Horsemeat scandal: it's all in the supply chains

You reap what you sow.

Up until very recently, most of us would have confidently asserted that we had never eaten horsemeat in our lives. Today, our responses would likely be more hesitant as we think back over the various processed products we have consumed. In many ways, this is the very essence of the current crisis: the adulteration of meat has left us highly uncertain about what we are consuming; if products contain extraneous horsemeat what else might be hiding within?

This erosion of confidence and trust has serious implications for both the retail and food processing industries. Consumers have already reacted swiftly, ditching brands and products tainted by the scandal, with many rediscovering the local butchers they once abandoned in favour of the big supermarket chains. As new developments come to light, we should expect to see habits change still further.

Retailers will be thankful for the fact that the crisis is now of such scope and scale that blame has been dispersed over a wide area with no one in particular in the crosshairs. However, we should not allow the diffused nature of the situation to become an excuse for doing nothing. Indeed, the truth is that while the modern food supply chain might be complex and intricate, the roots of the matter are fairly self evident.

Despite being concentrated into the hands of relatively few players, food retailing in most western nations, and especially in the UK, remains highly competitive. In recent years this has intensified for two main reasons. Firstly, commodity inflation allied with the downturn has made the consumer far more price sensitive and has opened up a new battleground focusing on value. Secondly, following massive space expansion over recent years the market is now fairly saturated; with little organic growth this has resulted in each player trying to grab share from its neighbour while at the same time defending its own. Ultimately, both of these dynamics have resulted in a relentless focus on driving down prices to create competitive advantage.

Modern consumers have been beneficiaries of this focus; food bills today are much lower than they were 50 years ago. So, lower prices per se are not necessarily a bad thing. What is critical, however, is how those low prices are attained. When they arise from improved efficiency or scientific advances then the overall impact is generally a positive one. When they arise from exerting too much pressure on suppliers or from reducing checking and transparency then the impact can be catastrophically negative.

In the early days of reducing prices retailers tended to make savings from efficiency gains but now most of these have been extracted eking out further savings can really only come from one place: cutting corners. The pressure to trim every possible cost is enormous and the whole supply chain from farm to fork is now so tight that it was probably only a matter of time before a crisis arose. In other words, this is more than an accident; it is a direct consequence of the behaviours within the industry.

As the final link in the supply chain, retailers must bear the responsibility for what is sold. However, there is arguably another actor who is also liable: the consumer. Buying food is not discretionary; it’s something we all need to do, and do regularly. As such, it accounts for a very large proportion (around 45 per cent) of all that we spend on retail. If we can reduce the amount we spend during our weekly grocery shop then we have more scope to buy other more exciting consumer goods; so, we happily laden up our trolleys with value ready meals and cheap cuts of meat in order than we can shave a bit off our bill. How many of us, though, really thought about that 99p ready meal and asked “is this really too good to be true?” The answer is not nearly enough of us.

None of this is to excuse retailers or manufactures, but it does open up an important question about the current realism in terms of economics within the food industry. Part of solving this matter and guaranteeing, as far as possible, food which is free from contaminants has to be the acceptance of higher prices. Notably, when we talk about higher prices we are not talking about massive hikes but a few pence here and there. Certainly, that’s unwelcome in the current economic environment but it is a necessary price to pay.

Will consumers wear it? Their reaction to horsemeat suggests that they probably will. The fact that many are already buying more expensive foods or using butchers which charge a little more suggests there has been a subtle shift in attitude. Will retailers wear it? Arguably they should; being the cheapest at all costs may well bring some short term market share gains, but if it ultimately undermines long term confidence in the brand it becomes something of an own goal.

The bottom line is that when it comes to food prices the old farming adage is as true now as it ever was: you reap what you sow.

Photograph: Getty Images

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Who "speaks for England" - and for that matter, what is "England"?

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones.

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones. It trotted out Leo Amery’s House of Commons call from September 1939, “Speak for England”, for the headline on a deranged leader that filled a picture-free front page on David Cameron’s “deal” to keep Britain in the EU.

Demands that somebody or other speak for England have followed thick and fast ever since Amery addressed his call to Labour’s Arthur Greenwood when Neville Chamberlain was still dithering over war with Hitler. Tory MPs shouted, “Speak for England!” when Michael Foot, the then Labour leader, rose in the Commons in 1982 after Argentina’s invasion of the Falklands. The Mail columnist Andrew Alexander called on Clare Short to “speak for England” over the Iraq War in 2003. “Can [Ed] Miliband speak for England?” Anthony Barnett asked in this very magazine in 2013. (Judging by the 2015 election result, one would say not.) “I speak for England,” claimed John Redwood last year. “Labour must speak for England,” countered Frank Field soon afterwards.

The Mail’s invocation of Amery was misconceived for two reasons. First, Amery wanted us to wage war in Europe in support of Hitler’s victims in Poland and elsewhere and in alliance with France, not to isolate ourselves from the continent. Second, “speak for England” in recent years has been used in support of “English votes for English laws”, following proposals for further devolution to Scotland. As the Mail was among the most adamant in demanding that Scots keep their noses out of English affairs, it’s a bit rich of it now to state “of course, by ‘England’. . . we mean the whole of the United Kingdom”.

 

EU immemorial

The Mail is also wrong in arguing that “we are at a crossroads in our island history”. The suggestion that the choice is between “submitting to a statist, unelected bureaucracy in Brussels” and reclaiming our ancient island liberties is pure nonsense. In the long run, withdrawing from the EU will make little difference. Levels of immigration will be determined, as they always have been, mainly by employers’ demands for labour and the difficulties of policing the borders of a country that has become a leading international transport hub. The terms on which we continue to trade with EU members will be determined largely by unelected bureaucrats in Brussels after discussions with unelected bureaucrats in London.

The British are bored by the EU and the interminable Westminster arguments. If voters support Brexit, it will probably be because they then expect to hear no more on the subject. They will be sadly mistaken. The withdrawal negotiations will take years, with the Farages and Duncan Smiths still foaming at the mouth, Cameron still claiming phoney victories and Angela Merkel, François Hollande and the dreaded Jean-Claude Juncker playing a bigger part in our lives than ever.

 

An empty cabinet

Meanwhile, one wonders what has become of Jeremy Corbyn or, indeed, the rest of the shadow cabinet. The Mail’s “speak for England” leader excoriated him for not mentioning “the Number One subject of the hour” at PM’s Questions but instead asking about a shortage of therapeutic radiographers in the NHS. In fact, the NHS’s problems – almost wholly caused by Tory “reforms” and spending cuts – would concern more people than does our future in the EU. But radiographers are hardly headline news, and Corbyn and his team seem unable to get anything into the nation’s “any other business”, never mind to the top of its agenda.

Public services deteriorate by the day, George Osborne’s fiscal plans look increasingly awry, and attempts to wring tax receipts out of big corporations appear hopelessly inadequate. Yet since Christmas I have hardly seen a shadow minister featured in the papers or spotted one on TV, except to say something about Trident, another subject that most voters don’t care about.

 

Incurable prose

According to the Guardian’s admirable but (let’s be honest) rather tedious series celeb­rating the NHS, a US health-care firm has advised investors that “privatisation of the UK marketplace . . . should create organic and de novo opportunities”. I have no idea what this means, though it sounds ominous. But I am quite certain I don’t want my local hospital or GP practice run by people who write prose like that.

 

Fashionable Foxes

My home-town football team, Leicester City, are normally so unfashionable that they’re not even fashionable in Leicester, where the smart set mostly watch the rugby union team Leicester Tigers. Even when they installed themselves near the top of the Premier League before Christmas, newspapers scarcely noticed them.

Now, with the Foxes five points clear at the top and 7-4 favourites for their first title, that mistake is corrected and the sports pages are running out of superlatives, a comparison with Barcelona being the most improbable. Even I, not a football enthusiast, have watched a few matches. If more football were played as Leicester play it – moving at speed towards their opponents’ goal rather than aimlessly weaving pretty patterns in midfield – I would watch the game more.

Nevertheless, I recall 1963, when Leicester headed the old First Division with five games to play. They picked up only one more point and finished fourth, nine points adrift of the league winners, Everton.

 

Gum unstuck

No, I don’t chew toothpaste to stop me smoking, as the last week’s column strangely suggested. I chew Nicorette gum, a reference written at some stage but somehow lost (probably by me) before it reached print.

Editor: The chief sub apologises for this mistake, which was hers

Peter Wilby was editor of the Independent on Sunday from 1995 to 1996 and of the New Statesman from 1998 to 2005. He writes the weekly First Thoughts column for the NS.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle