What of the emperor with no Svengali?
RASPUTIN, as everyone knows, was a lovehate figure of early 20th-century Russian history. A self-proclaimed mystic and visionary, he captivated the Romanov royal family, in particular Tsarina Alexandra, the empress consort of Nicholas II.
His wild eyes, flowing beard and hypnotic control over the powerful rulers led to polarised opinions – sacred, divisive, loathed and revered in equal measure. Was he charlatan or prophet? His recovery from a near-fatal assassination attempt in 1914 convinced some of his ‘magical’ powers.
The jury returned its ultimate verdict in the dying days of 1916 and he was gunned down, mortally shot; the royal family the only attendees at his funeral. They believed they couldn’t survive without his influence, and so it proved.
Svengali is a fictional character, but no less a representation of Machiavellian manipulation. The heroine in George du Maurier’s novel ‘Trilby’ is led to believe in her greatness as a singer as he hypnotises her to perform brilliantly on stage. However, without her Svengali in the wings, she is a lowly artist’s model, tone deaf and off key. When he dies, the audience realises she has no talent, no genius and her career is over.
Dominic Cummings has been called many things, and ‘Svengali’ is an adjective of choice. His flouting of the very Covid-19 rules he helped author, for which other notables in the British fight against the virus have resigned, cannot but lead to his eventual downfall.
That’s as may be, and the singularity of his influence has been inexplicable and worrisome for someone with such unelected power.
But what now for the master he serves? The huge mandate Boris Johnson received from the UK public cannot be ignored, and there may be few around him willing to call it, but maybe another fictional tale will be re-enacted courtesy of Hans Christian Andersen: perhaps his voters will realise that, indeed, their emperor is wearing no clothes at all.
Zuckerberg knows where you live...
ANOTHER lauded visionary is Mark Zuckerberg. The Facebook founder runs one of the most valuable companies on the planet; he has wealth unimaginable to most of us.
Worth around $80bn aged only 36, he is estimated to earn $2m every hour. In two minutes he earns the equivalent of the average American’s annual take-home wage. An ordinary household spending $1 is equal to Zuckerberg splashing $780,000. And on the ridiculous comparisons go.
Lately he has been promulgating (as have all CEOs) the feasibility of more employees working from home indefinitely. Covid-19 has been nothing if not a catalyst for change.
With almost 45,000 workers worldwide, it is a big question for Facebook. Zuckerberg imagines 50pc of his staff will be working remotely over the next few years.
Imagine the savings he will make on grand offices, energy, insurance, canteens, cleaning and infrastructure across 70 global sites. Surely it will mean workers who need to create permanent home offices and adjust their lives without the comfort of an office environment will be rewarded, or at least assisted.
Alas, it seems not. “We’ll basically adjust salary to your location,” he announced in a recent livestream, meaning Springfield and Shreveport are a lot cheaper than Silicon Valley. “We’re going to need everyone to tell us where you’re working,” adding ominously, “and there will unfortunately have to be severe ramifications for people who are not honest about this”. I imagine he’s sanguine about potential rebels. If there’s one thing Facebook excels at, it’s location tracking.