This should have been a week when the Armageddonists won all the arguments. Areas of Europe are ablaze, the Gulf Stream is collapsing, June was the hottest month in the 174-year history of temperature monitoring, and is likely to be overtaken by July. António Guterres, the UN secretary-general, warned that “the era of global boiling has arrived” while thousands of tourists fled from their resorts in Greece.
Here in Ireland policy dilemmas were encapsulated by the differing responses to a Green-inspired all-island strategic plan for rail, and the countervailing arguments for roads already set out and costed in the national development plan. Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, provocatively, observed that the rail plan underlined the case for road investment while an (unnamed) critic in the Coalition was reported as responding: “Do these f***ers not read the news?” A modern, integrated, rail network is a lovely dream, but would be more compelling if we did a half-decent job of using what we already have efficiently, and if we did not carry the burdens of long project lead-times coupled with huge capital overspends. Commuters and passengers have lined up this week to describe where existing services fall short, and why they should be the starting point for improvement.
Climate campaigners cannot be surprised that people are slow to embrace the actions required to tackle an emergency when governments do not behave as if there is one. In the 1930s Franklin Delano Roosevelt turned his country around with thousands of centrally-financed public works projects. A focus on, firstly, improving existing rail services and frequency and supporting bus connections would be a good place to start on winning hearts and minds.
Short of demonstrable and urgent progress, people will stick with their cars. The number of new cars licensed has gone up almost 50% in a year. Emissions, unsurprisingly, rose 6% last year after a decline during the covid lockdown. The global output of Toyota reached 5.6m cars in the first half of 2023. 46,171 of those were electric vehicles. Time is moving ever more quickly.
We have wondered before about the role of ‘influencers’ someone who is paid to circulate judgements on goods, services, and locations via social media — and their impact on consumers and companies.
That they are manifestly a factor in modern marketing is undeniable. Why, otherwise, would Qatar pay for hundreds to attend the World Cup last autumn on the condition that the lucky individuals did not make critical public comments about the tournament and its organisation. Sometimes they are a force for good. TV personality Davina McCall shook up the hormone replacement therapy industry and its supply chain with a Channel 4 documentary. Some hotels claim transformation of their business through successful and personalised campaigns. One Irish influencer reported post- tax profits of €11,613 per week on average last year.
And yet there are plenty of downsides. It does not take much, post-pandemic, and despite climate-change anxiety, to persuade people to travel. There is no shortage of locations once serenely off the beaten track being dominated by visitors following a gushing piece of TikTok or Instagram or YouTube promotion. Mont-Saint-Michel in Normandy has been engulfed. Bali is changing its laws after relentless intrusion by tourists. The scenic Bixby Bridge in California’s Big Sur has become overwhelmed after a starring role in HBO’s and the video game. In Ireland, Temple Bar can be a byword for congestion.
Concerns are now emerging over the food industry. In a provocative essay in headlined as ‘The 21st-century shakedown of restaurants’ the writer Karen Stabiner recounts that restaurateurs report an increase in influencers who promise to promote establishments online in exchange for free food and drink, but never fulfil their end of the bargain. Some offer packages that can cost upward of $1,000 (€910) for Instagram stories, posts and a video.
There is no regulation or independently verified commitment to quality or truth. US author Emily Hund, who has a book on the power wielded by influencers, says the integrity on which their status rests is as opaque as the algorithms that deliver their content. Their quest is for ‘authenticity’. This idea was mercilessly lampooned in the comic movie which features a photoshoot with an influencer, Yaya, posing beside a bowl of spaghetti. Off camera it is jettisoned immediately, due to her gluten intolerance.
The concept of caveat emptor (buyer beware) may have lost some of its legal primacy in consumer rights but should still serve as a memory jogger. Influencers openly declaring they have accepted goods and services or fees, and the value thereof, would be aid the credibility of their judgements
We must confess that we have never envisaged Gregg Wallace as heir apparent to Jonathan Swift, more a person to bellow “wah-hey” at the thought of a sticky toffee pudding or a buttery biscuit base.
And it seems this opinion might be correct given the response to the former greengrocer’s endeavours to update Swift’s 1729 satirical squib which suggested that Irish children could be used as food to alleviate hunger.
Wallace’s version, for Channel 4, was called Britain’s and entered territory normally reserved for the techno-fantasy series . It examined developments in “engineered human meat” and featured Wallace and chef Michel Roux Jr tasting ‘toddler tartare’. Wallace is shocked that some people objected when he was aiming for an ironic and stimulating debate about the future of food. While he is perfectly entitled to move his brand into the realms of political commentary, he should not be surprised that it is not what his traditional audience expects. And as an amateur historian he might remember the Orson Welles broadcast in 1938 which threw listeners into a panic, forcing Welles to apologise for his gimmick.
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