1 Volkswagen chief quits in power struggle (BBC) The
chairman of carmaker Volkswagen (VW), Ferdinand Piech, has resigned after a
power struggle with chief executive Martin Winterkorn.Mr Piech had criticised
his chief executive in an interview with the German news magazine Der Spiegel,
but did not specify the issue at stake.
Mr Winterkorn has been widely tipped as VW's next
chairman. Mr Piech and the Porsche family control 51% of VW. Volkswagen is the
biggest car manufacturer in Europe. On 17 April, Volkswagen's five-member
governing board gave its backing to Mr Winterkorn.
Board member Wolfgang Porsche, a cousin of Mr Piech,
said he had given his "personal opinion" without clearing his remarks
with other family members. Mr Piech, 78, is a former VW chief executive. His
wife Ursula has also resigned her seat on the board.
During his eight-year tenure as chief executive, Mr
Winterkorn has overhauled VW and made it one of the world's most successful
carmakers, industry analysts say. In 2014, VW was the world's second-biggest
carmaker by sales, behind Toyota and ahead of GM. Apart from Volkswagen, the
group's brands include Audi, Porsche, Lamborghini, Bugatti, Bentley, Skoda and
Seat.
2 Tesco’s fall and failing capitalism (Will Hutton
in The Guardian) It is the sixth biggest corporate loss in British history and
the largest ever in British retailing, just the latest in a lengthening list of
disasters. Tesco’s £6.4bn fall from grace is in the same league as BP’s
multibillion-dollar compensation for the oil spills in the Gulf of Mexico
(though not quite up there with RBS’s bankruptcy in 2008).
Of course, companies make mistakes: their rise and
fall is a healthy and inevitable part of the rhythm of capitalism. But Tesco’s
travails go beyond that. They are part of a larger pattern that takes us to the
heart of how our economy and society are run. This is now not only revealing
itself as a breakdown of trust in business, but seeping into the fragmentation
of support for our principal parties and the accompanying dysfunctional
political system.
Run a country in the interests of the top 0.1% and sooner
or later something gives. In fairness, part of Tesco’s problem is that
Britain’s retailing landscape is being transformed by two different challenges
– online shopping and discount retailers Aldi and Lidl, whose market share has
doubled in the past five years to more than 10%.
But Aldi’s and Lidl’s success is rooted in something
more profound than just capitalising on newly cost-conscious, financially
pressed consumers. They are privately owned businesses that think long term and
whose business purpose, enshrined by the owners, is to focus on a very narrow
range of goods they can sell at high volumes and thus price incredibly keenly.
But Tesco’s initial response was not even to try –
it was to wangle its financial numbers, exploiting its market dominance.
Essentially, it offered its suppliers numerous wheezes – all of which Tesco
charged for – to position their goods on its shelves slightly more
advantageously than others. It then booked the profits early and now has set
aside £200m for overstating profits, as well as suffering inquiries from the
Serious Fraud Office. Among other write-downs, it wants to close its current
pension scheme, which offers guaranteed pensions, to be replaced by one that
displaces all the investment risk on to its workers.
Tesco is not alone. This is how too much of business
works in 2015. The justification of capitalism is not that it enriches the top
0.1% and the wealth trickles down. Its justification is that a plurality of
companies experiment in solving human problems and so create worthwhile value,
which capitalism can do better than any other system. Tesco went wrong because
of a very particular British ownership and financial architecture that places
no value on this social, human mission but sees its duty as only to maximise
the share price for a floating body of shareholders. And now Tesco is trying to
reinvent itself in the same hostile system.
3 Saigon has fallen: A reporter’s view, 40 years
later (Peter Arnett in San Francisco Chronicle) Editor’s note: More than two
decades of war in Vietnam, first involving the French and then the Americans,
ended with the last days of April 1975. Peter Arnett, who won a Pulitzer Prize
for his coverage of combat for The Associated Press has written a new memoir,
"Saigon Has Fallen." This is an edited excerpt, focused on the war's
final throes.
Artillery explosions sound a fearsome 4 a.m. wake-up
call, but I'm already awake. The attackers waiting at the gates of a vanquished
Saigon have been warning they would act, and now with each thump of the
Soviet-made 130mm guns, sound waves rustle the curtains of my open seventh
floor hotel window. The last full day of the Vietnam War is beginning.
At the American Embassy, Ambassador Graham Martin is
in disbelief, committed as he is to evacuating as many vulnerable Vietnamese as
possible before the communists arrive. He insists on personally checking the
airport tarmac. Those waiting to depart include the large contingent of
international journalists covering the story. Some have considered the
possibility of remaining behind and seeing what transpires. I message AP
president Wes Gallagher, explaining that because I was here at the war's
beginnings it's worth the risk to document the final hours. Gallagher agrees.
Three of us will stay.
As I drive through the city, I see crowds gathering
at intersections and arguing. Several million people are now estimated to be
living in Saigon, many of them recent refugees from the countryside. Not
everyone wants to leave, but several hundred thousand believe their lives have
been compromised in the eyes of the communists by their association with
America and its policies, and are desperate to get out.
The main crisis unfolds in and around the US
Embassy, a six-story building with a concrete lattice facade that serves to
keep the building cool and deflect incoming missiles. When the helicopters
start emerging from the leaden afternoon skies to pick up the chosen few, a
stampede begins. By late afternoon an estimated 10,000 desperate Vietnamese
have advanced on the embassy, shoving to get close to the iron gates and the
high walls, and when they do get there, endeavoring to claw themselves over.
That evening, I write a story for the AP that
begins: "Ten years ago I watched the first US Marines arrive to help
Vietnam. They were greeted on the beaches by pretty Vietnamese girls in white
silken robes who draped flower garlands about their necks. A decade has passed,
and on Tuesday I watched the US Marines shepherding Americans out of South
Vietnam.
I notice a group of South Vietnamese soldiers
running down a side street, kicking off their uniforms, tossing their weapons
into shop doorways. I run back to the AP office, my heart beating wildly as I
scramble up the narrow stairways. I shout, "Saigon has fallen. Call New
York."
I check my watch. It's 11:43 am. I type up a news
bulletin about what I've just seen and hand it our Vietnamese telex operator,
Tammy. He reads it and rises from his chair in alarm. He's looking at the door.
I push him down and order him to send my bulletin. He does, then bolts out of
the office, and we never see him again.
I write: "In 13 years of covering the Vietnam
War I never dreamed it would end as it did at noon today. I thought it might
end with a political deal like in Laos. Even an Armageddon-type battle with the
city left in ruins. But a total surrender followed a short two hours later with
a cordial meeting in the AP office in Saigon with an armed and battle-garbed
North Vietnamese officer with his aide - and over a warm Coke and stale pound
cake at that? That is how the Vietnam War ended for me today."
The tape stops running. I punch a few keys but the
machine just coughs a couple of times. I try the key again, no response. The AP
wire from Saigon to New York is down - and out. The new authorities have pulled
the plug.
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