The idea that every business needs a messianic mission statement took hold in the 1970s, to “humanise” faceless global corporations. The management guru Peter Drucker was a prime mover of the idea. A good mission statement, Drucker said, should be “short enough to fit on a T-shirt”. Its message should be “broad, even eternal” and “every board member, volunteer, and staff person should be able to see the mission and say, ‘Yes. This is something I want to be remembered for’”.
In the years since, the more high-minded that “eternal” statement has been, the more likely it will end up being referenced in criminal courts. Enron, prior to its $65bn bankruptcy and convictions of board members for fraud and insider trading, published its core value as being “To treat others as we would like to be treated ourselves”. The CEO of Lehman Brothers, who received $484m in salary in the seven years prior to the biggest collapse in banking history, lived by this pledge: “We are one firm, defined by our unwavering commitment to our clients, our shareholders, and each other.” And Purdue Pharma, under the Sackler family, which consciously profited from the deaths of half a million people addicted to its OxyContin drug, swore by this snappy mantra: “Evolve to Excellence”.
Watching the performance of Fujitsu executives giving evidence to the Horizon inquiry this week, admitting their company’s utterly shameful role in withholding the evidence that would have saved hundreds of innocent subpostmasters from jail and disgrace, it comes as no surprise to learn their corporate vision declares: “Building trust in society through innovation”. Or indeed, despite everything, the Post Office still believes itself to: “Be here, in person, for the people who rely on us”. Rather than waiting for whistleblowers to come forward, investigators of corporate malpractice might keep an eye on company PowerPoints and look out for shouty slogans writ large on office walls. Any combination of the words “integrity”, “trust”, “honesty” or “responsibility” should set alarm bells ringing.
Stop the world
In his forthcoming book, The Allure of the Multiverse, science writer Paul Halpern looks at the history of humans imagining parallel realities. One reading suggests this ancient habit, which finds its contemporary expression in theoretical physics, has risen and fallen in correlation with general satisfaction at this particular cosmos. Some civilisations appear to have less need for alternative universes than others. No doubt, for example, the imminent prospect of another Trump election year will have half the world dreaming of a Sliding Door.
Unhappy feet
An NHS video instructing people to waddle like penguins to avoid slipping on icy pavements provoked outrage from the perpetually spluttering classes. Christopher Snowdon, at the Institute of Economic Affairs, the rightwing thinktank, insisted that “NHS mandarins seem more interested in creating silly slogans and preposterous videos than providing healthcare”. While Maxwell Marlow, at the rival Adam Smith Institute, took the two-minute internet clip as proof that, “as we have long argued, state-run public health is a slippery slope towards worse resource usage”.
I couldn’t disagree more. As someone who has so far spent much of 2024 with a bag of frozen peas clamped to my elevated knee, having torn a ligament after sprawling inelegantly on a pile of wet leaves two yards from my front door, my only complaint is this: why didn’t the happy feet demo come a fortnight sooner?
Tim Adams is an Observer columnist
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