A Victoria line train. Photo: Wikicommons
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Lessons transit authorities shouldn't be learning from TfL

Like "fare hikes are a good thing". 

On Monday, the US website CityLab ran an interview with Shashi Verma, director of customer experience at Transport for London, under the headline “5 Lessons US Transit Systems Should Learn from London”. The gist of the piece was that running the transport system like a for-profit private company was the best best thing to happen to Londoners since Boris Bikes or sliced bread, and those in the US should be green with envy.

Tonight at 8pm, London Underground power workers from three different unions are due to stage an eight-day walkout in protest against working conditions and pensions plans. While this doesn’t necessarily contradict everything Verma said, it does at least highlight the downside of a (his words) “relentless push” to increase revenue and lower operating costs.

There are aspects of TfL’s £50m restructuring plan, announced last November, that impress: 24-hour weekend services and the possibility of unmanned trains are the biggies. But Verma’s attempt to portray the closure of ticket offices as a positive, rather than something that’s caused widespread protest from staff and passengers alike, is little more than spin.

What’s even odder is his success in re-framing constant inflation-busting fare rises as A Good Thing. The CityLab piece names “Make fare increases routine” as an apt lesson for US Transit authorities, explaining:

There are loud objections over there just as there are here, but the critical difference is that TfL has set an expectation in the minds of travellers, not to mention politicians, that fares must rise on an annual basis.”

Londoners may be rather less convinced that this is a lesson worth exporting. This graph pits consumer price inflation against the percentage year-on-year rise of the price of a single cash ticket (that is, those not paid for via the Oyster automated ticketing system) within zones 1-4. (We know most commuters don't pay cash fares, but due to the Oyster's short history they're the most easily comparable figures.) 

 

Two big rises – of a pound each, in 2007 and 2011 – account for most of the overall increase. If you stack those percentage rises on top of each other, the concession to a minimal, inflation-level rise for this year doesn’t look so impressive. The CityLab piece applauds London's gradual fare increases, as opposed to US Transit Authorities' tactic of holding off until fares take a big jump, but this graph shows that this isn't always the case. We’ve gone from £3 for a single in zones 1-4 in 2004 to £5.70 in 2014. And, last week, the National Union for Rail, Maritime and Transport Workers (RMT) claimed that fares will rise another 24 per cent by the end of the decade; that’s over a third faster than the expected rise in earnings.

Don’t get us wrong – some of TfL’s flashy improvements, such as those fancy screens on bus stops or contactless paymens, are great. And it would be handy to get the tube home after a messy night out in Camden.

But the story’s just a little bit more complicated than Shashi Verma would like to make out. Contrary to what he might like American transport bosses to think, Londoners are not exactly delighted with the tube, either. 

This is a preview of our new sister publication, CityMetric. We'll be launching its website soon - in the meantime, you can follow it on Twitter and Facebook.

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.

Gage Skidmore via Creative Commons
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Donald Trump brings home his dark vision of America at the Republican convention

The Presidential nominee pledged: "Safety must be restored."

Donald Trump brought home the Republican convention Thursday night with a dark vision of contemporary America – a darkness he claimed only his leadership could lift. It was a lengthy, tightly-scripted speech framed around polarities – insiders and outsiders, criminals and victims, the United States and the rest of the world – and infused with righteous anger. And yet against the darkness, he offered not lightness but “greatness” – a bombastic, personalistic vision of how through sheer force of will he could right the American ship before it plunged irretrievably into the depths. “I alone can solve,” he famously tweeted earlier in the campaign. This was the 80-minute version.

Any presidential challenger, of course, has to lay out a set of problems they believe need fixing and a case for why their leadership might make a difference. It was the breathtaking scale and intensity of Trump’s diagnosis, and the lack of optimistic alternative to counterbalance it, that was notable compared to other acceptance speeches. He portrayed the United States as a country riddled with crime and corruption, a “rigged system” in which politicians like Hillary Clinton can evade justice, while police officers trying to protect its citizens become targets; a fearful country, its economy sluggish, its infrastructure crumbling, its security an illusion, and its international stature in freefall

For a candidate who has mocked the soaring rhetoric of President Obama (the “hopey-changey stuff,” as Sarah Palin once called it), it was perhaps not surprising that Trump’s speech would be short on uplift. It was at least more disciplined than his other campaign speeches, if in keeping with their tone and content – the much-maligned teleprompter rolling a script to which he largely stuck. (“He sounds presidential,” a lady behind me remarked, though his press conference Friday morning marked a reversion to free-wheeling form).

It was short on substance too, though acceptance speeches aren’t designed to be policy laundry lists like a State of the Union. Still, there were few specifics, beyond a pledge to revise tax laws which inhibit religious groups from political advocacy, and a newfound concern with student loans. It was daughter Ivanka’s speech that had the greater substantive heft, promising her father would push for new labour laws to help working mothers, and for affordable childcare in the US. Neither are traditional Republican positions, but the crowd seemed on board for anything Trump might offer.

He even had them cheering for LGBTQ rights, after recalling the tragedy in Florida last month, and the need to protect gay Americans from a “hateful foreign ideology” in radical Islam. “It is so nice as a Republican to hear you cheering for what I just said,” he commended the delegates in an unscripted moment. But whether they had really embraced this unexpected message – or if it was the anti-terror chaser that really got them on their feet – remains to be seen. In either case, it was a rare grace note in an otherwise bruising speech.

Presenting himself repeatedly as the candidate of “law and order,” Trump evoked Richard Nixon’s 1968 presidential campaign. At a time when American cities were erupting in race riots and protests over the Vietnam War, Nixon had pitched himself as the face of stability and security. Likewise Trump has reacted to the simmering racial tensions and terrorist attacks this summer with a hard-line stance on “lawlessness.” “Safety must be restored,” Trump said, in one of the eerier lines he delivered. Yet in his convention speech, Nixon had balanced his tough talk with a positive message – speaking of love, courage, and lighting a “lamp of hope” in partnership with the American people. 

Trump channeled another president in his speech, too, when he promised to give voice to “the forgotten men and women of our country” – drawing on the language of Franklin Roosevelt. Roosevelt had promised to aid “the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid” during the 1932 campaign. But Roosevelt’s solution to the forgotten man’s distress was economic internationalism – tearing down tariff walls and trading freely with the world – which the Republican Party then opposed. Trump’s solution is the protectionist policies Roosevelt had railed against.

Trump’s economic and security philosophy is encapsulated in another, more notorious phrase associated with that era: “America First.” A rallying cry for isolationists seeking to avoid US entanglement in World War II, it acquired an anti-Semitic taint. But Trump has employed it nonetheless, capturing as it does his core argument that America must do more to protect its own citizens against threats from within and without – from illegal immigrants, from radicalized Islamic terrorists, from the downsides of free international trade. Little wonder that former George W.

Bush staffer Nicolle Wallace announced that the Republican party she knew “died in this room tonight.” In embracing elements of isolationism, protectionism, and nativism, however, it is perhaps truer to say that Trump’s Republican party reverted to an earlier form.

Often disconcerting, at times mesmerizing, the question remains how effective this speech will be. The delegates responded enthusiastically to Trump’s fierce rhetoric, but many prominent Republicans had stayed away from the convention altogether. Combined with Senator Ted Cruz’s non-endorsement, Trump goes into the general election campaign without a fully united party behind him. For both partisans and the public, Trump’s speech offered a cast of villains to rally against, but no positive, unifying vision to rally behind – beyond the much-touted yet elusive “greatness,” of course. In a typical election year, that would seem a critical flaw in a campaign – but Trump loves to confound the naysayers. As his convention speech showed, he thinks the formula that got him this far - showcasing his fame and fanning Americans’ fears – can land him in the White House.