One of the great fictions of our time, promulgated ceaselessly in the press, is the power of the multinational giant. Larger than many sovereign governments, goes the cry; mightier than entire economies.
The strength of the multinationals, with their evil control of mankind, is one of the bogey-men that the greens terrify their children with at nightfall. And if it's not the power of the multinationals that will spell the end of civilisation as we know it, it is the power of the US economy over us all.
In fact, compared with national economies, these international companies which are said to have the world by the throat are reassuringly small. Take Exxon Mobil, the world's largest publicly traded oil company which recently reported first-quarter revenue of over
$7 billion, on revenue of nearly $64 billion. Sounds impressive, and it is: equal to the combined annual earnings of Colgate-
Palmolive, PepsiCo and Target.
But in national terms it's not. Exxon-Mobil's profits are less than the GDP of Iceland, one of the smallest economies in the world; and they amount to less than half of the value of Irish investments in the US. That's right. The latest figures (two years old, so the real figure is considerably higher) show that Irish companies have invested $18.5 billion in the US. In other words, Irish companies own investments in the US which are more than two-and-a-half times the value of the combined earnings of Pepsi, Colgate-Palmolive and Target.
As Mary Harney pointed out recently, Irish-owned companies in the US probably employ as many people as US companies do here. Europe invests 25 per cent more in the US than the reverse: European capital is responsible for giving 4.4 million jobs to the US.
There's more European investment in Texas alone than there is US investment in Japan.
Virtually no student will know this. Indeed, almost the entire ranks of the green bien pensants everywhere will be of the opinion that we are ruled by greedy US-based multinationals over which we have no power. The reverse is the truth. We have enormous power, as the history of business has shown us. And as important as consumer power is the nature of competition and management decisions.
At the end of the second World War, the managements of most of the Allied aircraft manufacturers - Avro, Handley Page, Supermarine, Hawker, de Havilland, North American, Curtiss, Martin, Consolidated - simply would not have believed that within a lifetime their companies would be no more. Twenty-five years ago, who had heard of Microsoft or Dell or Hyundai or Seat? Computer companies were called Olivetti or Ferranti or Rank. Motor cars were made by Austin and Morris and NSU and Daf and Simca and Triumph. Airlines were called BOAC and TWA, not Ryanair and Go! As recently as twenty-five years ago McDonalds was unknown in Ireland; now its empire has peaked: its problems are so severe in Japan that it is giving English language classes in its restaurants to boost sales. Thirty years ago, the best-selling beer in England was Double Diamond, the best-selling lager in Ireland was Harp. The former is no more, the latter nearly so.
The lesson of history, even recent history, is that nothing is for ever: commerce is littered with the corpses of companies that were about to take over the world. Human conduct moves in cycles too. The bawdy 18th-century cultures of both Ireland and England, sexually promiscuous and alcoholically indulgent, within a couple of decades gave way to different brands of Victorian austerity. Each society had its Zwingli: Father Matthew and Thomas Arnold preaching abstinence and personal restraint, with revolutionary effect.
Maybe in 20 years' time people will look back at the early years of this millennium - at overweight children cramming animal fats past their thick, sweaty lips, at teenagers out of their minds with booze having sex with strangers, and at an Internet out of all control - with speechless horror. And maybe their children in turn will turn into promiscuous slobs.
For nothing is permanent, not even the present American imperium, the most benign world regimen there has ever been. Even now, it might be over-extending itself, as individual US states stagger towards bankruptcy, and defence and Medicare costs spiral. And if that's the case, then we'll really begin to understand the meaning of insecurity.
Why do people fear the US, rather than its enemies? Maybe we like finding fault with our friends. Or maybe it's denial: maybe we need a mythical rather than a real fear in our lives, because we can cope with the imaginary and relatively benign consequences of that mythical enemy. It's almost as if we choose to live in a Brothers Grimm world of the imagination: of Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood, where the perils lie in what we know and are actually quite comfortable with.
No one seriously believes that McDonalds is a threat to our liberty and our safety: all we need to do is say, no thanks. But if we turn the Big Mac into an enemy, how much more comforting it is than Osama bin Laden with an atom bomb or with anthrax?
When you hear people talking about the threat the US poses to our way of life, what you're actually hearing is a subconscious preference for the US to be a threat. The only threat it offers is choice. Islamic terrorism today, communism before that and fascism before that, offered no choice.
Relax. There's no US-based multinational threat to the world. It's a figment of right-on, fact-light imaginations.