We expect businesses to be socially responsible, but when does it go too far?

Any interventions propelled by a social good need to co-exist with the core service and complement the offering and not feel forced upon the end user, writes Caroline Bullock

The toppled statue of Edward Colston lies on display at a museum in Bristol (Getty)

Interesting times at the Red Lion in Bristol, an otherwise unremarkable boozer now in the limelight for being “Britain’s wokest pub”.

Coca-Cola, Heineken and Thatchers cider have been cancelled due to the brands’ collective “dubious history” spanning water pollution in developing countries, alleged unethical practices in Africa and links to slave trader Edward Colston, respectively.

Those unacquainted with Colston’s conduct in the 17th century and simply denied their preferred tipple are aggrieved; it’s one of those flashpoints that flare up intermittently as social and political agendas seep more deeply in the retail and hospitality sphere, affecting what can reasonably be expected in a given scenario – such as drinking Coca-Cola and Heineken in a pub.

We expect businesses to be socially responsible, indeed, the strength of their ethical credentials increasingly informs our purchasing decisions and brand allegiance in the first place, that should be a given, though preferably without segueing into moral arbiters. When stock is no longer determined by the law of supply and demand but a steady reappraisal of a brand’s historical behaviours or where interventions loosely tied to an environmental agenda only inconvenience the customer and compromise the experience, the flimsy balance between being conscientious and didactic starts to skew.

I recall an incident at the Goodwood Revival festival – a motor racing meet held annually in West Sussex where thirst and the cloying heat of a humid Sunday afternoon meant I had to swallow the £4 price tag and order a soft drink at an onsite bar. Here, Coca-Cola wasn’t the issue, but the receptacle. When a bottle was handed over and I asked for ice and lemon expecting a glass, I was told they only had a recyclable cups which would cost another pound. I could claim this back, assured the server with the weary resignation of someone who had already explained this a lot, if I returned the cup to an exchange point handily located at the other end of the site. Was that, OK?

No, it wasn’t. I was hot and tired and didn’t fancy traipsing all the way back from where I’d come from through heaving crowds to claim back a £1, I shouldn’t have had to spend in the first place. How had it come to this? I just wanted a quick drink, to quench my thirst and go. The woman babbled on – something to do with being able to swap the cup if I was tempted, say, to buy another £4 coke, along with more muddled directions to the relevant stand. I wondered how a seemingly simple plan had turned into such a hassle and, more pointedly, a really poor customer experience, before hearing her concede sheepishly that this was “all a bit ridiculous”.

What was the ultimate motivation other than trying to appear a certain way when the principles were not shared by those supposed to be endorsing them?

It was. I should add, that neither did I want to see piles of discarded cups strewn around the grounds in the manner of the usual legacy of the big outdoor events, but why should attempts to deliver a more responsible alternative be such an imposition for the customer? It then occurred to me while standing in what called itself a bar with a DJ in the corner, faux leather seats, glass tables and cocktails starting at £16, would the provision of some proper glasses have been so out of place or so unreasonable an expectation? Perhaps the washing up or initial outlay was considered too much of an inconvenience and investment, and why bother anyway when you can take shortcuts and let the customer do the legwork, while you tick the sustainability box and wallow in the self-satisfaction?

It’s a reminder that any interventions propelled by a social good need to co-exist with the core service and complement the offering and not feel forced upon the end user. The backlash that greeted Sainsbury’s decision to promote Black History Month last October, the annual global observance of black history and culture, came for a reason; the whole episode felt clumsy and more than anything entirely irrelevant in the context of a supermarket where your only real expectation as a consumer is for the shelves to be stocked and checkout tills open. A similar misfire was the National Trust’s oddly overzealous virtue-signalling that demanded its workers wear rainbow badges endorsing Gay Pride. The fact that for a brief spell the team were forced to comply, even though some did not want to, underlines how tokenistic and pointless such moves can be. It’s an example of where the original intentions need to be stripped back and analysed; what was the ultimate motivation other than trying to appear a certain way when the principles were not shared by those supposed to be endorsing them?

More followed; the equally ill-conceived decision to shroud some of the exhibits of male subjects in one of the properties – Cragside House in Northumberland – in white sheets, while presumably charging the same fee to those looking for the reduced offering.

For me, the ultimate success of such interventions tends to be more determined by the size and scope of the offering. Smaller independent shops and eateries where a natural synergy and alignment exists between the bosses, offering and customer, where the business is already preaching to the converted is where this works best. National organisations and supermarkets, where you’re dealing with a broader church trying to shoehorn fashionable agendas into a very mainstream experience, usually fails.

Back to the Red Lion, and there is also a distinction to be made between the relevance of taking a stance against alleged poor practice that may be ongoing, and the arbitrary cancelling of a brand based on historical misdemeanours that have no bearing on its current operation. History can’t be changed, and it smacks of the excessive censorship that has long threatened the world of arts and entertainment and if followed to the letter would ban everything from a Caravaggio masterpiece to Michael Jackson.

Ultimately, it comes down to choice – something the discerning customer should be given the freedom and responsibility to exercise themselves. It’s why I’m more inclined to put some spare change in a charity box by the till than through a donation request alert that flashes on the card machine as you pay for petrol.