Were two private equity buyouts the real cause of the horse meat scandal?

A series of buyouts went all the way up the food chain.

A note on the horse meat scandal that only seems to have flagged up so far: Findus, the most recent company under fire for horsemeat-contaminated products, was bought out by private equity firm Lion Capital in 2008.

Private equity firms make companies more efficient then re-sell, turning a profit in the process. They are also known for piling the companies they buy with debt and forcing them into radical cost-cutting measures - and a quick scan of Findus's last half decade suggests this is exactly what happened here. Findus struggled after the buyout, and recently needed a £220m cash injection to stay afloat. It was also forced into "major restructuring" last year. Was there a point at which using cheaper meat became necessary?

On Friday attention turned to Comigel - the company that supplies meat to Findus, as well as Aldi, another company which is even now hastily clearing its shelves of "mislabelled" bolognaise and lasangne. Surprise, surprise: in 2007, Comigel was bought by French private equity firm Céréa Capital.

Private equity firms are used to being the villain of the piece: post 2008, some argued that their penchant for cheap credit would be the cause of the next financial crisis. It's not all bad though - as this Moody's report suggests, companies which have been bought out are much more likely to survive when the going gets tough.

But the key point here is that some companies can't afford to be radically restructured to the point at which the product is compromised. And this includes food companies. Forget DNA tests - we should be keeping an eye out for food with chains of bought-out companies in their supply lines - that's where the next food scandal'll come from.

Horse meat scandal could be rooted in private equity. Photograph: Getty Images

Martha Gill writes the weekly Irrational Animals column. You can follow her on Twitter here: @Martha_Gill.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.