- The Guardian,
- Saturday January 20 2001
So Labour is now the party of publishers and greengrocers, Conservative the party of bookmakers. The brouhaha about political funding could encourage an unprecedented national interest in the nature of entrepreneurship.
Stuart Wheeler's £5m donation to the Tories will seem appropriate to many City types, for his spreadbetting firm IG Index became a dealing room institution during Margaret Thatcher's heyday. Opening an account with IG or its rival Sporting Index was a 1980s rite of passage. Manhood was measured by the stoicism with which a broker bore his losses on West Indies runs or Chelsea corners.
Almost every newspaper spiced up its report of Mr Wheeler's largesse with a reference to IG's odds on the outcome of the upcoming general election. The prices quoted on the number of seats to be won suggest Labour will romp home once more. A case of Man Utd v Carlisle, rather than an Old Firm derby.
Mr Wheeler may or may not be backing a loser. There is no inconsistency, however, between IG's election prices and its founder's belief in a William Hague premiership. The skill of IG's price-makers lies in reflecting the current balance of market opinion. The spreadbetting business premise is identical to that of market-making in the stock market - simply to reflect the prevailing balance of supply and demand and not to bet outright on possible outcomes.
More scary for many will be the realisation that Mr Wheeler may not actually care too greatly that he could be backing a loser. There will be much speculation that political gifts of this magnitude cannot come "no strings attached". Such cynicism is understandable. After all, there is now a fair smattering of ermine hanging off the shoulders of donors to both the Labour and Conservative parties. But one must allow for the rather peculiar nature of entrepreneurs.
The pursuit of wealth is rather like the London marathon. The starting line is crowded with competitors of all shapes, sizes, ages and backgrounds. The vast majority have no hope of featuring at the finish. Only a few harbour any realistic dreams of winning rather than merely taking part.
Those with genuine hopes of triumphing in the race to riches seem - at least to my outsider's eye - to draw sustenance from wealth simply as numbers, rather than as a means to another end. After all, the point at which most families' needs could be met is passed long before the runners hang up their corporate trainers. What is it that keeps them going?
British entrepreneurs tend only rarely to catch the public eye. This is not (yet) America, where the pursuit of riches is lauded as vindication of the entire socio-economic and political system. Here it is only celebrity industrialists, such as Richard Branson or Stelios Haji-Ioannou, who enjoy prolonged spells in the limelight. Others only do so fleetingly, and then often for reasons of notoriety rather than success.
Most recently Greg Hutchins, former chief executive of Tomkins, springs to mind. His corporate derring-do in the 1980s never made him a tabloid name. Recent alleged abuse of the corporate expense account did. Fifteen minutes of fame indeed.
It is when the chips are down that the mettle of the entrepreneur is revealed. Fear of failure is a powerful motivating force. The actions of executives are often best understood through an analysis of the possible consequences of cock-up rather than of success.
In the quoted company arena this is manifested in corporate paranoia about falling share prices. More sellers than buyers is interpreted as disapproval of a company's strategy, a negative view of its prospects, and a vote against its management.
If I had a pound for every time a chief executive complained about the price of his company's shares, or moaned that investors misunderstood him and his company... Well, you know the story.
Company directors read far too much into the day-to-day fluctuations of their share prices. They are also prone to introspection and, as a consequence, fail to recognise the broader economic and market forces beyond their control.
A falling price is less often a vote of no confidence than they imagine. But if the pursuit of wealth does become no more than an obsessive race to make a big number bigger, a share price will stand as the ultimate arbiter of success - and a very public one at that.
Floating one's company on the stock exchange places a monetary value on an entrepreneur's success. It can also allow him to pocket some of his past work in hard cash. But a market listing brings aggravation and risk. So to choose public rather than private status is to decide not to put a tick in the "no publicity" box.
Mr Wheeler floated IG Index on the London exchange last year. This may have allowed him to make the donation announced this week - having one's wealth tied up in unquoted equity can make it difficult to write a big cheque.
The flotation was publicised with cheesy photographs of Mr Wheeler wearing a footie shirt over his pinstripes, emblazoned with his company's share price. This looks like one entrepreneur who has decided that celebrity may prove to be one motivation to stay in the race.
• Edmond Warner is chief executive of Old Mutual Securities.
