The coalition still lacks a compelling vision for growth

Vince Cable's Enterprise Bill is incoherent and insufficient.

Britain and its businesses are crying out for a government that values enterprise and can spur jobs and growth.  We are in the longest double dip recession since the Second World War. Even if the one-off boost from the Olympics finally brings us out recession, and growth was one per cent in the third quarter, as some are predicting, our economy will simply be the same size as a year ago. We desperately need a government firing on all cylinders to help businesses drive the recovery.

In this context, the Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Bill, which returns to the House of Commons this week, could have been a great opportunity to put in place the measures necessary for business to plan ahead with long-term certainty. 

While there are elements in the Bill with which we agree - we support the creation of a Green Investment Bank, which was set in motion under Labour in government, and want to see improvements to the competition regime - like many business groups, we don’t believe it meets the challenges facing our economy.

It will not provide the crucial boost to demand to get us out of recession and into recovery, but it is also a rag tag of a Bill: incoherent, insufficient and sadly reflective of Vince Cable’s own concerns, articulated in his letter to the Prime Minister earlier this year, that the government lacks a compelling vision for the economy.  If you want to find a compelling vision from the government, the Business Secretary's Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Bill is not the place to look.

Take copyright as an example. Britain leads the world in creative and cultural industries.  One of the reasons for this is the strong, robust and clearly-understood legal framework that this country has in place.  But the Bill threatened to undermine this with an unnecessary and unnerving measure which had not been worked through with the sector and which risked undermining growth and investment opportunities, giving the Secretary of State wide-ranging and far-reaching powers to amend, remove or introduce exceptions to copyright without appropriate or adequate Parliamentary scrutiny.  Thankfully, last week, finally, the government saw sense and heeded the concerns we and the creative industries sector had raised, and has performed a welcome U-turn on these proposals.

However, it should use this opportunity to follow this up with U-turns on a whole host of other unwelcome measures within the Bill. Employment rights are a particular concern: ministers seem to believe that protections for people at work are the reason we are in recession, while in reality we already have the third most liberalised labour market in the developed world. According to a recent survey by BIS itself, only five per cent of small firms cited regulation as the main barrier to success, while 37% identified the economy as their primary obstacle.

The government has brought forward no evidence that making it easier to sack people produces economic growth. Indeed, when Adrian Beecroft, author of the No 10-commissioned report on employment law reform, came before MPs to give evidence, he admitted that his views “were based on conversations with a sample of people, which is not statistically valid”. Ever had a conversation with a bloke down the pub? Well that’s how government policy on employees’ rights is being devised.

Ministers’ stance on equality legislation is equally concerning. Quite what measures to water down the Equality and Human Rights Commission have to do with an Enterprise Bill needs questioning. This would seem to be further confirmation, if this were needed, of the return of the nasty party, aided and abetted by the Lib Dems.

It is disingenuous of Cable to suggest that these changes are merely “legislative tidying up”. The Liberal Democrat founder of the BAME Councillors Association, Cllr Lester Holloway, wrote in the Guardian in August that he was “deeply ashamed” at what Vince Cable was doing to the Commission, while Issan Ghazni, Chair of Ethnic Minority Liberal Democrats, has warned Lib Dem ministers that the changes in the Bill “amount to effectively abolishing the EHRC by stealth, which could potentially reverse progress made on equalities over the past decades.”   

The measures in the Bill, together with new amendments tabled last week by the government which weaken protections against third party harassment of employees, in direct contradiction to what Cable said to my Labour colleague Kate Green at the Second Reading of the Bill, will make life even harder for thousands of staff who run the risk of prejudice, abuse and harassment whilst doing their work.

We all want to see the economy grow and businesses thrive. As Chuka Umunna said in a letter to Cable last month, we would be keen to work with the government on a cross party basis to address the issues that matter to firms, to boost recovery and pull this country out of recession. But the rag bag of measures in the Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Bill fails to meet this challenge and, rather than helping business, makes the job of recovering from the recession made in Downing Street that bit more difficult.

The coalition has failed to answer Business Secretary Vince Cable's call for a "compelling vision" for the economy. Photograph: Getty Images.

Iain Wright is the shadow minister for competitiveness and enterprise.

Getty
Show Hide image

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