Swiss Banks in Disarray

▪ 1998

      In 1997 the reputation for integrity of the Swiss banking industry, long established as a pillar of Switzerland's economy, was already in question by the time the banks finally announced what they called a "definitive" total in dormant accounts, many opened by German Jews prior to World War II. For years the banks had been slow in coming forward with the totals: $142,857 in 1947, $428,571 in 1949, and $589,286 in 1956. In 1962, after a new law called for identification of all accounts believed to have been opened by persons put to death by the Nazis, the figure was close to $6,790,000. Following 1995 Swiss press reports of still more funds lying in such accounts—plus reaction by the World Jewish Congress (WJC) in conjunction with information from U.S. archives on Swiss banks' and other companies' wartime business with the Third Reich—the total was stated in February 1996 to be just over $27 million. By October 1997 the figure was $42 million, and by year's end, according to a prominent Swiss banker in a televised discussion, it was about $57 million, of which $8.6 million was in accounts under Swiss names.

      As 1996 drew to a close, the Swiss government, alarmed that the country's overall image was being harmed, ordered banks not to destroy whatever remained in their archives relating to the period involved. In January 1997, however, security guard Christoph Meili, on his nightly round at the Union Bank of Switzerland (UBS) in Zürich, noticed a bin of documents for shredding, including papers relating to prewar property transactions in Berlin, some of which had apparently Jewish names. He smuggled a few folders out of the bank and told the media what he had done, thereby coming to the attention of the WJC. Meili was sacked and accused of violating banking security, but the case against him was dropped, the judicial authorities realizing how invidious it appeared to the world at large. Invited to the U.S. by the WJC, he went on to visit Israel, where he was acclaimed a virtual hero.

      For the banks it was the worst possible scenario. Several U.S. states favoured boycotting the "big three" Swiss banks (UBS, Swiss Bank Corp., and Crédit Suisse). In response, the banks, insurance companies, and business interests, together with the Swiss National Bank (the central bank), set up a special fund for Holocaust survivors (totaling $191 million by the end of 1997). The federal government announced plans for the creation of a Solidarity Foundation—to aid the needy in general—with a capital of $4,640,000,000 to be financed by sales of Switzerland's gold reserves after they were revalued. In the public mind the situation seemed to be linked with Switzerland's wartime dealings with Germany and with the Basel-based Bank for International Settlements, as well as with Nazi thefts of bullion from occupied Europe and of gold, including dental fillings, from extermination camp victims.

      Provisional estimates of the cost for these and other conciliatory measures were $286 million for 1997 alone, with much of it being spent on organizing commissions, teams of lawyers, and U.S. public relations firms. By the year's end the banks had issued three lists of dormant accounts, one in July, with 1,872 names of non-Swiss, and the other two in October, with the names of 3,687 non-Swiss and 10,875 Swiss individuals.

ALAN MCGREGOR

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