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Bill McConnell
For 2000-odd years, philosophers have been arguing about a boat.
The story comes to us most famously through the ancient Greek writer Plutarch and concerns the ship in which the legendary Theseus returned to Athens from Crete after killing the Minotaur. The Athenians preserved the vessel as a piece of their history, replacing old, decaying timbers with new ones whenever necessary.
However, a problem arose, particularly with maintenance. As the years passed, more timbers on the boat needed replacing and eventually the story produced one of philosophy’s great thought experiments: if every original plank of Theseus’s ship had been replaced, was it still the same ship – or worse still, what if most but not all of the planks had been replaced – what then?
Dollar Bill likes to draw a sharp comparison between the problems faced by those philosophers of old and small cap investors on the ASX who are regularly presented with companies and projects that purport to have been fully re-planked – but are they really?
At the speculative end of the market boards change, managing directors get replaced, projects are bought and sold, commodities come and go, shareholders turn over and occasionally even the company name gets swapped for something more fashionable. Sometimes just about the only thing left from the company an investor originally bought into is its ASX listing, which raises a considerably less philosophical question: when almost everything underneath a stock has changed, how much of its past should an investor still use to value its future?
Small-cap investors confront versions of the Ship of Theseus more often than they might realise, and exploration companies are particularly good at it.
A gold explorer sells its gold project and buys lithium. Lithium falls out of favour and copper starts looking interesting. A new managing director arrives, the board changes, capital is raised, another acquisition is made and three years later the annual report describes a business bearing only a passing resemblance to the one the shareholders originally bought.
Sometimes this is opportunism. Sometimes it is survival. And sometimes it is exactly what management should do. After all, there is nothing particularly noble about continuing to drill a lousy project merely because it appeared in the prospectus.
The interesting question for investors isn’t whether companies should change. Rather, it’s which parts of the company actually matter when they do.
NOVONIX offers a useful example.
The company that listed on the ASX in December 2015 was Graphitecorp and its principal story was the Mt Dromedary natural graphite project in Queensland.
Then the planks started moving.
In 2017, Graphitecorp acquired the NOVONIX battery-testing business, established the PUREgraphite synthetic-anode-material joint venture in the United States and changed its own name to NOVONIX. The company itself said the transactions had transformed the business. It wasn’t exaggerating.
Today’s NOVONIX is a battery materials and technology company heavily focused on North America, developing high-performance synthetic graphite for applications including electric vehicles and energy storage. Its origins remain visible, but the investment proposition has changed enormously.
So when did Graphitecorp stop being Graphitecorp? When it acquired NOVONIX? When it moved downstream into battery technology? When the new business became more important than the old one? Or on the morning somebody changed the letters on the trading screen?
There is no accounting standard for corporate identity. There probably shouldn’t be. But investors make judgements about it constantly, particularly when deciding how much of a company’s history still deserves to influence its valuation.
Olympio Metals provides an unusually vivid Australian example of just how complete a corporate transformation can become. Its listed predecessor was CropLogic, an agricultural technology business principally involved in soil monitoring and reporting technology. CropLogic, listed on the ASX in 2017, was suspended from trading in November 2019 and subsequently entered voluntary administration.
Then came a very different proposition.
CropLogic agreed in late 2021 to acquire Rocktivity Gold, giving it exposure to a suite of Western Australian mineral exploration assets. The company recapitalised, installed new leadership, changed its name to Olympio Metals and returned to quotation in May 2022 as a mineral explorer. Today its portfolio extends into North America, led in Canada by the high-grade Bousquet gold project on Quebec’s prolific Cadillac Break.
Agricultural technology became mineral exploration. Forget replacing the planks. Somebody had changed the whole bloody ocean.
The distinction sounds obvious when the transformation is that dramatic. It becomes considerably harder, however, when only some of the planks have moved.
Change the managing director but keep the projects and most investors would call it the same company. Keep management but sell the flagship asset and things become less certain. Change the board, management, assets, capital structure and much of the shareholder register, and at some point, insisting it remains economically the same company because the corporate entity survived starts sounding suspiciously like the legendary Theseus’ renovated ship.
A shareholder who bought a stock at 20 cents can spend years waiting to get their money back even though the company now trading at five cents may bear almost no resemblance to the enterprise they originally bought. The purchase price often survives in the investor’s head even when the investment thesis that produced it has disappeared.
That’s not valuation. That’s archaeology.
The same mistake can work in reverse. A company with a celebrated history may continue receiving credit for success created by an asset it no longer owns or by executives who left years ago.
Reputation can survive longer than the thing that created it. This point raises perhaps the most useful question in this whole philosophical excursion: when a company changes, which planks should investors actually care about?
The obvious answer is the assets. But that’s only part of it.
Management also matters. So does access to capital. Technical capability matters too. So does the shareholder register, corporate culture, balance sheet, jurisdiction and the credibility built with the market.
But some planks are worth considerably more than others.
ASX-listed FireFly Metals is a useful demonstration.
Only a few years ago it was AuTECO Minerals, a company principally associated with the high-grade Pickle Crow gold project in Ontario, where it had built a 2.8-million-ounce gold resource. Then came another transformational move.
In 2023, AuTECO agreed to acquire the Green Bay copper-gold project in Newfoundland in a deal the company itself said would transform it into a significant copper play. The deal raised fresh capital and reshaped senior leadership, with Steve Parsons, who had previously served as an AuTECO non-executive director, becoming managing director and Michael Naylor moving into an executive role.
The Green Bay acquisition was completed in October 2023. AuTECO became FireFly Metals the following month and its ASX code changed in December.
The planks continued moving.
In 2026, FireFly completed the sale of its Ontario gold assets, including Pickle Crow, sharpening its focus on Green Bay. The name changed. The flagship asset changed. The commodity emphasis changed. Executive leadership reshaped and the former flagship assets were moved out of the company. Yet the listed entity continued carrying shareholders, capital, corporate infrastructure and accumulated market history into an enterprise increasingly defined by something entirely different.
That makes FireFly an interesting variation on Theseus because not every plank disappeared. Parsons himself, who has enjoyed significant success in and around the ASX, provides a thread of continuity from the Pickle Crow-era. Corporate knowledge, market relationships and experience can survive even while the asset defining the investment changes.
Perhaps the most valuable plank in some exploration companies isn’t the project at all – maybe it’s the people.
That distinction matters enormously in small caps. Investors understandably spend considerable time studying geology. They pore over grades, widths, metallurgy, resources and maps containing more coloured blobs than Dollar Bill sees after staggering home from the Club after one too many whiskies. But the project doesn’t decide when to raise money. It doesn’t negotiate an acquisition or decide when and where to drill another 20 holes or walk away – people do.
That means two companies can replace exactly the same type of asset with completely different consequences because one management team has demonstrated an ability to source and allocate capital well and the other has demonstrated an ability to raise just enough to keep the directors’ fees flowing.
So perhaps there is a practical Theseus question for investors whenever a small-cap company announces a major acquisition, recapitalisation or strategic pivot: what remains and what has changed? And more pointedly, did management exit stage right with the dusted-up old asset or did they stay – and perhaps more pointedly, did you want them to stay? Now that is a more pointed philosophical question that the old miscreants at Dollar Bill’s Club delight in opining on as they lean back in the big brown leather recliners by the gents toilet entrance at the end of the bar (most don’t like to be far from the toilets due to an occasional bout of mild incontinence).
Dollar Bill is happy to put his cards on the table and say – it’s all about the management, stupid.
In fact, Dollar Bill recently had to explain a version of this to his old drinking buddy at the Club, Leroy, affectionately known as “Leapin’ Leroy” for his almost Olympic-level heroics in exiting his armchair and making it to the toilet door at the Club in a single bound when he suspects his incontinence might have just kicked in.
Old Leroy was waving around a shiny new prospectus at the club the other night, declaring that he is “going long on this one”. It was a gold exploration company looking to hit the boards at the ASX and old Leroy was very worked up over some old drill numbers and soil samples that, at first glance, probably looked OK.
While Dollar Bill usually tries hard not to save too many of the Club crew from themselves, this was one occasion that required some charity, as Leapin’ Leroy was long on pretty much everything he had ever bought since the 1980’s, largely because everything he touched tanked and never recovered.
Dollar Bill was quick to sniff out a familiar WA gold asset dressed up for another outing in the prospectus – the very same asset that had already sunk two listed companies and, worse still, the managing director had previously been “investigated by ASIC” and had himself put his last listed company into Admin. And ten years prior, he oversaw a share price drop in a different company from 22c to just 1c.
Dollar Bill saw the cogs starting to turn in Leapin’ Leroy’s head when posing the question: “Now Leroy, this guy has had more false starts than a clapped-out Victa on a cold morning; what exactly is it that makes you think now that he has YOUR money, he will suddenly start succeeding ?“
Leroy downed his last sip of single malt, leaned back in his chair and mumbled something like, “You know what, Dollar, you just might be right.”
Circling back to the original Ship of Theseus puzzle, there’s one final wrinkle that Dollar Bill reckons makes the whole thing even more troublesome.
Some versions ask what happens if somebody collects all the discarded original planks and rebuilds the old ship, so now there are two.
Which one is Theseus’s?
Small-cap markets can occasionally produce something remarkably similar. A company sells its flagship project and the project continues elsewhere. Management leaves and reappears in another listed vehicle. Technical staff follow. Major shareholders sometimes follow too.
Meanwhile, the original company acquires something new and sails off in another direction.
Where did the identity go? With the listing? With the project? With management?
Dollar Bill says management matters and it matters a lot. Success breeds success and sadly, those who haven’t experienced it in decades of kicking around the ASX are unlikely to now.
As Dollar Bill walked briskly into the night after delivering this message charitably to old Leapin’ Leroy, he reflected on how many others could do with the same advice.
Without Theseus, it is just a ship and not the Ship of Theseus.
Is your ASX-listed company doing something interesting? Contact: mattbirney@bullsnbears.com.au
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