Instagram + GPS = Cities, Now

A new site shows the beauty of cities around the world. But it also reminds us of the redefinition of privacy

A new site, This is Now, takes photographs from Instagram which are tagged with GPS data, and uses them to show you what is happening in nine cities around the world right now. So Las Vegas is full of drunk people:

Sydney is full of delightful dinners in the evening sun:

And London, inevitably, is all Olympics, all the time:

Two points come to mind. Firstly, this is beautiful. Everyone knows that different cities have different characters, and that that character changes radically throughout the day, but it's hard to demonstrate that short of actually living somewhere. Being able to view the stream of photos posted to instagram really does make those personalities clear, and because its pictures rather than text, it does so in a format you can actually absorb and engage with, rather that being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of data in front of you.

But secondly, how many of these people actually knew that we'd all be seeing their photos when they posted them? Not that there are - as yet - any particularly embarrasing pictures on the streams, at least none that I've seen. But there are people with very few followers who nonetheless ping up, and who can't have expected that people they would never meet will be looking at their holiday snaps from the Olympics. It's a stark reminder that unless something is explicitly private on the internet, it's public.

It doesn't matter if you have no followers on Instagram, if the URL of your blog is only shared with a few family members, or if your flickr account is only used for hosting images for forums: that stuff is public, and you should assume that people you don't know will see it. In fact, you should assume that people you do know, but don't want to see it, will see it. Privacy is not the default, but the exception. This is the way of the world, now.

In this case, at least, we've traded privacy for beauty. Was it worth it?

Some images from Sao Paulo

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.