Rethinking governance: what should companies be responsible for?

It is time that we looked at the basic question of what should companies be responsible for, writes Jo Iwasaki.

The global financial crisis impacted not just on the economy, it intensified the challenges on corporate culture more broadly. Remuneration, short-termism, engagement with shareholders and, alongside these the business agenda and cultural issues such as diversity now form the core of the corporate governance debate.

All these issues highlight how companies are run. One might say that these issues have always existed. However, we have taken advantage of the current interest and explored whether the existing models of running companies need a major rethink.

Corporate governance looks at much more than board procedures and regulatory compliance. As recent business issues and controversies have demonstrated, shareholders, government, and the broader public are all interested in how companies respond to the changing business and social environment. The nature of the capital markets has changed so much it has influenced our thinking around the relationships between companies, boards and shareholders.

It is time that we looked at the basic question of what should companies be responsible for. Responsibilities need not be seen as onerous they prompt us to be alert to diverse interests that surround and affect businesses today. With a keener awareness of their surroundings and the willingness to respond, companies can be better prepared to identify where new opportunities are.

In recent ICAEW paper 'What are companies responsible for' we discuss four key responsibilities of companies. They are not a definitive or exclusive list, but we have dared to present them as a basis to prompt debate.

Achieving a business purpose

A company needs to have a business purpose that is easy to understand. As well as shareholders, everyone involved in a company, including employees, customers, suppliers and lenders, expect companies to generate continuing profits. However, maximising profit is not the only business purpose of a company.

A business should not be so focused on a specific purpose that it ignores changes in its environment. Innovation and adaptability are essential for a business to be viable over a corporate life.

Behaving in a socially acceptable way

Without being written down, social norms are there to set boundaries for what is acceptable as business culture and behaviour, in the societies where the company operates. Companies may need to, in some cases, actively go the extra mile to identify what is socially acceptable. This would certainly cost time and resources.

Companies also need to recognise that different communities (e.g. the financial services sector, or a particular industry) develop their own norms and these may be very different from those prevalent in a wider society.  This gap may suddenly become apparent when their values are subject to external scrutiny.

Meeting legal and regulatory requirements

Legal and regulatory requirements relate to issues such as employment, health and safety, anti-corruption and taxation for example and private contractual, legal and financial obligations such as company pensions and debt covenants.

Being based on law, these are mostly public, and understood by most people. Breaches of these requirements may lead not only to formal sanctions and litigation but more importantly, reputational damage.

Stating how their responsibilities are met

Companies are expected to acknowledge their responsibilities, provide information on how they meet them and be accountable. This is about acknowledging those responsibilities publicly, reporting on how they are discharged, and being answerable for consequences. It helps companies construct a robust foundation for building and maintaining trust.

If companies are fully aware of the range of their responsibilities and attempt to meet them, legislators and regulators can focus on developing codes and practices that are proportionate. This is a big 'if' and to imagine such change to happen instantly is naïve. However, without a change in how we think, the effectiveness of laws and regulations would be limited. Only when companies embrace the principles which are underlying laws and regulations, will we see corporate behaviour change. And an end to the rather cynical box-ticking culture at present.

Jo Iwasaki is Head of Corporate Governance at ICAEW 

A statue of a dragon marks the boundary of the City of London. Photograph: Getty Images

Jo Iwasaki is Head of Corporate Governance at ICAEW.

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad