Are ISPs the problem or the solution to getting broader broadband?

We need fast broadband, and we need it everywhere. But is it harder to do with one company controlling a third of the market?

One of the most exciting things about growing a business in the 21st Century is that thanks to the Internet, you have the ability to reach an infinite audience. In the UK we're particularly good at it. We generate 8 per cent of our GDP, £120 billion, through the Internet.

But of course, to start a business on the Internet, you need have to have access to it first. That's why the Lords Communications Committee report into the Government's plans for Superfast Broadband has struck a chord with so many. Current Government plans are to install 25Mbps high speed broadband across 90 per cent of the UK and a minimum of 2Mbps broadband for everyone by 2015. They hope to achieve this through the Broadband Delivery UK (BDUK) Project. But the Committee's report argues that Government is too focussed on speed, and it needs to change its focus from a 'high-speed' network to a 'high-spec' network. A core part of the concern is the affect the project, and the way it has been run, will have on competition in broadband provision.

According to Ofcom's figures the market is currently split between four key players BT (29.3 per cent), Virgin Media (20.2 per cent), TalkTalk (18.5 per cent), Sky (17.9 per cent) and the rest split up between smaller providers (14.2 per cent). But there are concerns, both at home and from the European Commission, that the BDUK project will serve to exacerbate BT's dominance in the market. Currently only BT is the only provider that has successfully bid for regional funding as part of BDUK, with the nine other interested parties withdrawing due to concerns over costs and the complication involved in providing fibre connections.

The problem of providing ensuring competition in the broadband market is by no means easy, particularly with the historical position of BT. Many other countries across the world are coming face to face with the sheer cost required to invest in this technology, versus the need for competition. As suggested by the Lords report there are a number of changes that could be made to the BDUK project to improve this, including potential open access fibre-optic hubs and public money only being awarded should be dependent on installing fibre to a local level rather than to the cabinet. They also propose "fibre hubs", which would allow neighbourhoods who set up their own networks to retain control rather than being required to hand ownership to BT and could connect the BT exchanges at a set price.

Apart from changes to the BDUK project there are other measures that could be taken to encourage competition that do not involve additional funding to the BDUK project. Ofcom has done good work in getting BT to reduce the cost of wholesale broadband and allow other ISPs access to its local exchanges in areas where BT is the sole provider, and ideally the cost would be reduced further. The Government can also, in light of its goals to deliver a better broadband, reconsider its decision from 2010 to scrap the review into the fibre tax which disadvantages other providers who must pay per metre of "dark fibre" to be lit.

Providing good competition to allow consumer choice is not just important for levels of service, speed and reliability as there are a number of wider issues that mean competition is increasingly important. Running parallel to the discussion over investment in broadband infrastructure we have the net neutrality debate. After many months of discussion ISPs have recently signed up to a voluntary “Open Internet Code of Practice”, which commits to them to providing full and open internet access and not block access to legal services which are bandwidth heavy, such as iPlayer or 4OD in the name of traffic management.

Most of the ISPs operating in the UK have signed up, including the dominant provider BT. Unfortunately Virgin Media, the second largest provider have not, citing issues with the wording of the code. The implementation of a voluntary code of practice relies upon consumers having real choice in their broadband connection, and the option to leave their provider if they do not comply with the code. Were the BDUK project to endanger future prospects for increased competition this would undermine the provision of an open internet.

And increasingly ISPs are being asked to take on more and more issues. While we want them to focus on providing us the best provision ISPs are currently being asked to look into; enforcing the Digital Economy Act and policing Internet users through a system of reports and warning letters; cooperate with the Government consultation looking into implementing 'default on' blocks for adult content; cooperate with the Home Office plans as part of the Communications Data Bill; and all while trying to put into place a better network for their customers who pay them for reliable access and good speeds.

We need to ensure that the UK has good enough Internet infrastructure to support our ambitions and not only compete with Europe, but with the world. The Government needs to decide where ISPs priorities should lie and consider whether it truly wants a broadband network fit for the future.

Sara Kelly is the Policy and Development Manager for the Coalition for a Digital Economy.

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad