Abstract
A traditional way for protestors against business activities to make their point is to buy one or two shares in the business, turn up at the annual shareholders’ meeting, and ask awkward questions. The business panjandrums–who are usually hard to reach, unless you're Michael Moore–are made to squirm, and the protestors feel that at least momentarily they have some power. Anti-tobacco campaigners have been doing this for years.
I had my first experience of such activity on Tuesday 17 April, when a small group of us went to the annual meeting of Reed Elsevier to protest at the hypocrisy of the company, the largest publisher of medical journals, promoting arms fairs. Are they about life or death? Despite wearing a suit in order to seem ‘business respectable’, I felt like Swampy and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I'd never been to an annual shareholders meeting, and I vaguely imagined smart MBA analysts pinning the besuited panjandrums to the wall. The panjandrums were certainly there–13 of them, all middle aged to old men but for one middle-aged woman. They sat in a row on the stage and looked uncomfortable in the gloom. This was not, I thought, the highlight of their year. But instead of the smart MBAs, there was a small collection of people, mostly very elderly, and they attacked the free food with gusto.
The few questions the shareholders asked were largely inane, but it was amusing to see Sir Crispin Davis, Reed Elsevier's chief executive, struggling to answer a question from a woman who seemed to hope that computers would go away and textbooks stage a return. This was after Sir Crispin had announced ‘strong growth in online sales’, a movement to ‘workflow solutions’, and the sale of their education business. After wittering for a while he ended lamely by saying that he too loved books.
The whole thing was largely an empty ritual, and perhaps our questions provided some light relief. The minute that Sir Crispin finished his low-energy presentation we leapt in. Hadn't Reed Elsevier invited Iran to an arms fair? Wasn't the company damaging the reputation and brand of journals like the Lancet by running arms fairs? How could that be sensible when Sir Crispin had just emphasized the importance of brand? How could it make business sense to put at risk its large and profitable scientific journals business by running a small arms fair business? What about their staff, many of whom are passionate about science and health and horrified by the arms business?
One of the snags of these meetings is that the panjandrums are not obliged to answer the questions. They simply didn't at first, but luckily the chairman called me again–not realizing in the gloom, I suspect, that I'd already had one go. The second time they did better, but with discomfort.
Eventually the audience began to tire of our questions, longing perhaps for their cucumber sandwiches. Much better, said one woman, to have a respectable company like Reed Elsevier promoting arms rather than some ‘banana republic’. She hovered on the edge of political incorrectness, and probably the panjandrums could have done without her support. But then another man–PG Wodehouse might have described him as a small gin and tonic with a moustache–said that he didn't care for these lobbyists, and the thin crowd applauded.
We then raced through the votes. Around 80 of us in the audience voted electronically, while up on the screen hundreds of thousands voted in favour of the motions, most passing with 99% majority. I dutifully voted against all the incumbent directors up for re-election (these are the people who have approved the arms business) but in a moment of charity voted for the new man from Gucci. I felt I ought to give him a chance.
As the crowd staggered to their light refreshments we chatted to some board members. One at least seemed to have enjoyed our contributions and suggested we may have had impact. The empire of Reed Elsevier will not crumble because of our morning out, but the board might well decide, in purely business terms, that the small profits from the arms fares don't justify the hassle and the damage to reputation. We shall see, but the campaign goes on. Why not buy a share and come along next year? It's rather fun, and the lunch looked good.