quarta-feira, 24 de outubro de 2018

Não! Medina e Costa não leêm ‘estas coisas’!




Não! Medina e Costa não leêm ‘estas coisas’!
OVOODOCORVO

Airbnb can’t go on unregulated – it does too much damage to cities
Steven Poole
Barcelona is an extreme case, but certainly the law needs to catch up so Airbnb doesn’t price locals out of their community
Barcelona … ‘Airbnb is a parasitic monster that squats over cities and hoovers up vast sums of money through its slimy proboscis.’

Wed 24 Oct 2018 09.30 BST Last modified on Wed 24 Oct 2018 13.18 BST

Remember the “sharing economy”? That rhetoric looks more comically disingenuous than ever in light of the news that a single Airbnb user in Barcelona is managing a portfolio of properties that brings in an eye-watering £33,000 a day in high season. Old neighbourhoods are being overrun with short-term tourists and shops selling souvenir tat. Rents for residents are being driven up, in Barcelona as well as Berlin, New York and elsewhere. Airbnb is a parasitic monster that squats over cities and hoovers up vast sums of money through its slimy proboscis. So what can be done?

Airbnb, short for “airbed and breakfast”, originally sold itself as a way for travellers to stay in people’s spare rooms and get an authentic feel of a foreign culture. This friendly idea is still present in the company’s vocabulary – “hosts”, not landlords, and “hospitality” in place of “business” – even though the vast majority of its listings are now for self-contained apartments or houses. In Barcelona, it used to cost €250 (£221) for a short-term rental permit. Now that such permits are no longer being issued, they change hands for up to €80,000. It’s “sharing” for the rich, maybe, but not for the rest of us.

During their early rapid growth, sharing economy companies started operations around the world without regard to local laws on the basis that existing regulations had not envisaged the radical and disruptive new ideas they embodied. But the tide slowly turned as the whizzy tech rhetoric wore off and it became clear that Uber was in fact a taxi company and Airbnb was in effect a hotel business.

So should we just ban them? No, as they can be useful services and more attractive than the alternatives. The question is how can they be made to behave better. Consumer boycotts, however well intentioned, don’t have the desired effect. The law, however, can. Uber is playing super-nice after Transport for London shocked it last year by refusing at first to renew its licence. So here comes its clean-air plan, involving a 15p-per-mile surcharge on trips to enable its driver to buy electric cars. Regulation works.

The first thing potential regulators need to know, though, is what is actually happening, which is surprisingly difficult since Airbnb keeps its data secret. But enterprising sleuthing can uncover some interesting facts. Tom Slee, the author of What’s Yours Is Mine: Against the Sharing Economy, found that the most expensive Airbnb listing in Rome was one of several luxury rentals bought for the purpose by an American tech entrepreneur.

Meanwhile, the Spanish scholars Albert Arias Sans and Alan Quaglieri in 2016 tested Airbnb’s claims against data from Barcelona to illuminating effect. Airbnb claims its business “revitalises neighbourhoods” – so it is perhaps surprising that “the neighbourhoods with the highest presence of Airbnb are the ones losing population to a larger degree”, which you might think looks like residents being forced out by higher rents.

One answer, some suggest, is for local authorities to be more responsive and fluid in their decision-making. A team of four researchers conducted a close study of Airbnb’s impact on London in 2016, and suggested that every property owner could have the “right to engage in a short-term rental for a given period of time”. These rights could be traded on a market operated by the local council, which would split revenues between local neighbourhood groups and itself. Councils could thus respond to real-time activity to avoid turning areas into hotspots.

In extreme cases such as Barcelona, the only answer might be a clampdown. (It would certainly help if Airbnb could be bothered to pay the €600,000 fine the city levied on it in 2016.) In other places, a more nuanced approach might be appropriate. Many cities now put a cap on how many nights per year a property can be rented short-term and it may be a good idea, too, to cap the number of properties a single owner can list, or limit the number of permits enabling owners to list property in a particular area. The lesson should be that no company is above the law.

In Airbnb’s case, the key to changing its behaviour will be forcing it to be more transparent about its operations. In a 2018 analysis of Airbnb in Australia, the researcher Laura Crommelin and her colleagues argued that the company should make its data about who is listing homes where available to city authorities so they can make informed decisions. After all, if the company really is all about being “open” and “sharing”, what has it got to hide?

• Steven Poole is the author of Rethink: The Surprising History of New Ideas


 Airbnb
Airbnb and the so-called sharing economy is hollowing out our cities
Gaby Hinsliff
The plight of Barcelona shows the damage Airbnb can do, exacerbating urban inequality and freezing out young locals
Fri 31 Aug 2018 08.06 BST

The banner hung from a third-floor balcony, unfurling itself almost all the way down to the cobbles of the square. Barcelona no està en venda, it read, in large hand-painted letters: the city is not for sale. It wasn’t the first such slogan we’d seen in only an hour or so strolling around the narrow, winding streets of Barcelona’s beautiful old quarter last week, and naturally our curiosity was piqued. Something to do with gentrification, or developers maybe? Well, partly. But, disconcertingly, it turned out to have quite a lot to do with people like us, and possibly you too.

Or to be more precise, with the multibillion-pound global phenomenon that is Airbnb. As it happens, I’m boringly old school enough to have stayed in a hotel this time, but the airport bus was full of young families chattering about picking up their flat keys via the site that is famous for letting people rent their houses out to strangers. And Barcelona is far from the only place in which Airbnb is accused of turning summer sour.

Amsterdam is heavily restricting short-term lets by residents after street protests against the swamping of the city by tourists last year. It’s the same story from Paris to Berlin, Venice to Lisbon. Even in Cornwall, at the height of this summer’s heatwave, tourist chiefs took the unusual step of asking holidaymakers to avoid some popular beaches after coastal roads became gridlocked, leaving locals struggling to get on with their daily lives. People in Cornwall are more than used to being overrun in August, but lately something seems to be upsetting the eternally delicate balance between grockle and local, and chief suspect seems to be an unplanned, somewhat unpredictable explosion in Airbnb lets on top of the longstanding hotel and holiday cottage trade.

At least in the West Country things tend to calm down in September. Barcelona is a city-break destination practically all year round, which means it’s struggling with more than just a surfeit of drunken stag parties and queues outside tapas bars. Landlords have realised they can make more money out of short lets to well-off Airbnb users than from renting to conventional tenants who live and work in the city year round, so when contracts come up for renewal it’s not uncommon to find the rent suddenly shooting up to levels that young Spaniards can’t pay. Once they’re forced out of the neighbourhood, the empty flat promptly disappears into what’s still sometimes euphemistically known as the “sharing economy”, although what happens next sounds like the antithesis of sharing. Those lucky enough to own a desirable property get steadily luckier, by pimping it out to the highest bidders. Meanwhile, those who don’t have such an asset become ever less likely to get one, as property prices are pushed up across the city. Thus does inequality harden, and resentment deepen, while the failure of mainstream parties to solve the problem drives the young and frustrated ever closer to the political fringes.

The young woman in a Barcelona barber’s shop who matter-of-factly explained what the slogans were about, while running her scissors over my husband, had long ago given up on buying in the city where she grew up. But now she’s not even sure how long she’ll be able to rent. The tourist’s dilemma has always been that descending on idyllic places tends to ruin them for people who live there, but what’s unusual in this case is that the effects run so deep.

So much for the earnestly hippyish vibe of the original Airbnb model, which was supposed to be all about creating a cosy-sounding “global community” by linking up adventurous strangers in search of more authentic, home-from-home travel experiences. And so much, too, for the idea of democratising the travel industry by letting the little guy make a buck on the side. In some tourist hotspots Airbnb is now morphing from an amateur operation into a slick professional one, with landlords amassing multiple properties just as they once did with buy-to-let, and using agencies to manage their burgeoning empires.

The romantic, if sometimes risky, fantasy of swapping lives with a local for a few nights and seeing the city through their eyes is being replaced with a more corporate, impersonal experience. Sign here for the keys; check out promptly in time for the next guest to arrive. Too bad that what could have been a young couple’s starter flat is now just another asset to be sweated, and one that probably stands empty half the time.

‘Along with other Spanish cities, Barcelona has moved to limit the Airbnb effect, with licensing schemes and curbs on new rentals in the old town.’ Photograph: Alamy

And if it’s uncomfortable knowing that your cheap getaway comes at such a hidden cost, guilt seems unlikely to put many travellers off. After all, pangs of conscience about climate change didn’t stop millions of us taking cheap no-frills flights back in the days when it was easyJet that was disrupting the holiday market. But this is about more than what individuals choose to do with their summers. It’s about how modern markets function, and what happens when governments either won’t intervene or can’t quite work out how to do so quickly enough. Along with other Spanish cities, Barcelona has moved to limit the Airbnb effect with licensing schemes and curbs on new rentals in the old town. But if we’ve learned anything from the Ubers and the Amazons and the Facebooks, it’s that by the time the unwanted human consequences of digital disruption become obvious, much of the damage is often already done.

What really struck the Barcelona hairdresser, however, was that when she travelled she heard similar stories. Cities all over the globe seem to be eating themselves, squeezing out the young and the skint and the creative, who are all too often the people who made them achingly hip in the first place. It manifests itself differently in different places, of course: London had a housing affordability crisis before Airbnb was even invented. Soaring prices from Berlin to Vancouver to Sydney have been blamed on everything from cheap borrowing and foreign speculation to changing demographics and government failure to build enough social housing, none of which are remotely the fault of second-home owners turning a quick profit.

But the common thread is a sense that, for whatever reason, markets are not delivering for the young in a post-crash world; that digital disruption only makes things more unpredictable; and that years of politicians earnestly promising to do something about it have come to pitifully little. All of which is a statement of the bleeding obvious now, a truth so universally accepted that it’s almost completely lost its power to shock – until seen from a slightly fresh perspective. But then that’s the thing about travel. Sometimes you go halfway round the world only to notice what was under your nose all along.

• Gaby Hinsliff is a Guardian columnist

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