Models for our Time: Of Leviticus and the London Fan Company
Leadership seems to suit Andrew Webber. Or at least if it doesn't, it doesn't show. He's one of those deeply irritating people who looks at least twenty years younger than he surely is, hasn't got so much as a pixel of grey in his hair, and has the unflappable demeanour of someone who wouldn't blink if you ran at him with a chainsaw.
He runs a smallish business called The London Fan Company. Not surprisingly, they make fans. Rather good industrial fans, as it happens. Some of their fans are around 1.5 metres across, cost £3500, and would run 24 hours a day for the next twenty years. You'll find LFC fans in the roof of Lakeside Shopping Centre, in Watford's sprawling Harlequin Centre, and in the joint-services hovercraft that went up the Amazon. Famously, in the trade at least, the fan at the front of Hollywood's latest Batmobile was based on an LFC design.
Most years, though not last year, LFC make a reasonable profit. And more than a reasonable twelve and half per cent of that reasonable profit goes to charity. It's a third generation family business, and you might think that that's what a family business with a long Christian heritage should do - give some of the profit to charity. On the other hand, you might think that giving to charity is not what businesses should do - they should plough the profits back into the business, and let individuals decide what to give to charity. Companies, after all, need profit like humans need air. And although profit, like air, isn't a purpose, it's tough to live long without it - unless you happen to be a haddock. Humanly speaking, Andrew's taking a risk.
But it isn't just that Andrew's management team show their concern for the poor in the way they distribute profits, it's reflected in some of the little things that happen in the factory. A cup of coffee from the canteen machine will set you back a whopping 10p. "A pretty good deal," I commented to Gary, one of their employees. "Yeah, it is," he replied, "And all the surplus goes to charity." Indeed. Maybe in some companies the coffee is free, but I suspect it isn't in many light industrial factories. But the bigger point is that the company is building into every employee a consciousness for the poor. And building into every purchase of a cup of coffee a contribution towards helping the poor. I've no idea whether the coffee was fairly traded - it seemed churlish to even ask.
Now, as you might expect, there is a certain amount of metal involved in the making of an industrial fan and, as the machine tools carve their precise paths round the metal parts, slivers and curls and twirls of aluminium fall like catkins to the factory floor. The slivers are valuable and they're swept up, loaded up, and taken off to the scrap metal merchant. Pretty much every responsible company would do that - save the waste and take the cash. The London Fan Company saves the waste, takes the cash, and then hands it to charity.
Suddenly, something happens to me that doesn't happen very often - a passage from Leviticus pops into my consciousness:
"When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the Lord your God." (Leviticus 19:9-10)
So Andrew has decided not to reap every last smidgen of profit from the grains and slivers of aluminium that fall to the floor - he's allocated their value to the poor, even if, in this instance, he can't allow the poor into the factory to pick up the scrap themselves. Nevertheless, it is a marvellous outworking of the principle of compassion in action.
Andrew inherited the tradition of giving the cash from the 'gleanings' to charity from his predecessor but it's an inheritance he is more than happy to continue, and it's entirely consistent with his concern for the welfare of his own people. This concern has manifested itself, not only in his determination not to make any of his team redundant through the ups and downs of the new globalised market, but also in his day to day management. Andrew comes from the Sven Goran Eriksson/Arsene Wenger school of management. He's self-effacing, but clearly has the knack of gaining people's trust and getting to the heart of any work-related issue:
"Loads of people have problems, you'd be amazed. Normally, you see that they're in a bit of trouble at work, not performing, late - you get behind it and find that there is a whole load of reasons why. You look at their lives, shake your head, say to yourself, 'We're not a social service, we have a business to run,' but we will support them up to a certain limit. It's an opportunity to get involved, and say, 'Right, I'm a Christian, this what I believe.' In some instances, you can give them Christ, in others you give them the benefit of your experience, try to help them along. I spend a lot of time sorting staff out, trying to sort their problems out, taking them under my wing. It's a big part of my work and it's one of the most significant changes in business. Twenty five years ago, people didn't bring their problems to work - but today people do and management can't ignore it."
This concern to 'help people along' runs through much of what Andrew has to say about his management style. Sometimes at considerable corporate cost. In one instance, a serious crime had been committed by a staff member. Andrew decided not to prosecute, but to confront the individual in the presence of their spouse, and direct the individual to an external counsellor to deal with the root issue. This might just happen in a flush multi-national, but in a small business with 26 employees, it represented a considerable cost and a considerable risk. But the result is that a family has been held together. As Andrew puts it, "Some people might start to think that we're a soft touch but it's a family business and it's the kind of decision I can make. It's down to me."
Reputation is everything for the London Fan Company, and it's their reputation that enables them to punch above their weight in the global market. They're known as conservative, solid, trustworthy. Those aren't necessarily exciting adjectives, but their consistent investment in technical development and their reluctance to over-promise on the performance of their fans has enabled them to continue to compete with much larger companies.
Trustworthiness also marks the way that Andrew handles that most difficult of hot coals - cash-flow. He recognises that he cannot always pay within thirty days, even though those are the standard terms. He can't do it because he is not always paid within thirty days. "We simply wouldn't survive if we did. You have to play the game to a certain extent. I have lines in my head beyond which I know I will not go. My view is that if we say we will do something then we must do it. That's what I tell my accountants. A lot of business is built on trust, and still is. And on relationships too. Once that breaks down..."
Recently, the Company has begun to do business in the Far East: "In Malaysia they use Indian labour. You get very good prices over there. Prices you couldn't match them over here. You say, 'Well, to be in business I have to take advantage of that. You go and visit these places, and the people are being paid peanuts. And you ask where are they living - they're living in empty storage containers out the back. So you ask the question, 'Should we be doing business with these kinds of companies?' It's like slave labour. You say, 'Well, if I don't take advantage of the prices, and everyone else is, we will go out of business.' The view we've taken is, 'These people have jobs over there, they're getting more money than they would otherwise... but it's quite an eye-opener. If we were bigger we might have more pull and be able to dictate terms." Consistent with Andrew's honesty, he refuses to use the size of his company as an excuse: "If we were that unhappy about it we wouldn't do business with them."
Andrew takes a softly-softly approach to witness. He's not against morning prayer meetings or sending round overtly Christian Easter or Christmas letters but it's not his way. Still, the Christian basis of the company is clearly set out in the staff handbook and everyone knows where Andrew and his Board are coming from and where they stand.
Surprisingly perhaps, Andrew Webber, heading up this light industrial business in urban West London, reminded me of a man known for his rural communion with the birds and for his words: "Preach constantly, use words if necessary." Of course Andrew knows, as St Francis did, that words are vital, but following Christ has much less to do with where he places us than with how we choose to follow him. Perhaps some of Andrew's decisions would not have been yours or mine but, as a maker of fans, he knows that "the Spirit blows where He wills" (John), and he has tried to set his sails accordingly.
"My view is that if we say we will do something then we must do it."
"If we were bigger, we might have more pull and be able to dictate terms."
"In one instance, a crime on company premises had been committed by a staff member. Andrew decided not to prosecute but to confront the individual in the presence of their spouse, and direct the individual to an external counsellor to deal with the root issue..."
Mark Greene
Mark Greene is Executive Director of the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity
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