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What we learned about lobbying in Ireland from the Uber Files

Una Mullally: In Ireland’s case we can see how corporate influence can quickly morph into political ventriloquism

Uber and Lyft make up more than 13 per cent of all vehicle miles travelled in San Francisco. Photograph: iStock

How much do we really know about corporate lobbying in Ireland? Reading Simon Carswell and Arthur Beesley’s stories emerging from the Uber files, detailing that company’s grubby approach to lobbying, there’s a tip-of-the-iceberg feel to it. Who does it serve for corporations such as Uber to have such access to our politicians and officials? Lobbying is described as a necessary, normal aspect of democracy, but who stacks the deck in this game? If you’re an individual or a community group, a co-operative, a small NGO, a charity, or a group of concerned citizens who have organised around an issue, when it comes to lobbying you are in the ha’penny place. Nothing compares to the vast amounts of money, resources, lawyers, employed lobbyists, PR companies, strategists, public policy and public affairs executives, and the hiring power that nets former government officials, former politicians and former political advisers dotting the corporate tech lobbying landscape.

We have the lobbying register but without Freedom of Information deep dives, leaks or whistleblowers, it’s hard to know what’s going on. This is why the Uber files are so interesting. In this case even the lobbyists are having second thoughts. Mark MacGann, an Irish lobbyist-turned-whistleblower who pushed Uber’s agenda particularly in Europe, clearly couldn’t live with those actions and consequences, and is having a reckoning with his conscience. It’s never too late to try to make things right. “We had actually sold people a lie,” he said. He’d know.

Corporate lobbying starts with relationship-building. People are hired based on the likelihood that they will succeed in building relationships with politicians and officials to benefit the lobbying outcome, and a fast-track to that is to get people who already have those relationships. Access, influence and control was Uber’s lobbying process, but that is not unique to that company. Uber expanded globally with an often cavalier attitude towards local regulations. For years this “disruption” of a sector was shrouded in Uber’s spin that it was a tech company, not a taxi company, aggressively rolling out its gig economy dream (a nightmare for many established taxi drivers), while the company was embroiled in sexual harassment allegations.

In Ireland’s case we can see how lobbying can quickly morph into political ventriloquism. Another nugget from the Uber files: “You’ll recognise the text,” John Moran said, when he sent the manifesto to his Uber clients. Moran was a former Department of Finance chief, turned Uber lobbyist-for-hire, and was pointing to Fine Gael’s 2016 election manifesto section on the “sharing economy”.

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Uber couldn’t make inroads here given the regulation of taxis. But elsewhere things got convenient for customers and dark for drivers. Pushing cheap, private transport on tap also increased traffic in cities. Incredibly, Uber and Lyft make up more than 13 per cent of all vehicle miles travelled in San Francisco.

Last month Tánaiste Leo Varadkar mused about liberalising the taxi sector. He cited Uber as a potential solution

The move-fast-and-break-things approach many tech and pseudo-tech companies still embrace is often welcomed by wide-eyed centre-right politicians who want to appear pro-business, pro-consumer and think short-term. These politicians also probably hope their enthusiasm for such “innovation” allows some of the glamour of these almost celebrity companies to rub off on them. This is a particular affliction in an Irish context, given how politicians have fallen over themselves to champion Big Tech — visiting offices, getting Government departments to collaborate with their “tools”, harping on about the dynamic young workforce, even internalising developer spin that such a workforce needs unique housing arrangements in the form of co-living. Last month Tánaiste Leo Varadkar mused about liberalising the taxi sector. He cited Uber as a potential solution. Varadkar’s remarks must have resulted in some grins at Uber HQ. If I were an Uber lobbyist, I would be delighted with that outcome, regardless of how Varadkar landed on the idea.

If our political leaders are enthusiastic about radical innovations in the world of transport, may I introduce them to public transport? Let’s give the lobbyists a break and look to a few European countries doing things right. In Germany, for the rest of the summer at least, it’s €9 a month for a monthly public transport ticket, meaning you can travel anywhere within the country on rail and more for that price. On September 1st Spain is making a large number of journeys on the public train network, Renfe, free. In Luxembourg public transport is free. The same in Tallinn. Public transport in Aubagne, France, has been free since 2009. Dunkirk followed. Ferries to and from Amsterdam’s central station are free.

The innovations in Germany and Spain are about getting people out of their cars and saving petrol as Russia’s war in Ukraine continues and the Continent prepares for an uncertain winter in terms of energy, with fuel rationing on the cards. It is also a more sustainable approach than clogging our streets with more private cars with drivers earning a pittance.

We know that Uber sold a lie. There are three things to take from that: firstly, don’t buy into it. Secondly, we need much greater scrutiny of corporate lobbying in this country. Thirdly, the future is free public transport.