Rogue Mail: a demo by the Communication Workers Union against Royal Mail privatisation, October 2013
Show Hide image

The Royal Mail underselling shows this was privatisation through ideology not pragmatism

If ministers had held out for a better price, they could have raised an extra £750m.

Money is still a bit tight down at the Treasury – so any deal under which the taxpayer loses out to the tune of three quarters of a billion quid might be considered just a tad embarrassing.

That's certainly what the National Audit Office (NAO) thinks. Last October the government sold 70 per cent of the Royal Mail at a price of 330p a share. By the end of that day, those shares were already trading at 455p, and in January they hit a peak of 615p (they’ve since fallen back a bit). In other words, if ministers had held out for a better price, the sale could have fetched an extra £750m.

The watchdog’s boss, Amyas Morse, doesn’t really go in for fiery language but his comment was quietly damning nonetheless. The business department’s approach was “marked by deep caution,” he said, “the price of which was borne by the taxpayer”.

Anyone expecting ministers to be don sackcloth and ashes about all this, though, will have been sorely disappointed, and on this morning’s Today programme, the business minister Michael Fallon was utterly unrepentant. “The audit office report actually recognises that we achieved our objectives,” he explained to an increasingly exasperated Jim Naughtie. “It was the biggest privatisation for 20 years, we had to be careful about it to make sure that we got it away [and] we did get it away.”

In other words, the government was so frightened that the deal wouldn’t come off at all that it cheerfully underpriced it to make sure that it did. Fallon was basically admitting to exactly what the NAO had accused him of: privatisation was an end in itself, and we should consider ourselves lucky that the government succeeded in flogging off the family silver at all.

There are a number of reasons why a minister might favour privatisation. To raise money for other things. To outsource risk. To duck responsibility, by giving them someone else to blame.

For many on the right, though, it’s a matter of genuine faith. Services will always do better under private sector leadership, they think, because business types are clever and public servants suck. Hulking government bureaucracies are always less efficient and responsive than equally hulking corporate ones.

Never mind that most of the privatised railways are drowning in public subsidy, while the East Coast Main Line has started turning a profit since being taken back into public ownership: the latter needs to be re-privatised as quickly as possible because, well, it just does. Private good; public bad.

(There’s another view, common in some parts of the left, which states that business is inherently evil, the state inherently great, and that any move from the latter to the former will inevitably lead to the collapse of civilisation as we know it. This is, indeed, equally silly. It’s just not what I’m writing about right now, so there.)

The thing is, some privatisations were probably no bad thing. Yes, the shareholders are only interested in profits, and most corporate execs these days demand the kinds of salaries that’d enable them to turn their basement into the Batcave for a laugh. Get things right, though, and the government can use all that to its advantage, to encourage innovation, or investment, or difficult decisions for which ministers lack the guts. To go back to the railways, the lines into Marylebone station are run vastly better these days than they ever were run under British Rail. Sometimes, it can work.

But sometimes, it doesn't. Sometimes government mucks up the way it structures its contracts. And sometimes a service is just so unprofitable that the only way of ensuring it exists at all is for the taxpayer to suck it up and pay for the bloody thing.

Which side of this divide the Royal Mail privatisation will come down on is not exactly clear: cleverer people than I don’t seem to agree. But I’d be more confident about it if Michael Fallon hadn’t just suggested that the government’s goal was privatisation at any cost. Getting these things right requires careful thought and lengthy negotiation. If ministers couldn’t hold out for a better share price, then how can we believe they held out for any of that?

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.

Getty
Show Hide image

The deafening killer - why noise will be the next great pollution scandal

A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. 

Our cities are being poisoned by a toxin that surrounds us day and night. It eats away at our brains, hurts our hearts, clutches at our sleep, and gnaws at the quality of our daily lives.

Hardly a silent killer, it gets short shrift compared to the well-publicised terrors of air pollution and sugars food. It is the dull, thumping, stultifying drum-beat of perpetual noise.

The score that accompanies city life is brutal and constant. It disrupts the everyday: The coffee break ruined by the screech of a line of double decker buses braking at the lights. The lawyer’s conference call broken by drilling as she makes her way to the office. The writer’s struggle to find a quiet corner to pen his latest article.

For city-dwellers, it’s all-consuming and impossible to avoid. Construction, traffic, the whirring of machinery, the neighbour’s stereo. Even at home, the beeps and buzzes made by washing machines, fridges, and phones all serve to distract and unsettle.

But the never-ending noisiness of city life is far more than a problem of aesthetics. A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. Recent studies have linked noise pollution to hearing loss, sleep deprivation, hypertension, heart disease, brain development, and even increased risk of dementia.

One research team compared families living on different stories of the same building in Manhattan to isolate the impact of noise on health and education. They found children in lower, noisier floors were worse at reading than their higher-up peers, an effect that was most pronounced for children who had lived in the building for longest.

Those studies have been replicated for the impact of aircraft noise with similar results. Not only does noise cause higher blood pressure and worsens quality of sleep, it also stymies pupils trying to concentrate in class.

As with many forms of pollution, the poorest are typically the hardest hit. The worst-off in any city often live by busy roads in poorly-insulated houses or flats, cheek by jowl with packed-in neighbours.

The US Department of Transport recently mapped road and aircraft noise across the United States. Predictably, the loudest areas overlapped with some of the country’s most deprived. Those included the south side of Atlanta and the lowest-income areas of LA and Seattle.

Yet as noise pollution grows in line with road and air traffic and rising urban density, public policy has turned a blind eye.

Council noise response services, formally a 24-hour defence against neighbourly disputes, have fallen victim to local government cuts. Decisions on airport expansion and road development pay scant regard to their audible impact. Political platforms remain silent on the loudest poison.

This is odd at a time when we have never had more tools at our disposal to deal with the issue. Electric Vehicles are practically noise-less, yet noise rarely features in the arguments for their adoption. Just replacing today’s bus fleet would transform city centres; doing the same for taxis and trucks would amount to a revolution.

Vehicles are just the start. Millions were spent on a programme of “Warm Homes”; what about “Quiet Homes”? How did we value the noise impact in the decision to build a third runway at Heathrow, and how do we compensate people now that it’s going ahead?

Construction is a major driver of decibels. Should builders compensate “noise victims” for over-drilling? Or could regulation push equipment manufacturers to find new ways to dampen the sound of their kit?

Of course, none of this addresses the noise pollution we impose on ourselves. The bars and clubs we choose to visit or the music we stick in our ears. Whether pumping dance tracks in spin classes or indie rock in trendy coffee shops, people’s desire to compensate for bad noise out there by playing louder noise in here is hard to control for.

The Clean Air Act of 1956 heralded a new era of city life, one where smog and grime gave way to clear skies and clearer lungs. That fight still goes on today.

But some day, we will turn our attention to our clogged-up airwaves. The decibels will fall. #Twitter will give way to twitter. And every now and again, as we step from our homes into city life, we may just hear the sweetest sound of all. Silence.

Adam Swersky is a councillor in Harrow and is cabinet member for finance. He writes in a personal capacity.