For a company whose products are in almost every grocery cupboard in the land, Tiger Brands’ secrecy is most conspicuous. Chances are, if you don’t have its iconic Tiger Oats on your shelf, you probably have its All Gold tomato sauce, Albany bread, Tastic rice, Ace maize meal or Mrs Ball’s Chutney. All of these are produced by the company founded in 1921 by Jacob Frankel in Joburg, and listed on the JSE in 1925.
But Tiger hasn’t exactly repaid this goodwill from its shoppers. First, in 2008, there was the bread price-fixing scandal, where it tried to hide the involvement of its executives. At the time, chair Lex van Vught spoke of fixing "weaknesses" in the company’s ethical culture.
Only, it seems the company hasn’t learnt much from that chastening ordeal. Today Tiger Brands, implicated in the worst global outbreak of listeriosis in 2018, is using the Stalingrad tactic (deny, deny, deny) to dodge accountability.
In April, lawyer Richard Spoor lodged a class action lawsuit against Tiger Brands, with 14 people — including cleaners, receptionists and domestic workers — harmed by the listeriosis as the plaintiffs. He is seeking punitive damages against Tiger, since its Enterprise factory in Polokwane has been flagged as the source of the outbreak.
Certainly, it’s hard to overemphasise the scale of the tragedy: 218 people died in the outbreak — 93 of whom were babies younger than 28 days old, and nine of whom were between one month and 14 months old.
And Spoor argues: "A large number of women miscarried, or their babies were stillborn", while of the children who survived, "a number have been left permanently disabled and disfigured".
In the court papers, he argues that Tiger Brands "failed to take reasonable measures to ensure good hygiene at the Polokwane facility and in particular failed to take effective measures to control or eliminate … contamination."
But in response, Tiger Brands (through its lawyers) metaphorically stares out the window, shuffles its papers, and speaks of the "inappropriate" legal action.
In its 27-page plea, Tiger Brands denies just about everything. It denies the outbreak was caused by contaminated products from its Polokwane factory; it denies those 14 people were affected; and it denies that "children who were born to mothers who had consumed the contaminated products contracted listeriosis and suffered harm". It’s a surprise it didn’t dispute Spoor’s signature.
Tiger Brands denies the outbreak was caused by contaminated products from its Polokwane factory
Zero responsibility, in other words. Prove it, says Tiger Brands. Which isn’t exactly encouraging for the 2-million South Africans who eat its processed meat every day.
This isn’t exactly winning leadership. So, where in the world is CEO Lawrence MacDougall right now? Are the lawyers not even letting him run the company any more?
Tiger Brands spokesperson Nevashnee Naicker says that while the company "would always prefer to respond directly", it is the lawyers, Clyde & Co, retained by the company’s insurer, who are best positioned to explain.
Actually, the truth seems to be that it’s Clyde & Co running the legal strategy. And the firm, which operates in 23 countries, probably doesn’t clock up £611m in annual revenue by playing nice. In SA, it bills itself as "the leading insurance and legal liability practice".
But for Tiger Brands, it’s risky: a company embroiled in a reputationally damaging lawsuit, accused of being implicated in the deaths of 101 babies, is letting itself be steered by lawyers who’ll admit nothing, lest they have to pay up.
But Naicker says: "Tiger Brands is not abdicating responsibility, and has always stated that [it] will engage in the legal process and abide by the decisions of the court."
For the families of those who died, however, Tiger’s unwillingness to accept the vaguest hint of responsibility seems poor form. It’s also risky, since the punitive damage that Spoor seeks isn’t covered by the insurers. Shareholders, who’ve seen the stock tumble 45% in the past three years, are on the hook if the Stalingrad strategy bombs out.
Spoor tells the FM it’s a precedent-setting case in many ways. "We don’t have a record of litigating consumer cases in this country, especially of this size. And, of course, the number of people who died makes it unique, never mind the 100 or so miscarriages that happened," he says.
Nor does Tiger Brands’ doublespeak help. In its annual report for the year to September 2018, chair Khotso Mokhele spoke of how the outbreak was a "truly devastating development to the Tiger Brands family".
"For our products — intended to nourish and be enjoyed — to have been identified as the cause of illness and death was singularly shocking. Our hearts go out to all the individuals and families in any way affected," he said.
Which you’ll agree, is somewhat different in tone from the bloodless tack taken by its lawyers. It suggests the company has no qualms treating its investors quite differently from the rabble who get sick eating its products.
In that report, Mokhele wrote that Tiger Brands has worked to identify the "learnings" of this unfortunate event, and has implemented "further enhancements in risk reporting to the board and its committees".
Its lawyers evidently didn’t get that memo. Which shows that there are plenty of "learnings" (to use the mangled jargon commonplace in modern boardrooms) that Tiger Brands can’t be bothered to comprehend.
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