The Uber problem

Uber set its lighter to the news touchpaper last week. Thousands of people, me included, began shouting ululations to Zaamun Rul, lord of fiery outrage. This was not solely a reaction to Emil Michael’s unacceptable comments, but the latest page in the ‘Uber is evil’ story.

Whatever your take, Uber has a reputation problem. It seems intent on acting like a villain in an HBO drama. But the reaction to Uber seems increasingly disproportionate.

It’s surprisingly hard to separate truth from distortion. The details of any given ‘kerfuffle’ (he says, avoiding the word ‘gaffe’) are murky—a lot of ‘he said, she said’, but people are quick to buy into the ‘evil’ narrative.

I can't decide whether Uber is very bad or very good at PR. It's probably a mixture. Its handling of recent events doesn't paint a picture of competence and control in dealing with its audience. That said, confusion follows each issue, which could be intentional.

I don't believe 'there's no such thing as bad publicity'. Whatever the true intent behind Emil Michael's comments, I don’t believe they helped Uber (though it’s arguable how much it’s hindered), but it impacts our trust.

An Uber you can get behind.
Image: Scott Schiller cc by-nc 2.0

Over the past few months, we've seen sexism, threats against journalists, irresponsible use of customer information, suspect investment tactics, and reputed exploitation of  drivers. Quite the rap sheet.

Some of these—the French ad campaign, Emil Michael's comments—can be rationalised away as the actions of a few; not representative of whole company. I don't buy that. Yes, individuals can ‘go rogue’ and hurt the company, but that doesn't happen in isolation. There must be an environment in which people think it’s acceptable. Even giving Emil Michael the benefit of the doubt on intent, he should have better judgment than to make cracks about digging up dirt on journalists in front of journalists (especially if your company has a track record of creepy behaviour).

These investment tactics are hardly unique to Uber. That doesn’t make them ethically right, and if someone considers it sufficient reason to ditch the service, I won’t argue, but it's dissonant to do so while not applying the same principles to other services. Targeting Uber on this point demonstrates the willingness to accept this narrative—it’s what we’ve come to expect

Irresponsible use of customer's private information bothers me. 'God View' has a ‘legitimate business purpose’, but access is too broad, the name, understandable in the context of a ‘cool’ tech company, sends the wrong message; using it as a backdrop to a party is downright insane. I think it's more indicative of immaturity than Machiavellian intent, but a cavalier approach to this sort of power does not inspire trust.

Treatment of its drivers is the hardest nut to crack. The majority of the articles I have seen from the drivers’ side have praised the service as an enabler, offering a model differentiated from, restrictive existing systems, potentially benefiting consumers and drivers. I’ve seen plenty of criticism too, but it’s largely anecdotal and unsubstantiated. That’s not to say conditions aren’t bad, but there’s little solid information and a good amount that speaks to its benefits. I simply don’t know.

Image: David Holt cc by-sa 2.0

Is all this criticism just a smokescreen—FUD spread by those with an axe to grind? Clearly not, though I’m sure Uber have ruffled enough feathers that the narrative gets amplified.

What interests me the most is how quick we are to grasp the ‘Uber is evil’ angle. Much of what’s happened is typical for other companies. It’s a self-reinforcing effect—stories appear which lead us to distrust Uber; we frame every story that follows in a way that fits our perception.

We’ve seen erstwhile-beloved companies grow up and change the world—Facebook, Google, Twitter, and others—and go from our scrappy tech darlings to figures of suspicion. We saw the flipside to their services at a point when we were over-invested in their infrastructures. Now, the cost of extricating ourselves is too high, and they can act with, if not carte blanche, carte-really-really-light-grey.

In Uber, we see the potential for the same—an ambitious, fast-growing company with a powerful and commanding vision, looking to disrupt the world. But we’ve seen where that path leads, and are far less forgiving. We punish Uber for not only their own missteps, but the sense of violated trust we have built up.

I’m not looking to excuse or forgive Uber (I came to right this post with the opposite intent). We can and should be critical. They provide an amazing service, but we should judge the cost of use in terms of more than the monetary; we should do what we can do avoid being held hostage to a service because we didn’t look at the whole picture. That said, I don’t think the way Uber acts departs much from its peers.

I’m not going to tell you that you should keep using Uber, or if you should deleted it; boycott it; whatever. That’s for you to decide. What I’m telling you is to think critically—weigh it up and reach your own decision. Don’t buy into the ‘Uber is evil’ narrative just because it’s the obvious story that’s presented, but don’t give them a pass either.

That said, our actions matter less and less. Uber’s most recent valuation put them at around 40 billion dollars. I think they’re already past the tipping point, and it would take a pretty huge hit to dent their armour.

A brief history of obsession, in pictures

Going through my iPhoto library, I noticed that (to the surprise of no-one) I had amassed a fairly detailed picture sequence describing the evolution of my desk. It amused me, so I thought I'd share.

A blank canvas.
An excellent desk, by the way—the IKEA Malm with side panel.

Command Centre 1.0, a.k.a. 'humble beginnings.'

Starting to present a workable number of screens. iMac with 19" external monitor. 13" MacBook Air with 24" external monitor.

Sadly, a bad picture. PC tower just visible on the right. 27" and 24" externals to PC and MacBook. iMac present but not visible. Mountain Dew Code Red and Stark Industries wallpaper because: of course.

Command Centre 2.0, a.k.a. 'the tipping point'. PC with 27" and portrait 19" on clamp,  24" freestanding. MacBook Air on Griffin stand. iPad 3 on gooseneck. I still love the shape of this.

Command Centre 3.0, a.k.a. 'panopticon'. 

10 ways to keep your phone charged (that don't work)

1) One word: static. Dress in wool or silk; wear rubber shoes. 

2) Switch off your phone. Turn on only if making or receiving calls. 

3) Alienate your friends and associates. Fewer notifications to drain your power. 

4) Two words: potato batteries. Swap expensive charging gadgets for natural resources and a bit of ingenuity. Four to five potatoes should be good for those ten minutes or so of emergency charge. 

Sustainability AND portability.
Image: Mogans Jaconsen by-nc-nd 2.0

5) Remain within 30ft of a cell tower, so the signal doesn’t have to travel as far. Move in controlled, tactical dashes from tower to tower. 

6) Three words: radioisotope thermoelectric generator. Good enough for NASA; good enough for you. Added bonus: you'll never again be cold (or burdened by a rigid skeleton). 

You won't need to pay for central heating for the next 87.7 years.
Image: Idaho National Laboratory by 2.0

7) Place a ’73%' sticker over the corner of your screen. What the eye can’t see, the mind can't stress over. 

8) Set your brightness to zero. Jab wildly at the screen, and let autocorrect pick up the slack. 

9) Permanently tether your phone to a wall socket; never take it out of the house. It amazes me that no-one’s tried this before. 

10) Buy a Blackberry. You won’t care about your phone. 

PotW—The Wicked + The Divine

It’s rare that read comics when they still being released. I prefer to wait for the trade paperbacks, or read self-contained stories, but The Wicked + The Divine had too many high recommendations to resist.

Every ninety years, twelve gods incarnate as humans. They are loved. They are hated. In two years, they are dead.

The characters, core conceit, and visual style all shine and delivered visceral thrill and gut-punches in a way only comics can. In an odd way, it reminded me of Sandman, but that might only be because there was something goodly Gaimaneque about it. Kieron Gillen and Jamie McElvie have created something to watch. Or read. Keep an eye on.

TW+TD’s first TPB, The Faust Act is out now. Amazon will be releasing it next week, or, support your friendly local comic shop.

More than a shirt

I don't often talk hot-button topics on here (I prefer safe topics, like books. In the whole of human history, I can’t recall one instance where books have ever caused trouble), but something happened this week which stuck in my craw (yes, I have a craw, it's where I store all my repressed rage).

Dr Matt Taylor, part of the Rosetta mission team, was interviewed wearing a shirt that depicted numerous women wearing decidedly un-numerous clothing. This sparked condemnation of the 'sexist' shirt, followed by a predictable counterlash defending Dr Taylor and his choice of shirt and lamenting the 'oversensitive nature' of (variously): social justice warriors, feminists, offence-seekers, and the brigade of political correctionist fun-ruiners.

I have seen three main points of complaint against shirt-based criticism:

1) The backlash and its effect on Taylor (he later apologised in tears) was excessive and overly harsh

2) The shirt is not a big deal—there are more important things to focus on

3) The shirt is not sexist

1) Was the backlash too harsh?

Probably. This big scary beast we call the 'internet' is capable of many beautiful and terrifying things; it speaks with many voices, which sometimes resolve to the buzzing of a thousand angry flies. I don't like the ‘net mob mentality, but the discussion does not end with the condemnation how the criticism was presented. We can condemn his treatment without dismissing the issues raised. This is no longer about Matt Taylor, nor his shirt.

2) ‘The shirt is not a big deal’

This comment is stupid. Whatever the topic, it always appears. 

'Why are people wasting time talking about the shirt? We just landed a robot on a frickin' asteroid.'

'Why are we wasting money landing on a stupid asteroid? We should spending that money to build robots with famine-blasting lasers.' 

'Why are we wasting money on lasers that can only solve world hunger? We should be trying to stop the thing that really matters—the inevitable heat-death of the universe? Why does no-one care about that?'

It’s an inherently pointless argument that gets thrown up all the time (literally regurgitated like the indigestible garbage that it is). It's reductive. If you concede to that logic, you can dismiss anything on the grounds that there's always a bigger fish in need of frying.

Most of all, it bothers me that people think there are a finite amount of fucks we can give, so we better spend them wisely. If that were true (spoiler warning: it isn't), I’d suggest not wasting any listening to people who offer that opinion (incidentally, the same applies for anyone who unironically uses the term 'social justice warrior' or 'feminazi'). We can hold many discordant ideas about many different things at once. It's one of my favourite things about people. Our concern is not zero-sum.

3) ‘The shirt isn't sexist’

This is the roiling meat at the centre of the issue. Much of the commentary on the topic (particularly in the mainstream media) made little attempt to characterise why the shirt is sexist. Even those taking the stance that it is largely focussed on the implications and wider impact—for example, on women in STEM fields. To be clear: that's really bloody important and relevant, but it’s not what this post is about. For me, that narrative skipped a step, which left some people behind.

The shirt is not sexist because it is sexualised. Sexualised imagery is not inherently sexist (though there are many ways in which it can take a flying leap into 'sexist bullshit' territory). The key factor is context, both in terms of placement and the wider social context.

I have no problem with sexualised imagery in and of itself, but I do take issue with people wearing clothing emblazoned with it. That's not a repressed, prudish, 'seeing sexy things in a public place makes me uncomfortable', prurient reservation; it's because putting sexualised imagery into the position of a slogan or decoration is a reduction. It's turning someone (and that someone is usually a woman) into a talisman, a banner.

Even that I do not see as inherently sexist in an abstract sense. Wearing a t-shirt depicting a favourite actor, singer, politician (male or female) is still a reduction of that person by the same definition, but wouldn’t be called sexist. However, when the focus is placed squarely on a woman’s body above all else, it takes on a different character. 

If we lived in a society with more mature attitudes towards sex and gender—one not so rife with sexism (and many other ‘-isms’) on every level (and it really, really is)—if we were healthier in our attitude towards women's bodies in particular, the act of wearing clothing like this wouldn’t be loaded with such a momentously-fucking-heavy context. But we don't, and it is. Women go through life with their worth constantly evaluated in terms of their appearance. That makes all the difference for how we interpret this. It plays into a wider narrative of sexism.

---

Sometimes, reactions can be overzealous or overbearing, but that does not mean that people are simply looking for low-hanging offence fruit so they can feast on its delicious flesh because that's how they feed and grow and incubate their fun-sucking spawn.

We don’t have to condone the way something is expressed to accept the truth behind it. We can totally disagree with the torrent of abuse while accepting that there is a point somewhere in there. We can reach that conclusion on our own, in spite of all the shouting on both sides.

This one thing is not earth-shattering. It’s sadly sidelined a great achievement, but the fact that it has does not magically make the issue cease to exist. It’s not just about the shirt. The shirt is not single-sleevedly widening the gender pay gap or shutting women out of science. It shouldn’t have merited the attention it received, but the tectonic plates of opinion grinding against each other were sufficient to raise an earthquake.

A shirt can’t do that on its own—it’s a thread in a much bigger tapestry.

It’s not just about the shirt.

Disconnection

I have a rocky relationship with Facebook. There are things about it that I loathe. The impenetrablility and whimsy of its privacy policies; its UI and UX; the sometimes overbearing self-reflection. But I've always felt somewhat hostage to it. I've considered leaving, but I know that I would miss the content, the events, the random discussions, the connections to people which is its great redeeming quality.

I think I've found my best way past this. 

A couple of weeks ago, I deleted the Facebook app from my mobile devices. This has several important effects. Firstly, no notifications following you around. If I want Facebook, I have to go to it. It does not seek me out. Secondly, because I don’t log into Facebook on my work machine, this means I generally only check it when I’m at home (or if I’m carrying my personal laptop around, which actually isn’t all that often).

It has surprised me just how much of an effect this has had. At first, I found myself with the impulse to check Facebook when out and about. This quickly dissipated, to the extent that it has now become almost an afterthought. I enjoy using it a lot more, but I don’t feel compelled to check it on any given day (and will now regularly forget to, whereas before I used to sometimes automatically try to open Facebook while I was already on Facebook…).

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we are slaves to social media, but the feeling has been oddly liberating. Facebook has become more enjoyable as a consequence. The one exception is when I'm travelling for more than a couple of days. If I'm on a different time zone, I like to have an easier connection to people!

The other thing I’ve started doing—or, more properly, stopped doing—is ‘liking’ things on Facebook. Nothing at all. It’s weird what an ingrained, easy reflex this had become. By not ‘liking’ things, I’ve forced myself to be more engaged with content (or not!)—it pushes me towards actually commenting, sharing, or just leaving it be.

Everyone I've spoken to about this—which started as an experiment—has liked the idea, and I've even induced (without much persuasion) some others to try the same thing. I found the whole thing entirely positive. It's made me realise that I'm not 'missing' anything (that can't wait or afford to be missed altogether).

PotW—Some Kind of Fairy Tale

I heard about Graham Joyce in the worst way there is to discover an amazing author—through the sad news of their death. Having heard some personal stories from people who had known or met Graham, I made a note to make a effort to read something of his in the near future. He sounded like a wonderful person. One of the great thing about art is that, even if you hear things which make you wish you had known them only after it’s too late, they have been decent enough to leave a part of themselves behind. 

Last week, I finished Some Kind of Fairy Tale on Audible. A woman returns home after a long, unexplained absence, and her family has to come to terms with this strange reappearance. As much as ‘modern fairytale’ is an overused tag, this truly is that. It enchants, sings; it touches and affects. It sparkles with a glinting light that will not let you be. Read it.

Air travel

What is the future of long-distance transport? I'm particularly interested at this point as I prepare to land back in London, having spectacularly failed to sleep for any appreciable amount of time.

Air travel is captive to the cost concerns of mass transit, making for a singularly uncomfortable environment (unless you're one of a fortunate few), and I don't see any real pressure for that to change.

Planes may evolve, but the drive for economy will always limit the amount of comfortable space for passengers, even as the technology evolves. So, what's the next step in consumer mass transit?

I guess the best hope is for super-fast long-distance air travel, so that, even if the level of discomfort remains, it is fleeting.

My bloodshot eyes look forward to seeing this future. 

Pick of the Week – Mechanical Keyboards

Last year, I had a few ‘App of the week’ posts, designed to be easily-digestable (and easily-producible) pieces of content to keep the blog ticking over. While I’m actually rather light on good app recommendations week over week, I still like the idea. So instead, here’s a ‘pick of the week’: a thing that has caught my interest in some way that merits sharing with you in short form. 

I've become a keyboard snob. For years, an enlightened few whispered to me of the joys of the mechanical keyboard. The consistency of the key-press. The joy of the 'clack' and the 'click'. I held out, disbelieving.   

Then, this year, I caved. My parents presented the amazing gift of a Corsair K70 Cherry Red keyboard. It still brings me utter joy every time I type on it. I feel like I am throwing my fingertips at the keys, rather than making timid little button pushes.

A month later, I ditched my spongy work keyboard as well. I couldn't stand it any more. Its mechanical replacement is not as nice as my Corsair, but it has still made my work typing so much better.

I'm visiting our San Francisco office this week, and I'm using a keyboard so spongy, it should have its own Nickelodeon show. I don't know whether each keystroke will elicit a result on screen or whether I'm just doing finger exercises. It sucks. I miss my stompy keyboard. 

If you type a lot, consider a mechanical keyboard. Sure, they're more expensive, but they should last you longer anyway. Figure out which type of switch is best for your need and typing style and go from there. Many are marketed as gaming keyboards, but don't be deceived. If you're a habitual key-tickler, they're for you.

Long haul flights

Long-haul flights are a curiosity of the modern age. In a time when we're generally over-stimulated, bombarded with media, communications, and distractions every minute of the day, being forced to confront our own sweet selves for upwards of eight hours at a stretch is somewhat of a terrifying anomaly. The fact that it is the only feasible means of long-distance personal travel is the only reason we’re willing to put up with it.

What’s more, we do everything we can to just get it over with. People try their best to sleep through it, or else cram back-to-back movies to pass the time in the least obtrusive way possible. That’s not a criticism; it’s a generally unpleasant environment to be trapped for that length of time, and people will do whatever they need to make it through. It struck me on this trip more than others, though, just how far apart it stands from every other moment of our regular lives. Maybe I’m worse at this than others, but suddenly finding yourself cut off from the ever-flowing stream of information that runs past our finger tips day and night is surprisingly jolting.

This is quite possibly a good thing—I’m not trying to say that being cut off from the internet or live TV for more than a few hours is some crisis of the modern age (it’s something I increasingly relish as a time to read, and occasionally, when there’s space, write). It does, however, throw the incessant nature of our lives (okay, I’m generalising—my life, at least) into sharp relief.

I try hard to cram a great deal of ‘stuff’ into my day-to-day life, and regard time when I’m not, in a broadly identifiable sense, doing something to be partly wasted. While it can be great, I am starting to find this somewhat unhealthy. I beat myself up excessively about downtime which is probably needed and don’t always set aside enough time to just be thinking. 

Long flights represent the best and worst of this—I variably see it as time to be filled as productively as possible (and subsequently curse myself for the amount of time that I could have spent reading, for instance, even though I felt like crap and sleeping was a better idea), or I allow myself that room to breathe. Each flight tends to have one character, though.

You may find all this deeply disinteresting, or, alternatively, intriguingly revealing of a character flaw. It doesn’t really matter. This was written to fill some time on a flight.