The latest conspiracy theories around 5G and Coronavirus come as no surprise to those working in telecoms. It is an area dogged by amateur theorists and pseudo-scientists. From the early days of the telephone where it was claimed the new invention would be used to "talk to hell..." other issues have included spying, phantom phone calls, telephones turning into heads, garden gnomes building up big phone bills and the Renault Clio being the ‘only car in the world’ for those worried about radiation. The only answer for mobile operators is to develop matter transfer via broadband…
I’ve been reading about the association of 5G with Coronavirus, seeing posts about it on Facebook by friends confused about this bizarre phenomenon and reading ‘reasoned’ tweets from those convinced that they will be catching the Miley Cyrus via mobile masts. But through a career in telecoms customer service and PR, dealing with some of the UK’s most dedicated conspiracy theorists, I felt a little superior having been there many, many times before.
In 1980 I joined British Telecom, now BT, as a trainee telephone exchange engineer. However, wiring up equipment with only the company of men many years older than me was not the career I was looking for. So when I saw an advert for a role in customer service, dealing with ‘high-level’ complaints from customers whose technical, accounts and ‘other’ issues had not been fixed by the relevant departments, I applied.
At the interview I was warned that it was a role where I would be shouted and threatened with my life on a daily basis, it was so bad that only two years in the job was recommended. But I got the job and was sent on a course to learn how to navigate my way around the labyrinthian company, which comprised a quarter of a million people in 1983. I learnt how to deal with technical issues that occurred in exchanges, in streets and business and residential premises and how to resolve billing problems.
However, what we weren’t taught about was the ‘other’ issues; from my stats over 70% of the issues we dealt with were ‘other’. And other issues rarely included anything that was down to British Telecom: nuisance calls (“Are you wearing any knickers?” and pre-cyberbullying stuff), being ‘spied on’ via phone, phantom phone calls, phones turning into human heads, cordless ‘phonewaves’ causing psoriasis, garden gnomes building up huge phone bills and advice sought from complaint handlers like me on how to complain to other companies.
Being spied on through the telephone was bread and butter. We even had a standard response along the lines of: “Are you now or have you ever been a member of either Her majesty’s or other nations’ secret or special services?” Evidence of being spied upon was usually around ‘clicks’ on the line or other noises, all of which could be explained by the shocking state of wiring and joints in the ground and rain in some places at that time, or electro-mechanical exchanges which were phased out long after steam trains had disappeared from our railways. One customer told me had actually found the bugs on his line. I asked him to bring them in and show them to me and the head of engineering.
“I’m a councillor for the bereaved,” he told us as he removed the ‘bugs’ from his pocket. “My conversations must remain private.”
“What does your telephone line look like now?” asked the head of engineering.
“it’s sagging a bit…”
“That’s not surprising, those are the clips that hold it up,” responded the engineer, leaving the room as he shot me a “Don’t ever waste my time with your lunatics again,” look.
Other people ‘under surveillance’ via the phone included a lady whose extra evidence was planes circling over south-east London as they stacked for Heathrow.
“They tilt over because everyone's on one side looking into my house,” she claimed.
And the scout hut over the road was where people met to discuss her. They wore uniforms so it was definitely ‘government-sponsored’.
One elderly lady called after she was advised she was about to be cut off for non-payment. Apparently her garden gnomes were using her phone all the time and “I’m sure as hell not going to pay their bills,” she told me. Accounts referred her to me as they had no time for this sort of thing, apparently I did.
“Do you think you could be imagining this?” I asked.
“Do you think I’m mad?!” she responded. “And they take all the hot water, ask the police!”
So I did. I called Catford police station.
“Ah yes,” was the response. “We’ve a specialist officer who deals with her.”
He called me back and told me all about her. She was quite lovely and was looked after by carers, family and Help the Aged volunteers so she had an independent life. He said the ‘gnome thing’ was sensitively managed: “I go round and bollock them every now and again. Only I can do it as I have a beard. But it keeps her happy for a while. I’ll let the family know there’s a billing issue.”
After all the warnings about physical threats, which I did receive (and these were the customers who almost always bothered to call back to say thank you: “Sorry about what I said before about breaking your legs…”) the only call that ever kept me awake was the lady who told me that when she gets a call her phone turns into a human head. I told her that I wasn’t qualified to deal with matters like this.
“You might not understand this, but your soul does,” she responded enigmatically. Her voice haunted me for days and I woke at night several times with it in my head.
Regulars included ‘dreamers’, who insisted their phones rang all through the night. With these we put a check on their lines to test for incoming calls and always found that their phones never rang at night. Most took this well and once their brains knew it was a dream they could sleep through. Some resented the ‘invasion of privacy’ but were unable to explain what privacy we had invaded.
It was at this time that telecoms paranoia was joined by accusations of health issues. Cordless phones had been launched and despite them being massive and ceasing to work ever again after thunderstorms they were very popular. But not so popular with some neighbours.
“My daughter’s had psoriasis ever since next door got a cordless phone,” I was told by one person. This was new territory then, and I wasn’t sure what to say other than that sounds ridiculous, which I wasn’t allowed to say. So I said I’d contact our laboratories and see what they had to say.
“That sounds ridiculous,” said the boffins.
In the meantime I got a call from the neighbour, who said her neighbour had told her I had ‘forbidden’ her to use her cordless phone. I assured her that I hadn't and contacted the original caller to say that not only did she or I not have the right to tell anyone not to use a perfectly legal device, it was scientific opinion that a cordless phone was not the cause of her daughter’s psoriasis. I suggested she got some proper medical opinion from her GP and discussed with her what my friends with this condition did, and this did not include distancing themselves from cordless phones.
After some other roles I moved into PR, working with journalists. This went so well that I left my job and set up my own PR agency. Here I took on the PR for a business which had developed ‘mini-masts’, amongst other technology. These were devices that could be attached to lamp-posts and telegraph poles to boost the mobile signal in areas where this was a problem.
A mini-mast had the equivalent power of around four mobile phones and is always, because it was placed on street furniture, several metres from premises. Yet one tabloid took up the cases of people, for example, who were literally living in houses wallpapered in Bacofoil because they had singled out mobile phone signals as carcinogenic. It carried articles every few days for some weeks about what could happen to your child (including the ones with mobile phones) if mini-masts were introduced. It became so bad that despite my efforts and those of a crisis PR agency the project was shelved.
That same tabloid and, in some cases, even the same journalist, then took up the case of people who had a poor mobile phone signal. Advice comprised: “Get a signal booster, there are third-party gadgets called signal boosters that pick up weak signals and produce a full powered signal indoors,” and: “However, while these are available in the US , they are currently illegal in the UK.”
What intrigued me was the fixation on telecoms Electromotive force (EMF). Why not TVs? Or laptops? These are ubiquitous, but perhaps too difficult to live without. At the time of the mini-mast venture the old cathode ray tube TVs were much in vogue and emitted much more radiation than current TVs, which still give off a little bit. But I’ve yet to hear anyone taking up the cudgel against them. Sure, there are the usual quack EMF shields that ‘scare the pants off them’ marketing can sell but aside from that, very little.
Later on in my PR career I worked alongside legal and safety experts in my return stint at the big telephone company. By this time Wi-Fi had arrived and brought with it the new wave of monomania, a word I picked up from legal colleagues who dealt with various cases including, again, being spied upon, mobile-phone signals and now Wi-Fi.
I took a call from a lady who told me that she would not use Wi-Fi because it is carcinogenic and wanted the right (here we go again) to stop her neighbour having a router. She told me that her daughter was a lecturer at the University of Toulouse on EMF prevention. Of course I checked, there was no such person or course. But what really got me was this conversation:
“I’ve got the only car you can buy that doesn’t give off any EMF.”
“Which car is that?”
“A Renault Clio.”
“How is a Renault Clio is different to any other car?”
“I don’t know the technical detail but I told the man at the garage my concerns and he recommended the Clio as the only car that doesn’t give off EMF.”
Well hats off to that salesman for knowing his market. I did what any self-respecting PR person would do and asked her to write in outlining the issues in a proper letter, on paper, with a stamp on it. That usually works. However, I did get a letter, and very detailed it was too. I gave a standard response about the WHO saying there was ‘no evidence’ for Wi-Fi or mobile phones killing us. Though this is dangerous as WHO, quite rightly will not say EMF from these devices doesn’t cause cancer, but it would say the same about slippers or divan beds.
Incidentally, whilst in this job I worked with a colleague who came into work extraordinarily distressed one Monday. A neighbour had tried to get into her house to take her cordless phone as she said it was “Killing my children.” For me it was a trip down memory lane, back to the 80s.
“Wait until you tell her you’ve got a TV, a Wi-Fi router and a microwave,” I said. “Actually, tell her that when she gets rid of her TV, Wi-Fi and microwave, you’ll get rid of your cordless phone.” I’m not sure this advice was gratefully received by either party but sometimes I’m just at a loss for words on this stuff.
The latest nonsense around 5G is totally expected, by me anyway. But like the anti-vaxxer ‘campaign’ the sinister turn it is taking is scary. Burning down masts could prevent emergency call access and abuse of engineers could lead to tragedy, on either side if my experience of old colleagues was anything to go by. The Government is right to stop transmission of manipulative nonsense that is already leading to vandalism of vital equipment and violence, and the fact that it is doing it transparently is even better.
My suggestion as a PR professional (OK, I failed on mini-masts but I’ve upped my game and learned from that experience) to telecoms firms is this: pretend that you’re toying with matter transfer of people via broadband. That would present all sorts of ethical and medical issues for the dedicated conspiracy theorist to get their loosening teeth into. And in the meantime you could get up to 8g without anybody noticing.
