Postcards from London: ARC, Day 3

Where is the ARC sailing? Final thoughts

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For my third day aboard the ARC, I made the radical choice to skip nearly all the mainstage speeches and hang about the exhibition hall with friends old and new. This last conference postcard (not the last of my London postcards, as I have more impressions to share from my sightseeing!) will thus be a bit of a hodge-podge: last day-of impressions and anecdotes, thoughts on speeches I’ve watched after the fact, and general reflections on the direction of the conference. The organizers are uploading content without indicating what day it was filmed, so I might make a comment about something I actually missed from Day 1 or Day 2. (Catch up with my Day 2 reflections here, mostly reserved for paid readers.)

A side thought as I watch the channel for updates is that whoever runs it seems to take a very, well, clickbaity approach. Os Guinness’s address is being advertised as “83-year-old Philosopher’s message to our generation and time.” Granted, Guinness himself mentions his age in the speech, but it still feels cringe. Douglas Murray’s speech—perfectly entertaining Douglas fare, but nothing earth-shattering—has become “Douglas Murray’s speech that left 4,000 people speechless.” Musician Oliver Anthony’s appearance is “Oliver Anthony’s speech that left 4000 people stunned.” Don’t miss “Konstantin Kisin’s HILARIOUS speech to world leaders.” And so on. It’s clear that a major goal of ARC is to create Content with a capital “C” and broadcast it to the widest possible audience. And given that these videos have racked up millions of views in just two weeks, I suppose whoever is writing their clickbait titles might feel vindicated. All the same, it seems unnecessary and try-hard, as if the content can’t speak for itself.

But back to my adventure. First, I forgot an amusing moment from the end of Day 2: At some point during the day, my un-laminated nametag tore and fell off the lanyard. I’m sure this was symbolic for something. So I had to take it to the corner where people were collecting our coats and ask whether I could use the tape dispenser on their counter. The woman behind it, who looked like she’d had a very long day, patiently said yes. And so, in very awkward fashion, I managed to reaffix the tag, then crossed my fingers that it would be good enough for one day more.

On the morning of Day 3, I enjoyed another extended chat with a London cabby, this time a voluble fellow named Nick. We covered lots of ground, including various ways the government screwed up COVID. “They took away common sense and replaced it with health and safety,” Nick said, and I couldn’t have said it better. He talked about the hypocrisy of UK politicians cutting corners for themselves, “and there was us, not even a pub open.” Even now, Nick said, doctors and hospitals are still running behind. In classic London cabby fashion, he pivoted seamlessly from colorful words for the traffic (“Whoa man, what the f*** are you doing? You call yourself security, dumb-arse?”) to tender reflections about caring for his mother in her last days. He lamented little signs of decline, like the fact that “we haven’t had a pound note since about 1982.” He pointed out the Silvertown Tunnel on our way and griped about the massively expensive project, which had introduced a two-way toll system for both the new road and the already existing Blackwall Tunnel.

Mary Harrington has written about how the expo center where we held the conference recalled an airport, a place somehow existing outside space and time. But chatting in the cab with Nick for that early morning hour, I felt that sense of “Ah, here now is England.”