Topic: Olympic Games Organising Committee
Andrew Liveris is president of the committee running one of Australian sport's biggest money-pots. ( AAP: Darren England )
Andrew Liveris, holding aloft a silver Olympic torch and dressed in a tightly-fitting white sports outfit, is jogging slowly down an overcast Paris street.
The Australian 70-year-old is excited. Pumping his fist. Waving. It's the 2024 Olympic Games.
Andrew Liveris holding the Olympic torch in the Paris 2024 parade. ( Supplied: Instagram/ Brisbane 2032 )
"Vive la France!" he yells to bystanders separated by a phalanx of sunglass-wearing guards. Some bystanders cheer back. Some are nonchalant.
He's been in the spotlight for decades, first as a US chemical giant's chief executive, overseeing multibillion dollar mergers and seeing off a company expenses scandal involving Super Bowl tickets.
Mr Liveris took over as chairman and CEO of Dow in 2004. ( Reuters: Lucas Jackson )
Now he's president of the committee running one of Australian sport's biggest money-pots: the Brisbane 2032 Olympic and Paralympic Games.
The businessman will have to navigate problems including ensuring the Games don't slug taxpayers, or wrangling Olympic-ambitious sports associations that try gifting an $82,000 cognac to his committee.
He also will have to handle potential conflicts of interest, with the ABC today revealing his majority stake in an emerging professional sports group even as industry associations eye Olympics glory. And his philosophies supporting minorities and the environment may face "anti-woke" turbulence from conservative Australia.
That doesn't matter in this Paris moment. Mr Liveris finishes his jog, transfers the flame to his relay buddy's torch, and they pose triumphantly for photographers, arms aloft.
These Paris Olympics are magic. If only Brisbane achieves such success.
Mr Liveris has high hopes for the 2032 Brisbane Games. ( AAP: Russell Freeman )
It's October this year and Sydney-based Mr Liveris is carving through the Queen's Wharf casino crowd in Brisbane.
He's met earlier for coffee. The conversation is off record and time is tight, but he's effusive and talks with his hands — he'll thrust his index finger at you to make-a-point.
We don't finish the coffee and Mr Liveris zips toward a casino conference hall. He's wearing a dark suit, collared shirt and mauve tie, but, like some senior businessmen such as Rupert Murdoch, has also pulled on sneakers. They look like fashionable black ASICs with thick white heels.
"We have a generational opportunity in place because the Games are coming," he tells the property developer conference. "We are the fastest growing part of Australia in south-east Queensland."
This "we" is something frequently invoked.
There is a connection, albeit dated. Born in Darwin, Mr Liveris's family was poor, and he describes himself as introverted while showing chameleon-like characteristics.
"I learned to adapt to different people, places, and things, whether I was at home with my Greek-speaking mother and two sisters, out in the community, or visiting the homes of Chinese, Malaysian, Italian or Serbian classmates," he writes in his book Leading Through Disruption.
His father died when he was 15, and they moved to be with family in Brisbane, establishing that Queensland connection. Mr Liveris attended Brisbane State High, then studied chemical engineering at the University of Queensland.
It's here he was again chameleon-like.
Mr Liveris attended Brisbane State High School. ( ABC News )
With long hair, he protested the Vietnam War and Dow Chemical for manufacturing napalm. Then, straight from university, he worked for Dow.
Mr Liveris argues he wanted to repair chemical companies' reputations. There was also the opportunity of a multinational business. "I understood that people like me with an ethnic surname and Mediterranean features would be able to advance only so far in (Australia's then) business circles," he writes.
He became chief executive in 2004, and rich, in his last year alone earning $US65.7 million ($A96.6 million).
His assets now include a $28 million home in a Sydney harbourside suburb, a Florida apartment costing $US4.2 million in 2018, and shares in ventures from gold miners to an industrial salt business.
Yet he decries "inequality" capitalism and says the US should lift taxes as income increases. A contradiction or more nuanced? Well, he argues Australia's model worked for people who originally struggled.
"It's not a pivot to socialism. It's about redistributing wealth from people like me, who started at the bottom of the ladder and worked their way up, as I did, to those who are just beginning," he writes.
Mr Liveris met Barack Obama in 2013. ( Reuters: Yuri Gripas )
His philosophies also maintain boards must "reflect a diverse society, including minorities, women and members of the LGBTQIA+ community". Or "CEOs of any enterprise that lacks a net-zero 2050 climate change goal … will not last long", although he advocates exploring options such as nuclear energy and is on Saudi oil giant Aramco's board.
Espousing such ideas for the Olympics may require razor-wire explanations as conservatism rises in Australia, including for rich athlete backers. Still, Brisbane's committee publicly backed the Voice, a referendum involving creating an Indigenous body to advise Parliament. It was rejected by 60 per cent of voters.
The Games job came in his living room on a Saturday in 2022. He recalls then Queensland premier Annastacia Palaszczuk phoning: "We'd like to offer you the presidency."
Mr Liveris, in a Bloomberg TV interview, humble-brags the next bit, saying he was already busy but his wife Paula persuaded him. "You've got to take it," he says she told him. "Because you're the right person to get it done."
Mr Liveris was appointed by former Queensland premier Annastacia Palaszczuk. ( ABC News )
He was appointed under Scott Morrison's federal conservative government, having advised on manufacturing-gas policy, and Ms Palaszczuk's Labor state government.
One attribute, which even critics acknowledge, is his connections are exquisite. His book contains blurbs from Virgin founder Richard Branson "masterclass in collaborative, forward-looking leadership" to JP Morgan head Jamie Dimon . Amazon reviewers give the book 4.6 out of 5 stars, although one snarky Goodreads review says: "Bro pat himself on the back for 240 pages".
Such high-level connections will help with a 2032 committee budget of $5.9 billion. While governments pay for infrastructure like stadiums, the committee funds running the Games, from managing venues to catering.
But 2032's territory is widening, including the state advocating rowing in Rockhampton, 640 kilometres north of Brisbane. Not only are there outsiders' crocodile fears, but the committee must consider costs such as athlete transport.
Even Mr Liveris in February said the initial bid budget "bears no resemblance to reality".
The big funding sources are broadcast rights (people watched 28.7 billion hours of Paris Olympics footage), sponsorships and tickets.
"We," Mr Liveris says, finger in the air in front of 1,100 businesspeople eyeing Games contracts, "don't take a cent of taxpayer dollar".
"Yeah that's a good whoop," he chirps back.
But the committee's annual report contains the boring fine-print reality: "As a statutory body, Brisbane 2032 is underwritten by the state government for any shortfall."
So his contact list is important. He knows it.
Donald Trump brought Mr Liveris on stage in Michigan in 2016. ( Reuters: Mike Segar )
"I consider myself the Number 1 brand ambassador for the Games," he tells the developers while seated in a cream couch on the conference stage. "My ability to sort of call up a CEO or a chair around the world, is being put to full use."
It's these dollops of ego that supporters and critics say is welded to the man's personality. But one who has dealt with him adds positively that Mr Liveris is self-aware, willing to change his views if he's read a situation incorrectly.
At Dow, some say Mr Liveris's achievements included completing multibillion dollar acquisitions in risky times.
"I consider Andrew to be among the most consequential, if not the most consequential, chemical industry CEOs over the past few decades," Frank Mitsch, president of New York-based investment analysis firm Fermium Research, tells the ABC.
Mr Mitsch recalls being at a dinner with Mr Liveris and Saudi Arabia's Aramco CEO, then in a joint venture, and they were "practically finishing each other's sentences". Mr Liveris explained later he had constantly visited Saudi Arabia.
"I don't know of any other chemical executives that travelled globally as frequently as Andrew, and is but one sign of being a hands-on executive," Mr Mitsch says.
Others alleged a harsher streak emerged at Dow.
Midland is a US town of 42,000 people, close to the Canadian border, and home to Dow. In town was the Dow-owned H Hotel, undergoing a high-class refurbishment, installing marble floors and an elegant main restaurant, the sort of eatery serving potato ravioli with caviar cream. Unfortunately, the budget allegedly blew out by $US13 million.
Mr Liveris spoke to workers at a Dow plant in Germany alongside then chancellor Angela Merkel. ( Reuters: Thomas Peter )
In a whistleblower lawsuit and freedom of information filings, covered in 2015 by Reuters and obtained by the ABC, a former Dow investigator claimed Mr Liveris's wife, who was not an employee, became involved in renovations and trouble ensued. The investigator alleged a staffer who tried limiting Ms Liveris's renovation involvement was removed from their role and emails showed the CEO's fingerprints.
"Time for retirement …" Mr Liveris allegedly wrote of that staffer in an email to Dow's general counsel.
"Remind me to never piss you off," the general counsel allegedly replied.
Dow, in litigation with the investigator that ultimately settled, denied the retribution allegation, and said the staffer had wanted to retire and praised Mr Liveris on leaving.
Mr Liveris links the story to when a hedge fund attacked Dow. "Out of the blue came a bogus Reuters story alleging that Paula was bullying staffers and deserved the blame for any cost overruns. None of it was true," he writes. Other attacks wrongly portrayed him as spoiled, he adds.
The internal investigator had flagged alleged problems including Dow purchases of Grange wine, some at more than $US460 a bottle.
One instance included three bottles of Grange being sent, Reuters reported, to a teacher for one of his children with the note thanking them for "being such a great mentor and friend" to "the Liveris family".
Or a Super Bowl trip to Miami in 2010, for Mr Liveris, family and friends allegedly cost Dow up to $US218,938. The investigator listed Mr Liveris allegedly having messaged a Dow events coordinator about the football: "Please tell no-one I am going … like always."
The coordinator allegedly replied: "As always--no one knows your schedule and I have your tickets on the opposite side of the stadium from the customer tickets. You are not attending any of the same events that any of the Dow customers are attending."
Mr Liveris was offered the role of president of the Brisbane Olympic Committee in 2022. ( ABC News: Christopher Gillette )
Dow at the time said he did not avoid customers.
After the internal storm, Dow in 2011 told investors an audit of its "customer events department" found some spending for Mr Liveris over three years was "not primarily business-related" or should have been classed as personal expenses. Dow described it as a simple administrative error that he reimbursed once aware.
His expenses during the recent Paris and Milan Winter Games, while refined, seem more measured.
He and other officials stayed at the 5-star L'Hotel Du Collectionneur. It's a few minutes from the Arc de Triomphe with dining areas inspired by "the transatlantic liners of the 1930s". Rooms cost almost $1,000 a night. Of course, this was Paris during an Olympics, and a person with knowledge of the event says other Games committees allocated accommodation.
Another bill was $878 at the one-Michelin star, French restaurant Apicius.
But those payment documents, obtained by the ABC in right to information requests, indicate he quickly repaid $4,098, including the meal plus other items actually claimable under committee rules, such as laundry costing $2,265.
Further, a person with knowledge of the committee says Mr Liveris had donated his board remuneration — $176,000 — to athlete funds.
The Remy Martin Louis XIII Rare Cask 42.1 Cognac comes in a black crystal decanter inspired, its maker says, from a flask unearthed on a French Wars of Religion battlefield in 1569. A single bottle of the sweet alcohol costs $82,270.
As a gift, it ensorcells your attention. That occurred when the new Federation of International Mixed Martial Arts gifted the cognac to the Brisbane committee.
"Unsolicited and value at time of gifting unknown. Management to consider treatment of gift given value," the committee's gift register said. Ultimately, it was returned.
The ABC revealed the cognac this July with the fighting federation describing it as a "gesture of courtesy and respect". But the federation also wants an Olympic berth, massive for any sport's recognition.
Such berths are called "additional" sports; cricket has one at Los Angeles 2028. Local Games committees can recommend such additional sports.
That's where Mr Liveris has a potential conflict of interest.
Pickleball is a mongrel breed of tennis, badminton and ping-pong, which proponents say now has 22 million active players globally.
At a live-streamed Brisbane professional tournament this October, with more than $500,000 in prize money, four players bashed the plastic ball spectacularly — nine pinging shots in under three seconds. "Big point!" exclaimed the commentator.
And the sport holds Games ambitions. That Brisbane tournament was held by PPA Tour Australia, which partners with US-based Pickleball Inc, which this year received a $US225 million funding boost and flagged "Olympic aspirations". A local Australian pickleball association in 2024 also detailed meeting national Olympic organisations about a Brisbane berth.
That same year, Mr Liveris declared a potential conflict of interest on a committee register among dozens of items, noting a stake in a Brisbane professional pickleball team. It's swelled with company searches listing him now having an interest in almost 70 per cent of equity in the holding company behind the whole PPA Tour Australia, whose president is his son Anthony.
Mr Liveris declined to answer ABC questions about pickleball. ( Reuters: Evan Garcia )
This month, though, came a door slam. The Brisbane committee now says pickleball won't be considered for 2032, with impending decisions on sports due and pickleball not meeting criteria including having a recognised international federation.
Mr Liveris declined to answer ABC questions about pickleball and other matters. But page after page of committee documents detail strict boardroom protocols for managing conflicts including potentially restricting information for affected people.
Of course, conflicts of interest commonly arise across organisations. Jacqueline Boaks, of Curtin University's Centre for Applied Ethics, says a key is declaring and managing them for all entities, including protecting information gleaned from work.
She says Mr Liveris acquiring a sporting interest after taking his Games job could appear problematic, but perceived conflicts of interest can be managed correctly. Organisations, she adds, should be transparent so stakeholders have "trust and confidence" that no real conflict occurs.
The conflicts register lists almost 25 companies and associations for Mr Liveris, from roles with technology multinational IBM to consulting giant Teneo, awarded at least $US500,000 work with the LA Games, according to annual reports.
It's a busy schedule and the Games require much energy. Still, one sunny Brisbane winter's day, Mr Liveris is enthusiastically espousing the Olympics' "opportunity for all".
There is a busy schedule ahead for Mr Liveris before 2032. ( ABC News: Hannah Moon )
A thumping electronic dance tune, Get Ready for This, starts and Mr Liveris plays wheelchair basketball with athletes on a pop-up court. The DJ yells: "Let's get ready to rum-ble."
Mr Liveris catches a pass. He takes the shot. It swooshes cleanly through the net.
The Brisbane Games president gleefully whoops, fists thrust out in celebration.
