ethical dilemma

Uber can’t be ethical – its business model may not allow it

The firm’s business model suggests something has to give: either its imperial ambitions or its presence in markets which hold it to account.

Following Transport for London’s decision to withdraw Uber’s license to operate in London, there has been a widespread picking over of the ride-hailing app’s recent history – and speculation about its future. A fairly common conclusion is that Uber needs to become more ethical if it is to survive.

I want to suggest that this may not be possible. After the calamitous year Uber has had, it should not be difficult for the company to improve its reputation – simply by avoiding many of the unnecessary embarrassments heaped upon itself in 2017. However, merely improving its PR will not get Uber out of the hole it has now dug for itself. It is looking as though, in many territories such as London, Uber’s survival will rely on concrete measures to better care for both its drivers and customers.

Herein lies the problem. It is not that Uber is incapable of such ethical measures. But for this company specifically, the additional cost that is required to look after drivers and customers is likely to be too great. It all comes down to the economic model on which Uber is built.

There is a great tendency among commentators to focus on the capabilities of Uber’s app, when making sense of its explosive growth across the world. This is a mistake. Figuring that Uber’s app explains its growth is like putting the birthday cake’s appeal down to the candle on top. The engine of Uber’s growth to date has been the $11.5 billion it has raised from banks and investors. The company has never made a profit, and in 2016 alone lost nearly $3 billion.

These are staggering amounts, and to make sense of them we need to understand that Uber’s business model is the same as Amazon’s. Amazon became the dominant retailer on the planet by burning through huge sums of investment on the way to becoming a virtual monopoly over an ever-increasing number of sectors. Only then was Amazon able to exploit its position and generate the vast profits expected by those that funded its expansion. Effectively, what both companies surely rely on is investors subsidising the prices customers pay in the short term, in return for a long-term monopoly with higher prices.

Trump card

In reaching this point, Amazon has itself received plenty of criticism, particularly around its tax arrangements and working conditions in its Orwellian “fulfilment centres” (warehouse to you and me). But Amazon has benefited, throughout its growth, from a trump card: its use of a virtual shopfront makes its overheads significantly lower than bricks-and-mortar rivals.

Uber’s fundamental problem is that it does not have this advantage. In his comprehensive critique of Uber, transport expert Hubert Horan made a key observation about the taxi business, which separates it from retail. While shops have used economies of scale to operate first nationally, then internationally, for over a century, taxi companies have remained highly localised. The reason for this, argued Horan, is that the economies of scale are not there for the taking in this market. Some 85% of taxi company costs are drivers, cars and fuel, and this applies whether you cover one city or a dozen.

Not only does Uber not avoid these costs, its model actually introduces new ones. Most dramatically, the costs of becoming established in new markets is vast. This, particularly the artificial subsidising of passenger fees/driver wages to drive growth, is the source of the $3 billion net loss last year. Ultimately – whether in the form of debt or equity – these sums will have to be paid back, and then some.

Eventually, this additional cost will be felt. Either the driver has to bear it, and so is motivated to look to rival employers, or the customer does, with the same outcome. Uber’s hope must be that when it gets to this stage there will be no alternatives left to chose from.

Elusive goal

So can Uber afford to become ethical? Its growth to date has been so costly that even after the raft of regulations it has managed to sidestep, and measures forcing down the income of its drivers, it is losing billions every year. In a properly regulated market, in which Uber has to give its drivers appropriate employment protections, and passengers the safeguards they need, its goal of apparently aping Amazon becomes even harder.

If Uber can achieve market dominance before it runs out of funding, the inefficiencies in its model cease to matter. Society will simply have to carry the cost of higher fares and lower driver wages.

If it fails to achieve near monopoly status and has to continue to compete against local firms, in my view it has little hope of ever repaying its investors. For customers that travel to different cities frequently, Uber’s scale gives them a clear edge. For everyone else, is an app slightly shinier than its competitors’ clones enough to outweigh the higher fares that should come with Uber’s model?

Should Uber ultimately fail, it would open up the possibility of a taxi company fit for the 21st century. One that harnesses the possibilities of digital technologies not to enrich venture capital, but drivers themselves, in the form of cooperatives like the one currently developing in the absence of Uber in Austin, Texas.

Murray Goulden, Senior Research Fellow, University of Nottingham.

This article first appeared on The Conversation

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Swara Bhasker: Sharp objects has to be on the radar of every woman who is tired of being “nice”

The actress weighs in on what she loves about the show.

This article has been written by award-winning actor Swara Bhasker.

All women growing up in India, South Asia, or anywhere in the world frankly; will remember in some form or the other that gentle girlhood admonishing, “Nice girls don’t do that.” I kept recalling that gently reasoned reproach as I watched Sharp Objects (you can catch it on Hotstar Premium). Adapted from the author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn’s debut novel Sharp Objects has been directed by Jean-Marc Vallée, who has my heart since he gave us Big Little Lies. It stars the multiple-Oscar nominee Amy Adams, who delivers a searing performance as Camille Preaker; and Patricia Clarkson, who is magnetic as the dominating and dark Adora Crellin. As an actress myself, it felt great to watch a show driven by its female performers.

The series is woven around a troubled, alcohol-dependent, self-harming, female journalist Camille (single and in her thirties incidentally) who returns to the small town of her birth and childhood, Wind Gap, Missouri, to report on two similarly gruesome murders of teenage girls. While the series is a murder mystery, it equally delves into the psychology, not just of the principal characters, but also of the town, and thus a culture as a whole.

There is a lot that impresses in Sharp Objects — the manner in which the storytelling gently unwraps a plot that is dark, disturbing and shocking, the stellar and crafty control that Jean-Marc Vallée exercises on his narrative, the cinematography that is fluid and still manages to suggest that something sinister lurks within Wind Gap, the editing which keeps this narrative languid yet sharp and consistently evokes a haunting sensation.

Sharp Objects is also liberating (apart from its positive performance on Bechdel parameters) as content — for female actors and for audiences in giving us female centric and female driven shows that do not bear the burden of providing either role-models or even uplifting messages. 

Instead, it presents a world where women are dangerous and dysfunctional but very real — a world where women are neither pure victims, nor pure aggressors. A world where they occupy the grey areas, complex and contradictory as agents in a power play, in which they control some reigns too.

But to me personally, and perhaps to many young women viewers across the world, what makes Sharp Objects particularly impactful, perhaps almost poignant, is the manner in which it unravels the whole idea, the culture, the entire psychology of that childhood admonishment “Nice girls don’t do that.” Sharp Objects explores the sinister and dark possibilities of what the corollary of that thinking could be.

“Nice girls don’t do that.”

“Who does?”

“Bad girls.”

“So I’m a bad girl.”

“You shouldn’t be a bad girl.”

“Why not?”

“Bad girls get in trouble.”

“What trouble? What happens to bad girls?”

“Bad things.”

“What bad things?”

“Very bad things.”

“How bad?”

“Terrible!!!”

“Like what?”

“Like….”

A point the show makes early on is that both the victims of the introductory brutal murders were not your typically nice girly-girls. Camille, the traumatised protagonist carrying a burden from her past was herself not a nice girl. Amma, her deceptive half-sister manipulates the nice girl act to defy her controlling mother. But perhaps the most incisive critique on the whole ‘Be a nice girl’ culture, in fact the whole ‘nice’ culture — nice folks, nice manners, nice homes, nice towns — comes in the form of Adora’s character and the manner in which beneath the whole veneer of nice, a whole town is complicit in damning secrets and not-so-nice acts. At one point early on in the show, Adora tells her firstborn Camille, with whom she has a strained relationship (to put it mildly), “I just want things to be nice with us but maybe I don’t know how..” Interestingly it is this very notion of ‘nice’ that becomes the most oppressive and deceptive experience of young Camille, and later Amma’s growing years.

This ‘Culture of Nice’ is in fact the pervasive ‘Culture of Silence’ that women all over the world, particularly in India, are all too familiar with. 

It takes different forms, but always towards the same goal — to silence the not-so-nice details of what the experiences; sometimes intimate experiences of women might be. This Culture of Silence is propagated from the child’s earliest experience of being parented by society in general. Amongst the values that girls receive in our early years — apart from those of being obedient, dutiful, respectful, homely — we also receive the twin headed Chimera in the form of shame and guilt.

“Have some shame!”

“Oh for shame!”

“Shameless!”

“Shameful!”

“Ashamed.”

“Do not bring shame upon…”

Different phrases in different languages, but always with the same implication. Shameful things happen to girls who are not nice and that brings ‘shame’ on the family or everyone associated with the girl. And nice folks do not talk about these things. Nice folks go on as if nothing has happened.

It is this culture of silence that women across the world today, are calling out in many different ways. Whether it is the #MeToo movement or a show like Sharp Objects; or on a lighter and happier note, even a film like Veere Di Wedding punctures this culture of silence, quite simply by refusing to be silenced and saying the not-nice things, or depicting the so called ‘unspeakable’ things that could happen to girls. By talking about the unspeakable, you rob it of the power to shame you; you disallow the ‘Culture of Nice’ to erase your experience. You stand up for yourself and you build your own identity.

And this to me is the most liberating aspect of being an actor, and even just a girl at a time when shows like Sharp Objects and Big Little Lies (another great show on Hotstar Premium), and films like Veere Di Wedding and Anaarkali Of Aarah are being made.

The next time I hear someone say, “Nice girls don’t do that!”, I know what I’m going to say — I don’t give a shit about nice. I’m just a girl! And that’s okay!

Swara is a an award winning actor of the Hindi film industry. Her last few films, including Veere Di Wedding, Anaarkali of Aaraah and Nil Battey Sannata have earned her both critical and commercial success. Swara is an occasional writer of articles and opinion pieces. The occasions are frequent :).

Watch the trailer of Sharp Objects here:

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This article was published by the Scroll marketing team with Swara Bhasker on behalf of Hotstar Premium and not by the Scroll editorial team.