Cuckooland by Tom Burgis review – reputation management | Journalism books

Tom Burgis is a “dishonest journalist” whose latest book is a “fucking pack of lies” – or at least that’s what the first paragraph of Cuckooland: Where the Rich Own the Truth, the book in question, says.

Burgis, an investigative reporter for the Guardian, is not being unusually self-deprecating in that introduction, but instead relaying the verdict of the man at the centre of Cuckooland’s story. That man is Mohamed Amersi, whose public persona is that of a prolific donor to the Conservative party, a philanthropist who has spoken at the University of Oxford about tackling international corruption, and a man who has met with King Charles on multiple occasions, supporting causes close to the king’s heart.

As Burgis sets out, though, that is only one of two possible narratives. It is this version of reality on which Amersi would like you to focus, and it is certainly true so far as it goes – all of those things have happened. But most of Cuckooland is about the other side of Amersi’s story, his role as an international “dealmaker”, helping companies gain access to sectors in emerging economies across Asia.

This sprawling account brings in colourful and questionable characters: the daughter of a dictator who challenges allegations that she has enriched herself to the tune of hundreds of millions. The elderly royal, taking the throne after a massacre within his own family, whose authoritarian rule brings about a revolution – only for the new (Maoist) government to set about enriching itself.

The world Burgis reveals is a complex and murky one: oligarchs make deals and then make enemies. Their fixers secretly record one another and then switch sides. Allegation is met with counter-allegation, and everyone insists they are on the level even if others are not. It is these shifting allegiances that form the core of Burgis’s book – with Amersi acting as the avatar of an ultra-rich, ultra-connected class that seeks to control the story that forms around them as tightly as they control everything else in their gilded lives.

Amersi, almost certainly unintentionally, has done Burgis a big favour. The thread tying the narrative together is an hours-long sit-down between Burgis and Amersi in the London offices of the ferocious law firm Carter-Ruck, during which Amersi berates Burgis for hours about his stupidity and dishonesty.

Simply by taking that much time, personally, and by handing over so many folders of “evidence” on various points up for debate, Amersi has shown how much importance he gives to public perceptions of him. Narrative is powerful. It decides which doors open for an individual and which stay resolutely shut in their faces, no matter their wealth. It is for that reason that private intelligence agencies, public relations firms, and the libel lawyers of London have built a whole white-collar industry around reputation.

Burgis’s book, then, is an effort to level the field, if only by pointing out that all of this is going on – so that as we follow these stories, we can be aware of the battles going on behind the scenes. To write about this world is to be watched, is to be researched, to be threatened by shockingly expensive lawyers. The existence of Cuckooland is itself proof that the rich do not yet “own the truth” entirely – but they’re certainly making a bid for it.

Tom Burgis is a “dishonest journalist” whose latest book is a “fucking pack of lies” – or at least that’s what the first paragraph of Cuckooland: Where the Rich Own the Truth, the book in question, says.

Burgis, an investigative reporter for the Guardian, is not being unusually self-deprecating in that introduction, but instead relaying the verdict of the man at the centre of Cuckooland’s story. That man is Mohamed Amersi, whose public persona is that of a prolific donor to the Conservative party, a philanthropist who has spoken at the University of Oxford about tackling international corruption, and a man who has met with King Charles on multiple occasions, supporting causes close to the king’s heart.

As Burgis sets out, though, that is only one of two possible narratives. It is this version of reality on which Amersi would like you to focus, and it is certainly true so far as it goes – all of those things have happened. But most of Cuckooland is about the other side of Amersi’s story, his role as an international “dealmaker”, helping companies gain access to sectors in emerging economies across Asia.

This sprawling account brings in colourful and questionable characters: the daughter of a dictator who challenges allegations that she has enriched herself to the tune of hundreds of millions. The elderly royal, taking the throne after a massacre within his own family, whose authoritarian rule brings about a revolution – only for the new (Maoist) government to set about enriching itself.

The world Burgis reveals is a complex and murky one: oligarchs make deals and then make enemies. Their fixers secretly record one another and then switch sides. Allegation is met with counter-allegation, and everyone insists they are on the level even if others are not. It is these shifting allegiances that form the core of Burgis’s book – with Amersi acting as the avatar of an ultra-rich, ultra-connected class that seeks to control the story that forms around them as tightly as they control everything else in their gilded lives.

Amersi, almost certainly unintentionally, has done Burgis a big favour. The thread tying the narrative together is an hours-long sit-down between Burgis and Amersi in the London offices of the ferocious law firm Carter-Ruck, during which Amersi berates Burgis for hours about his stupidity and dishonesty.

Simply by taking that much time, personally, and by handing over so many folders of “evidence” on various points up for debate, Amersi has shown how much importance he gives to public perceptions of him. Narrative is powerful. It decides which doors open for an individual and which stay resolutely shut in their faces, no matter their wealth. It is for that reason that private intelligence agencies, public relations firms, and the libel lawyers of London have built a whole white-collar industry around reputation.

Burgis’s book, then, is an effort to level the field, if only by pointing out that all of this is going on – so that as we follow these stories, we can be aware of the battles going on behind the scenes. To write about this world is to be watched, is to be researched, to be threatened by shockingly expensive lawyers. The existence of Cuckooland is itself proof that the rich do not yet “own the truth” entirely – but they’re certainly making a bid for it.