Read Online Constant Touch by Jon Agar - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jon Agar
Tags: science, Internet, Telecommunications, engineering and technology, electronics and communications, telephone and wireless technology, mobile telephones
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threepence for three minutes. Two years later, theemergency services were allowed to connect to the telephone network. Indeed, the mobile telephone had begun to trickle down the British class system. On the eve of the introduction of cellular phones, a privileged 14,000 used the later (non-cellular) System 4 mobile telephones. The TeKaDe terminal alone cost £3,000 and the annual subscription was a quarter of this sum again. Car ownership is a good indicator of status, and most users of System 4 drove a Rolls-Royce, BMW, Mercedes or Range Rover.
A class act all round. Woman in a Rolls-Royce Corniche, with radiophone, 1975. (BT Archives)
The later story of mobile phones in Britain only makes sense in the context of the politicaltransformations instigated by Margaret Thatcher, who was elected as prime minister in 1979. The early years of her Conservative administration were decidedly shaky. She had ditched the consensus politics of her forebears in favour of rolling back the state and a brutal regime of monetarist economics. Unemployment shot up. Riots flared in London, Liverpool and other cities. Her drastic experiment on Britain would almost certainly have ended in defeat if it were not for two factors. First, the unexpected war with Argentina over the Falkland Islands rekindled nationalist emotions that few, in particular the ineffectual Labour party in opposition, suspected still existed. Second, Thatcherism made an even stronger appeal to the purse than to the nationalist heart. In rolling back the state, Margaret Thatcher realised that the privatisation of state-owned resourcesreleased money, in the form of stocks and shares, that could be given to the voter. A virtuous cycle of greed was set up, in which industry was liberalised and individuals enriched. It was to be an experiment in class and competition.
Telecommunications â in other words the Post Office â provided an ideal test case. Two years after Thatcherâs rise to power, the Telecommunications Act of 1981 was passed. The phone business side of the Post Office was stripped away and renamed British Telecom, and a competitor was authorised: Mercury Communications Ltd, a new face to the old imperial firm of Cable & Wireless. While for the moment BT would remain a public corporation, like the old Post Office, a second Act in 1984 privatised it. The theory was that with the new exposure to the market, British Telecom would be forced to respond to customer needs. The era of the squat black telephone, with one size fitting all, was over.
But Mercury, competing with British Telecom on the fixed-network telephone service, would provide a poor demonstration of the powers of market capitalism. The leviathan British Telecom retained a
de facto
monopoly over the landlines. Instead mobile telephony became politically hot: since cellular systems would be introduced from scratch, then British Telecom would be on a level playing field with competitors.
In 1982, the government announced that twoanalogue cellular licences were up for grabs. As an extra hobble, British Telecom was told that a submission would not be welcome directly, only in the form of a joint bid in a minority partnership. Intensely annoyed, but unwilling to yield a promising area of telecoms business, British Telecom combined with the private security firm Securicor. (Securicor was doing very well in the Thatcher years, and therefore had the money to risk, but it was also an experienced user of private mobile radio.) This service, operating under the name âCellnetâ, was guaranteed the first licence. The second licence was won in December 1982 by a consortium led by the unusually market-oriented defence electronics firm Racal, and inspired by Gerald Whent, then chairman of Racalâs Radio Group. Other partners included Millicom, which had operated cellular phone systems in the United States â including a test-rig around Rayleigh-Durham, North Carolina as early as 1981.
A class act all round. Woman in a Rolls-Royce Corniche, with radiophone, 1975. (BT Archives)
The later story of mobile phones in Britain only makes sense in the context of the politicaltransformations instigated by Margaret Thatcher, who was elected as prime minister in 1979. The early years of her Conservative administration were decidedly shaky. She had ditched the consensus politics of her forebears in favour of rolling back the state and a brutal regime of monetarist economics. Unemployment shot up. Riots flared in London, Liverpool and other cities. Her drastic experiment on Britain would almost certainly have ended in defeat if it were not for two factors. First, the unexpected war with Argentina over the Falkland Islands rekindled nationalist emotions that few, in particular the ineffectual Labour party in opposition, suspected still existed. Second, Thatcherism made an even stronger appeal to the purse than to the nationalist heart. In rolling back the state, Margaret Thatcher realised that the privatisation of state-owned resourcesreleased money, in the form of stocks and shares, that could be given to the voter. A virtuous cycle of greed was set up, in which industry was liberalised and individuals enriched. It was to be an experiment in class and competition.
Telecommunications â in other words the Post Office â provided an ideal test case. Two years after Thatcherâs rise to power, the Telecommunications Act of 1981 was passed. The phone business side of the Post Office was stripped away and renamed British Telecom, and a competitor was authorised: Mercury Communications Ltd, a new face to the old imperial firm of Cable & Wireless. While for the moment BT would remain a public corporation, like the old Post Office, a second Act in 1984 privatised it. The theory was that with the new exposure to the market, British Telecom would be forced to respond to customer needs. The era of the squat black telephone, with one size fitting all, was over.
But Mercury, competing with British Telecom on the fixed-network telephone service, would provide a poor demonstration of the powers of market capitalism. The leviathan British Telecom retained a
de facto
monopoly over the landlines. Instead mobile telephony became politically hot: since cellular systems would be introduced from scratch, then British Telecom would be on a level playing field with competitors.
In 1982, the government announced that twoanalogue cellular licences were up for grabs. As an extra hobble, British Telecom was told that a submission would not be welcome directly, only in the form of a joint bid in a minority partnership. Intensely annoyed, but unwilling to yield a promising area of telecoms business, British Telecom combined with the private security firm Securicor. (Securicor was doing very well in the Thatcher years, and therefore had the money to risk, but it was also an experienced user of private mobile radio.) This service, operating under the name âCellnetâ, was guaranteed the first licence. The second licence was won in December 1982 by a consortium led by the unusually market-oriented defence electronics firm Racal, and inspired by Gerald Whent, then chairman of Racalâs Radio Group. Other partners included Millicom, which had operated cellular phone systems in the United States â including a test-rig around Rayleigh-Durham, North Carolina as early as 1981.
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