The Times - UK (2020-07-31)

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24 1GM Friday July 31 2020 | the times


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Tickets for


the lido are


harder to get


than Glasto


T


he new early-morning goal
at our house is to not only
be awake but functioning
by 6am, with fingers
poised over the “Book
Now” button on the website for the

pool in the village of Hathersage in
the Peak Park.
I always thought the lido, which
just had a refurb and celebrated its
84th birthday, was probably the
best in the country and I am not
alone.
Corona rules finally allow it to be
open but with very few swimmers at
any one time. Competition is fierce
for the hourly and half-hourly
tickets released at 6am a week ahead
on a day-by-day basis. “Up at 5.45am
and still didn’t get a ticket,” reports
one would-be swimmer. “It’s like
booking for Glasto!”
Amazingly, and I am still not sure
how, I bagged two half-hour tickets
last week for my daughter and me.

Tech giants that


crush competition


should be split up


Oliver Kamm


P


oliticians are rarely diffident
before the cameras. David
Cicilline, a Democratic

congressman, said this week:
“Our founders would not
bow before a king. Nor should we
bow before the emperors of the
online economy.” He and fellow
members of the House judiciary
subcommittee on antitrust were
questioning the bosses of Amazon,
Apple, Facebook and Google.
Cicilline’s words may have seemed
portentous but they were apt. The
tech giants wield unaccountable
power and curb competition. They
do not work in consumers’ interests.
They give capitalism a bad name.
Armed with the conclusions of a
long investigation into tech company
practices, congressional critics are
seeking tougher regulation but that

is a limited aim. The tech giants
should be confronted and broken up.
For all its theatre, America’s
adversarial political culture, along
with the EU’s tough investigations, is
a model for Britain to follow in
holding these corporate behemoths
to account.
It is a mere truism that the world
has been transformed by online
technology. The digital age, from
grocery deliveries to dating apps, has
improved lives and expanded
consumer choice. But the corporate
environment has not stayed the
same. Though ostensibly there are
low barriers to entry provided you
have a good idea or product, there is
copious evidence that the tech giants

exploit their monopoly power to
suppress competition. Because
Amazon is the dominant global force
in online retailing, other firms have
to go through the Amazon
marketplace to reach consumers.
Their own margins are at the mercy
of whatever cut Amazon takes. So far
from being the champion of the
consumer, the tech companies either
gobble up their competitors or
suppress them through predatory
pricing and other expedients.
The longstanding retort of the tech
companies is that they are being
targeted by politicians not because of
malpractice but because of success.
They have grown big because they
offer consumers what they want and

they strive to maintain competitive
advantage through constant
innovation. It’s a threadbare case that
not even the companies themselves
can seriously believe. The data
harvesting scandal, in which the
Facebook information of as many as
87 million people was improperly
shared, demonstrated that they wield
power without responsibility.
A century ago, the great
muckraking American journalist Ida
Tarbell exposed the scandal by which
Standard Oil, in collusion with the
railroad companies, set out to crush
competition. “They had never played
fair,” she wrote, “and that ruined
their greatness for me.” Their
descendants are among us.

Our government seems incapable of being transparent about anything from virus testing to tax


Britain needs to cure its addiction to secrecy


too fat to want to kill mice (MPs
sometimes truly know nothing). But
now Sir Lindsay Hoyle, Mr Speaker,
has just gone and done the obvious
thing. His cat, Patrick, who seemed
“posh” and so was named after the
Tory grandee Patrick Cormack, one
of my favourite subjects, is now
dining out in sumptuous style.

Grave warning


O


ne of the pluses of the
lockdown was uncut verges
and graveyards. I loved the
beauty of Bakewell churchyard after
rain and wind, the grass swaying
among the gravestones. Others think
it is untidy but surely this is the way
things should be, good for wildlife

and wonderful too. Sadly it’s now
been cut, so I can once again see my
favourite gravestone, which belongs
to Robert Papes, who died in 1787,
and his pointed epitaph: “Remember
Man, as thou past by/ As thou once
was, so once was I/ Remember thou
must die”. Cheery, hey?

K sera sera


W


ord of the week is the
k-heavy “kakapo”, a large
flightless New Zealand
parrot which is nocturnal, ground-
dwelling and endangered or, if you
want to use a k-word, nearly kaput.

where products are made and by
whom. Some have gone further,
embracing what has become known
as “ultra transparency”. The US
clothing company Everlane publishes
breakdowns of the cost of each of its
products: materials, labour and even
its profit margin: something that
might once have been considered
corporate suicide.
Yet while British ministers preach
the gospel of transparency —

“embrace data to deliver for the
public,” Steve Barclay, the Treasury
chief secretary, urged Whitehall this
week — their own efforts are
conspicuously half-baked. Indeed,
few departments guard their data
more jealously than the Treasury,
which has dribbled out minimal
information about the biggest
economic intervention in
generations.
We know astoundingly little about
how many people from which
sectors are still being furloughed,
whereas the French government has
published detailed, up-to-date data
of far greater clarity on their scheme.
The Treasury is not alone. The Bank
of England has been basing many of

its recent economic scenarios on
payments data it sees as it monitors
the financial system, yet it refuses to
release that data routinely.
It is all quite telling. Some
government departments don’t trust
the data (testing), others don’t trust
us with the data (pretty much
everything else). Either way, it’s not
good enough. No one is suggesting
we go the way of Norway or Hong
Kong. Even so, you don’t build trust
by hiding stuff from people. More
transparency, please, and soon.

out on transparency like Belgium but
at the very least it needs to be clear
about what it’s doing and why.
The muddle over quarantines is
one example of how not to do it.
Why do you have to quarantine
when coming back from Spain but
not from the Bahamas, where the
infection rate is nearly twice the
Spanish rate? There is probably a
reasonable answer somewhere in the
data — an equation involving

tourism numbers and Covid-19
prevalence — but the government
has been so vague that everyone is
suddenly terrified about going on
holiday anywhere. Perhaps that’s the
plan but this feels like an odd way of
going about it.
For transparency builds trust and
trust matters. That’s a lesson the
corporate world has absorbed in
recent years. Once upon a time
businesses closely guarded details of
employees’ salaries but these days
some tech companies, most notably
Netflix, publish their senior workers’
salaries — not because they have to
but because they want to. They
believe openness rather than secrecy
is the route to a better workplace.

A few years ago the Norwegian
government went one step further
and published every citizen’s salary
and tax return online. Anyone can
look up anyone else’s salary, though
doing so will alert the person whose
details are being inspected. It is hard
to imagine such a policy taking root
here, though the Norwegians insist it
has helped combat tax evasion and
bolstered equality. In the face of
concerns about workers’ labour
conditions, many fashion retailers
now produce granular details of

N


ot long ago an old friend
emailed me from hospital

in Hong Kong. “I’ve got
Covid-19,” he announced.
Happily his symptoms
were mild; indeed he might never
have realised he’d caught it had he
not been tested after flying back in
from London. Anyway, he pointed
me towards some data on the Hong
Kong government’s website.
“Look! You can see me on there.”
And sure enough there he was in the
spreadsheet — not his name but a
patient number, age, sex and plenty
of other details: where he picked up
the disease, date of onset, status and
so on. The Hong Kong government
even has a map showing the
apartment block where each Covid-
19 patient lives.

The data is even richer and more
transparent in Singapore; in South
Korea whenever someone tests
positive the authorities send alerts to
those living nearby with the infected
person’s age, gender and even a log
of their recent movements: this
nightclub, that church, that public
lavatory. Authorities believe that this
semi-public shaming helps explain
the success of the country’s test and
trace system. It is rather spooky and
raises all sorts of questions about
civil liberties, yet these strategies are

hardly confined to Asia. You can
download details of every patient in
Belgium who has contracted the
disease. Some South American
countries are doing similar stuff and,
as we face another surge in
infections, it is probably only a
matter of time before public shaming
becomes the norm in Europe.
It’s worth saying that these policies
hardly correlate with Covid-19
success: Belgium has one of Europe’s

highest death tolls per capita and
Hong Kong is facing a third wave
and a tight lockdown. Yet it is
instructive to compare the level of
data transparency with Britain’s.
Here, the collection and production
of statistics has been so shambolic
that we are still unclear about
precisely how many people have had
the disease or been tested for it, let
alone a public database of every
single one of them. The real question

is not whether the government
would ever go down the same road
but whether they’re capable of it.
This stuff matters because data is
central to the pandemic. Surviving
the next 12 months as a society and
an economy will mean clamping
down hard wherever the disease is
detected and doing that means
marshalling the data and acting on it.
It means building trust in the data:
after all, local lockdowns won’t work
if no one buys into them. The
government may not want to go all-

We know astoundingly


little about furlough


numbers in each sector


The omnipresent Derbyshire rain let
up briefly as we swam, occasionally
flipping over to do the backstroke
and watch the birds cavort with the
clouds. Heaven.

My lost letter


M


odern predicaments No 510.
About a month ago, the top
of the letter “k” pinged off my
laptop keyboard. I didn’t panic. After
all it is not a vowel. Indeed, as
everyone should know, “k” is
only the 19th most used letter of
the alphabet (followed by v, x, z,
j, q) and I had no plans to write
a novel about k-heavy topics
such as knickknacks.
But I have found

writing with a taped-
on “k” to be a total
pain and so this
week I decided to
try to fix it. Not
easy. The HP
helpline was not
(surprise
surprise) that
helpful.
It
seems
that
it is impossible to buy
just one letter and it
may not even be
possible to buy the right keyboard
just to harvest the “k”. Krazee or
what?

Weird title fight


N


ews from The Author magazine
reveals the winners of the
Diagram prize for the oddest
book title, which is now in its 41st
year. The top spot went to
The Dirt Hole and its
Variations which you
will be pleased to know
is to do with trapping
animals. Second place
was Ending the War
on Artisan Cheese by
Dr Catherine
Donnelly and third
was for a book of
“naughty” Bible
stories called Noah

Gets Naked. What a
list! Top that, Booker
prize.

House
mouse

A


key lesson of
politics is that
common sense
counts for almost nothing,
so I was shocked to hear
that the ban on cats in
the vermin-infested
House of Commons
has ended.
As sketchwriter,
I despaired at MPs
dithering over whether a cat
would make them sneeze or get

Ann Treneman Notebook


@anntreneman


G


I


Ed Conway


@edconwaysky

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