From: wolda002@umn.edu
Date: Thu Dec 03 2009 - 00:26:51 EST
Big Oil’s Heart of Darkness
The conviction of arms dealers and former top government officials in 
France could help to shed light on Dick Cheney's Halliburton years.
By Christopher Dickey | Newsweek Web Exclusive  
Oct 28, 2009 
The convictions handed down by a French court this week against arms 
dealers, influence peddlers, and former government officials, including a 
son of the late president François Mitterrand, expose a vivid picture of 
the world in which Dick Cheney used to do business when he was the head of 
Halliburton in the 1990s. The case did not touch on the former vice 
president's activities directly, and he is not implicated in any alleged 
wrongdoing. But now that a verdict has been reached in this nine-year-old 
French case, I expect the door will be open to investigations touching many 
corners of this fetid world of corruption. (Click here to follow 
Christopher Dickey)
The central character in the French case is Pierre Falcone, 55, who was 
convicted on arms trafficking and other counts for his role supplying some 
170,000 land mines, 450 tanks, and other weapons to the Angolan government 
despite a United Nations-decreed embargo. And Falcone has some interesting 
American connections.
  
 
Before he was first thrown in jail in France in December 2000, he and his 
wife, Sonia, a former Miss Bolivia, were making quite a name for themselves 
in Paradise Valley, Ariz. This wealthiest of Phoenix suburbs has a lot of 
opulent homes, but the Falcones were building what was then the most 
expensive in the history of the state: a $10.5 million mansion. They were 
big donors to fashionable philanthropies, and Sonia liked to give money to 
the Republican Party. According to Federal Elections Commission records 
from the time, a little-known cosmetics company she owned contributed 
$100,000 to the Republican National Committee, and she forked over the 
maximum allowable $1,000 to both John McCain and George W. Bush. If Falcone 
hadn't been in Paris's La Santé Prison on Jan. 20, 2001, he might well 
have been gripping and grinning at the Bush inaugural balls in Washington 
that night.
This French merchant of arms and oil who "could sell sand to a Saharan," in 
the words of one lawyer, was selling himself to the American political 
establishment, and trying to parlay his supposed influence into lucrative 
contracts. According to French sources familiar with the case, notes seized 
in the office of Falcone's secretary at the height of the 2000 political 
campaign in the United States had him promising Angolan President José 
Eduardo Dos Santos a special introduction to the new U.S. 
president—whether George W. Bush or Al Gore.
Dos Santos, who has taken his southern African country from independence 
through civil war to vast and intimate relations with some of the world's 
most powerful oil companies, had come to expect such favors from his 
friends. In a surreal encounter with the newly appointed French ambassador 
a few months after Falcone's arrest, Dos Santos personally pleaded 
Falcone's case. "Thanks to his support, democracy and the rule of law still 
prevail in Angola," said Dos Santos. "Millions of people were saved from an 
imminent genocide." In 2003, as the case against Falcone continued its slog 
through the courts, Dos Santos gave the French businessman an Angolan 
diplomatic passport and made him an envoy to UNESCO in Paris. The court 
rejected Falcone's subsequent claim of diplomatic immunity.
In the already shady world of big oil, Angola truly is the heart of 
darkness, and the sleazy details of its dealings, while easy to conceal, 
are hard for anyone doing business with it to escape. Back in the 1990s, 
Dick Cheney was among those people. Cheney had moved from his position as 
secretary of defense in the George H.W. Bush administration to head up 
Halliburton, with its vast oilfield operations and its growing number of 
Pentagon contracts. In 1998 Cheney went to Angola himself to promote his 
company's interests. State Department documents publicized during the 2000 
election campaign revealed that U.S. Embassy officials in the capital, 
Luanda, had "camped out" at local government offices to help the former 
cabinet member and his company secure a $68 million contract.
Maybe everything was on the up and up for that deal. But as multiple 
investigations by nongovernmental organizations have established, Dos 
Santos's government was so corrupt that even the "official" commissions 
paid by oil companies for concessions were never recorded in any official 
books, and it appears few people have done business in Luanda without 
adapting to its system of graft and payoffs. And Falcone became a kind of 
gatekeeper. By the late 1990s, according to one of the defendants in the 
French case, who spoke to me privately so as not prejudice his case, "the 
man you had to see was Pierre Falcone."
So who is this guy? Born in French Algiers to a Colombian mother and 
Neapolitan father, for most of his career Falcone moved in the overlapping 
worlds of French quasi-state enterprises, covert operations, global oil 
corporations, and Third World payoffs. After he was collared on Dec. 1, 
2000, French investigators hoped his case would give them a key to expose 
the deeply ingrained system of political corruption that links France to 
several oil-rich African countries. Over the years, millions of dollars 
were channeled through friendly African dictatorships to what was then 
France's state-owned oil company, Elf Aquitaine, and ultimately back into 
the coffers of both the leading French political parties. (Elf subsequently 
was taken over by Total.) Those convicted this week for influence peddling 
in what's become known as "Angola-gate" include Jean-Christophe Mitterrand, 
who headed his father's secretive "Africa cell," and former French interior 
minister Charles Pasqua.
In the early 1990s, as the Soviet Union broke apart, Falcone signed up as 
one of his partners the former KGB man and Russian tycoon Arcadi Gaydamak, 
who was also convicted in absentia in Paris this week for arms trafficking 
and other crimes, and is the object of an international arrest warrant. 
Another important Falcone associate was Thierry Imbot, the son of a former 
head of the French intelligence service, who mysteriously fell to his death 
from his Paris apartment's fourth-floor window a few weeks before Falcone's 
arrest in 2000.
But the most important of all Falcone's friends was and remains the Angolan 
dictator Dos Santos. His country has two great sources of wealth: oil and 
diamonds. And two enormous sources of poverty: war and corruption. After 
the pretense of ideology dropped out of the equation at the end of the Cold 
War, Angola became the scene of ferocious competition among international 
oil corporations, some of which claimed to be representing their national 
interests. At the center of this rivalry, France's Elf and Total were 
pitted against Chevron and Exxon.
Falcone appears to have been France's not-so-secret point man backing Dos 
Santos. Remember that in 1992, the CIA was losing patience with Dos 
Santos's rival, Jonas Savimbi and his UNITA rebels, who were once ranked 
among the most prominent of the Reagan administration's "freedom fighters." 
Savimbi had not adapted to the end of the Cold War and was increasingly 
regarded, even by the Americans, as an obstacle to peaceful development of 
the Angolan oilfields. U.N.-sponsored elections were held with Washington's 
blessing and Savimbi lost. But Savimbi didn't stop fighting. Indeed, within 
a few months, Savimbi had Dos Santos's government under siege in Luanda.
It was at this juncture that Falcone and the Russian wheeler-dealer 
Gaydamak arranged to ship Dos Santos hundreds of millions of dollars' worth 
of weapons from Russia and the former Soviet bloc. After that, Dos Santos 
treated them as his special friends. In one spectacular deal that may 
qualify as the single largest money-laundering transaction in history, 
Gaydamak bought the entire Angolan national debt for a fraction of its 
worth, then sold it to Moscow for a profit of several hundred million 
dollars.
Jean-Charles Marchiani, formerly a high-ranking French intelligence 
operative, a hostage negotiator in Lebanon and Bosnia, and a close 
associate of key Gaullist leaders, told a television interviewer after 
Falcone's arrest that in Angola, Falcone "defended French interests, 
keeping the Americans from taking our place. He acted as a French patriot."
Of course. We can be sure that the Americans and everyone else trying to 
get a piece of that market had the same noble intentions—or at least that 
they'll say they did.
Christopher Dickey is also the author of The Sleeper: A Novel and Summer of 
Deliverance: A Memoir of Father and Son.
Find this article at 
http://www.newsweek.com/id/220008
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