So, after 50 years of the BSA, let’s try to measure its effectiveness. Little is known about how much money laundering and illicit financial activity goes uncaught. After all, it’s an immeasurable counterfactual. A 2011 UN Office on Drugs and Crime study estimated that in 2009, criminals laundered $1.6 trillion, or 2.7 percent of world GDP (UNODC 2011). (Tellingly, no international accounting of the problem has occurred in the decade since.) More recently, a trove of leaked FinCEN documents revealed that banks had flagged around $2 trillion worth of suspicious transactions to authorities between 1999 and 2017, and in many cases, they continued to do business with those entities (Leopold 2020). Many of those transactions were likely legitimate, and even for those recognized as illicit, there are often legitimate enforcement reasons for maintaining and monitoring these criminals’ activities before shutting them down. Nonetheless, when combined with the UN report and other accounts of widespread financial fraud, the leaks are a reminder that for all this surveillance infrastructure, policing illicit money movements is extremely difficult. The global AML-KYC dragnet has gaping holes in it.
On the other hand, the system’s pervasive identifying, tracking, and reporting of transactions imposes very real costs on the global economy. It adds friction to finance, hindering people’s capacity to engage in exchange, especially in countries with underdeveloped record-keeping systems and excessive corruption, where IDs don’t rise to U.S. banks’ standards. Although lightweight mobile banking solutions and other initiatives helped lower the proportion of the world’s adult population without a bank account from 49 percent in 2011 to 31 percent in 2018, some 1.7 billion adults still fell into the World Bank’s “unbanked” category (Demirgü-Kunt et al. 2018). Amid the lifestyle constraints imposed by Covid-19 restrictions and an aversion to using physical cash, a lack of access to online banking has since put these people at an even greater disadvantage.
Beyond mere access to a transactional bank account, financial services in general remain prohibitively expensive for far too many. In the United States itself, some 66 million adults, or 22 percent of the population, were considered “unbanked” or “underbanked” in 2018, according to the Federal Reserve (Federal Reserve 2019). Too few people of low income can obtain credit or other financial services because compliance-burdened banks find it unprofitable to service them. Even though the FATF recommends exemptions from customer reporting on transfers of less than $1,000 and the United States sets a threshold of $3,000, banks’ strict application of KYC-AML rules across all customer and interbank relationships has fostered widespread risk aversion among bankers. Engaging with the poor is just not worth the risk for them. This has left billions of people in the world’s informal economies as bystanders to the global economy and unable to break free of poverty.
Meanwhile, the bad guys that the laws are intended to catch find the means to get around them. They have all sorts of methods for obscuring money flows and identities through a maze of shell companies and complex netting and laundering procedures. There have long been bankers who are willing, for a fee, to turn a blind eye. And as shown by the Panama Papers revelations about the law firm Mossack Fonseca, services exist to actively create ownership and reporting structures that allow money of suspect origin to find a resting place in untouchable, offshore accounts (ICIJ 2016).
Beyond the moral inequity of the system, it can also be viewed as a barrier to self-determination in non‑U.S. jurisdictions, breeding anti-American sentiment — often among the kinds of people the United States should be cultivating. In 2014, I met a small group of young bitcoin entrepreneurs in Hong Kong, some of whom would a few years later use their technology to help anti-Beijing student protesters avoid surveillance by authorities. Each told me their biggest hurdle lay in opening a company bank account. Their local banks had told them they held no concerns of their own about cryptocurrency service providers but that their U.S. subsidiaries worried about meeting their U.S. banking counterparts’ compliance demands and that they might look unfavorably on a Hong Kong sister institution dealing with this little-understood industry. With the Sword of Damocles hanging over bankers’ heads, these entrepreneurs had become victims of a fear of what might happen. It’s a system of control by uncertainty.
Entire countries and regions have been ravaged by this financial “de-risking” trend, which grew as regulations tightened after, first, the September 11 attacks in 2001, and, later, the financial crisis of 2008. Expanded AML-KYC regimes have seen U.S. banks pull back on lending or on processing payments to and from banks in small foreign economies because the compliance costs and legal risks outweigh the payoff from doing business on a small scale. A 2017 survey by the Caribbean Association of Banks found that 21 of 23 banks in 12 countries had lost at least one correspondent banking relationship (De Souza 2017). The upshot is that the cost of credit and of sending and receiving money has risen for Caribbean islanders even as their countries’ offshore banking and insurance industries have welcomed massive financial inflows from foreign institutions. It’s a tale of two entirely divergent island economies, their divisions accentuated by fallout from U.S. laws — one a purely legal construct for foreign corporations to exploit, the other a real-world community of striving human beings.
In these and other ways, America’s obsession with financial snooping erects barriers around the world, hindering the ability of entrepreneurs of all sizes to innovate and bring valuable new ideas and businesses to market. The opportunity cost of all of that missed production and progress is incalculable. And while financial regulators would have us believe it’s the price we must pay for staying safe, the view from 2021 makes it hard to see anything but a terrible deal. What solutions to the world’s mounting challenges might have arisen if it weren’t too expensive for so many people to build them? What acts of violence, crime, or terrorism might never have occurred if their perpetrators didn’t find fertile recruiting grounds among the desperately poor who are cut off from remittances and other financial life bloods?
Despite all these barriers, one extremely important innovation has broken through them to pose a serious disruptive threat to this U.S.-centric financial surveillance regime. Cryptocurrencies and blockchains, which have also spawned new ideas in traditional fiat money such as central bank digital currencies (CBDCs) and “stablecoins,” enable direct peer-to-peer transfers. They have the potential to bypass the surveillance system’s gatekeeping institutions. They also portend a very real, geopolitical battle. President Biden will have to confront the challenge. Dealing with it will require some outside-the-box thinking and a willingness to give up on some, if not all, of that gatekeeping power.