‘green’ was helpful but, to grab attention, he had been told by a leading environmentalist, ‘we need grand statements’.
The appropriate forum was the Clinton Global Initiative, a brash annual event held in New York where only those prepared to commit huge sums towards Clinton’s favourite causes were invited. Branson had agreed to join Vinod Khosla and Ron Burkle on 21 September 2006 at the celebrity networking party, which would boost the value of their investment in ethanol. Senator Hillary Clinton would also be attending, exciting gossip about her sponsorship of subsidies to an industry favoured by her husband and his friends. By then, Khosla’s ambitions for corn ethanol were frequently articulated. ‘Twenty per cent of America’s farmland’, he told Terry Tamminen, ‘can produce 100 per cent of America’s energy.’ Khosla’s imagination encouraged Branson in his search for a public-relations coup. To winsupport in America, he needed not only to be known but loved by the public. He needed a publicity spike to boost the country’s perception of a British tycoon.
Rising oil prices were a constant worry for Branson. Over one-third of all airlines’ costs were fuel charges, but his airline’s financial fate was particularly precarious. Renewable energy was his solution to the problem. Any doubts about his investment had been swept away by the British government’s recent publication of a widely praised report about the economics of climate change written by Nicholas Stern, a senior civil servant. One premise of Stern’s report excited Branson. The official confidently predicted an irreversible reduction in the world’s oil supplies after production hit its peak in 2012. Thereafter, asserted Stern, fuel prices would increase relentlessly. Branson was hooked. The combination of self-interest and his membership of Ted Turner’s Energy Future Coalition stimulated his orchestration of a unique gesture at Clinton’s blockbuster.
As so often, Branson came up with the idea at the last moment. On this occasion, the wheeze occurred while he was being driven to the hotel in Manhattan. Later, to conceal the spontaneity around his announcement, he would say, ‘Some time after meeting Al Gore I was lying in the bath and I thought, “We make a lot of money out of the airline business and the train business. Let’s just tie all that money for the next ten years into trying to develop fuels that don’t damage the environment.”’ Whether the idea came to him in the bath or the car was irrelevant to those greeting Branson as he entered the hall dressed in a jersey and jeans. Standing casually among journalists waiting for Clinton to make his opening speech, he mentioned his intention to donate $3 billion over ten years to the Initiative. The news reached Clinton. Instead of making the announcement himself, he pulled Branson on to the stage. This was, Clinton and Branson knew, the largest individual commitmentof money to combat climate change – three times more than Ted Turner’s contribution. Branson had bought himself prime-time attention. He was given the appropriate words to say by an associate: ‘We must not be the generation responsible for irreversibly damaging the environment. We must hand it over to our children in as near pristine condition as we were lent it from our parents.’ The $3 billion, he explained, would be sourced from all the profits of his transport corporations. The money would be used to develop biofuels, especially from algae and sugar. ‘The world is awash with sugar,’ he said, ‘and sugar is bad for you, so let’s put it in planes.’ Below the podium, his staff were shedding joyful tears.
There was, Branson ought to have realised, little chance of Virgin’s trains and planes generating $3 billion worth of profits over the next ten years. Their combined proceeds might be at best $1 billion. However, he was obliged to share those profits with his partners – half of
The appropriate forum was the Clinton Global Initiative, a brash annual event held in New York where only those prepared to commit huge sums towards Clinton’s favourite causes were invited. Branson had agreed to join Vinod Khosla and Ron Burkle on 21 September 2006 at the celebrity networking party, which would boost the value of their investment in ethanol. Senator Hillary Clinton would also be attending, exciting gossip about her sponsorship of subsidies to an industry favoured by her husband and his friends. By then, Khosla’s ambitions for corn ethanol were frequently articulated. ‘Twenty per cent of America’s farmland’, he told Terry Tamminen, ‘can produce 100 per cent of America’s energy.’ Khosla’s imagination encouraged Branson in his search for a public-relations coup. To winsupport in America, he needed not only to be known but loved by the public. He needed a publicity spike to boost the country’s perception of a British tycoon.
Rising oil prices were a constant worry for Branson. Over one-third of all airlines’ costs were fuel charges, but his airline’s financial fate was particularly precarious. Renewable energy was his solution to the problem. Any doubts about his investment had been swept away by the British government’s recent publication of a widely praised report about the economics of climate change written by Nicholas Stern, a senior civil servant. One premise of Stern’s report excited Branson. The official confidently predicted an irreversible reduction in the world’s oil supplies after production hit its peak in 2012. Thereafter, asserted Stern, fuel prices would increase relentlessly. Branson was hooked. The combination of self-interest and his membership of Ted Turner’s Energy Future Coalition stimulated his orchestration of a unique gesture at Clinton’s blockbuster.
As so often, Branson came up with the idea at the last moment. On this occasion, the wheeze occurred while he was being driven to the hotel in Manhattan. Later, to conceal the spontaneity around his announcement, he would say, ‘Some time after meeting Al Gore I was lying in the bath and I thought, “We make a lot of money out of the airline business and the train business. Let’s just tie all that money for the next ten years into trying to develop fuels that don’t damage the environment.”’ Whether the idea came to him in the bath or the car was irrelevant to those greeting Branson as he entered the hall dressed in a jersey and jeans. Standing casually among journalists waiting for Clinton to make his opening speech, he mentioned his intention to donate $3 billion over ten years to the Initiative. The news reached Clinton. Instead of making the announcement himself, he pulled Branson on to the stage. This was, Clinton and Branson knew, the largest individual commitmentof money to combat climate change – three times more than Ted Turner’s contribution. Branson had bought himself prime-time attention. He was given the appropriate words to say by an associate: ‘We must not be the generation responsible for irreversibly damaging the environment. We must hand it over to our children in as near pristine condition as we were lent it from our parents.’ The $3 billion, he explained, would be sourced from all the profits of his transport corporations. The money would be used to develop biofuels, especially from algae and sugar. ‘The world is awash with sugar,’ he said, ‘and sugar is bad for you, so let’s put it in planes.’ Below the podium, his staff were shedding joyful tears.
There was, Branson ought to have realised, little chance of Virgin’s trains and planes generating $3 billion worth of profits over the next ten years. Their combined proceeds might be at best $1 billion. However, he was obliged to share those profits with his partners – half of
Similar Books
