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Billionaires occupy a strange place in public life. Extreme wealth attracts fascination, but it can also make expressions of grievance difficult to hear sympathetically. A complaint about tax that sounds entirely rational around a table of lawyers and wealth advisers can sound very different to somebody worrying about their mortgage or the weekly food bill.
That makes the recent interventions by some of Britain’s wealthiest people worth examining. A number have moved abroad or warned about the consequences of Britain’s changing tax regime. Some have left quietly, while others have chosen to explain, in very public terms, what they think is going wrong.
This week on When It Hits the Fan, David Yelland and I looked at what happens when billionaires enter the public argument over tax, and who they are really trying to persuade. We also discussed OpenAI’s prolonged search for a communications chief and the unexpected turn in Ed Sheeran’s touring controversy when severe weather did what no PR adviser could have planned.
When Billionaires Say They Are Leaving
Peter Hargreaves, the billionaire co-founder of Hargreaves Lansdown, made headlines this month with a bleak assessment of Britain. Responding to Jim Ratcliffe’s earlier claim that the country was “on the slide” Hargreaves told the Financial Times: “The UK isn’t on the slide. It’s slid.” He warned about the loss of major taxpayers, although he said he had no immediate plans to leave himself.
Hedge fund founder Chris Rokos has taken a different route. He is reportedly moving his tax residence to Greece, where qualifying new residents can pay a fixed annual tax of €100,000 on foreign income for up to 15 years. His firm has declined to comment publicly on the reported move.
I have been in conversations with very wealthy people weighing similar decisions. Moving country at that level of wealth involves lawyers, tax specialists and wealth advisers, and plenty of people make the decision without putting themselves at the center of a national debate. Choosing to speak publicly is therefore a communications decision in its own right.
These interventions are also arriving ahead of the October 28 Budget, as businesses wait to see what the government will do on tax and spending. Public warnings about wealthy people leaving therefore form part of a much wider argument about Britain’s tax competitiveness and economic direction.
I suspect that helps explain why some billionaires are speaking so loudly. The wider public may hear a complaint about tax, but one important audience may be in government. If so, these interventions can also be understood as lobbying conducted in public rather than simply attempts to win popular sympathy.
A billionaire arguing that his tax burden is unreasonable is unlikely to begin with the same reservoir of sympathy as a struggling household or small business. The underlying economic argument may be serious, particularly when relatively small numbers of high earners contribute large sums to the Exchequer. But to somebody dealing with everyday financial pressures, the argument can easily be heard as a very rich person asking to pay less tax.
There can still be good reasons for a well-known business figure to explain a departure. If you leave quietly and the newspapers subsequently describe you as having abandoned Britain for a more favorable tax regime, that account may become the one people remember. Explaining your decision gives employees, customers and investors another version of events.
But once you enter the debate, you also invite scrutiny beyond tax policy. The discussion can quickly expand to your relationship with the country in which you built your wealth, what your departure says to employees who cannot relocate, and how criticism of Britain from abroad sits with businesses that continue to operate here.
There is also a danger much closer to the billionaire. Extreme wealth can change the behavior of the people paid to offer advice. Private bankers, lawyers and PR advisers are paid to solve problems for people accustomed to having problems solved. The danger is that counsel slowly becomes agreement.
I have seen advisers become so invested in a client’s position that they start defending it rather than testing it. That does neither side any favors. The person in the room who says, “I understand why you believe this, but here is how it will sound outside this room”, may be far more useful than the person polishing another furious quote for the newspapers.
The more influence somebody has, the more valuable independent advice becomes.
OpenAI and the Empty Chair
OpenAI has spent around nine months searching for a new chief communications officer following Hannah Wong’s departure in January. According to Fortune, one high-profile candidate, Uber’s chief corporate affairs officer Jill Hazelbaker, turned the role down.
For most companies, a senior vacancy would attract limited attention outside the industry. At OpenAI, the prolonged search for a communications chief has itself become a communications story.
The next communications chief will be dealing with regulators, governments and journalists while the company faces scrutiny over AI safety, security and its growing influence. This is closer to political communications and diplomacy than conventional technology PR.
The name on the office door matters less than the authority that comes with it. Many of OpenAI’s reputational questions are rooted in what the company does rather than how it presents itself. A communications chief brought in after the course has already been set can explain it but has little opportunity to shape it.
Whoever takes the job therefore needs direct access to the chief executive and board, but access alone is not enough. The leadership team also has to be willing to hear uncomfortable advice.
The prolonged search may be awkward for OpenAI, but the more consequential question is what happens when somebody finally accepts the job. A prestigious title and a large salary will not count for much if the communications chief remains too far from the decisions shaping the company’s reputation.
When the Weather Changes the Story
Last week, Ed Sheeran appeared to be approaching another difficult moment on his North American tour.
His two scheduled concerts at Gillette Stadium in Massachusetts came after weeks of controversy over Macklemore’s removal from the tour following his pro-Palestinian remarks. Macklemore attributed the decision to pressure from Robert Kraft, whose Kraft Group owns the stadium, while Sheeran said the decision had been made by the tour promoter. The parties have offered differing accounts of how the decision was reached.
The concerts never happened. Severe weather warnings across New England led organizers to cancel both shows, citing the safety of fans and staff. The approaching nor’easter was expected to bring heavy rain, strong winds and coastal flooding.
I have experienced versions of this myself. A journalist is preparing a difficult story, statements are being drafted, lawyers are involved and everyone is preparing for the following morning. Then a much bigger event breaks and the story that consumed your week suddenly struggles for space. The relief is real, but so is the temptation to mistake luck for strategy.
The cancellation removed the immediate pressure surrounding Sheeran’s appearances at Gillette Stadium, but it did not resolve the wider controversy around his tour. A story pushed out of the headlines can return when circumstances change.
PR people spend much of their working lives trying to anticipate what happens next. Sometimes events simply overtake you. The breathing space can be welcome, but it is still breathing space. The original problem may be waiting when attention returns.
Disclaimer: The opinions and views expressed in this article/column are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of South Asian Herald.
