Interview: Bill Emmott, The Economist (Evening Standard)
By David Rowan
IN GLOBAL business, only the numbers matter. So here's some bonus-busting news to cheer capitalism's plutocrats: The Economist, that weekly bible of globalisation, has just passed its first million regular copies. When Bill Emmott became editor in 1993, the self-styled " newspaper" was selling barely half that - yet for the past eight weeks, global circulation has consistently topped a million. As "serious" papers have chased levity, how has The Economist prospered on brashly asserted polemic and unapologetic intellectual rigour?
Emmott has a simple answer. "We've ridden the globalisation trend, and people seem to want to read about international affairs, business and politics in a well-written package that's accessible, lively, but authoritative," he says in his office high above St James's. "There is clearly that appetite in Britain, too. Here we're selling just on 150,000 copies - when I took over it was just under 100,000."
Still, around half of today's circulation is in North America, with most of the rest in continental Europe and Asia. Doesn't that make its British readers a diminishing priority? Not at all, says Emmott, 48, who rose through the ranks via Brussels and Tokyo. They get six pages of UK news, where foreign editions get four. Besides, The Economist is a "global magazine with a British attitude". Independence from America is what counts.
Yet some US commentators attribute the magazine's appeal there to snob value - particularly the "smarty-pants" British tone which led Michael Kinsley to compare it with imported Crabtree & Evelyn soap. "It's hard to explain 450,000 Americans buying into the 'Crabtree & Evelyn' idea," Emmott shoots back. That Britishness, he adds, implies independence of mind, authoritativeness and clarity - rather like the BBC's.
He raised eyebrows in Washington last month by endorsing John Kerry for president - even though George Bush seemed closer to the magazine's free-market ethos. Did he now have any regrets? "No, not at all," he answers. "Election endorsements aren't about backing the winner, they're about taking a reasoned position. We backed Bush in 2000, and also the war in Iraq. But he's handled it incompetently, and with Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib discredited his mission of spreading democracy and the rule of law."
Was The Economist's support for war a mistake? "The war was the right thing to do," Emmott says firmly. "Handling the aftermath incompetently was clearly the wrong thing to do. I still think it could turn out with a stable, democratically run Iraq."
The supreme self- belief of Economist style suggests little scope for admitting mistakes. So is he ever wrong? "Of course we get things wrong," he replies, before reflecting for a moment. "We got oil prices spectacularly wrong at one point. We said the world was drowning in oil, then $10 a barrel, and explored the possibility it might move to $5. Within a few weeks it was $30." He pauses again. "I think another thing I got wrong was to endorse John Major again in 1997. I think that was a bad judgment."
What of the magazine's confident assertion two summers ago that the property market was about to crash, taking 30 per cent off UK house values? That hasn't happened. "Not yet," he answers. "Look, with markets you can take a view on whether a trend is unsustainable, but getting the timing right is completely different. We said that the Japanese market was going to crash, and people rightly said, 'Ah, but it's grown by another 30 per cent'. But it did eventually crash. The same with the dotcom bubble."
He never seeks to influence policymakers or institutions - that, he says, would be arrogant. "People buy The Economist crucially for its good information and good analytical writing, not because they want to hear Bill Emmott's opinion," he says. Nor does he accept critiques of its "lofty" tone. "You've found two or three cuttings in 20 years," he says somewhat disarmingly. "The fact that readers keep buying us must suggest that they like it."
EMMOTT'S journalists, too, show a remarkable loyalty. Of 72 staff writers, 70 per cent have bought shares in the company. One senior journalist says Emmott wields power "like a liberal Pope in a modernised Vatican". "He gives the department heads a lot of autonomy, and there are no bollockings or lost tempers. But every now and then he'll decide enough's enough, and you'll learn from a memo that somebody's out."
But while the paper's line is forged by collective debate - all staff can attend editorial meetings - Emmott has the final word. That much is clear from the number of times he says "I" and quickly corrects it to "we". "You've got to have somebody making decisions," he explains, "but I do need the support of the staff."
Wouldn't bylines help readers decide which journalists they trusted? "I think it's unlikely we'll change that," he says. "Not having bylines differentiates The Economist, and in this increasingly commoditised media world, being different is an advantage. And the journalists like the fact that it's quite a cooperative publication."
The real tension concerns the parent group's enthusiasm for "brand extension". "We should concentrate on what we do best," one staffer complains to the Standard, "rather than this great agglomeration of conferences, magazines and the Intelligence Unit that aren't always terribly profitable or terribly good."
Emmott, to his credit, has a reputation among staff for reining in the "lunacies" of the wider group. He quickly pulled the plug on an unsuccessful foray into Economist TV, and fought against a huge web expansion when Pearson (its part-owner) was throwing tens of millions of pounds at FT.com. As for the magazine, he is averse to "radical" changes, beyond finding a " sparklier" voice for some of its writing.
A new publisher may have his own ideas. The retiring one, David Hanger, has enjoyed a first-class lifestyle at the company's expense, an indulgence forgiven by his ability to bring in lucrative deals. His successor, Andrew Rashbass, seen as more cerebral, is expected to shake up the commercial departments. Yet journalists are wondering whether Rashbass can thin out the "tall rugger-buggers with big expense accounts", as they are known dismissively among editorial staff, without losing the valuable luxury-goods advertising. Emmott claims to be unbothered by the uncertainty. "I don't report to the publisher. We have a pretty separate existence."
Besides, he has the rest of the world to worry about. Actually, apart from nuclear terrorism ("a real worry"), Emmott is relentlessly upbeat. "The economic growth of China, India and other developing countries is fantastic," he says. "It's lifting millions out of poverty."
And, perhaps, offering The Economist its next million readers.
(Evening Standard, November 17, 2004)
IN GLOBAL business, only the numbers matter. So here's some bonus-busting news to cheer capitalism's plutocrats: The Economist, that weekly bible of globalisation, has just passed its first million regular copies. When Bill Emmott became editor in 1993, the self-styled " newspaper" was selling barely half that - yet for the past eight weeks, global circulation has consistently topped a million. As "serious" papers have chased levity, how has The Economist prospered on brashly asserted polemic and unapologetic intellectual rigour?
Emmott has a simple answer. "We've ridden the globalisation trend, and people seem to want to read about international affairs, business and politics in a well-written package that's accessible, lively, but authoritative," he says in his office high above St James's. "There is clearly that appetite in Britain, too. Here we're selling just on 150,000 copies - when I took over it was just under 100,000."
Still, around half of today's circulation is in North America, with most of the rest in continental Europe and Asia. Doesn't that make its British readers a diminishing priority? Not at all, says Emmott, 48, who rose through the ranks via Brussels and Tokyo. They get six pages of UK news, where foreign editions get four. Besides, The Economist is a "global magazine with a British attitude". Independence from America is what counts.
Yet some US commentators attribute the magazine's appeal there to snob value - particularly the "smarty-pants" British tone which led Michael Kinsley to compare it with imported Crabtree & Evelyn soap. "It's hard to explain 450,000 Americans buying into the 'Crabtree & Evelyn' idea," Emmott shoots back. That Britishness, he adds, implies independence of mind, authoritativeness and clarity - rather like the BBC's.
He raised eyebrows in Washington last month by endorsing John Kerry for president - even though George Bush seemed closer to the magazine's free-market ethos. Did he now have any regrets? "No, not at all," he answers. "Election endorsements aren't about backing the winner, they're about taking a reasoned position. We backed Bush in 2000, and also the war in Iraq. But he's handled it incompetently, and with Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib discredited his mission of spreading democracy and the rule of law."
Was The Economist's support for war a mistake? "The war was the right thing to do," Emmott says firmly. "Handling the aftermath incompetently was clearly the wrong thing to do. I still think it could turn out with a stable, democratically run Iraq."
The supreme self- belief of Economist style suggests little scope for admitting mistakes. So is he ever wrong? "Of course we get things wrong," he replies, before reflecting for a moment. "We got oil prices spectacularly wrong at one point. We said the world was drowning in oil, then $10 a barrel, and explored the possibility it might move to $5. Within a few weeks it was $30." He pauses again. "I think another thing I got wrong was to endorse John Major again in 1997. I think that was a bad judgment."
What of the magazine's confident assertion two summers ago that the property market was about to crash, taking 30 per cent off UK house values? That hasn't happened. "Not yet," he answers. "Look, with markets you can take a view on whether a trend is unsustainable, but getting the timing right is completely different. We said that the Japanese market was going to crash, and people rightly said, 'Ah, but it's grown by another 30 per cent'. But it did eventually crash. The same with the dotcom bubble."
He never seeks to influence policymakers or institutions - that, he says, would be arrogant. "People buy The Economist crucially for its good information and good analytical writing, not because they want to hear Bill Emmott's opinion," he says. Nor does he accept critiques of its "lofty" tone. "You've found two or three cuttings in 20 years," he says somewhat disarmingly. "The fact that readers keep buying us must suggest that they like it."
EMMOTT'S journalists, too, show a remarkable loyalty. Of 72 staff writers, 70 per cent have bought shares in the company. One senior journalist says Emmott wields power "like a liberal Pope in a modernised Vatican". "He gives the department heads a lot of autonomy, and there are no bollockings or lost tempers. But every now and then he'll decide enough's enough, and you'll learn from a memo that somebody's out."
But while the paper's line is forged by collective debate - all staff can attend editorial meetings - Emmott has the final word. That much is clear from the number of times he says "I" and quickly corrects it to "we". "You've got to have somebody making decisions," he explains, "but I do need the support of the staff."
Wouldn't bylines help readers decide which journalists they trusted? "I think it's unlikely we'll change that," he says. "Not having bylines differentiates The Economist, and in this increasingly commoditised media world, being different is an advantage. And the journalists like the fact that it's quite a cooperative publication."
The real tension concerns the parent group's enthusiasm for "brand extension". "We should concentrate on what we do best," one staffer complains to the Standard, "rather than this great agglomeration of conferences, magazines and the Intelligence Unit that aren't always terribly profitable or terribly good."
Emmott, to his credit, has a reputation among staff for reining in the "lunacies" of the wider group. He quickly pulled the plug on an unsuccessful foray into Economist TV, and fought against a huge web expansion when Pearson (its part-owner) was throwing tens of millions of pounds at FT.com. As for the magazine, he is averse to "radical" changes, beyond finding a " sparklier" voice for some of its writing.
A new publisher may have his own ideas. The retiring one, David Hanger, has enjoyed a first-class lifestyle at the company's expense, an indulgence forgiven by his ability to bring in lucrative deals. His successor, Andrew Rashbass, seen as more cerebral, is expected to shake up the commercial departments. Yet journalists are wondering whether Rashbass can thin out the "tall rugger-buggers with big expense accounts", as they are known dismissively among editorial staff, without losing the valuable luxury-goods advertising. Emmott claims to be unbothered by the uncertainty. "I don't report to the publisher. We have a pretty separate existence."
Besides, he has the rest of the world to worry about. Actually, apart from nuclear terrorism ("a real worry"), Emmott is relentlessly upbeat. "The economic growth of China, India and other developing countries is fantastic," he says. "It's lifting millions out of poverty."
And, perhaps, offering The Economist its next million readers.
(Evening Standard, November 17, 2004)
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