El objetivo de Uber

John Naughton, en su columna The Networker en The Guardian, publicaba el pasado sábado 22/08/2020 un artículo sobra la gig economy. En cuatro párrafos resumía su punto de vista sobre la viabilidad futura de empresas como Uber. Dejo aquí su traducción al castellano así como el link al artículo completo.

This “economy” is neoliberal because it embodies the idea that society consists only of markets and individuals. In the Uber/Lyft case, there is a market for rides and there are individuals who can drive. So a software platform is built to connect said individuals with those needing their services. The owner of the platform has no obligations to the atomised individuals who provide the service: they are free to work (or not) and are “managed” by an algorithm and drivers have none of those expensive rights that come from being a normal “employee”. Pricing of the services is decided algorithmically: when there’s a thunderstorm, the cost of a ride goes up; when there’s a lull, they go down. Truly the gig economy is a Hayekian wet dream.

Esta “economía” es neoliberal porque parte de la base de que la sociedad consiste únicamente en mercados e individuos. En el caso Uber/Lyft, hay un mercado para desplazamientos y hay individuos que pueden conducir. Así que se construye una plataforma de software para conectar esos individuos con aquello que necesitan de sus servicios. El propietario de la plataforma no tiene obligaciones respecto a los individuos atomizados que prestan el servicio: ellos son libres de trabajar (o no) y son ‘asesorados’ por un algoritmo; los conductores no tienen ninguno de esos costosos derechos que tienen los empleados normales. Los precios de los servicios se deciden de forma algorítmica: cuando hay una tormenta, el precio del desplazamiento aumenta; cuando la situación es de calma chicha, el precio baja. Realmente, la gig economy es el sueño húmedo de F. A. Hayek

The lengths to which gig economy companies go in order to pretend they’re not employers are comical. A while back, the Financial Times got hold of a Deliveroo internal manual. Never say “We pay you every two weeks”, it advises; instead, it’s “Rider invoices are processed fortnightly”. Never say “Yesterday, you were late to start your shift”; instead, it’s “Yesterday, you logged in later than you agreed to be available”. And of course never mention “uniforms”: they’re “branded clothing”.

Los extremos a los que las compañias de la gig economy llega para pretender que no tienen empleados son cómicas. Hace poco, el Financial Times accedió a un manual interno de Deliveroo: Nunca dicen: “Le pagaremos cada dos semanas” en su lugar dicen “Se abonarán las facturas cada quincena”. Nunca dicen “Ayer llegaste tarde a tu turno”, en su lugar dicen “Ayer, su conexión a la plataforma se produjo más tarde de lo que usted indicó que era su momento disponible”. Y, evidentemente, ninguna mención a uniformes; se trata de ropa de marca.

So much for the neoliberal lexicon. But the gig economy is also a racket because it’s based on a dodgy business model. Many of the companies burn money like it’s going out of fashion. Uber lost $8.5bn in 2019, for example. “We have incurred significant losses since inception, including in the United States and other major markets,” the company wrote in its SEC filing. “We expect our operating expenses to increase significantly in the foreseeable future and we may not achieve profitability.”

Esto por cuanto hace al léxico neoliberal. Pero la gig economy es también un escándalo porque se basa en un modelo de negocio deshonesto. Muchas de las compañías despilfarran el dinero como si hubiera pasado de moda. Uber, por ejemplo, perdió 8.500 millones de dólares en 2019. “Hemos incurrido en pérdidas significativas desde el principio, incluyendo Estados Unidos y otros grandes mercados”, escribió la compañía en su informe de la Comisión de Bolsa y Valores. “Esperamos que nuestros gastos de operación aumenten significativamente en un futuro próximo y, probablemente, sin conseguir beneficios.”

The reason Uber isn’t profitable is because its rides are cheaper than those of conventional taxi firms. And that’s a feature, not a bug: it’s a strategy to drive conventional firms out of business. The money it’s burning belongs to investors (such as the Saudi sovereign wealth fund) who are betting that once the company is the only one left standing, they will have a monopolistic asset on their hands. This is “creative destruction” at its most vicious.

La razón por la que Uber no obtiene beneficios es porque sus desplazamientos son más baratos que los de los taxis convencionales. Y esto es una característica, no un error: es una estrategia para sacar a los taxis convencionales del mercado. El dinero que se derrocha pertenece a inversores (como el fondo soberano saudí) que está esperando que una vez que la compañía sea la única que opere, accederán a un monopolio. Esto es “destrucción creativa” en su forma más cruel.

All hail the California court that put the brakes on Uber and co

John Naughton

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/aug/22/all-hail-the-california-court-that-put-the-brakes-on-uber-and-co

Sat 22 Aug 2020 16.00 BST

“Courtesy of Guardian News & Media Ltd”.

КУРАПАТЫ - АКРЭСЦIНА. НIКОЛI ЗНОЎ

 Sense entrar en polèmica per desconeixement absolut. Sols mirant d'entendre el missatge:

КУРАПАТЫ - АКРЭСЦIНА. НIКОЛI ЗНОЎ

Fa referència a una cadena humana de protesta des del bosc de Kurapaty, prop de Minsk, on va tenir lloc una matança per part de la NKVD estalinista, entre 1937-1941 i la presó de Akrestsina -a Minsk- on han anat a parar molts dels detinguts en les protestestes post-electorals d'agost 2020 a Bielorússia.

La matança de Kurapaty es xifra entre 7.000 i 250.000 persones.

La pancarta diu: Kurapaty-Akrestsina: Mai més.

la transcripció a lletres llatines seria, més o menys:

Kurapaty - Akrescina. Nikoli znoŭ

María Luz de Valdecilla. Homenaje a Miguel Primo de Rivera

El 14 de abril de 1929 se realizó un acto de homenaje (adhesión inquebrantable) al dictador Miguel Primo de Rivera. Una "adolescente de quince años"  (que decía llamarse) María Luz de Valdecilla leyó este soneto que el propio Miguel dio orden de publicar al día siguiente en el diario La Nación, que estaba a su servicio:

 ¡Paladín de la patria redimida!

¡Recio soldado que pelea y canta!

¡Ira de Dios que cuando azota es santa!

¡Místico rayo que al matar es vida!

Otra es España, a tu virtud rendida;

Ella es feliz bajo tu noble planta.

Sólo el hampón que en odio se amamanta

Blasfema antu tu frente esclarecida.

Otro es el mundo ante la España nueva.

Rencores viejos de la edad medieva.

Rompió tu lanza, que a los viles trunca.

Ahora está en paz tu grey bajo el amado

Chorro de luz de tu inmortal cayado.

¡Oh pastor santo! ¡No nos dejes nunca!"

Cuando Primo se dio cuenta del contenido del acróstico "PRIMO ES BORRACHO" la policía intentó secuestrar todos los ejemplares posibles. Ya era demasiado tarde. 

Según Tuñón de Lara, el autor del soneto fue el abogado José Antonio Balbontín.

Fuente: La España del siglo XX. 

Volumen I:La quiebra de una forma de estado (1898/1931)

M. Tuñón de Lara

Editorial Laia

Barcelona, 2ª edición, 1977

Página 217

Shall or Will?

"The use of the verbs shall and will is a rock upon which even the best speakers come to wreck. They are interchanged recklessly. Their significance changes according as they are used with the first, second or third person. With the first person shall is used in direct statement to express a simple future action; as, "I shall go to the city tomorrow." With the second and third persons shall is used to express a determination; as, "You shall go to the city tomorrow," "He shall go to the city tomorrow."

With the first person will is used in direct statement to express determination, as, "I will go to the city to-morrow." With the second and third persons will is used to express simple future action; as, "You will go to the city tomorrow," "He will go to the city tomorrow."

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/6409/6409-h/6409-h.htm#CHAPTER_III

How to Speak and Write Correctly, by Joseph Devlin

Chapter III

Adjectives order: The language rules we know – but don’t know we know By Mark Forsyth

The language rules we know – but don’t know we know

By Mark Forsyth

8th September 2016

https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20160908-the-language-rules-we-know-but-dont-know-we-know

Mark Forsyth tasted internet fame this week when a passage from a book he wrote went viral. He explains more language secrets that native speakers know without knowing.

Over the weekend, I happened to go viral. Or rather a single paragraph from a book I wrote called The Elements of Eloquence went viral. The guilty paragraph went like this:

“Adjectives in English absolutely have to be in this order: opinion-size-age-shape-colour-origin-material-purpose Noun. So you can have a lovely little old rectangular green French silver whittling knife. But if you mess with that word order in the slightest you’ll sound like a maniac. It’s an odd thing that every English speaker uses that list, but almost none of us could write it out.”

English speakers love to learn this sort of thing for two reasons. First, it astonishes us that there are rules that we didn’t know that we knew. That’s rather peculiar, and rather exciting. We’re all quite a lot cleverer than we think we are. And there’s the shock of realising that there’s a reason there may be little green men on Mars, but there certainly aren’t green little men. Second, you can spend the next hour of your life trying to think of exceptions, which is useful as it keeps you from doing something foolish like working.

Actually, there are a couple of small exceptions. Little Red Riding Hood may be perfectly ordered, but the Big Bad Wolf seems to be breaking all the laws of linguistics. Why does Bad Big Wolf sound so very, very wrong? What happened to the rules?

Ding dong King Kong

Well, in fact, the Big Bad Wolf is just obeying another great linguistic law that every native English speaker knows, but doesn’t know that they know. And it’s the same reason that you’ve never listened to hop-hip music.

You are utterly familiar with the RULE OF ABLAUT REDUPLICATION. You’ve been using it all your life. It’s just that you’ve never heard of it. But if somebody said the words zag-zig, or ‘cross-criss you would know, deep down in your loins, that they were breaking a sacred rule of language. You just wouldn’t know which one.

All four of a horse’s feet make exactly the same sound. But we always, always say clip-clop, never clop-clip. Every second your watch (or the grandfather clock in the hall makes the same sound) but we say tick-tock, never tock-tick. You will never eat a Kat Kit bar. The bells in Frère Jaques will forever chime ‘ding dang dong’.

Reduplication in linguistics is when you repeat a word, sometimes with an altered consonant (lovey-dovey, fuddy-duddy, nitty-gritty), and sometimes with an altered vowel: bish-bash-bosh, ding-dang-dong. IF THERE ARE THREE WORDS THEN THE ORDER HAS TO GO I, A, O. IF THERE ARE TWO WORDS THEN THE FIRST IS I AND THE SECOND IS EITHER A OR O. Mish-mash, chit-chat, dilly-dally, shilly-shally, tip top, hip-hop, flip-flop, tic tac, sing song, ding dong, King Kong, ping pong.

Why this should be is a subject of endless debate among linguists, it might be to do with the movement of your tongue or an ancient language of the Caucasus. It doesn’t matter. It’s the law, and, as with the adjectives, you knew it even if you didn’t know you knew it. And the law is so important that you just can’t have a Bad Big Wolf.

Tense situations

It’s astonishing quite how expert you are at the English language. There are so many tenses you can use without even thinking about it, and almost certainly without being able to name them. It depends how you count them, but there are about 20 that you deploy faultlessly. The pluperfect progressive passive for an extended state of action that happened to you prior to another action in the past is, when you put it like that, rather daunting. But then you’d happily say “I realised I’d been being watched” without breaking sweat or blinking. 

Think how daunting this is for people learning English. The teacher has to explain to them that the English don’t usually use the present tense for things that are happening in the present. “I brush my teeth” doesn’t mean that you’re doing it right now, it just means that you do it regularly. For things that are actually happening right now you use the present progressive “I’m brushing my teeth” (but only if you can speak with your mouth full).

And having learnt that you then have to learn that there are certain exceptions, like the verb ‘to think’ used as an auxiliary, as in “I think you’re right”. This is why, incidentally, lots of non-native speakers will use phrases like “I am thinking that you are right”. It sounds faintly comic to us, but we had years and years and years of immersion learning just to get all these subtleties.

And English is complex and weird. We actually have a tense called the Future Present. Imagine having to learn that. But for us it’s just “The train leaves tomorrow.”

Some rules we really should know. It’s surprising and dispiriting how many English people don’t know the rules of stress, because that’s how all our poetry works. It’s quite easy really, and we can hear it in other languages. Everyone knows that Italian has rhythm, it goes MAM-a MI-a BUON-a SER-a. But so does our language. And that’s how verse works. I can illustrate with my favourite limerick (or at least my favourite clean one). Try reading this aloud:

There was a young man from Dundee

Got stung on the leg by a wasp

When asked does it hurt

He said ‘Yes it does.

‘I’m so glad it wasn’t a hornet.’

That has no rhymes, but it still works as a limerick because rhymes aren’t nearly as important as rhythm. And the rhythm goes:

de-DUM-de, de-DUM-de, de-DUM

de-DUM-de, de-DUM-de, de-DUM

de-DUM-de, de-DUM

de-DUM-de, de-DUM

de-DUM-de, de-DUM-de, de-DUM-de

Which only works because we know to pronounce Dundee as ‘dun-DEE’, and not to rhyme with Grundy or the Isle of Lundy. It’s the subtle difference when we record a record or present a present or tell a rebel to rebel. It’s a difference that is very hard for people to learn, and is the main reason that, in a strong French accent, there’s no difference between happiness and a penis.

English is an immensely complicated language to get right, and native speakers often have no idea of its strangeness. We understand the sentence “I can’t put up with the guy I’m putting up at my house, his put-downs really put me out and I’m feeling put-upon”. Or “I’m doing up my house and it’s doing me in.” Literally, that should mean “I’m performing my house skywards and it’s performing me towards the interior”. These are called phrasal verbs and they are the nightmare of every would-be English speaker. Somebody once said of Ian Fleming that he got off with women because he couldn’t get on with them. To us that’s a simple joke, to a learner who also has to get through, get by, get down, get with it, get up… it does their head in.

English is largely made up of the rules we don’t know that we know. And actually the rules we know we know are a rarity. We can cling to a few of them at least. At least we all know that we know that adjectives have comparatives and superlatives. Big, bigger, biggest. Hot, hotter, hottest. Easy, easier, easiest. It’s comforting. It’s reliable. It’s something we know that we know.

But can you do it with an adjective that’s three syllables long?

Curiouser and curiouser.

Mark Forsyth is the author of The Elements of Eloquence: How to Turn the Perfect English Phrase

_____

Rosamond Lehmann was who quoted about Ian Fleming: “El problema de Ian es que se acuesta con mujeres porque no las soporta”