Monthly Archives: September 2016

Roving Eyes

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A police body camera is seen on officer during news conference on pilot program involving 60 NYPD officers dubbed 'Big Brother' at NYPD police academy in the Queens borough of New York
It is now increasingly common to see bobbies on the beat wearing body cams. Millions of drivers have in recent years bought dash cams for their cars. More cyclists are attaching Go-Pros cams to their helmets. The placement of these ‘cams’ on the body, the head or in the car while on the move is in anticipation – recording in the background just in case an incident happens, that can then be replayed back as evidence. These roving eyes are able to ‘truthfully’ show who said what, how recklessly a car was driven, who threatened whom and so on. Which can be quite different from and often more reliable than what people recall from human memory.

But it seems the cams are doing much more than acting as our personal CCTV cameras. This week, a paper published in the journal, Criminal Justice and Behaviour, claimed there were far fewer complaints made against police officers than in the previous year. The reason was laid squarely at the power of the cam. A completed trial compared the impact of when police wore cams and when they did not. The results showed a whopping reduction in complaints. In fact, nearly 100% – there were only 113 complaints compared with 1,539 reported in the 12 months before.

Seeing someone recording you changes your behaviour:

“Once [the public] are aware they are being recorded, once they know that everything they do is caught on tape, they will undoubtedly change their behaviour because they don’t want to get into trouble.”

People aren’t as rude or aggressive towards the police. Moreover, they are much less likely to make up porkies about being subject to police violence or assault – knowing they are being recorded. But even more interesting is that it works both ways. Police officers were also found to change their behavior, knowing what they say and do will be recorded for later use. They appear to be kinder and more courteous. And even more remarkable, was the study reported a huge reduction in complaints for the control group – the police who did not wear the bodycams during the trial period. This cascading effect was explained as a form of ‘contagious accountability’ sweeping through the whole police culture. Being nice to each other makes others nicer.

dash_camThe cam, however, seems to have, so far, not had the same impact on car drivers. Road rage is still very much the order of the day. And the peculiarly British disease of ‘crash for cash’ is on the rise. In particular, the number of people claiming for whiplash is spiraling out of control. A report that came out last week in the UK showed that there were more than ¾ of a million insurance claims last year just for whiplash. That is one in every 38 cars insured on the road – an awful lot of people driving with stiff necks. Of course, whiplash claims are well known for being one of the biggest scams around. Hard to detect, easy to engineer and even more difficult to contest. No wonder, motorists are easy prey for claims management companies, who spam them relentlessly with emails, texts and ads, asking if they had an accident recently. These ‘ambulance chasers’ lure their victims by charging nothing for their service but then taking a hefty chunk of the spoils – easy money, and bread and butter work for them. What’s more it is a win-win for both parties.

Might it be possible soon for insurance companies to require the use of the output from dash cams as evidence against this kind of blatant fraud? With a bit of extra gubbins thrown in to the cam, we could soon have quality car intelligence. Indeed, it seems this might be starting. Recent dash cams, like the RoadHawk, can detect speed and force from an impact as well as showing the setting in how it took place – all in high-def. If these smart cams became a compulsory part of the car that might reduce whiplash claims to only the genuine ones – in the same dramatic way as bogus police complaints have been reduced. And it might even encourage more courteous driving behaviour.

Imagine, too, if cyclists all had to wear head cams that recorded how they cycled. We might see more cycling courtesy and less bike rage. Only today, I had to stop in my tracks on a zebra crossing as a bike refused to stop for me but darted passed me. Not only did he increase my heart rate, but shortly afterwards, another cyclist had to swerve to miss him as he continued at speed through a red light.

I am all for technology acting as our external memory if it can change human behaviour to make people more courteous and considerate of each other – given, how many of us, it seems, have a tendency to try to beat the system whenever we can.
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The i360

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img_7422 The latest attraction in Brighton, the i360, opened a few weeks ago to much fanfare and a bit of grumpiness. On the website, British Airways who are behind the project proudly proclaim, “Take a flight to the skies and see Sussex as you have never seen it before. Glide up slowly to 450 feet high to enjoy breath-taking 360 degree views of up to 26 miles from the world’s first vertical cable car.” Janet Street-Porter, in the Independent, described it as “naff” and “an expensive and hideous eyesore”. At ground level, the locals refer to it as the ‘donut on a stick’. On a sunny day, it stands out like a shimmering silver time machine capsule majestically rising above the rooftops.

In the first three weeks of it’s opening, over 100,000 visitors have coughed up £15 each to have a ride in it. That is a lot of people and even more dosh. R and I went a month into its infancy, on a shiny sunny Tuesday afternoon. As we entered, we were screened and patted down as if going on a flight. Once inside the capsule, we found our spot to view Brighton as never before seen. We waited with much anticipation, chatting and eyeing up the other people on board, who were snapping merrily on their smartphones. At one end, was a bar selling the local NyeTimber champagne. We resisted, wanting to go up and down before celebrating. Other visitors, however, were less restrained, already in holiday mode, happy to neck back the bubbles at any occasion.

img_7428There were no announcements, no British Airways muzac or welcome. Instead, the capsule simply started moving upwards, almost imperceptibly and silently, at first. It was smooth and gentle; watching the people on the ground becoming more matchstick-like and the cars move slower, and more blocks of Lego-like flats appear on the expanding horizon. The coastline west and east swept into toy town fringes, of groynes, lawns and shingle. Then just as it had started moving the bubble stopped and our ears popped. It was all a bit of an anti-climax for what was the final view before we started our slow descent. There was no sighting of France, nothing of the Isle of White and even less of the suburbs of London. Just a bit of a blur at the edges. The South Downs were there in the distance, but unlike experiencing them from favourite viewing spots, when walking in Firle, Devil’s Dyke or Chanctonbury Ring, there were no little villages or cricket pitches unfolding before your eyes or fresh new sights around each corner. No distant sounds of cars, cows, planes or trains. No wind in the hair or country smells. No unexpected sights or quotidian human traffic. Just chirpy people taking lots of selfies.
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Ironically, by far the most spectacular view was from outside the capsule – looking directly up from below, as the shimmering donut descended down onto bystanders waiting their go, from a brilliant blue sky. Like the transmogrifying Anish Kapoor Bean in Chicago, you could see distorted reflections of yourself and others, growing larger and more funfair-like, as the capsule finally came to rest.

On exiting, you are bundled into a basement room, a cornucopia of tat. You are suddenly reminded, that just after being screened at the entrance you were photographed for a personalized souvenir. For the princely sum of £21.50 you could now buy a paper album, curated with your mugshot set against backdrops from different eras and places in Brighton. Victorian, modern, and space age. Unsurprisingly, no-one was buying them. R snapped some of the pictures as we flicked through the pages with his iPhone. Then we went across the road and had a delicious cream tea in the Victoria Terrace at the Grand Hotel – that cost less than the tacky booklet. It was a real treat, with all the trappings, and on top of that, fine views of the sea and pier.
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