The Kafkaesque case of Carlos Ghosn

Former Nissan-Renault-Mitsubishi CEO Carlos Ghosn.

From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.  — Franz Kafka, The Trial

The same sentiment must’ve run through Carlos Ghosn’s head while masterminding his escape from Japan. In what must be common knowledge now, Ghosn dramatically left Tokyo on Sunday 29th December 2020 in a music equipment case, with four holes drilled into it so he could breathe.

An escape like this — similar to El Chapo — feel like throwbacks to a world long gone. Those of profiteering prospectors from the Prohibition Era on the cusp of a new frontier, hustling and bustling, to get ahead of the competition. Or pirates pitting themselves against perilous seas, to escape with the biggest bounty. These aren’t the actions of superstar ex-CEO who ran an incredibly successful automotive alliance across two continents, with one being a famously difficult market to crack as a foreigner.

Carlos Ghosn arrived in Japan in 2001 — tasked with the challenge of reviving the ailing Nissan — a company that is proudly Japanese (‘’Nissan’’ roughly translates to Japanese-made). So when this Brazil-born French/Lebanese import arrived in Japan to save one of its most venerable companies, people were baffled.

Renault had bought a big chunk in Nissan two years earlier, and specifically plucked Ghosn as the man to turn the alliance into something great. He did.

Known as ‘’Le Cost Killer’’ down to his ruthless dedication to restructuring, that saw many Nissan factories close throughout Japan and one in seven jobs cut. This austerity was balanced out by Ghosn’s fondness of strategic alliances — possibly influenced by his multi-cultural heritage — Ghosn brokered a deal to take charge at Mitsubishi in 2016 — creating a three-part alliance (Renault-Nissan-Mitsubishi).

For almost twenty years, Ghosn was an industry titan and a hero to the Japanese. Nissan were the early movers with electric vehicles, many believed EV’s were a dud. Nissan launched the Leaf in 2010 and 10 years later, is the worlds best selling electric vehicle. His success had made him a star in Japan— so popular that a manga about his executive exploits was made.

Big Time.

Kafka’s Trial, is the story of Josef K. A lowly bank clerk who goes to work one day as normal — but is taken away by mysterious government officials — indefinitely — to be interrogated for crimes he is not guilty of. It is a story of smoke and mirrors, endless hallways and infinite doors. A bureaucratic hell, by design, to force victims into an unjust submission by sheer destruction of their will. This is fairly similar to Japan’s judicial system. Carlos Ghosn was held in a Tokyo prison for over 128 days where he was questioned intensely for eight hours daily. With no charges. Although Ghosn’s allegations needed no introduction — financial tampering, breaches of trust by shifting his personal investment losses to Nissan, using company funds to pay associates— and the main one — Ghosn’s under-reporting of his salary, enabling him to pocket an extra £33.7m over a four year period. This broke actual Japanese law and impinged on Japanese morality (there is an aversion to CEO’s in Japan earning massive sums as it is seen as gratuitous and unfair to other employees).

Now, Ghosn was no lowly bank clerk and we all knew what he was on trial for. But, Japan’s judicial system enables something known as ‘’hostage justice’’ — where people are held for an indefinite amount of time before a trial with access only to a lawyer. So, in the eyes of the Japanese — Ghosn kinda was a lowly bank clerk. The system has been criticised by the United Nations, but Japan’s justice ministry remain steadfast. And considering Ghosn is likely Japan’s most high-profile convict in history, remaining consistent – for better or worse – was the right thing to do. The constitution is said to allow the convicted to remain silent. However, in practice, this is denied by prosecutors aiming to provoke and cajole people into confessions. Which is what they tried to do with Ghosn. In fact, this treatment is his main defence. The fear of receiving an unfair trial — one that would’ve taken over a year to happen — then another three years to reach a verdict. Stacking the odds in the favour of the judiciary. Although Ghosn escaped, he is not free. He lives in Lebanon as a fugitive, awaiting trial in his native country.

As soon as I heard the details of Carlos Ghosn’s case, I thought of Kafka’s Trial. Josef K is not a rich man. He regularly laments his modest wealth, believing if he was richer, if he offered something of financial means, he could pay the government and return to his normal life. In The Trial, Kafka was critiquing society working best for the wealthy. It was only fair for the masses when it was convenient for the powers that be. Justice came to the highest bidder. Ghosn was treated like a normal civilian, then quickly realised the wealth and connections he had generated in his career had enabled him to live above the law; setting up his great escape. There are few people in the world who have the clout to escape prison, break legal process and international law, then return into a self-contained life of comfort. Although Ghosn is justified in criticising Japan’s justice system, much of what he experienced was normal due process. He decided his position in society put him above the rest, and therefore he had to escape a situation that was ‘unlawful’ for somebody of his standing.

Ghosn’s story is definitely one for the grandkids. But when you open up the case, you find a whole lot more of the same thing: wealth determining freedom.