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This case describes Latvia's transition from a Soviet republic into an EU member, its economic boom and subsequent bust in 2008, and its policy response. After implementing significant economic and political reforms in order to qualify for EU membership in 2004, Latvia had turned its sights toward joining the single-currency eurozone, pegging its currency to the euro in 2005 as a step toward that goal. From 2000 to 2007, Latvia achieved faster GDP growth than any EU state. However, when large inflows of capital suddenly dried up in 2008, Latvia had to obtain a financial rescue package from the IMF, World Bank, EU, and several regional countries in order to avoid a full-blown financial and currency crisis. Latvia then adopted an aggressive economic adjustment program centered on maintaining its currency peg, which meant competitiveness would have to be restored by reducing domestic prices, wages, and public expenditures in order to drive down the real exchange rate. Latvia's policy program and initial results are discussed in the case.

Russian and German energy firms initiated the Nord Stream natural gas pipeline project with strong political support from their home governments but encountered resistance from other states. Although the pipeline would connect Russia with Germany directly, the project was not simply a bilateral matter. First, a need to secure construction permits in multiple jurisdictions around the Baltic Sea involved other countries. And second, Germany's membership in the European Union entailed compliance with goals and values of the entire union, which stressed the imperative of collective action in energy matters and dangers of succumbing to "national reflexes." Thus the implications of the project became a matter of concern to the entire European Union but Europeans struggled to articulate the meaning of Nord Stream: was it a "separate peace" between Russia and Germany to the detriment of the rest, or was it a pan-European deal to the benefit of all? As the case chronicles, the success of Nord Stream depended on the ability of its creators to ensure that latter view prevailed over the former.

Nabucco natural gas pipeline, initiated by a group of European energy companies, was intended to connect the broad gas-rich region of the Middle East and Central Asia to Europe for the first time, which would diversify supply sources. At the same time, an Italian-Russian consortium announced South Stream natural gas pipeline, which would diversify transport routes for the delivery of Russian gas to Europe. To win support, backers of Nabucco and South Stream insisted that their projects were aimed at fulfilling goals of the energy policy of the EU (reduction of use of fossil fuels to combat climate change and guaranteed physical availability and affordability of imported fossil fuels). But, as the case demonstrates, both projects progressed slowly, encountering many technological and commercial challenges, which, however, were eclipsed by the extreme politicization of Nabucco and South Stream: pipelines became a factor in domestic politics of several European nations and figured prominently in relations between the EU, EU states, Russia, Turkey, former Soviet republics in Caucasus and Central Asia, and the United States. Although they would comprise only a small part in the overall architecture of Europe's energy security, the case of Nabucco and South Stream reveals the limits of the ambitious energy policy of the EU.

The collapse of central authority in the Soviet Union in 1991 ushered in a period of revolutionary transformations for the states that emerged in its wake. The leaders of Russia, the USSR's successor, since then have struggled to reestablish central authority while also seeking to avoid further disintegration, establish a democratic polity, and institute a market economy. The case contrasts different approaches adopted by Presidents Boris Yeltsin and Vladimir Putin and concludes with a vision outlined by Russia's third post-Soviet president, Dmitry Medvedev. The case focuses on problems of state authority; fiscal capacity; institutionalization of political parties; relations between the federal center and provincial governments; relations between the state and big business; economic policy; and models of economic development.

Russia is no longer a failing superpower. After Vladimir Putin became president in 2000, Goldman Sachs predicted that Russia, along with Brazil, China, and India, would soon be among the world's most important economies. Although Russia's growth hasn't kept up with China's and India's, the world economy cannot ignore Russia. Over the past ten years, Putin has strengthened Russia's nascent capitalist economies and institutions. In the process, he has stoked the Kremlin's apparently infinite appetite for power. That represents a growing threat, not only to Russia's development but also to companies wishing to do business there. Instead of looking solely at growth rates, CEOs should come to grips with Russia's still-evolving capitalism, particularly the tensions between the state and business, to craft an effective strategy. There is money to be made in Russia, as long as companies play by the rules imposed during Putin's tenure as president. The very different experiences of Shell, BP, and Enel-each of entering the energy industry-illustrate the importance of government relations. Multinational companies must fit in with the prevailing definition of Russia's national interest; they cannot hope to succeed in spite of it. The bottom line: It is safe to invest in Russia as long as you have the right partner, which is the state or a well-connected local company.

In 1997, amidst Japan's ongoing financial problems, Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto sought to restructure the financial sector to make it more transparent and globally competitive. He hoped that this effort, dubbed the "Big Bang" after the British financial restructuring of a decade earlier, would prove as successful. But the financial problems, which seemed to have abated, looked as if they might be worsening. Thus, Hashimoto had to weigh priorities. Should he focus on long-term restructuring, immediate financial rescue, or both? Might an over-emphasis on long-term restructuring increase the chances that major banks could collapse? And what were the best economic and political strategies in these arenas? As a major developed economy, Japan offers an analog to the problems that faced the United States in its 2008-09 financial crisis.

In 1997, amidst Japan's ongoing financial problems, Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto sought to restructure the financial sector to make it more transparent and globally competitive. He hoped that this effort, dubbed the "Big Bang" after the British financial restructuring a decade earlier, would prove as successful. But the financial problems, which seemed to have abated, looked as if they might be worsening. Thus, Hashimoto had to weigh priorities. Should he focus on long-term restructuring, immediate financial rescue, or both? Might an over-emphasis on long-term restructuring increase the chances that major banks could collapse? And what were the best economic and political strategies in these arenas? As a major developed economy, Japan offers an analog to the problems that faced the United States in its 2008-2009 financial crisis.

Although the global trend toward liberalization of electric utilities forced Enel, the largest power company in Italy, to give up some of its assets in its home base, it also opened up many opportunities abroad, including in Russia, one of the largest electricity markets in the world. The case outlines Enel's internationalization strategy and then focuses on one piece of the company's strategic puzzle of global expansion: acquisition of major power-generation assets in the course of the break-up of RAO UES, the Russian electricity monopoly. The case highlights the decision-making process by the company executives in the context of possible political risks to foreign investment in Russian strategic industries and economic risks to investment in the yet-to-be-formed liberalized and deregulated electricity market in Russia.

The International Monetary Fund was dismissed as almost irrelevant to the global economy, but during the 2008 financial crisis, it returned to center stage, providing financial rescues for developing countries.

The combination of the gigantic American trade deficit and the price of oil at more than $125 per barrel (at press time) has created an attendant pool of financial liquidity among oil exporters in the Gulf. And this era of petrodollar surpluses is markedly different from the last one. In the 1970s, the member states of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC)--Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates--outsourced the management of their petrodollars to American and UK bankers. This time around, they have adopted active investment and development strategies: They are investing heavily in large Western organizations as well as in emerging markets in Africa and India. They are spending lavishly at home to establish institutional infrastructures, to create free-trade zones for manufacturing and services, and to build recreational facilities that will attract businesses, skilled knowledge workers, and tourists. These moves are destined to have long-run effects not just on their local economies but also on regional and international trading, argue Harvard Business School's Abdelal, Khan, and Khanna. In fact, the authors say, the actions of the GCC states are pulling the Gulf closer than it has ever been to the center of the international financial system. In this article, the authors consider how oil exporters' new investment strategies and interests over the next decades will affect the economic landscape in the West, reshape nearby markets in the Middle East, and dramatically reconfigure the GCC home environment itself.

President Putin publicly stated that Gazprom, the largest natural gas producer in the world, was a powerful political lever of the Russian state in the world and a keystone in the foundation of the country's energy security. Thus the top leadership of Russia has charted the course of the company's future away from the seemingly imminent dismemberment, privatization, and, by implication, de-monopolization toward a challenging combination of strengthened state control, professional, transparent management, and a major expansion. The case explores how in 2000-2008 Gazprom's management has pursued the strategy defined by the politicians. Gazprom's impressive expansion strategy envisioned diversification of markets, products, transportation routes, and modes of delivery. The challenges were equally formidable: massive investment needs, a possibility of a production shortfall, and a chronic problem with the transit state of Ukraine, to name a few. In fact, Gazprom's ambitiousness fully reflected the ambitiousness of Russia as a whole, characteristic of the Putin era.

Critics have accused Gazprom, the world's largest natural gas producer, of eschewing market principles in favor of the foreign policy priorities of the Russian government, ever since the energy giant cut off the supply to Ukraine in January of 2006. The purported motive for the decision, however, seems to indicate the opposite: the company claimed that it had no other choice because the sides failed to conclude a contract on the terms of future trade. The case takes a look back in history for clues that may resolve this paradox. It highlights how politics shaped the economics of natural gas trade in the former Soviet Union and Europe since the late 1960s until the end of the 1990s; sketches the story of the creation of Gazprom by the first post-Soviet government of Russia; and describes how the erection of new sovereign borders in the wake of the dissolution of the Soviet Union, coupled with political and economic transition, created major problems in the gas trade between the former Soviet republics, emerging with the greatest intensity in the Russian-Ukrainian relations.

The case describes the resolution to the January 2006 gas crisis, precipitated by the decision of Gazprom, the largest natural gas producer in the world, to cut off gas supply to Ukraine because of disagreement on the terms of future trade. The case also narrates the events that have followed: the adoption by Gazprom of a comprehensive policy to renegotiate prices with the rest of the former Soviet states; the erratic relationship with Ukraine, dependent on the internal political configuration in the latter at any given time; and a persistence of Gazprom's negative image in the world.

Why do managers become corrupt? Does corruption ever pay? When do friendly relations cross into bribery? How can CEOs manage and prevent outbreaks of corruption? These and other questions are raised by three short case studies of corruption in Germany: at the global engineering firm Siemens, the automaker VW, and the chemical giant BASF. While German law not only permitted overseas bribery but even made it tax deductible until 1999, it was not welcomed in some nations where Siemens did business such as the United States-or in Germany after 2000-but old practices continued. Cooperative management-labor relations, often seen as key to the post-World War II German industrial powerhouse, went sour at VW, as a top manager secured key concessions by paying for union leaders' lavish foreign travel and visits to prostitutes. After vitamin prices sagged in the late 1980s, BASF and the Swiss chemical firm Hoffmann-La Roche plotted a global cartel that lasted a decade and raised the prices of many vitamins 50 percent or more. In the end, even after record criminal fines and jail time for some executives, some observers argued, such practices were likely to recur.

The Londolozi game viewing reserve in South Africa became a defining icon of ecotourism during the 1990s and early 2000s--that is, a tourist business promoting ecological land management and, at the same time, local economic development. The reserve was in a region in the northeastern part of the country, not far from Mozambique, that sorely called out for progress in both these dimensions. The Sabi Sand Game reserve (within which Londolozi was located) was initially created by the government to provide hunters with an area in which to hunt wildlife. The government retained a portion of the reserve as the Kruger National Park, which allowed visitors to view wildlife, but banned hunting, in an effort to boost wildlife populations. The KNP was initially fenced off from the Sabi Sands Game reserve to prevent hunters from moving into the wildlife reserve. The fence, however, also prevented traditional east-west migration of animals across the region. Through the 1980s and 1990s, the farms within the Sabi Sand Game reserve converted their functions from hunting to wildlife viewing, and the fence was taken down. The new challenge for the farms while transforming into wildlife viewing became land management and local economic development.

New York State Attorney General Eliot Spitzer faced a decision about how to stop wrongdoing committed by major Wall Street firms during the Internet boom. The equities analysts of Merrill Lynch and other Wall Street firms were charged with objectively advising retail investors whether to buy or sell publicly traded stock. The analysts had rated some stock a strong buy, while at the same time disparaging it in Internet emails as "a piece of junk" or a "powder keg." Spitzer concluded that the analysts sometimes issued such buy ratings on stock of companies because of a conflict of interest: the Wall Street firms the analysts worked for were making handsome fees for underwriting the companies' stock offerings and providing other services. The usual procedure when an enforcement agency such as the Federal Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) discovered such a situation would be to complete its investigation and negotiate a resolution privately with the financial firm. If it could not resolve the matter, the agency would formally file suit against the firm in court. This option was open to Spitzer, but the 1921 New York statue gave him an alternative. Even before filing suit in court--and while continuing to investigate the firm further--he could broadcast his findings to warn the public and brand the firm with wrongdoing. This case investigates the decision Spitzer made, and its long-term implications for U.S. financial regulation and financial industries.

Spreadsheet Supplement for case 708035

When Dominique Strauss-Kahn became the Managing Director of the International Monetary Fund in late 2007, he faced a number of significant changes. The organization had lost much of its legitimacy over the previous decade, and countries seemed increasingly reluctant to borrow from the Fund. Developing countries had increased their foreign exchange reserves, which reduced their reliance on potential IMF support packages. Furthermore, the IMF found itself unable to influence the macroeconomic policies of the United States and China in order to reduce global current account imbalances, and developing world countries complained that they were underrepresented at the Fund. As the IMF's new Managing Director, Strauss-Kahn had to decide how best to address these challenges and in what direction to steer the Fund.

In 2007, Khaldoon Khalifa Al Mubarak, the CEO of Mubadala Development Company (Mubadala), had every reason to be optimistic about the future of his home, Abu Dhabi, one of the emirates comprising the United Arab Emirates (UAE). The tiny, sandy, and dry emirate with a population of 1.5 million, only 420,000 of whom were citizens, was nestled upon nearly 10% of the world's known reserves of oil and the 4th largest proven reserve of natural gas. With the price of oil doubling every 10 years between 1970 and the 2000s, the state-owned Abu Dhabi National Oil Company (ADNOC) had enjoyed an era of increasing profitability. Another state-owned firm, Abu Dhabi Investment Authority (ADIA), had been investing extra oil revenues outside of the county for more than 30 years, and the intensely secretive organization had amassed assets worth an astonishing--and still rapidly growing--$500 billion to $900 billion. A common refrain held that Abu Dhabi nationals could live off of the returns generated by ADIA forever. Some accordingly referred to the emirate as "the richest city in the world." Yet Al Mubarak, trusted advisor to the crown prince Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahayan, and Mubadala were charged with transforming the economy of the emirate. Many were concerned that Abu Dhabi was in danger of suffering from the so-called "resource curse," as its economy focused on fossil fuels and little else. Not only would Abu Dhabi's economy continue to be subjected to the vagaries of world energy prices, there would be little for its citizens to do. Not everyone could work for ADNOC or ADIA. Not everyone was from one of Abu Dhabi's handful of incredibly wealthy families. To be a developed country, Abu Dhabi needed change. Fortune had already played perhaps too large a role.

Supplements the (A) case.