Profile: Ben Walters

From busboy via real estate to trading to petro- chemicals, how the peripatetic life of Ben Walters

Lucy Knight profiles

BEN WALTERS

– founder of shoe company http://ospop.com/">OSPOP

Born in New York in the summer of 1975 Walters was the youngest of three with two older sisters. He grew up in North New Jersey where the family ran a petro-chemical business.

Upon graduating high school in 1993 he started at the University of Michigan. “When I was starting University I thought about taking business. I took some classes but when it came to submitting the application I changed by mind. The theoretical education that you get out of taking such a degree wasn’t motivation for me - a liberal arts education suited me better. History was something that I thought would give me skills, a sense of organisation.”

After completing his studies he went back to New Jersey where he started working as a driver but quickly progressed to working as a trader “I was there for a few months. Then I decided to leave and I packed up a car, without really thinking about what my aim was, and drove towards Jackson, Wyoming.”

Walters found it difficult to settle, preferring to ski and take various jobs in order to let him pursue his passion. “I was always living a life that was a means to an end, a basic lifestyle. I wanted to ski all the time.” Taking jobs in construction and restaurants Walters eventually began to work in real estate. “I thought I was just going to stay for the first winter and then it ended up being two years. I was still skiing a lot but I was working as a realtor full time by that point.”

The travelling bug bit again in 1999 and he took himself off down the West Coast down to South America through to Chile.

After yet another long trip he went back home to begin working for the family petro-chemical business. He started at the bottom, learning how everything functioned and then he ended up travelling selling commodity materials around the US. It was at this time that he sensed a good business opportunity emerging from the East, specifically in China.

“In 2002 it became clear that the basic goods business was starting to transfer overseas, it was becoming hard to compete with imported goods. There were now two global markets and my thought was that it would be wise to have a presence in China. I wanted to be able to integrate China into the business models of companies we were working with in the US.

“We were a small company but we had to compete with the big players so we had to add value. I knew we had to provide an on the ground window into the Chinese market.”

Walters decided to take it upon himself to be that window. “I had been to South East Asia on vacations a few times, Vietnam and Cambodia, two years prior to moving out here.” So, in 2003 he relocated to Shanghai.

It was not long after arriving in China that Walters became aware of the workman’s shoe that he has since transformed. Identifiable as a Chinese product says Walters, “the shoes are everywhere. They are sold on stalls and in construction type shops and they cost a couple of dollars.”

Walters bought himself a pair of the shoes and soon realised he had a potential product for the Western market. “The brand concept was industrial and commercial work wear, combined.”

For a Westerner to be making business inquiries was a shock for those Walters approached. “I contacted one factory. They had no export business and it took them by surprise.” This was the only factory Walters approached and they were the ones that took up his offer. Impressively all of this was done in Chinese. Shortly before going to Shanghai Walters had been taking Chinese lessons and then on arriving had spent five months spending up to seven hours a day practising. “I can speak it well, but it’s hard.”

The Tianlang shoe factory is based in Wen County, about 450 miles southwest of Beijing employing 400 people. The name of the shoe OSPOP stands for One Small Point of Pride. The workers here are paid more than the average for a factory and they get overtime. “It’s mostly miners and farmers out here. I first came to the factory in 2006 and they had no export business at all. The area was 97 per cent based on agriculture and mining, there was no industry really. This, for them, was a good opportunity.”

Walters then set about changing the shoe for a non-workman’s foot. “The shoe itself was a fairly poor quality product; work had to be done on modifying the shoe in order to sell it to Westerners. This was the biggest part of the process. We also had to educate the workers on making a cleaner product.”

But, he insists, this isn’t just a hammer and sickle on a t-shirt. “Authenticity is a huge deal to me. These shoes are the same but with more lasting ingredients. It’s a Chinese product that is used here and it’s marketed as such.”

It was Spring 2007 by the time Walters left his family’s business and concentrated full time on the shoes. Their current range was launched in the Autumn. Already they have sold more than 8,000 pairs.

For Walters, working in China, is an exciting opportunity as well as a social study: “This is a fascinating place to be right now while it’s experiencing growth. Watching increasing wealth and change, to witness the impact on people is very interesting. “The government is actually currently doing a fantastic job in creating the infrastructure needed to allow industry to grow, to bring business here.”

What about the future? Walters tells newstatesman.com that he’s not sure what the future holds, whether there will be other avenues for his business or other ideas, it is too soon to say.

As part of the process of change some of the revenue of OSPOP goes into an education fund for students at the high school near the factory. “Last week we had a ceremony where I met the 10 new recipients of the education programme that we have going. They will get help from us to go to University.”

It is apparent that he sees his business model as not only making profits but also helping people, as part of the process of change. In an area where the workforce is made up of predominantly miners and farmers, this is much welcomed help.

Maybe he represents a new breed of entrepreneur who sees not just profit margins but finds a way to help a local community.

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.