It used to be a straight choice: either you were out to make millions or you
wanted to save the world. But now there's a new breed who want to do both
the antipreneurs. And when the rest of us entertain idle dreams of starting
a business, these are the people we'd like to be. They're brilliant with the
figures, but they'd never wear suits. Their offices are unconventional
spaces humming with creativity and the way they operate ticks all the
ethical and eco boxes. "Antipreneurs do things in spite of profit;
entrepreneurs only do things for it," says Keith Abel, who runs Abel &
Cole, Britain's most successful organic delivery business.
A decade ago, this might have seemed a luxurious way to run things, but now
that we consumers aspire to guilt-free shopping, it looks more like smart
branding. The trailblazers for many are the three Cambridge graduates behind
Innocent Smoothies. Adam Balon, Jon Wright and Richard Reed inspired us with
their tale of ditching City jobs to pulp fruit, then made us feel good about
the product by giving away 10 per cent of their profits. It worked, and now
Innocent has a 60 per cent share of the market.
Success stories like this one have pushed big corporations to take the idea of "social
responsiblity" seriously. At the same time, the triple bottom line
people, planet, profit has become a standard part of the MBA syllabus. "As
a model, it has proved to be successful: making money and reducing employee
turnover, as people like working for a company with strong ethics,"
says Craig Smith, senior fellow in marketing and ethics at the London
Business School. A key Smith text is 1998's Cannibals with Forks, in
which John Elkington, from consultancy SustainAbility, argued that balance
sheets would not be sufficient to judge a company's performance in future
social justice and environmental responsibility would be weighed up, too.
So how do you define antipreneur? "A small-scale entrepreneur who is anti
big business and would like to introduce a more socially responsible way of
running a company," says Smith. The businesses on these pages face the
challenge of staying ahead of copycat firms and retaining their reputation
as they grow. "If you're focusing on the organic market, you've got to
prove that you are more organic than a larger company," says Smith. Or
as Cyndi Rhoades, who developed a trainer made from 99 per cent recycled
materials, puts it, "resisting conventional business models is crucial".
The term was first coined back in 1989 by Adbusters, a global network of
activists intent on toppling the big brands through "culture jamming".
To give Nike a kick, they launched Blackspot trainers, and every November
they encourage people to support Buy Nothing Day, keeping their money in
their wallets for 24 hours. Sceptics argue that the more affluent among us
have always sought out alternatives, rejecting mainstream brands. In a 2005
book called The Rebel Sell, Canadian academics Joseph Heath and
Andrew Potter argued that the counterculture had always been at the heart of
consumer culture: tap into people's sense that they're different and set
apart, and you shift product. Maybe, but if it means a more ethical way of
doing business, then who's carping? In the new order of things, it's not
what you do but how you do it that counts.
Above all, these interviews prove that business does not have to be, as many
of us suspected it is, about putting profits above all else. Their stories
show that by daring to be different, it is possible to get ahead and make
the world a better place.
* THE SKINCARE DUO
Robert Calcraft, 42, and Antony Buck, 43, founders of REN cosmetics, based in
West London
"We're not anti-business," says Antony Buck, who set up REN
cosmetics with Robert Calcraft six years ago. "But we find it hard to
think of ourselves as entrepreneurs." With sales of their skincare
products rising steadily by 35 per cent each year, whatever they call
themselves, business is booming. For Buck, the term entrepreneur has been
poisoned by its public image. "Everyone assumes entrepreneurs are like
Alan Sugar or the dragons in Dragons' Den," he says. "They
think you have to be suit-wearing, self-obsessed, aggressive bastards;
someone who wants other people to lose; sees business as confrontation and
toughness as crucial. There's a total lack of humanity what about
collaboration and enjoying what you do?" His strong views are informed
by seven years spent running a brand consultancy with Calcraft. "It was
extremely successful we were working on projects with Pepsi and Peugeot but
both of us became disillusioned. Working for big companies wears you down;
they're driven by systems and targets and politics. Increasingly, we were
just doing it for the money, and that becomes soul-destroying."
Having decided to set up their own brand, a nine-month hunt began for the
right product: "We used to say: even if it's a miserable failure, we
want to feel proud of having done it." While they scrabbled around for
ideas, Buck's wife became pregnant and started having skin problems, rashes
on her face and other hormone-related reactions. Appalled by the unappealing
allergy-proof products on the market, the duo launched REN, meaning clean in
Swedish. Any ingredient with a history of skin irritation, including
chemical nasties such as parabens, synthetic fragrances and phthalates, was
left out. Buck points out that employing the right people was crucial. "We
looked for people who shared our vision. From a cold-blooded perspective,
imagine how much more productive people are if they believe in what they do."
Now with a 25-strong team, based in Marylebone, West London, he is adamant
that the spirit in which his business is run is more significant than his
green credentials. That said, REN's packaging was recyclable from the start
and now it is also made from recycled materials. Buck drives an electric
G-Wiz car (he was one of the first to buy one, four years ago). In the
office, Ecotricity, a renewable energy company, supplies the power, and a
minimum of 2.5 per cent of profits go to charities nominated by employees.
None of this is unusual, he says. If only he were right. www.renskincare.com
* THE POTATO MAN
William Chase, 44, Herefordshire farmer and founder of Tyrrells Potato Chips
