So how do you start a business in a recession?

Start a business that helps people start businesses, that's how.

Setting up a business during a recession is difficult. So why not start a business during a recession that helps people establish their own businesses? This was the original thinking behind Yoodoo, a medium-sized business based in London's Soho that has grown to provide high-engagement e-learning for all sorts of clients, from banks to dentists.

"Yoodoo began as an idea for a kind of web home for new entrepreneurs", says Nick Saalfeld, head of content at Yoodoo. But like many new businesses, Yoodoo has morphed over the years, and now does things that are far afield from the original yoodoo.biz – a website that guides users through every stage of the process of starting a business, and making it succeed, with videos from leading business professionals, downloadable documents, quizzes and practical walkthroughs.

What happened, Saalfeld tells me, is that Yoodoo discovered their forte lay in making e-learning work, getting it to produce real outcomes. Where the original may have taught mobile hairdressers, for instance, the basics of business, Yoodoo now powers the way dentists learn about compliance, helps recruitment consultants practice more successfully and gives unemployed people the skills to find work. It’s in providing outcome-focused learning experiences for other established companies that their primary activities now lie, and business is good.

Starting up during a recession, however, has serious risks. But asking Nick why is something of a non-question – he's been an entrepreneur "since before the word ‘entrepreneur’ was cool", and starting companies is just what he does.

On the specifics he is resolute. "In a recession, there’s a depleted pot of finance, which is of course fundamental", Nick says. "But people ramble on about the availability of finance… yes, it’s hard to get hold of, but it’s not impossible. It demands greater fiscal probity and ideally a demonstrably skilled management team.

"The bigger issue now, I think, is that macro-economic issues are affecting the optimism, outlook and visible horizon for small businesses. All of a sudden people were (and are) thinking: what about Spain, what about Ireland? These huge macro-economic issues can affect me and my little company. That’s the real issue with starting up in difficult times."

But Nick insists that difficult conditions have hidden opportunities. "Change means opportunity in business – it just does. Evolutions in markets, disparities of income, location, access to raw materials, technologies… all these disruptive breaks represent new opportunities. Don’t get me wrong, times are tough, but there is still room for ventures that can absolutely pay off. Don’t expect an easy ride – you’ll need to get used to living on fresh air – but fortune still favours the entrepreneur’s key skills: resilience, doggedness, and sheer hard graft."

What can government do to help small and medium sized-businesses to succeed? "The problem for the government", Nick says "is that it only has two tools - money and laws, and they’re both pretty blunt instruments.

"There’s a big hoo-ha about red tape. Frankly that’s immaterial, absolutely meaningless. For small businesses – and 95% of British businesses have fewer than 5 employees – none of that is a concern and for the massive majority, red tape isn’t the problem."

In Nick’s experience, the major problem for small businesses that government ought to concern itself with is education. "Modern education has brought us a generation that is ill-equipped to conduct business, and that makes me very, very sad indeed.

"Problem-solving, ambition, the ability to comprehend long term strategy and construct an argument - these skills are not being taught, and it is crippling SMEs who are still finding it easier to recruit abroad, for example."

If you look at the figures, he says, Britain has dropped several places down the world education rankings, and it shows. "If the government really wants to help small and medium sized businesses," Nick says, "the best thing they can do in the long term is put their effort into education."

What currently hinders entrepreneurs? From Yoodoo’s experience, the problems entrepreneurs face are universal – finding the right idea and sticking with it. "There are entrepreneurs who are eternally glass half-full. That’s fine. But the real trick to being an entrepreneur is doggedness. Not doggedness to the point of stupidity, not re-mortgaging your house for something that’s never going to happen, but a determination to find new solutions to problems. Keeping that up is the main engine of entrepreneurship, and always will be. It’s a great British tradition – from Brunel to Dyson – to ask, 'Well, that’s not very good, so why can’t we do things differently?’"

Despite the economic uncertainties, Nick is full of encouragement for self starters. "I would never say to someone: don’t start your own business," he says. "Look, if I lose a client I might lose 10% or 20% of my income. If I’m employed and I lose my client, I lose 100% of my income. It’s madness to say that running your own business is so much riskier."

That seems to be Yoodoo’s message: if you’re self-employed it’s all up to you. But at least it’s not up to someone else.

This article originally appeared in Economia.

Photograph: Getty Images
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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.