To make our cities truly accessible, we need to start subsiding Uber

Last year London's black cab drivers brought the city to a halt to protest Uber. Image: Carl Court/AFP/Getty.

“Uber has been amazing,” says Lauren. “When my legs are bad and I can't face walking getting an Uber is just so helpful.”

Lauren has an invisible disability, the sort of lazy person you see going one stop on the bus because she's in pain. “A lot of the time a bus just isn't an option. It's just not convenient. Being able to get call a cab and get to where I need to be is a real life saver.”

But Lauren is unusual: many disabled people are entirely excluded from the sharing economy.

Disabled people are excluded from a lot: just look at the wheelchair symbols on the TfL map. But every licensed London taxi is meant to be wheelchair accessible. One of the reasons black cab drivers find Uber so irritating is that the private cab firm can charge a metered fare without the added cost of running an accessible vehicle. 

In a way, then, Uber already receives a subsidy – but a subsidy that goes entirely to those who can get in and out of its cars.

We subsidise bus and train fares too, but we insist they offer accessible services. Isn’t it time for a similar arrangement for Uber?

As public transport becomes more personalised, it creates an incredible opportunity to offer disabled people greater freedom. Working out how to make Uber and similar services accessible is more important than bemoaning that they aren't already.

The cross-subsidy disabled people receive from the fact black cabs are wheelchair accessible is difficult to calculate, but the bus subsidy is large. From 1997 subsidies for disabled and elderly passengers rose from almost nothing to nearly £1bn pounds. Including payments for rural bus routes, subsidies account for 45 per cent of all bus operators’ revenues. Whether a direct subsidy per journey, a flat fee per mile travelled or some other arrangement, a public subsidy isn't a ridiculous idea.

The government pays a proportion of the fare for each bus journey; this amount is low as bus fares are generally lower than cab fares. A similar value of subsidy per Uber journey wouldn't make a big difference to long journeys – but it might mean the difference between a trip to the local shops and not going out at all. Just getting to a bus stop can be difficult, especially when your final destination is further away again on the other side. Such small differences really matter when you have reduced mobility.


The sharing economy has always been a euphemism for exploiting valuable assets more efficiently. But until recently a lot of disabled people have been excluded from sharing in these efficient services: an Airbnb doesn't need to meet the same accessibility standards as a hotel.

But this needn't be a giveaway; in exchange for subsidy, Uber could be required to add an accessible option alongside the ubiquitous Honda Prius. The firm has already trailed an accessible option in the US, and you can hail black cabs with the UK app. 

Until now I have elided how unpopular Uber are – or rather, while their services are incredibly popular, many people do not like them. Uber has been accused of intimidating journalistsnot paying its fair share of taxnot protecting its female drivers, and more. With this in mind it is easy to balk at the idea of offering them a subsidy.

But Stagecoach employed aggressive expansion strategies when it was a young company, often scheduling its buses to arrive minutes before its competitors. (Its owner, Brian Souter, used part of the fortune this earned him to helped bankroll opposition to the repeal of the infamous Section 28.) 

Making the sharing economy more accessible isn't optional: in fact, it will only become more important. We have already decided that we will subsidise public transport, directly and indirectly. We are not above subsidising companies we may not like if the cause is right. Uber is emblematic, but any accessibility subsidy would have to be firm neutral so competitors like Lyft aren't unfairly disadvantaged.

It sounds controversial at first – but subsidising Uber would be consistent with present policy and step forward for improving accessibility.

Left Outside is a pseudonymous blogger based in London. He tweets here.

 
 
 
 

Was the decline in Liverpool’s historic population really that unusual?

A view of Liverpool from Birkenhead. Image: Getty.

It is often reported that Liverpool’s population halved after the 1930s. But is this true? Or is it a myth?

Often, it’s simply assumed that it’s true. The end. Indeed, proud Londoner Lord Adonis – a leading proponent of the Liverpool-bypassing High Speed 2 railway, current chair of the National Infrastructure Commission, and generally a very influential person – stood on the stairs in Liverpool Town Hall in 2011 and said:

“The population of Liverpool has nearly halved in the last 50 years.”

This raises two questions. Firstly, did the population of the City of Liverpool really nearly halve in the 50 year period to 2011? That’s easy to check using this University of Portsmouth website – so I did just that (even though I knew he was wrong anyway). In 2011, the population of the City of Liverpool was 466,415. Fifty years earlier, in 1961, it was 737,637, which equates to a 37 per cent drop. Oops!

In fact, the City of Liverpool’s peak population was recorded in the 1931 Census as 846,302. Its lowest subsequent figure was recorded in the 2001 Census as 439,428 – which represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over a 70 year period.

Compare this to the population figures for the similarly sized City of Manchester. Its peak population also recorded in the 1931 Census as 748,729, and its lowest subsequent figure was also recorded in the 2001 Census, as 392,830. This also represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over the same 70 year period.

So, as can be seen here, Liverpool is not a special case at all. Which makes me wonder why it is often singled out or portrayed as exceptional in this regard, in the media and, indeed, by some badly briefed politicians. Even London has a similar story to tell, and it is told rather well in this recent article by a Londoner, for the Museum of London. (Editor’s note: It’s one of mine.)

This leads me onto the second question: where have all those people gone: London? The Moon? Mars?

Well, it turns out that the answer is bit boring and obvious actually: after World War 2, lots of people moved to the suburbs. You know: cars, commuter trains, slum clearance, the Blitz, all that stuff. In other words, Liverpool is just like many other places: after the war, this country experienced a depopulation bonanza.


So what form did this movement to the suburbs take, as far as Liverpool was concerned? Well, people moved and were moved to the suburbs of Greater Liverpool, in what are now the outer boroughs of the city region: Halton, Knowsley, St Helens, Sefton, Wirral. Others moved further, to Cheshire West & Chester, West Lancashire, Warrington, even nearby North Wales, as previously discussed here.

In common with many cities, indeed, Liverpool City Council actually built and owned large several ‘New Town’ council estates, to which they moved tens of thousands of people to from Liverpool’s inner districts: Winsford in Cheshire West (where comedian John Bishop grew up), Runcorn in Halton (where comedian John Bishop also grew up), Skelmersdale in West Lancashire, Kirkby in Knowsley. There is nothing unique or sinister here about Liverpool (apart from comedian John Bishop). This was common practice across the country – Indeed, it was central government policy – and resulted in about 160,000 people being ‘removed’ from the Liverpool local authority area.

Many other people also moved to the nearby suburbs of Greater Liverpool to private housing – another trend reflected across the country. It’s worth acknowledging, however, that cities across the world are subject to a level of ‘churn’ in population, whereby many people move out and many people move in, over time, too.

So how did those prominent images of derelict streets in the inner-city part of the City of Liverpool local authority area come about? For that, you have to blame the last Labour government’s over-zealous ‘Housing Market Renewal Initiative’ (HMRI) disaster – and the over enthusiastic participation of the then-Lib Dem controlled city council. On the promise of ‘free’ money from central government, the latter removed hundreds of people from their homes with a view to demolishing the Victorian terraces, and building new replacements. Many of these houses, in truth, were already fully modernised, owner-occupied houses within viable and longstanding communities, as can be seen here in Voelas Street, one of the famous Welsh Streets of Liverpool:

Voelas Street before HMRI implementation. Image: WelshStreets.co.uk.

The same picture after HMRI implementation Image: WelshStreets.co.uk. 

Nonetheless: the council bought the houses and ‘tinned them up’ ready for demolition. Then the coalition Conservative/Lib Dem government, elected in 2010, pulled the plug on the scheme. 

Fast forward to 2017 and many of the condemned houses have been renovated, in a process which is still ongoing. These are over-subscribed when they come to market, suggesting that the idea was never appropriate for Liverpool on that scale. 

At any rate, it turns out that the Liverpool metropolitan population is pretty much the same as it was at its peak in 1931 (depending where the local borough boundaries are arbitrarily drawn). It just begs the question: why are well educated and supposedly clever people misrepresenting the Liverpool metropolis, in particular, in this way so often? Surely they aren’t stupid are they?


And why are some people so determined to always isolate the City of Liverpool from its hinterland, while London is always described in terms of its whole urban area? It just confuses and undermines what would otherwise often be worthwhile comparisons and discussions. Or, to put it another way: “never, ever, compare apples with larger urban zones”.

In a recent Channel 4 documentary, for example, the well-known and respected journalist Michael Burke directly compared the forecast population growths, by 2039, of the City of Liverpool single local authority area against that of the combined 33 local authority areas of Greater London: 42,722 versus 2.187,708. I mean, what bizarre point is such an inappropriate comparison even trying to make? It is like comparing the projected growth of a normal sized-person’s head with the projected growth of the whole of an obese person, over a protracted period.

Having said all that, there is an important sensible conversation to be had as to why the populations of the Greater Liverpool metropolis and others haven’t grown as fast as maybe should have been the case, whilst, in recent times, the Greater London population has been burgeoning. But constantly pitching it as some sort of rare local apocalypse helps no one.

Dave Mail has declared himself CityMetric’s Liverpool City Region correspondent. He will be updating us on the brave new world of Liverpool City Region, mostly monthly, in ‘E-mail from Liverpool City Region’ and he is on twitter @davemail2017.