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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There's something missing from our counter-terrorism debate

The policy reckoning that occured after the 2005 terrorist attacks did not happen after the one in 2016. 

“Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down? That's not my department, says Wernher von Braun.” That satirical lyric about Nazi rocket scientists has come to mind more than few times watching various tech giants give testimony in front of the Home Affairs Select Committee, one of the underreported sub-plots of life at Westminster.

During their ongoing inquiry into hate crime in the United Kingdom, committee chair Yvette Cooper has found a staggering amount of hate speech being circulated freely on the largest and most profitable social media platform. Seperately, an ongoing investigation by the Times has uncovered how advertising revenue from Google and YouTube makes its way straight into the coffers of extremist groups, ranging from Islamist extremists to white supremacists and anti-Semites.

One of the many remarkable aspects of the inquiry has been the von Braunesque reaction by the movers and shakers at these tech companies. Once the ad revenue is handed out, who cares what it pays for? That’s not my department is the overwhelming message of much of the testimony.

The problem gains an added urgency now that the perpetrator of the Westminster attacks has been named as Khalid Masood, a British-born 52-year-old with a string of petty convictions across two decades from 1982 to 2002. He is of the same generation and profile as Thomas Mair, the white supremacist behind the last act of domestic terrorism on British shores, though Mair’s online radicalisation occurred on far-right websites, while Masood instead mimicked the methods of Isis attacks on the continent.  Despite that, both fitted many of the classic profiles of a “lone wolf” attack, although my colleague Amelia explains well why that term is increasingly outmoded.

One thing that some civil servants have observed is that it is relatively easy to get MPs to understand anti-terror measures based around either a form of electronic communication they use themselves – like text messaging or email, for instance – or a physical place which they might have in their own constituencies. But legislation has been sluggish in getting to grips with radicalisation online and slow at cutting off funding sources.

As I’ve written before, though there  are important differences between these two ideologies, the radicalisation journey is similar and tends to have the same staging posts: petty criminality, a drift from the fringes of respectable Internet sub-cultures to extremist websites, and finally violence.  We don’t yet know how closely Masood’s journey follows that pattern – but what is clear is that the policy rethink about British counter-terror after the July bombings in 2005 has yet to have an equivalent echo online. The success of that approach is shown in that these attacks are largely thwarted in the United Kingdom. But what needs to happen is a realisation that what happens when the rockets come down is very much the department of the world’s communication companies. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.