turn
in US economic fortunes (felt intensely by the polycultural working class),
remittance flows have grown 13-18% in the past five years. The most affluent
among the migrants are not the most generous. The most vulnerable and least
remunerated workers aggressively send money to their families.
In late January 2005, the Transnational Institute for Grassroots Research
and Action (TIGRA) released a booklet entitled Money Down the Wire (free
download available at www.transnationalaction.org)
TIGRA details a scandal at the heart of the remittance business. A handful
of US-based firms dominate the $19.88 billion wire transfer market, and they
charge their customers between 13% and 20% in fees and commissions. To wit,
tens of billions of dollars are expropriated from hard-working people whose
crucial labor not only maintains the overdeveloped world in its opulence,
but also maintains families in the subordinated world.
MoneyGram, Western Union, Wells Fargo, Bank of America, Citibank and others
charge a transaction fee (7-14%), an exchange rate commission (2.5%), an
interest float on funds prior to transmission (1.5%) and often an additional
fee of 5-10% for those who have no bank account. In sum, TIGRA notes,
"globalized constituents lose 16-28% of their income to financial
institutions."
Global immigration from the South to the North exploded in the 1990s. A full
third of all immigrants in the US, for instance, came here in that decade.
The IMF's Structural Adjustment Policy forced states to cut back on
subsidies to domestic industry, to open up agriculture to powerful
agro-businesses and to shrink governmental job creation programs.
All this meant that job creation in the South declined, and families found
it impossible to survive without the export of an able bodied member to the
North. These bodies became the lifeline for many distressed families, just
as they became fundamental to the US economy (whose manufacturing working
class now lives in China, and whose service working class depends on the
migrants).
For these families, the export of their relatives became an economic
necessity, such that in Bangladesh the migrants are known as "manpower
exports." But for the State in the South, these remittances are also
fundamental for national solvency. TIGRA reports that a full thirty-six of
the one hundred and fifty three countries in the South earn more from
remittances than from any other type of public or private capital flow.
For Haiti, remittances are almost a quarter of the total Gross Domestic
Product, while it is a fifth of Jordan's GDP. Remittances to Mexico are
almost double its farm exports, while those to Colombia are half of the
revenues from coffee exports. These countries are deeply dependent on those
who migrate from there, and they often rely upon the export of people for
fiscal survival.
Monies that come from North to South often go to families who need them to
cover their basic bills rather than for social development. The money comes
in outside the channels of state development policy and, because of the
straits of the families involved it is rarely used to better their long-term
condition. Along the western coast of India, you will find brick houses
built on remittance money sent from the Gulf or elsewhere, but even here the
income has not turned into substantial wealth or capital. It provides some
comforts, but little capacity for accumulation.
To counter this, the US Treasurer Rosario Marin and the Mexican federal
savings bank (BANSEFI) launched a People's Network in 2003. Their game was
to offer financial services to migrants, but despite its name, the network
was driven more by the interests of States than of the migrants and their
families. Remittances will not go directly to families for their various
uses, but it will go into the Mexican bank industry to generate capital that
may or may not be invested in the people's interest. Marin, a Mexican
American, noted at the launch of the Network,
"People are opening their own businesses, their tortilla stands, their
convenience stores, all thanks to remittances. We're going to have more
people not only opening their own small businesses, but also buying their
own house." The question of the small shop or the house is not
inconsequential for the families involved.
Nevertheless, this approach neither targets the high fees of the banking
industry nor does it deal with the long-term problem of wider social
development that would allow people to live without resort to the export of
their bodies for survival. Furthermore, despite the good intentions that
might be part of this scheme, it is poised to replicate one of the many
setbacks of the Bracero program. In that case, the State withheld ten
percent of workers' wages, and then, when Bracero ended failed to pay the
money back (a legal case for those back wages continues).
There are currently two avenues that might mitigate the question of high
fees. One comes from within the contradictions of the world of capital.
Virtuoso migrants have now taken to using ATM and credit cards as a way to
avoid the high fees. Visa has already produced a "smart card," a pre-paid
debit card that workers can send to their families who use at ATM machines
in their homeland. These cards charge about $8 per transfer, which is
considerably lower than the wire transfer fees.
The other is from the initiative of Representative Luis Gutierrez
(Democrat-Illinois), who has introduced a bill for the past several years to
regulate the wire transfer and to reduce the fees. Senator Charles Schumer
(Democrat-New York) recently joined Gutierrez in this seemingly quixotic
quest, with the Wire Transfer Fairness and Disclosure Act. In 2002,
Gutierrez, who often finds himself on the good side of immigrant rights
issues, told the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs,
"Wire Transfer companies aggressively target audiences in immigrant
communities with ads promising low rates for international transfers.
However, such promises are grossly misleading, particularly for those with
ties to Mexico or other Latin American countries, since companies do not
always disclose extra fees charges for converting dollars into local
currency." The legislative work needs to be extended in our communities.
TIGRA has launched a wider struggle, although it too demands "lower fees,
increased transparency and access." In terms of its claims on the banks,
TIGRA calls for an expansion of the reach of financial services to rural
areas, where the farm workers toil. Apart from these demands, which are
echoed in the Gutierrez bills, TIGRA wants to extend the fight both in the
North (particularly in the US) and in the South.
For the former, TIGRA calls for an "increased investment in poor communities
in the US," partly, I imagine, to move service jobs into its residents who
have as yet been cut off from the jet-stream of economic activity. For the
South, TIGRA calls for the cancellation of debt, specially "odious loans,"
because it is this condition of global debt that drives the post-1990
migration patterns. The same financial institutions that profit from the
remittance skims also invest in the perpetuation of global debt through
onerous loans and purchase of World Bank bonds (remember the Economic Hit
Men?).
New Britain Avenue is not suffused with alienation. For almost two and a
half years, not a mile away from one of the MoneyGram offices, the
polycultural workforce of Avery Heights nursing home went on a fierce
strike. Organized by 1199, the union held out against the owners, Church
Homes, and despite personal trials and State obduracy, they won. Their
unyielding picket line gathered together workers from across the planet, but
mainly from those who frequently remit money to their families.
Unwilling to accept the terms of alienation, they fought back from 1999 to
2002, and made some gains. Ripped off by their piously named workers and by
the banks, these workers nonetheless held fast for the transnational
networks that they represent. Money might fly all over the place, but it
does not rest long with them.
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