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Business Times
6 days ago
- General
- Business Times
Why is modern commerce corrosive?
YOU'RE not imagining it. There is something shallow about modern life – a sense that traditional virtues, from craftsmanship to professionalism to loyalty, have somehow been hollowed out. Don't get me wrong: I love living in the 21st century and believe that the world is a far better place in 2025 than it was in, say, 1975. Still, there is something amiss. You can see it in long-term trends such as the demise of communities built around fishing, mining or manufacturing, and in more recent calamities such as the Internet's descent into a hellscape of fraud, manufactured anxiety and artificial intelligence slop. You can see it in serious matters such as the sewage flowing into the Thames, the decay of high streets or the precarity of many modern jobs. You can see it in more trivial worries such as the way each new casual dining concept so quickly goes downhill. You can see it in the fact that every single one of these social ills is intimately connected to commerce. There is no shortage of books to consult on the matter. This hollowing out has been explored in works as varied as Sherry Turkle's Alone Together, Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed, JD Vance's Hillbilly Elegy, Robert Putnam's Bowling Alone and Cory Doctorow's forthcoming Enshittification. But for the deep analysis, turn to the philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre's After Virtue, published in 1981. MacIntyre articulated an utter disenchantment with three centuries of moral philosophy all the way back to the Enlightenment, and argued that it was hardly a surprise that modern society itself lost its way. He argued that clear thinking and virtuous action couldn't be unmoored from a social context – it had to be embedded in a community with shared values, goals and practices. His fellow philosophers found the book impossible to ignore. BT in your inbox Start and end each day with the latest news stories and analyses delivered straight to your inbox. Sign Up Sign Up MacIntyre died in May at the age of 96, which prompted me to turn back to a piece of his writing (in the 1994 essay A Partial Response To My Critics) that has stuck with me for decades: the tale of two fishing crews. One crew is 'organised and understood as a purely technical and economic means to a productive end, whose aim is only or overridingly to satisfy as profitably as possible some market's demand for fish'. The crew members are motivated to work hard, innovate and hone their skills, because that way lies profit. The other crew has developed 'an understanding of and devotion to excellence in fishing and to excellence in playing one's part as a member of such a crew'. This excellence is about skill, to be sure – but also about character, social bonds and courage. These fishermen are risking their lives and are dependent on each other. And, adds MacIntyre, 'when someone dies at sea, fellow crew members, their families and the rest of the fishing community will share a common affliction and common responsibilities'. The values of this second crew are what we seem to be losing when a private equity group 'rolls up' hundreds of small independent vets; or when an old-fashioned private partnership such as Lehman Brothers becomes a publicly traded company; or when a business embraces a mission statement that could equally describe the aim of any other business. Try this: 'Our objective is to maximise value for our shareholders by focusing on businesses where we have market leadership, a technological edge and a world-competitive cost base'. Any guess as to the industry? It could be anything, so it means nothing. I was introduced to MacIntyre's ideas not by my philosophy tutors, but by the economist John Kay. In The Truth About Markets (2003), Kay quotes MacIntyre's description of the fishing crews, and then asks a question: which crew would make more money? MacIntyre assumed the answer was depressingly self-evident: the profit-maximising crew will be an unstoppable force, which is why modern commerce is so corrosive. Organisations that offer the riches of friendship, community, loyalty, craft and professionalism are sure to be driven out of business by the relentless economic logic of the profit-maximiser. They make money, and destroy what really matters. But do they really make money? Kay argues that narrow profit-maximising is often a failure, even by its own denuded standards. A 1972 Harvard Business School case study examines a real-world example of MacIntyre's profit-maximising fishing crew. The Prelude Corporation, the largest lobster producer in North America, aimed to become the General Motors of the fishing industry. It went bankrupt shortly after the case study was written. Lehman Brothers is another example – was it really more successful after jettisoning the traditional structure in which the capital at risk was provided by partners who best understood the business? A third example is the chemical giant ICI, which in 1994 published that vacuous mission statement about 'market leadership'. A titan of 20th-century British manufacturing, it faded and, in 2008, was absorbed and broken up by a Dutch paint company. Perhaps ICI would have done better had they paid less attention to making money, and more attention to making chemicals. This should not really surprise us, as Kay explains in The Corporation in the 21st Century (2024). To be solidly profitable, companies need some kind of competitive advantage. That might rest on network effects, intellectual property or even political connections. But it might equally rest on a trusted brand and well-worn habits of making the right kind of decision, quickly. In other words, profitability can rest on shared values, goals and practices too. An organisation that MacIntyre himself might admire, one that has developed the right kind of culture, may well be more attractive to customers, more appealing to potential employees and simply more effective at doing all the things a particular business in a particular industry must do. Consider the Financial Times itself. I dare say everyone involved in the business prefers to be paid, and the FT aims to be profitable. Yet we didn't come here with the hope of printing money; we came with the aim of printing newspapers. If the FT's entire operation, day to day and top to bottom, was predicated on maximising profit, this would be a different newspaper. It is not obvious that it would be a more profitable one. FINANCIAL TIMES
The National
15-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The National
Singer Margaux Sauve on the emotional highs of a Ghostly Kisses show: 'You'll dance and cry'
More musicians are bringing their shows to the region, but few have gone beyond one-off concerts to craft fully integrated, multi-stop tours. One of the bands who have done just that are the brooding synth-pop group Ghostly Kisses. An act classified as indie in their native Canada, and by European promoters, they are undeniably a major draw in the Middle East. Over the past four years, they have undertaken some of the region's most expansive tours. Their latest return to the UAE, with a show at Dubai's Bla Bla, follows two sold-out dates in Cairo, a headlining slot at Saudi Arabia's Balad Beast Festival in Jeddah, and comes ahead of a performance in Bahrain on February 23. It adds to their previous stops in Beirut and AlUla, where they performed at the stunning Al Maraya Theatre. Such extensive touring has given founder and singer Margaux Sauve an insight into the nuances of their growing regional fan base. 'The crowd in Saudi Arabia and Dubai has always been so warm, attentive, and lovely,' she tells The National from the Balad Beast. 'In Cairo, they're very expressive and so happy that we made the effort to come all the way there to play a concert. It feels just as special for us as it does for them, and they sing along to every lyric. 'In Beirut, it's different. The audience stays quiet during the show, but afterward they'll wait in line for hours just to get an autograph. They're incredibly grateful that we came.' Beyond the painstaking effort to build a devoted fan base, another reason for their consistently strong crowds is the personal bond fans share with the group's music. Formed in Quebec City in 2016 as a solo project by Sauve, a classically trained violinist, Ghostly Kisses evolved into a duo two years later with the addition of multi-instrumentalist Louis-Etienne Santais. Together, they crafted a signature sound, blending ethereal, languid melodies with cinematic production and unflinchingly emotive lyricism. Their work, particularly the 2019 EP Alone Together and the 2022 album Heaven, Wait, became a soundtrack for a new legion of fans retreating and re-emerging in the wake of the pandemic. 'It's always evolving,' notes Sauve. 'It's hard to pinpoint – did the pandemic help? In terms of our online presence, yes. But I also think it's because our music asks questions. It reflects the experiences our fans have been through and how they're processing them.' It's an approach Ghostly Kisses take even further on their 2023 album, Dark Room. With lyrics exploring broken and healed bonds and the search for euphoria amid turmoil, the record feels like a collective therapy session – because, in many ways, it was. In the lead-up to recording to Dark Room, the group launched The Box of Secrets, an initiative inviting fans to anonymously share their worries through online entries. Sauve promised to read each of them in full. 'The purpose was mainly to offer a space where they could express something in secret, because we felt that many people wanted to connect with us but didn't know how,' she recalls. 'What we found were recurring themes from people all over the world – most of them going through similar break-ups, questioning their lives, feeling lost, or dealing with grief. I thought it was interesting to bring those universal subjects into our songs because, in the end, no matter who we are, we're all more connected than we sometimes realise.' The intensity of the lyrics is balanced by Ghostly Kisses' most dynamic songwriting to date. While the signature melancholy and Sauve's whispery vocals – reminiscent of Canadian chanteuse Sarah McLachlan – remain, they are now paired with more upbeat tracks, all driven by an underlying mission to make listeners move. This shift is notable in songs like Golden Eyes and Oceans, which feature assertive basslines and percussive elements rarely heard in the band's earlier work. Santais explains that the evolution was partly inspired by their shows in the region. 'Once we started touring in the Middle East, especially, we felt such a deep connection to the crowds,' he says. 'It was more instinctive, more emotional – more physical, even – because, suddenly, we were in packed rooms, feeling the energy of the audience. That made us think, 'OK, we've explored all the ways we can connect emotionally and intellectually. Now, let's tap into the physical beats.'' That doesn't mean the group is shifting into full-on EDM sound. While their Dubai show is sure to have the audience dancing, it won't come at the expense of experiencing the 'feel' required at Ghostly Kisses gig. 'When we play live, we want to tell a story with ups and downs, highs and lows,' Sauve says. 'There will be moments of surprise and moments of calm. We'll take you on a journey – one where you'll dance and cry.' Ghostly Kisses perform in Bla Bla, Dubai on Sunday. Doors open 7pm. Tickets start at Dh239
