Tim Shriver say it pays firms to give something back to the community, writes Edward Power.

Meeting Timothy Shriver, one is tempted to start gabbling wildly about his famous relatives - of whom he has an abundance. Arnold Schwarzenegger is a brother-in-law; John F. Kennedy was his uncle. It seems almost superfluous to mention that he counts Steven Spielberg among his friends - they co-produced the movie Amistad.

In a murky conference suite, Mr Shriver, with his prominent jaw, strident hair and lightly worn magnetism, could even pass for a young Jack Kennedy, although his accent is disappointingly flat, those luxuriant Ivy League vowels barely discernible.

Alas, we're not here to chinwag about life as a Kennedy scion or Arnold's unlikely re-invention from an action-movie hero to a politico and friend of the downtrodden.

Mr Shriver, chairman and chief executive of Special Olympics Inc, is in Dublin to lecture business leaders on "corporate responsibility".

His message is that the relationship between the corporate world and the wider community is undergoing a profound shift - one that calls into question attitudes that have been held sacrosanct since the dawn of capitalism.

Reaping profits with impunity is no longer a viable economic model, argues Mr Shriver.

With consumers increasingly coming to expect companies to embrace progressive business strategies, the boardroom ignores societal obligations at their peril. But Mr Shriver is careful not to project himself as a guru, loftily commanding the business community to sign up to his commandments.

"I'm not arguing that business leaders should be doing these things because it's what they ought to do but because there are concrete benefits to be had for them," he explains.

"There is much talk about corporate social responsibility. I prefer to talk about corporate social opportunity."

Mr Shriver offers as an example the benefits that accrued to organisations that associated themselves with the Special Olympics held in the Republic earlier this year.

"Giving something back makes good corporate sense," he says. "If you have a tube of toothpaste with a Special Olympics logo on it and one that hasn't it, then you are more likely to buy the former. I guarantee it."

This is not a revolutionary message, according to Mr Shriver. Rather, he is preaching common sense.

In fact, many companies are so aware of the need to give something back - to employees, customers and the greater community - they are often wary of "worthy" causes because of fears that they may be perceived as exploitive.

"Some of the sponsors that came on board with us at the Special Olympics in Ireland were at pains to stress that they didn't want to be seen as jumping on a bandwagon. They made it clear they did not want to be regarded as cynically supporting a convenient cause."

He cites Benetton as a pioneer of corporate conscientiousness although the clothing firm's message of racial harmony and rights for the disabled prompted accusations that it was mercurially building a brand atop the suffering of others.

"I'm not sure Benetton was being all that exploitive," he says. "They were the first company to put a child with Down's syndrome on a billboard poster.

"Maybe there was some manipulation going on, but so what? Every other clothing company is trying to manipulate us too - only they are using posters of good-looking white women in their 20s.

"Are those ads more honest than Benetton? Are they a truer representation of the society we live in?"

The environmental lobby is a textbook example of a campaign that has forced companies to rethink their strategies.

"Twenty years ago, environmental responsibility, in the United States at any rate, was something that was enforced by government agencies. Now no company of any stature is without an environmental policy that goes beyond its statutory obligations," according to Mr Shriver.

"This is because the environmental lobby has been successful in transmitting its message. The public demands that corporations take a progressive stance on the environment. Other non-governmental organisations can learn a great deal from what environmentalists have achieved," he says.

Another topic close to his heart is the Irish attitude towards success and failure. As a nation we are stricken with a "glass half empty" mentality, he feels. "I get a sense that the Irish are always expecting the worst to happen - and are mildly surprised when it doesn't. I'm no authority, but I think there is some negativity in attitudes here."

From most people, such an observation might sound condescending or patronising. But Mr Shriver speaks with the unassuming matter-of-factness of a born schmoozer.

Perhaps a future in politics isn't so unlikely after all. He's got the hair, the patter and the connections. And, in a country where an action-movie hero can get himself elected governor, little is impossible.