Corporate social responsibility - it seems impossible to be against it: who wants companies to be irresponsible towards society? But words are deceptive. The premise behind CSR - that the profit motive is tainted, global capitalism is leading the world to rack and ruin, and business has a duty to give something back to society - is fundamentally flawed. And so too is the practice of it.
I spoke about this theme at a very stimulating seminar last week, which underscored how far the pernicious logic of CSR has won over businesspeople, politicians and anti-corporate campaigners alike.
Anyone in Europe or North America who doubts whether global capitalism can benefit the public good should look around at the material plenty that surrounds us. We are not just wealthier than ever before, we are healthier and better educated too.
Of course, profits and social welfare are not always synonymous. For profit-seeking to maximise social welfare, markets must be competitive and prices need to reflect true social costs and benefits. It is easy to think of cases where this is not so: for instance, a factory that spews out pollution without regard for its neighbours. But then the issue is: what is the best way to curb that pollution? I believe that legislation enacted by elected parliaments is infinitely superior to CSR.
What, though, are we to make of companies' individual CSR projects? Are they good, bad or indifferent? The two key tests are: do they improve a company's long-term profitability? And do they advance the broader public good?
Consider corporate giving. Many businesspeople see charitable donations
as a kind of feel-good advertising, or a way of improving a poor public
image. Fair enough, but unless those benefits exceed the cost of the
donation, it is damaging to profits. So what? - you may say - it is all
in a good cause. Not so fast. Managers do not own companies,
shareholders do. While managers may wish to earn kudos, or feel good
about themselves, by making corporate donations to charity, generosity
with other people’s money is not philanthropy, it is theft.
CSR may also impose costs on companies that are partly hidden and hard
to measure, so that even though a company thinks its CSR policy is
profit-enhancing, it may in fact be a drag on profits. For instance,
CSR can divert managers' energy and attention from the company's core
business, discourage potentially profitable risk-taking behaviour, and
allow managers to disguise poor performance at achieving the single
bottom line through emphasis on the inherently subjective and
incommensurate "triple bottom line".
Unsurprisingly, businessmen tend to see all CSR as win-win; while anti-corporate campaigners often believe that win-win activities are mere window-dressing and that CSR is only effective if companies sacrifice profits in the pursuit of greater social welfare. They both neglect, of course, the possibility that CSR could actually harm social welfare.
Even window-dressing and tokenism have a financial cost – and if they produce no benefit at all, they reduce social welfare. Worse, CSR is often used as a pretext to restrict competition, and in an international context as a form of backdoor protectionism: expensive CSR commitments act as a barrier to entry for smaller firms, or those from developing countries.
While it may be rational for companies to enact CSR policies if they are the lesser of two evils - if the cost of not doing so is greater than the cost of doing so - this does not mean that CSR is socially desirable. It may make business sense for a shopkeeper to pay off the Mafia if they threaten otherwise to burn down his store, but this does not make a protection racket socially beneficial. Likewise, it may make business sense for Tesco to give in to the demands of pressure groups who want it to do business in a more environmentally friendly way, because of the costs to its reputation if it doesn’t, but that doesn’t imply that the NGOs’ criticisms are correct, or that society is better off thanks to NGOs’ successful blackmail of Tesco.
The most pernicious kind of CSR is the more ambitious kind: the efforts to impose higher global labour and environmental standards around the world. Although it is probably a win-win for rich-country multinationals operating in poor countries to offer higher-than-average wages and working conditions – as indeed they do – because they want to attract the best workers, trying to enforce too high a standard, or pulling out of developing countries altogether, costs poor people their jobs and thus an opportunity to improve their lives.
Of course, there are many examples of abuse and exploitation, but it is not true that developing countries' lower labour and environmental standards are by definition a bad thing. They are a consequence, not a cause, of poverty and it is only through companies making products in developing countries and selling them on the global market - thereby raising living standards - that those standards are going to rise. Capitulating to NGOs' wrong-headed demands may be rational, profit-seeking behaviour for multinationals - but it harms the poor people it purports to help.
The bigger problem with CSR is that it is undemocratic. The UN's Global Compact, for instance, talks about spreading "good practices" based on "universal principles". But who decides what those good practices and universal principles are? Ask people what the world’s problems are and you will get a variety of opinions. Ask them what the solutions are, and how we might achieve them, and you get an even wider range of answers. If everyone agreed on the solution to the world’s problems, there would be no need for politics. We could just appoint administrators and let them get on with the job. But in fact, people disagree on just about everything. That is why we have elections, governments and political debate. It is a messy, rough-and-ready way of deciding society’s priorities, but it is less bad than all the alternatives - not least CSR.
Companies’ social responsibility is to make profits, not decide how, or how much, the environment should be protected. It is a duty that they have to their shareholders who have entrusted their savings to them. Workers’ jobs depend on it. So does a country’s prosperity: scarce resources should only be tied up in a company if it is adding value. Profit is not a dirty word. Profits help pay for schools, hospitals and pensions.
Certainly, people have aims besides getting richer. They care about how the pie is shared out, as well as its size. They also care about how the pie is produced: whether corporate activity damages the environment or compromises workers’ safety and dignity. These plural aims do not always conflict: companies with happy workers are often profitable, and vice-versa. But sometimes they do. That is where there is a role for governments: to draft and enforce laws that express society’s collective view about how, say, the balance between economic growth and environmental protection should be struck.
This traditional model of governance has many advantages. The lines of responsibility are clear: governments set the rules of the game, companies then aim to make profits subject to those constraints. This is not only democratic. It is also fair: laws are transparent, apply equally to all companies, and are impartially enforced by the courts. And it is flexible: laws can vary according to local conditions and preferences. The best way to help workers and the environment is generally through national laws drafted on the basis of democratic participation and consultation.
Governments are more than capable, either individually or collectively, of achieving social aims through legislation. And if there is an appropriate framework of laws that ensures effective competition and corrects market failures, maximising profits is not just good for a company’s shareholders, it is in society’s best interests too. So companies are not irresponsible if they maximise profits within the framework of the law; it is society that is irresponsible if it seeks to pursue (often misguided) social and environmental aims through CSR.
Walden Bello is professor of sociology at the University of the Philippines. He is the author of 15 books, including the recently published Dilemmas of Domination: the Unmaking of the American Empire (New York: Henry Holt, and Co., 2005). He was the recipient of the Right Livelihood Award (also known as the Alternative Nobel Prize) in 2003 for his work on globalisation.
Philippe Legrain writes about globalisation and European issues. He was previously special adviser to the then Director-General of the World Trade Organisation, Mike Moore. Before that, he was trade and economics correspondent for The Economist.
Globalisation is not perfect, but it is overwhelmingly a force for good. The rapid growth of trade and investment across national borders is spreading greater prosperity and opening up new opportunities to billions of people around the globe. China has recorded the fastest fall in poverty the world has ever seen. Global inequality is now declining for the first time since the Industrial Revolution, as China, India and others begin to catch up with the West. Those countries that are still floundering notably in Africa are largely victims not of globalisation, but of a lack of it.
Yet economic globalisation poses important challenges for a political order that remains anchored around nation states. States have unique powers to tax and regulate, as well as the unrivalled legitimacy that national allegiance and democratic accountability confer. Unfortunately, though, some states are incapable of enforcing their own laws, let alone providing the good governance and sound policies required for sustained economic development.
Some critics go further. They claim that globalisation is stripping governments everywhere of their powers. Huge global companies increasingly rule the roost, exploiting the poor and the environment for their own profitability, with little or no restraint. To stave off a devastating "race to the bottom" of labour and environmental standards, the global clout of multinational companies must be co-opted to achieve what critics believe to be desirable social change. In short, global companies must be compelled to be "socially responsible".
pressure groups pushing pet schemes, consultants peddling money-spinning advice, companies seeking to protect their profits from attacks on their reputation, and international organisations keen to be seen to be doing good. One of the many corporate social responsibility (CSR) schemes is the United Nations' Global Compact, a voluntary charter whose signatories pledge to uphold nine broad principles of human rights, labour standards and environmental protection throughout the world.
Hong Kong show.
Even where governments can't or won't regulate appropriately, companies (especially foreign ones) are ill-suited to setting and enforcing social norms. Companies' social responsibility is to make profits within the constraints of the law, not to decide how, or how much, the environment should be protected. And people generally prefer domestic misrule even by autocrats to foreign intervention, however well-meaning.
The UN Global Compact, according to a seemingly innocuous statement on its website, "utilises the power of transparency and dialogue to identify and disseminate good practices based on universal principles". But who decides what those "good practices" and "universal principles" are? If everyone agreed on the solution to the world's problems, there would be no need for politics. But in fact, people disagree on just about everything.
It is not only undemocratic for self-interested foreign companies blackmailed by self-selected anti-capitalist campaigners to be setting social standards in developing countries. It is also inefficient and unfair. There is no single right way to regulate: preferences and circumstances differ. Moreover, relying on a small group of big foreign companies to enforce rules ensures that any efforts will be patchy and limited. Global CSR not only has echoes of imperialism. It can also harm the people it purports to help if, for instance, imposing too costly environmental standards causes workers to lose their jobs.
The world needs more globalisation and better government. It does not need more CSR.
Progressive politics ought to be about hope: that we can create a fairer society where everyone can make the most of their potential. Yet the prevailing mood on the left is despair. Globalisation, many believe, is leading the world to rack and ruin - and there is little we can do about it. American-led corporate power is elbowing aside government and trampling on democracy.
Critics such as Naomi Klein, Noreena Hertz and George Monbiot claim that companies run the world. Their brands are colonising our minds. Their sheer size gives them clout. Their financial muscle bends elected representatives to their will. Their freedom to shift factories from country to country disempowers workers. The governments we elect connive in this, either because they are in the pockets of big business or because their power has leached away. So our votes are useless. In place of democracy, we face a grim choice between apathetic acquiescence and doubtless futile resistance.
This is dangerous claptrap. Start with brands. If they are so powerful, why couldn't Coca-Cola convince us to drink New Coke? Why does own-label cereal outsell Kellogg's? The grip of Nike shoes hardly compares with that of patriotism or love. Although some susceptible people, mainly poor kids, may unfortunately be gulled into spending money they can ill afford, this hardly means brands are conquering the world.
Brands are actually signs of corporate weakness, not strength. It is only because fickle consumers have so much choice that companies try to woo them with their branding. Monopolists needn't bother. Moreover, companies that are trying to sell an image or a reputation are incredibly vulnerable to anything that is perceived to damage them. Remember how Shell caved in to a handful of Greenpeace activists over the disposal of the Brent Spar oil platform? As companies increasingly make a virtue of being "socially responsible" - of being good to their employees, the environment and the community, rather than mere money-making machines - their vulnerability can only increase. Thus, brands, far from being vehicles for corporate global domination, give people unprecedented sway over companies' behaviour.
Corporate power is much exaggerated. Take the oft-repeated "fact" that 51 of the 100 biggest economies are corporations. It is arrived at by comparing companies' sales and countries' gross domestic product (GDP). But this double-counting inflates companies' importance, since one company's inputs are another's sales. A less misleading comparison - between companies' value-added, the difference between their sales and the cost of their inputs, and countries' value-added, their GDP - reveals that only two companies make it into the top 50 value-added creators. The biggest, Wal-Mart, an American supermarket chain that owns Asda, created value-added of $68bn (£43bn) in 2000, around the same as Chile's GDP - and less than a 20th of Britain's. Together, the 50 largest countries are 22 times bigger than the top 50 corporations.
In any case, inferring from companies' size that they are as powerful as countries is fatuous. Whereas companies have to attract workers and capital that are free to go elsewhere, countries can impose taxes and regulations: mighty Exxon Mobil pays taxes even in tiny Luxembourg. Supposedly footloose companies cannot, in fact, easily escape governments' writ: they are tied to places in many ways - by their customers, a skilled workforce or the good roads, schools and hospitals that our taxes pay for. Even if companies became more mobile, governments could collude to nab them, by cooperating over tax raising, for instance.
Companies that fail to persuade customers to buy enough for them to earn sufficient profits to pay shareholders and workers an acceptable return go bust or get taken over, whereas even failed states rarely disappear. The only "companies" with powers remotely comparable to those of states are the drug cartels: Colombia's earn billions of dollars a year, control parts of the country, have private armies and operate outside the law.
Wal-Mart seems puny in comparison. Indeed, because it faces fierce competition from other retailers, it has less scope to mark up its prices than the only shop in an isolated skiing village. Competition can constrain even the biggest companies - one reason why globalisation is such a good thing. Closed domestic markets, where national champions can cosy up to government, are much more likely to be monopolised than open global ones. So even though global companies are bigger than before, they are not necessarily more powerful. It is the absence of competition, not size, that gives companies clout.
If companies were taking over the world, you'd expect them to be grabbing a bigger slice of the economic pie. They exist, after all, to make profits. Yet from a recent cyclical peak of 12.6% of GDP in 1997, US corporate profits fell to 11% in 2000 and 9.3% in 2001 - in line with the average over the past 50 years of 10.5%. The figures for Britain show a similar trend.
Of course, companies sometimes have an undue influence on governments. So money and politics should be kept as separate as possible and government conducted more openly. Yet business has a right to lobby governments, just as trade unions, environmental groups and individuals do. This does not imply that governments are companies' lackeys.
Governments can - and do - tame the corporate leviathans. The European Commission stopped giant General Electric from buying Honeywell. The US government nearly broke up Microsoft, which is still being prosecuted by US states and investigated by the European Commission. Business has to abide by a battery of legislation on workers' rights, product liability, health and safety, environmental protection and much else. Where governments fear to tread, lawyers do not: each year people start almost 2 million lawsuits against American companies, which pay out damages of around $150bn a year. Last but not least, taxes on company profits have steadily risen as a share of rich OECD countries' GDP: from 2.2% in 1965 to 3.3% in 1999. If businessmen are running the show, they must be masochists.
The truth is companies are not running the show. We are still free to determine our future - as individuals, as groups of like-minded people and through the power of our elected governments. If people really wanted to, they could reverse globalisation - as they did in the 1930s, with catastrophic consequences. All it takes is enough votes for the Greens, Socialist Alliance or BNP.
Globalisation is a choice, not an imposition. Progressives should embrace it because it makes us richer - in the broadest sense - and allows governments to spend more on schools, hospitals and helping the underprivileged. It does not imply that Britain has to become like America: Sweden's economy is far more open than Britain's, yet its welfare state is second to none. Globalisation comes with several options: we can to a large extent pick and choose what kind of globalisation we want. Don't burn your Nikes: politics is not dead.