To kick things off, could you tell me about your trajectory in the industry?

I come from an oil family. My father had an oil company in the sixties and seventies alongside Algy Cluff, who is widely known as the godfather of British oil trading. Cluff had been an army officer in West Africa and was savvy enough to see an opportunity there; he and my father built up around 75 producing assets between West Africa and the North Sea.

For me, I went to boarding school, but traditional education was never going to be my path; I was a bit of a rebel and got evicted from Eton and others. I never finished university. Instead, from the age of 13, I was already learning the ropes of oil trading. I started in the back office in operations and was working in the middle office for some compliance. What really interested me was selling barrels. I grew up surrounded by big characters coming through the house, drinking with my father, and I knew I wanted to be just like them. So I was fortunate enough at thirteen to be given the keys and being told to “sink or swim”, selling Middle Eastern and West African barrels into the UK market, and I found my place.

How did you evolve from there and what took you to China, eventually?

As I got older, I needed to fly the nest to establish my own name. I wanted to be my own person rather than “Alex Copson’s son”. First, I moved into freight for a while, which turned out to be the most useful detour I ever took, because netbacks on freight are what make or break a deal. Building those connections with tanker owners and small refineries became the foundation when I started my own company.

I moved to China with Intercapital (ICAP) — I was their youngest managing director, running about a thousand headcount across Shanghai and Hong Kong. That’s also where I met my wife, whose father was a well-connected figure in Chinese business at the time. He was instrumental in creating trust. That kind of guanxi (关系) — the personal network Chinese business runs on — isn’t something an outsider can build alone. No Western trader was doing business at that level with the Chinese national oil companies back then — you were either dealt with government to government, or through the big trading houses who could offer deferred payment terms. I didn’t have any of that. I had a friend at an investment bank who gave me a $20 million credit line against $1.5 million of my own money, on the promise that if I utilized the full credit facility in the first year, they’d double it. We did that in six months, and it grew from there.

The business was built entirely on relationships with the Chinese refiners — these were profitable, legitimate cargoes, not underhanded deals. Early on, relationship-building followed local customs of the time, which have since evolved under China’s anti-corruption reforms.

After I sold my last company, Trident, I was retiring — I was 39, my son was three, and I’d made good money.

Retirement didn’t stick, though?

It lasted six months before my wife told me I needed to leave the house. Marex approached me about their APAC business ahead of a planned IPO; I was reluctant to come out of retirement, but the opportunity was compelling and we found terms that worked well for both sides. I stayed a year, took the region from about twenty people to a hundred and forty, and helped get their IPO off the ground. I left because I didn’t want to be part of a listed company — compliance was making it too hard to onboard clients I wanted to do business with.

I went back to that same investment bank and said, let’s do this again, but asset-heavy this time — buy refineries, trade the asset-backed strategies around them. Two years in, we’re already having a buyout conversation again. In any case, staying connected to the market scratches an itch I need to scratch. I’m quite visible at a few oil-centric conferences and on Bloomberg TV doing commentary, and I’m quite happy doing what I do.

What is your greatest asset — the key to your success?

I was lucky to have a strong support network in my family, and an upbringing around the industry, which gave me an early understanding of how much of a relationship business this really is. Even though screen-traded paper barrels have drastically overtaken physical trade volumes today, understanding actual trade flows and originations is vital – knowing which barrels suit which refiners, which markets. I’m indebted to my father and to that business for getting me involved so young.

What part of your current work are you most proud of?

What we’ve built in APAC, particularly in China. It was a genuine uphill battle to operate as a “Laowai” (的老外, foreigner) dealing directly with Chinese national oil companies and state-owned refiners like CNOOC and Sinopec. Most foreign players either dealt bilaterally through governments or large institutional trading houses that were far more asset-heavy and could offer highly favorable deferred contractual terms. Creating a foothold and becoming one of the trusted counterparties in that market is something I’m proud of.

You’ve built and exited businesses more than once now. How do you build a team — and a business — that’s designed for that kind of exit?

We were always light and nimble by design — never wanted compliance and paperwork dictating how fast we could react to the market. Everyone senior in the business is a partner and owns shares, which I learned from watching how Trafigura, Vitol and Gunvor operated in the early days, through my father. That ownership stake is what drives real commitment. We never set out to be revolutionary — we wanted to become enough of a thorn in the side of a major institution that they’d want to buy us. We’ve replicated that twice now. I’ve never been precious about the brand, even though it’s something I built with my partners — ultimately, making a profit and being able to hand off the responsibilities is what a successful exit looks like to me.

Negotiations must play a huge role in your business. Is there one that particularly stayed with you?

There isn’t a single deal so much as a lesson about cultural norms. I struggled early on with Chinese state-owned counterparties because I didn’t understand the etiquette — e.g., where you sit at a dinner after a meeting signals respect. My wife and her family helped steer me. But the first large oil deal we did with a Chinese state entity stands out, because no foreign desk was doing that kind of business directly at the time.

How do you make sure you’re shaping the terms of a negotiation rather than just reacting to your counterparty?

Every negotiation I approach, I never see the outcome as binary — that for us to win, they have to lose. With oil and energy trading especially, you need a genuine relationship with your counterparty: you need to know them in person, not just on the phone. If there’s something I can do to make their outcome better, I’ll do it, because that’s what a good partner does, and I’d hope for the same in return.

There are exceptions — some counterparties are purely there to maximise their own margin, and that’s understandable, I don’t hold it against them. But most traders I respect go into a deal thinking about making it as mutually beneficial as possible, adding longevity to the relationship. Because a one-off transaction doesn’t make for a good business. If it’s purely binary, you probably don’t do business with that counterparty again.

This longevity angle seems to be missing from Europe right now, doesn’t it — the industrial policy has become quite short-sighted, geopolitically speaking?

The whole of Europe has lost its globalist outlook and become very insular. There’s no harmony left; it’s everyone for themselves, and the rise of the far right plays into that. Some of what they argue has a rational core, but too often it’s wrapped in awful rhetoric, and that doesn’t make for good partners. Governments need to take a fresh look at that turn — Europe once had a genuinely globalist ambition.

How has your leadership style evolved over the years?

Dramatically. Early on, my style came from a very British, public-school environment — top-down, hierarchical, not especially pliable. That didn’t sit well with our Chinese colleagues, where the concept of “face” matters enormously — you don’t put someone in a position where they look bad or lose standing. I misstepped many times early on, not out of rudeness, just because how I was raised didn’t map onto that philosophy. I’ve become far more attuned to cultural differences, both internally and with counterparties. You have to understand what motivates someone before you can build a good partnership with them.

Is there anything you’re actively working on developing further?

Mostly personal traits. I know I can be difficult to work with. Patience isn’t something I have naturally, and that can come across unfavorably when dealing with people. I’ve had to work on that. Overall, I’ve become less uptight and less purely outcome-oriented, more focused on maintaining relationships even when at times the immediate result doesn’t favour us, as long as we’re not coming out badly.

How do you know when something inside the organisation is starting to deteriorate?

There’s an old line: very slowly, then all at once.[1] The early signs are rarely immediately obvious — small things you notice that didn’t quite work, and then one day it’s a culmination you can’t ignore. We try to catch it by giving good people autonomy. We don’t micromanage. If someone has a bad drawdown, we don’t treat it the way a hedge fund would — we work with them, because we hired them for a reason. We try to figure out what’s actually going on: a home issue, something professional, whatever it is. Of course, if you lose a lot of money, you’re going to be under scrutiny, but it isn’t ruthless here. We’re a private business, and a lot of the clients we have wouldn’t be here without the people we’ve kept.

You’re not under the illusion to know better than everybody else. You’re assuming that they know what they’re here to do.

There’s another good line I like: “I’m not young enough to know everything.”[2] I say it to my son sometimes, half joking, when he’s dead certain he’s right about something. But you genuinely can’t know everything, and you definitely can’t always know why a part of the organisation is excelling or starting to slip. You can have a good sense of it, but mostly it comes down to talking to people and staying close enough that nobody feels aggrieved — there have been exceptions, but they’re the exception, not the rule. Autonomy is part of our ethos, and it gives people their own self-respect within the organisation.

What’s the major achievement you have yet to accomplish?

Perhaps being the CEO of a publicly listed company. It’s appealing in the abstract — the scrutiny, the prestige — but I’ve been close enough to listed companies to know what gets sacrificed. What makes us who we are would erode quickly under shareholders who don’t fully understand the business but want inorganic growth regardless. A lot of businesses struggle when they chase the shiny new thing — AI, for example. Often, it turns out that’s a good way to lose money. Being able to tell what’s a mirage from what’s truly substantive —  and acting on it — was the recipe for success in the past. So I’m torn: part of me wants it, part of me knows it would mean giving up a lot of what I think is right.

[1] Editorial note: In Hemingway’s 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises, the fictional character Mike Campbell, asked how he went bankrupt, replies: “Two ways. Gradually and then suddenly.”

[2] Editorial note: From J. M. Barrie’s play The Admirable Crichton (1902).

+++ Deutsche Version: siehe unten; German version below +++

Question: What is the key to your success as a leader?

Two things, and they work together. The first is what I would call being a cultural bridge builder. I speak eight languages, not all at the same level, but whenever I went into a turnaround, I learned the language. In Italy, people thought I was from northern Italy. In Germany, they thought I was from Hamburg. That ability to meet people in their own context opened doors that would otherwise have stayed shut.

The second is tenacity. When you are a turnaround manager, the pressure is relentless and runs in both directions: the people you have inherited think you are moving too fast, and the people who hired you think you are moving too slow. You must hold your own conviction in that environment, over a sustained period. That is not something you learn in school. For me it comes from sport.

Together those two things make me a communicator people believe. Not because I am persuasive in the rhetorical sense, but because they can see that I believe it myself.

How did you structure your approach when you first arrived at a company?

I first worked very tightly with 100-day plans. Within 100 days I would be certain what needed to happen to make the company succeed, down to the detail of whether this person was on board, whether this product was the right one, whether this was the right direction. The timing might still be open, but the essence was clear.

And a turnaround always comes down to three things: financial re-engineering, some form of digital growth (in the 1990s that meant email, today it means something else entirely), and cultural development. Of those three, the cultural piece was always my real exit ticket. If I could build a sustainable culture that functioned without me, I could leave. If I could not, I might be able to make things run, but they would run on me. That is not an exit, that is a trap.

What did you look for in the existing team when you arrived?

Two things: capacity and attitude. Capacity meaning whether someone had what it takes to carry the responsibility of where the business needed to go. Attitude meaning whether they were genuinely committed to getting there. Everything else you can build on. In a turnaround you do not have time, and you may not have money either, but you always have even less time.

Was there a moment where the pressure was particularly acute?

The private jet situation in 2008. I joined a Scandinavian private aviation group in July as CEO, and we had just finished the 100-day plan when the financial crisis hit in October. Aircraft fleet values fell sharply across the sector and demand collapsed overnight. There are moments in this kind of work where the external environment changes underneath you, and there is nothing you can do except figure out what the new reality is and move.

How has your leadership style changed over the years?

Immensely. The world changed and I changed with it. The shift that mattered most for me, somewhere in the middle of my career as a turnaround manager, was realising what actually drove me. It was not the turnaround itself. It was not the money. It was team building. Watching the people immediately around me grow was what gave me energy and satisfaction.

Once I understood that, I redesigned everything. The skill I had brought from turnaround work, the ability to build a culture that does not depend on the person at the top, turns out to be exactly what you need as a non-executive supporting a management team through rapid growth.

What was the transition like into board work?

The transition took longer than I expected, around 12 years to complete fully. Building from a healthy position requires a different mental model from a turnaround, where you start from loss and work forward. The pace, the hiring decisions, the choice of which markets to enter, all of it must be self-sustaining. You cannot force it. It has to be natural.

How would you describe the relationsihp between your work life and personal life?

They are fully integrated, not as a compromise but as a conscious design. I use the same management principles in my personal life that I use professionally. “Bad news first” is not a work habit for me, it is how I communicate, including with my children.

I am quite allergic to the idea that a CEO plays a role. You adjust your register to your audience, you speak differently in a boardroom than at a football match, but the core is the same. What I am proudest of, honestly, is that through 32 home moves, through eight countries, and 25 years of turnaround work, I have kept a happy marriage of over 30 years and raised two children who found their own way.

What is the major achievement you still want to accomplish?

I designed my career in two halves. The first 25 years as an executive general manager. The second 25 years as a non-executive, working with my passions. I am in that second half now. What I am most looking forward to is the long arc of board work in sectors I care about, where the right governance over time can build something that lasts.

+++ Deutsche Version +++ German version +++

Was ist das Geheimnis Ihres Erfolgs als Führungskraft?

Zwei Dinge, die zusammenwirken. Das erste nenne ich Brückenbauen zwischen Kulturen. Ich spreche acht Sprachen – nicht alle auf demselben Niveau –, aber wann immer ich in eine Turnaround-Situation gegangen bin, habe ich die Sprache des Landes gelernt. In Italien hielten mich die Leute für einen Norditaliener. In Deutschland dachten sie, ich käme aus Hamburg. Diese Fähigkeit, Menschen in ihrem eigenen Kontext zu begegnen, hat Türen geöffnet, die sonst verschlossen geblieben wären.

Das zweite ist Beharrlichkeit. Als Turnaround-Manager steht man unter einem Druck, der von zwei Seiten kommt: Die übernommene Mannschaft findet, man bewege sich zu schnell, und die Auftraggeber finden, man bewege sich zu langsam. In diesem Umfeld muss man über einen langen Zeitraum an der eigenen Überzeugung festhalten. Das lernt man nicht in der Schule. Bei mir kommt es aus dem Sport.

Zusammen machen mich diese beiden Dinge zu einem Kommunikator, dem die Leute glauben – nicht weil ich im rhetorischen Sinne überzeugend bin, sondern weil sie sehen können, dass ich es selbst glaube.

Wie haben Sie Ihren Ansatz strukturiert, wenn Sie neu in ein Unternehmen kamen?

Ich habe zunächst sehr eng mit 100-Tage-Plänen gearbeitet. Innerhalb von 100 Tagen war mir klar, was passieren musste, damit das Unternehmen erfolgreich sein würde – bis ins Detail: Ist diese Person an Bord? Ist dieses Produkt das richtige? Geht man in die richtige Richtung? Das Timing konnte noch offen sein, aber das Wesentliche war klar.

Und ein Turnaround läuft immer auf drei Dinge hinaus: finanzielle Restrukturierung, eine Form von digitalem Wachstum (in den 1990ern war das E-Mail, heute bedeutet es etwas ganz anderes) und kulturelle Entwicklung. Von diesen dreien war die Kulturarbeit immer mein eigentliches Exit-Ticket. Wenn ich eine tragfähige Kultur aufbauen konnte, die ohne mich funktionierte, konnte ich gehen. Wenn nicht, konnte ich die Dinge vielleicht am Laufen halten – aber sie blieben dann an mir hängen. Das ist dann kein Ausstieg, das ist eine Falle.

Wonach haben Sie im bestehenden Team gesucht, wenn Sie ankamen?

Zwei Dinge: Kapazität und Haltung. Kapazität bedeutet, ob jemand das Zeug hat, die Verantwortung zu tragen, die das Unternehmen braucht. Haltung bedeutet, ob er oder sie wirklich bereit ist, vollen Einsatz zu leisten, um dorthin zu gelangen. Alles andere lässt sich aufbauen. Im Turnaround hat man keine Zeit. Geld hat man vielleicht auch nicht – aber Zeit noch viel weniger.

Gab es einen Moment, in dem der Druck besonders akut war?

Die Privatjet-Situation in 2008. Ich bin im Juli als CEO in eine skandinavische Gruppe für private Luftfahrt eingetreten, und wir hatten gerade den 100-Tage-Plan abgeschlossen, als im Oktober die Finanzkrise ausbrach. Die Marktwerte der Flugzeugflotten fielen branchenweit stark, und die Nachfrage brach über Nacht ein. Es gibt Momente in dieser Art von Arbeit, in denen sich das äußere Umfeld um einen herum verändert und man nichts tun kann, außer herauszufinden, was die neue Realität ist – und sich zu bewegen.

Wie hat sich Ihr Führungsstil im Laufe der Jahre verändert?

Enorm. Die Welt hat sich verändert, und ich habe mich mit ihr verändert. Die Verschiebung, die für mich am wichtigsten war – irgendwo in der Mitte meiner Karriere als Turnaround-Manager – war die Erkenntnis, was mich wirklich antrieb. Es war nicht der Turnaround selbst. Es war nicht das Geld. Es war der Aufbau von Teams. Zu sehen, wie die Menschen in meiner unmittelbaren Umgebung wuchsen, gab mir Energie und Befriedigung.

Als ich das verstanden hatte, habe ich alles neu gestaltet. Die Fähigkeit, die ich aus der Turnaround-Arbeit mitgebracht hatte – eine Kultur aufzubauen, die nicht von der Person an der Spitze abhängt –, erweist sich als genau das, was man als Nicht-Exekutiver braucht, der ein Management-Team durch schnelles Wachstum begleitet.

Wie war der Übergang in die Aufsichtsratstätigkeit?

Der Übergang dauerte länger als erwartet – rund 12 Jahre bis zur vollständigen Umsetzung. Aus einer gesunden Position heraus aufzubauen erfordert ein anderes mentales Modell als ein Turnaround, bei dem man von einem Verlust aus vorwärts arbeitet. Das Tempo, die Einstellungsentscheidungen, die Wahl der Märkte – all das muss sich selbst tragen. Man kann es nicht erzwingen. Es muss natürlich sein.

Wie würden Sie Ihr Verhältnis zwischen Berufs- und Privatleben beschreiben?

Sie sind vollständig integriert – nicht als Kompromiss, sondern als bewusster Lebensentwurf. Ich wende dieselben Managementprinzipien in meinem Privatleben an wie beruflich. „Schlechte Nachrichten zuerst” ist für mich keine Arbeitsgewohnheit, sondern meine Art zu kommunizieren – auch mit meinen Kindern.

Ich bin allergisch gegen die Vorstellung, dass ein CEO eine Rolle spielt. Man passt sein Auftreten dem Publikum an – man spricht in einer Vorstandssitzung anders als auf einem Fußballspiel –, aber der Kern ist derselbe. Worauf ich am stolzesten bin, ehrlich gesagt, ist, dass ich durch 32 Umzüge, durch acht Länder und 25 Jahre Turnaround-Arbeit eine glückliche Ehe von über 30 Jahren aufrechterhalten und zwei Kinder großgezogen habe, die ihren eigenen Weg gefunden haben.

Was ist eine Errungenschaft, die Sie noch erreichen wollen?

Ich habe meine Karriere in zwei Hälften geplant. Die ersten 25 Jahre als operativer Geschäftsführer. Die zweiten 25 Jahre als Nicht-Exekutiver, der mit seinen Leidenschaften arbeitet. Ich bin jetzt in dieser zweiten Hälfte. Worauf ich mich am meisten freue, ist der lange Bogen der Aufsichtsratsarbeit in Branchen, die mir wichtig sind – wo die richtige Unternehmensführung über die Zeit etwas aufbauen kann, das Bestand hat.