When the app economy becomes the real economy

As the lesson of the FT shows, the App Store isn't quite ready for the economic importance Apple see

When Tim Cook, CEO of Apple, announced the new iPad yesterday, one of his selling points was that the new retina display could print "text sharper than a newspaper". Three years ago, this might have sounded like a threat to publishers, but these days it's closer to a promise.

There is broad agreement that, where the internet disrupted journalism in a way that threatened the ability to make money from content at all, the second generation of digital news presents more hope.   Readers on smartphones, and especially tablets, have shown a willingness to pay for the journalism they read, even when it is available for free elsewhere. In turn this may allow the transition to digital to be -- if not quite painless -- then at least not as painful as it might have been.  

But with new territory has come new conflicts. One of the big promises of digital is the fact that it does away with the printer, the distributer, and the retailer -- and their financial cut. Yet new middlemen have sprung up to take their place. Why go through all the hassle of a switchover just to give Apple -- and it is invariably Apple -- 30 per cent of everything you take, which is what it demands to be stocked in its App Store.  

For the most part, publishers have grumbled, but accepted the company’s terms. After all, there isn’t so much a tablet market as an iPad market; it’s pay to play, or get out.

Last summer, however, the Financial Times took the latter option. It coded an app that ran entirely in the browser, thus skipping Apple altogether.  

At the Press Gazette News on the Move conference yesterday, FT.com managing director, Rob Grimshaw, went into a little more depth as to why his paper made that decision.

As well as avoiding the 30 per cent cut it would have to pass on to Apple, building a web app allowed the FT to consolidate its development process, moving from focusing on multiple platforms (not so much of an issue in the tablet market, but a major concern in smartphones) to just one. But the real issue for Apple was the FT's concern over subscriber data.

When subscribing to a publication through the App Store, readers are given the choice as to whether or not to share their personal details with the publisher, and a significant proportion opt out. This leaves the publisher essentially clueless as to who a lot of their readership are, which affects two major areas: advertising, and retention.

Ad sellers are willing to pay a lot more to deliver targeted campaigns (think how much more Rolex would pay to be certain to advertise to a fund manager than, well, me), and the FT need to encourage renewals -- a big deal when the cheapest subscription is £270 a year.  

Grimshaw estimated that the value to the FT of this information is between 25 to 30 per cent of the value of the subscription. In other words, a user coming through the App Store was worth between £145 and £160 a year less than one subscribing through the FT’s own website.

So the FT has a pretty big motivation to leave. What is interesting is how comprehensively this outweigh’s Apple’s motivation to retain the charges and restrictions.

The App Store is there to make Apple’s products more attractive, not to make huge amounts of money for the company. Seven years of the iTunes store generated just $1bn in profit -- the same amount the iPad made in just one quarter. An iPad with apps is more valuable than an iPad without; and apps with strong customer protection are more valuable still.

And yet, in doing so it has caused a very important developer to bail ship, and create an alternative experience that -- despite being a world-class example of what it is -- is unarguably worse for their customers. We can’t know the value of those restrictions to Apple, but it is unlikely to be anywhere near £150 per user per year.

It's not clear if there is an easy solution to this battle of wills, but it certainly seems like a market inefficiency. And with Apple loudly trumpeting its $4bn app economy, inefficiencies in its market are fast becoming inefficiencies in everyone's market. This isn't a cottage industry anymore, and it needs the scrutiny to ensure that.

The old FT app, before the company was forced to pull it. Credit: Getty

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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Should feminists talk about “pregnant people”?

Two writers present the arguments for and against.

NO

“I’m not sure what the public health issue is that would require a focus only on those who become pregnant, as opposed to any of those involved in pregnancy, either becoming pregnant or causing someone else to become pregnant,” Dr Elizabeth Saewyc, a Canadian professor in nursing and adolescent medicine at the University of British Columbia, recently told journalist Jesse Singal when he asked her for clarification on a study she conducted into trans youth and pregnancy.

Her statement is, on the face of it, extraordinary: unlike those who “cause someone else to become pregnant” (males), those who “become pregnant” (females) actually, well, become pregnant, with everything that entails from the risk of varicose veins and pre-eclampsia, to having an abortion or being denied abortion, to miscarriage or giving birth and living with the economic strain and social discrimination that come with motherhood.

As absurd as Saewyc sounded, her position is the logical endpoint of “gender neutral” language about pregnancy. Pressure on reproductive rights groups – especially those in the US – to drop references to “women” and instead address themselves to “people” have been growing over the last few years, and the American body Planned Parenthood now regularly mentions “pregnant people” in its communications. In theory, this is supposed to help transmen and non-binary-identified females who need reproductive health services. In practice, it creates a political void into which the female body, and the way pregnancy specifically affects women, simply disappears.

The obscuring of the female body beneath obscenity and taboo has always been one of the ways patriarchal society controls women. In 2012, Michigan Democratic representative Lisa Brown was prevented from speaking in a debate about abortion after she used the word “vagina”, which Republicans decided “violated the decorum of the house”. Now, that oppressive decorum is maintained in the name of trans inclusion: in 2014, the pro-choice organisation A is For was attacked for “genital policing” and being “exclusionary and harmful” over a fundraiser named Night of a Thousand Vaginas.

Funnily enough, trans inclusion doesn’t require the elimination of the word vagina entirely – only when it’s used in reference to women. A leaflet on safe sex for trans people published by the Human Rights Campaign decrees that “vagina” refers to “the genitals of trans women who have had bottom surgery”; in contrast, unaltered female genitals are designated the “front hole”. And it’s doubtful that any of this careful negation of the female body helps to protect transmen, given the regular occurrence of stories about transmen getting “unexpectedly” pregnant through having penis-in-vagina sex. Such pregnancies are entirely unsurprising to anyone who knows that gender identity is not a contraceptive.

It does, however, protect from scrutiny the entire network of coercion that is cast over the female body: the denial of abortion rights in the Republic of Ireland, for example, affects the same class of people who were subjected to the medical violence of symphysiotomy — a brutal alternative to cesarean, which involves slicing through the cartilage and ligaments of a pelvic joint to widen it and allow a baby to be delivered — the same class of people who were brutalised by Magdalen Laundries (institutions established to house “fallen women” which operated from the late 18th to the 20th centuries), the same class of people who are subject to rape and sexual harassment. That class of people is women. If we give up the right to name ourselves in the service of “inclusion”, we permit the erosion of all our hard-won boundaries.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who focuses on feminism.

YES

No matter who you are and how straightforwardly things go, pregnancy is never an easy process. It might be a joyous one in many ways, but it’s never comfortable having to lie on your back in a brightly lit room with your legs hitched in stirrups and strangers staring at parts of your anatomy some of them hesitate to name. Then there are the blood tests, the scans, the constant scrutiny of diet and behaviour – it may be good practice for coping with a child, but the invasion of privacy that takes place at this time can have a dehumanising effect. And that’s without having your gender denied in the process.

If you’ve never experienced that denial, it might be difficult to relate to — but many women have, at one time or another, received letters addressing them as “Mr” or turned up at meetings only to discover they were expected to be men. It’s a minor irritation until it happens to you every day. Until people refuse to believe you are who you say you are; until it happens in situations where you’re already vulnerable, and you’re made to feel as if your failure to conform to expectations means you don’t really deserve the same help and respect as everyone else.

There is very little support available for non-binary people and trans men who are happily pregnant, trying to become pregnant or trying to cope with unplanned pregnancies. With everything geared around women, accessing services can be a struggle, and encountering prejudice is not uncommon. We may not even have the option of keeping our heads down and trying to “pass” as female for the duration. Sometimes our bodies are visibly different.

It’s easy for those opposed to trans inclusion to quote selectively from materials making language recommendations that are, or appear to be, extreme – but what they miss is that most trans people going through pregnancy are not asking for anything drastic. We simply want reassurance that the people who are supposed to be helping us recognise that we exist. When that’s achievable simply by using a neutral word like people, does it really hurt to do so? I was always advised that manners cost nothing.

Referring to “people” being pregnant does not mean that we can’t also talk about women’s experiences. It doesn’t require the negation of femaleness – it simply means accepting that women’s rights need not be won at the expense of other people’s. We are stronger when we stand together, whether pushing for better sex education or challenging sexual violence (to which trans men are particularly vulnerable).

When men criticise feminism and complain that it’s eroding their rights, this is usually countered with the argument that it’s better for everyone – that it’s about breaking down barriers and giving people more options. Feminism that is focused on a narrow approach to reproductive biology excludes many women who will never share the experience of pregnancy, and not necessarily through choice. When women set themselves against trans men and non-binary people, it produces a perfect divide and conquer scenario that shores up cis male privilege. There’s no need for any of that. We can respect one another, allow for difference and support the growth of a bigger feminist movement that is truly liberating.

Jennie Kermode is the chair of the charity Trans Media Watch.