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A Look Behind EDS' Takeover of the UK Government
By Simon Davies
Data processing companies around the world have been buying up up vast chunks of government data and are taking over the responsibility for running traditional public sector activities such as social welfare and taxation. The boom in outsourcing of government services is taking hold in most industrialised countries, but the activity is often outside public scrutiny. The outsourcing process has been described as the quietest privatisation in history.
The implications of the outsourcing boom are far reaching and serious. Privacy, security, sovereignty and accountability are substantially
affected. In this article, Privacy International's director, Simon Davies, investigates the British operations of the world's largest outsourcer, Electronic Data Systems (EDS), and explains how the industry is changing the world.
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BIG BROTHER plc
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Its easy to overlook the most strategically important building in West London. Travelling from Heathrow to suburban Uxbridge, you might well fail to notice a featureless glass and steel cube guarded by a bronze eagle. A pity really. Most people would be astounded at what goes on in there.
Right now, I'm standing in a dimly lit passageway deep inside this unchartered facility, accompanied by its Supreme
Commander. We've successfully negotiated two security points, including one of those annoying bullet-proof glass turnstiles. Now
we can go no further. Even the boss can't get to the next level because the passcode changes every hour. Hes growing impatient waiting
for help. For something to talk about he sweeps his hand in the direction of a neon studded metal map of the world.
We manage this he says. He reminds me strangely of P.T.Barnum.
In time we file into an observation gallery. Stretching into the distance is a scene that vaguely resembles something out of Battlestar Galactica. Rows of workers are dwarfed by vast screens displaying unintelligible flow charts and maps. Behind a wall-size window just a grenades throw away is one of the grandest computer rooms Ive ever laid eyes on: 70 terabytes (70,000 gigabytes) at the last count, enough to give god himself a momentary headache. The organism grows constantly. At the moment of writing it boasts
50,000 MIPS processing power and services 400,000 terminals around the world.
It looks like enough crunching power to run a government. Which is fortunate, because that's exactly what it does.
This is one of the two international hubs of
EDS, the biggest information management organisation on
earth. Banks, airlines, oil companies and myriad multinationals depend on EDS to move, sort and make sense of their data. And
so do governments. It's not just the Bank of America, France Telecom, General Motors, Sony and Philips in there. It's the US Immigration Service. And the government of South Australia. And your tax records.
You may not have noticed it, but there's a slow privatisation going on that could be worth many many times the value of British
Rail - and could carry far more important implications. This isn't about last century's infrastructure. Its about next century's.
At the moment EDS is handling at least some of the data needs of the Child Support Agency, the Driver and Vehicle Licencing
Agency, the NHS, the Department of Social Security, and the Inland Revenue, among others. Its contracts with the British
government are worth billions. And it's not just a matter of money. EDS is part of a fundamental change in the nature of
government services and government accountability.
In some respects, the outsourcing boom is nothing new In the
eighties many people with uniforms or gardening shorts found
themselves on the front page of a private sector employment
contract. In this first phase of outsourcing, government agencies
were divided into core functions (collecting tax, paying welfare
benefits) and peripheral or support functions (mowing lawns
maintaining building security). The core functions were
maintained.
In the 1990s, the equation took another step. Agencies evolved a
more complex division : Executive functions (manufacturing and
issuing passports, issuing ID cards, processing data), and
Judgmental functions (issuing documents of identity in transit,
granting asylum). In this second phase of outsourcing, the
judgmental functions are maintained by government.
This current distinction is a line drawn in sand. There is no
policy - only what Oughton describes as Developing Practice.
This leaves the way open for a third phase of outsourcing
involving core functions of the 102 Executive Agencies (Central
Statistical Office, Employment Service, Customs and Excise,
Patent Office etc). The entire Paymaster General went this way
last month and more agencies will soon follow.
So it sees that Orwell was wrong. Big Brother doesn't have a party apparatus, and he doesn't wear a uniform (except perhaps for the
obligatory tie). He doesn't care what you believe. He just sits in West London piling up the data and trying to make an honest buck.
Just a conscientious partner in the great national enterprise. You could almost get to like him.
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The market forces mantra
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Paul Clarke has been running EDS's London operation for four years, and he still gushes like a new father. I find myself warming to
him, and that comes as a shock. I care about privacy and I fight for it. I've organised campaigns around the world to defeat ID
cards, and yet here I am happily chatting to the architects of a machine that will surely run a future national ID card system. The thing is, I've got something in common with these
people. I don't trust government much - and neither do they. They think that much of what it does is wasteful and messy and unhelpful,
and I cannot disagree. However they think they can do it better.. And I rather doubt that. More efficiently? Quite likely. But
efficiency doesnt take into account the democratic process, individual rights, the public interest. And I'm not sure EDS does either.
It's hard to say though. EDS does not go out of its way to let people know what it thinks (unlike its founder, Ross Perot). And while
its a big company, it knows how to keep out of the public eye.
Perot founded EDS in 1962 with a US$1,000 cheque. In 1984 he sold it for an undisclosed sum somewhere in the very low billions to
General Motors, a customer which by then accounted for nearly three quarters of the company's revenue, and which, ironically,
had no intention of handing over the administration of its business to an outside organisation. Since then it has blossomed into
a multinational with an annual turnover on the better side of thirteen billion dollars and growing at 25 percent. EDS activities span
IT provision, system integration, data processing and business consultancy. In June of this year it became a listed company on the
New York and London stock exchanges. It has 100,000 employees in 42 countries and it has contracts for 40 billion dollars worth of
business.
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Heady days
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From the 1970s, data processing had quickly became a rapidly
evolving, highly specialised and costly operation that caused
problems for even the largest organisations. By the 1980s it
often entailed the use of artificial intelligence, geodemographic
analysis and predictive profiling. How to efficiently deal with a
rapidly growing mass of complex data in a constantly changing
IT environment was a perennial headache. As information
technology moved into the core of business management,
companies were anxious to find expert help. EDS was there.
To some extent, the EDS phenomenon is a child of a world-
wide mania for corporate re-engineering. Over the past fifteen
years, in an effort to maximise profit and efficiency, businesses
and government agencies of all types have been systematically
downsized, asset-stripped, delayered and rationalised.
Company departments unexpectedly become profit centres,
while government agencies face radical change as their functions
are market tested against the price offered by private sector
competition. No longer satisfied to protect inefficient areas of
their organisation, bosses were encouraged to identify their
companies core competence, and farm out the rest of the
business to specialist outside organisations. The most visible
example of this activity is when the local council contracts a
private company to handle garbage collection. This process is
known as outsourcing, and its an industry that is growing at
around thirty per cent a year world wide.
The principle of outsourcing runs along these lines: a bean bag
manufacturer knows heaps about making bean bags, but
precious little about anything else. To make the organisation run
better, break it into component parts (bean bag factory, bean bag
data processing, bean bag marketing and bean bag distribution).
Identify the single element that forms the companies key
expertise. Finally, farm the rest off in packages to specialist
outside organisations that can do the work cheaper than you
could do it yourself. Simple.
It doesn't detract from EDS's success to point out that it was the right company at the right time. The currents which swept it to its
current prosperity were strong and deep. In the 1970s some companies - and investors - began to see that the creative use of data
might matter as much or more than the creative use of raw materials. That meant they needed information systems. Big ones. Complicated ones. Temperamental ones. Data handling systems require expertise. Most companies dont really have it. And once the system was there, a lack of expertise was potentially fatal. There was a need for a safe
pair of hands.
By getting there early, by having clearly impressive clients, and being reliable, EDS became the first choice for organisations wanting help with their data management. Because of the militaristic culture that Perot had inculcated in the company, clients called
it sending for the marines.
But the marines were not just an expeditionary force. They stayed on. Outsourcing information sources to experts became seen as
a wise thing to do, allowing companies to concentrate on the business they knew best. And EDS became the place that companies
outsourced to.
As with companies, so in time with governments. Civil services have all the problems with data systems that corporations do. That alone might lead to outsourcing. And it was not alone. In the UK the forces of outsourcing had Margaret Thatcher on their side.
in 1979, Thatcher told colleagues that no government agency - not even defence and treasury - should be spared the market test.
But it was not until 1991, with the publication of the White Paper Competing for Quality, that her vision finally materialied. In this new
policy, all departments and executive agencies were required to set targets for the testing of new areas of activity against
competing bidders in the marketplace. If a private company could establish that it can perform the role of government more cheaply
and efficiently and with a higher quality of service, the job was theirs.
Information management was always one of the new policy's prime targets. Its privatisation was not likely to be a political issue, since few people understood the esoteric domain of data processing. And there was genuine need. While some government agencies such as Inland Revenue consistently scored highly in international tests, other
organisations such as DSS were hopeless. Internal barriers and ancient tradition prevented sensible integrated policy. The
outsourcing mania had struck all areas of government, from driving licences and welfare benefits through to health and police.
Ministers, MPs, media and corporations all began chanting the Market Forces Mantra. That meant a field day for EDS.
As the process began to pick up steam, bigger and bigger prizes were offered. Eventually the Inland Revenue itself, exemplary record
notwithstanding, was offered up for outsourcing. In the mind of the Thatcherites, the privatisation of tax administration would
be the toughest of all challenges and the sweetest of all victories. For the big outsourcing companies like EDS, Andersen and CSC (Computer Sciences Corporation) it would be the mother of all public sector
contracts.
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Taking over taxes
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I am sitting with David Thorpe, the Managing Director for EDS UK in a flash piece of New Mayfair with its own history of helping the
government. In the 1980s, Landsdowne House in Berkley Square was home to Saatchi and Saatchi. After the go-go decade went, the
Brothers S moved to more modest digs. Their offices were taken over by a global management consultancy, A.T Kierney, which EDS recently acquired. So the backroom boys of the 1990s have taken over
from the flashiest of the 80s operators. It seems sort of ironic. And sort of fitting.
Thorpe is less cocksure than the guys out in West London. Likeable and easily distracted, not really much of a marine. He explains how
EDS's business is changing. EDS doesn't want subcontracted chores. It wants partnerships. That's one of the reasons why it sought out Kearney, one of the world's top ten management consultancies.
It is time to move he tells me, from outsourcing to co-souring. Cosourcing is a way for EDS to become a partner in some
or all key areas of a business, reaping rewards across the entire spectrum. By the year 2000, Thorpe predicts, fifty per cent of EDS
business will be based on this sort of partnership. The pace of change will be so great by then that companies will need a partner that brings more to the picnic than the unfeasibly overdeveloped expertise in operating systems and data architecture. That's what EDS wants to offer.
And it wants to offer it to governments too. Thorpe shares with his colleagues a deep cynicism about government. By its very
nature it is inflexible - unable to meet the demands of a complex marketplace. EDS, he says, has streamlined the re-engineering of
government, helped to develop a service culture within departments, and saved several hundred million pounds.
Sounds good. But it is not always that simple. Take the Inland Revenue contract, EDS's biggest UK contract to date, a strategic
partnership that amounts to something not unlike cosourcing. The invitation to tender ended up about two feet thick and took
eighteen months to produce. It described the exercise as a strategic partnership. In the end, only two organisations were seen as fit to
tender for the job: EDS and a partnership of CSC and IBM. In November 1993, EDS became the outright victor, reaping a billion
pound ten year contract to manage and control all IT business of the Revenue.
The Revenue's staff association tried to stop
the deal. It planted questions in Parliament,
mounted a strategic lobbying exercise, and
wrote to the fifty biggest companies warning
that tax data in the hands of an American
private company may fall victim to industrial
espionage, but all to no avail. The staff
association couldn't successfully argue with a
quoted 225 million pounds that the contract
would save over its lifetime.
With the help of 2,000 former Revenue
employees, EDS operates the day to day
PAYE tax system on a daily basis. (The
employees, says the union, get a better deal
now though they are contractually barred from
discussing the terms of their employment) It
will engineer and manage new projects such
as self assessment. But the precise details of
how it does all this are unclear It is not that
noone has tried to specify them - people
have. Expected results, required process,
record keeping, finances, staff transfers,
confidentiality provisions, copyright
conditions and so on are all laid out in an
astonishingly long and complex contract, one
that more than matches the tender in
complexity. But you cant get at it. The
contract is treated as commercial in
confidence, meaning that noone has the
right to view it. The government's documents
leading up to its development are called
working papers and are also exempt from
disclosure.
So information is flowing more freely than
ever around the Inland Revenue. It must be,
after all. The contract requires it. But how it
flows, and who controls the flow - that is now
unknowable. If efficiency has been gained,
then it has been at the expense of
accountability.
Or, rather, at the expense of the notion of
accountability. anyone who has had the
misfortune to be stuck in a DSS office, or
bungle, will laugh at the notion that the
system is accountable to the public. In theory
at least, there is a democratic line of
accountability leading to the Minister. In the
new deal, it is the contract, not the line of
accountability, which forms the primary
instrument of administration. Pathetic,
unworkable and disreputable as the chain ay
have become, it still carries some normative,
ideological value. But not after outsourcing.
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The not-so-odd-at-all couple
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So three years on, how does the relationship
look? I may not be able to see the contract
itself, but I can ask questions of its incarnation
in the form of John Yard and Peter Clough.
John Yard used to be in charge of the Revenue
IT section with 2,500 staff under his control.
Now he has no IT staff, but has responsibility,
among other things, for managing the EDS
contract. He likens it to running around with
a pooper scooper.
Peter Clough is the EDS Group Director
responsible for the private sector end of the
contract. He and Yard enjoy a close working
relationship - so close indeed that they
compare it to a marriage. They've almost
taken on each others' names. Clough's
business card reads c/o Inland Revenue
while Yard's boasts the impeccably corporate
title of Director, Business Services Office.
And if one of them is giving me a harder sell
than the other on the afternoon I met them,
it's civil servant Yard - in the nicest most
convivial sort of way.
What, I ask them, about democratic
accountability ?
"I think there was a key concern about
whether (in outsourcing) we overstepped the
boundaries and lost the benefits of the public
sector doing this work. The key for us around
all of that were security of taxpayer records
and confidentiality. We were very concerned
that the propriety that tends to be associated
with the public sector should equally apply to
any private sector organisation that gets
involved in this work."
Propriety ?
"Basically that's honesty, and dealing with
things in a fair and equitable way."
Hang on a minute. Whoever claimed, even in
their wildest fits of loving kindness that
government agencies were honest, fair and
equitable. To the extent that they ever do
display those qualities surely its merely
because they are subject to democratic
processes. But Yard is adamant.
"If we outsource, we have to enter into
contractual arrangements which we believe
will protect the public interest. We will then
be accountable if that public interest isn't
served." So you see. If the public interest is
served, then the system is accountable. Even
if no-one can hold it to account, and the
public isn't asked. EDS appears to be cosourcing with
Sir Humphrey.
I change tack, and come at the from the
direction that matters most to the whole deal:
money. Since the contract was signed some
voices have started to ask questions about the
decency of the outsourcing emperors
exposure. In a report released earlier this year,
Leslie Wilcocks, a fellow of Templeton
College at Oxford analysed 61 outsourcing
deals in Europe and the US. In about a half of
these, the expected savings either did not
materialise or were invisible. The report
found that none of the Strategic Partnerships
of the Inland Revenue/EDS type reaped the
expected savings. The Oxford report also
found that the deals with the greatest chance
of failure were long term contracts in which
all IT was outsourced. Sound familiar?
Yard and Clough contend that they're
different. They've got a special relationship.
EDS and the Revenue are on a profit split deal
that divides the spoils if profits from the
operation go above the 225 million mark.
It's in EDS best interest to perform if they
want an additional piece of the cake. Much
the same synergy applied though to the
outsourcing deal between IBM and an
amalgamation of regional police fores for a
fingerprint database system, an agreement
which ended up in court. And it may have
applied to EDS's deal with the Child Support
Agency. EDS supplies all the CSA's
technology and know-how, and has been
responsible for designing and implementing
the Agencies current computer system. In the
middle of this year - for reasons that are
largely shrouded by various layers of secrecy -
the whole system collapsed. More than
350,000 cases were backlogged. An already
miserable and unhappy staff found themselves
(amazingly) even more unpopular than before.
Then followed a rapid sequence of buck-
passing, with both parties claiming innocence.
John Staples, the man in charge of the
contract at the EDS end, told me his
organisation was blameless. We delivered
exactly what the CSA asked for. The
problem, he explained, is with an organisation
that changed its administration and its policy
after the system was implemented. There was
simply too much paperwork (a child support
application form is now 34 pages) and the
government kept tinkering with its policy.
The view of almost everyone I spoke to at
EDS was that they were the unwitting victims
of a hate campaign against the the child
support system. In reply, a CSA press officer
told me I don't think there's anything we can
say about this matter.
The Government of Florida certainly had
something to say. It had contracted EDS in
similar circumstances to build a Social
Security system using the same systems that
CSA uses. In the first year the system went
haywire, causing massive logjams of cases
and paying out 100 million dollars more than
it should in benefits. The State stopped paying
EDS, and EDS sued, arguing that the
government had changed the system
unexpectedly after implementation and - just
like the case here with the CSA - seriously
underestimated the amount of information it
would need to process. We delivered what
they asked for an EDS spokesman told local
television.
In short, the EDS view is that these failures
come from unanticipated changes in policy. In
each case the contract, the technology and the
special relationship could not withstand
sudden changes in government policy. The
company is not to blame: democracy is.
The contract defines the relationship between
parties. It lays out the way tasks must be
undertaken. If the people or their politicians
decide, in their messy way, to ask for
something else to be done, then the company
is often unable to do it. This could yet be a
serious problem in the Yard/Clough marriage.
According to David Thorpe (father of the
bride at EDS) the Inland Revenue contract
was drawn up before Self Assessment - the
most important change in taxation practice in
fifty years - was developed. The part of the
contract dealing with this fundamental change
was simply an add-on. If self assessment was
indeed an add-on then history points to a
potential disaster that could at least partially
paralyse the tax system. John Yard says that
wont happen and that self assessment was
factored in from the beginning. It would be
nice to be able to check.
How bad can it be though? After all, the
whole idea is to bring in the rigors of the
market. in theory at least the government
could find another supplier, or even take the
work back in-house. In practice, this is
unlikely to happen. Its the worst kept secret
in the Inland Revenue that this is a marriage
for life. Yard explains in understated
language that it would be difficult for the
Revenue to handle its own information in the
future. We could buy our assets back from
EDS, but we couldn't necessary get the people
back. If the Revenue thought it lacked good
staff before the transition, it is going to look
pretty sad in ten years time. The bottom line,
according to Revenue officials, is that within
a couple of years the Department will not
have the competence to frame the right IT
questions, let alone find the right answers.
What about getting another partner ? The
problem here is that the detailed knowledge of
how the system works in now locked into one
company, and very hard for an outsider to
duplicate. The issue that will crop up on a re-
compete is that if CSC wins, for arguments
sake, they will need to negotiate with EDS for
how they get the expertise, and I foresee an
issue at that point which says that if the very
best people are involved the losing company
will be rather reluctant to let them go. EDS
European Communications Director Mark Fox
says he cannot recall when a major contract
has changed hands.
One conclusion that might be drawn from all
this is that a ruthless company could easily
hold a government to ransom. With the
competence extracted from the customer and
with competition held at bay, a government's
outsourcing partnership in an information age
could quickly become a policy nightmare: a
marriage made in hell.
As I leave the happy couple I find that some
of what they say makes sense to me. But I still
think the contract is a fundamental weakness.
I don't think we can accept glib assurances
that ministers will ultimately be held liable for
their outsourcing decisions. If the EDS dream
of Cosourcing takes off in the public sector,
the old line of political accountability - weak
as it already is - will collapse.
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Wiring government
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Other links, though, may be made easier by
the new dispensation. As peoples' connections
to the workings of their government are cut,
connection between the parts of that
government could become far more
commonplace. That, at least, is how David
Thorpe sees it. And he thinks this will be a
good thing. The failure of government is that
we have failed to link our systems. Wherever
we go we have to fill out separate forms and
put our name and address down countless
times. Fraud is easy in this country because
systems aren't linked together.
"I believe", he adds, "that we are close to
decisions in government that will facilitate
more integration of departmental systems."
Australia and New Zealand, he continues
enthusiastically, already have data matching
system in which many arms of government are
cross matched and linked. He agrees with Paul
Clarke, the master of machines out Uxbridge
way, that there is no technical reason why all
EDS machines could be linked right now.
The Police National Computer could have
better access to driver and vehicle licencing
system tomorrow. Insurance companies could
have better access to vehicle information,
tomorrow. It isn't technology that's standing
in the way. It's will. It's vision. It's an ability
to implement it.
But we live through a period when there is
enormous skepticism about anything like that
in this country because it looks like Big
Brother. That's why were going to have
three or four identity cards in our pocket if
were not careful.
He's right. This is definitely an area to be
careful about. The matching of computers for
fraud recovery and tax evasion is equivalent to
the imposition of a general warrant upon the
entire population - a point which has not
escaped the constitutions of Germany,
Hungary and Portugal, which impose strict
limits on centralised numbering and matching
systems. But Thorpe sees this as a simple
matter of public opinion. It is possible to
improve data matching: one system for
government; one public file for people;
shared access; reducing fraud; improving
systems; less paperwork; more efficiency
Thorpe's views are reinforced with gusto by
his boss, John Bateman, Managing Director
for Europe, the Middle East and Africa. Part
Australian, part South African, part British,
the gravel voiced Supremo comes across as a
bluff mixture of pragmatism and ruthlessness.
The EDS vision, he tells me, is not merely
national. It is global. It transcends
boundaries of time, context and geography.
Bateman believes that the localised way of
doing business is disappearing. The way
people work is transcending culture
EDS is, of course, at the cutting edge of this
trend. Instead of considering local business
in a local environment, what we do is provide
a local front, but then all the solutions we can
apply to those companies are regardless of
geography. If we've done something very
successfully for a company in any part of the
world, we have an organisational structure
which helps us apply that, tune it, localise it,
and reapply it into a new situation in another
part of the world.
In this truly multinational world, John
Bateman believes data protection law is
pointless. Everything is rising above the
national consideration. Countries that try to
protect data within the confines of their own
borders are trying to legislate against the sea.
I have to agree. I've seen his world. I've
seen the gleaming new buildings set into the
solid traffic of Bangkok. One gun toting
security guard per satellite dish. Container
loads of sensitive personal information -
health records, police files, insurance data,
credit card accounts and government records -
are despatched from all over the world for
processing here. EDS, needless to say, is a
player. Right now, investment is concentrated
on American health and insurance industry,
but the clients for data outsourcing come
from all sectors and all countries - particularly
Britain. Conventional borders disappear
before our eyes, and where our most intimate
personal details are shunted around the globe
behind our back. Its cheaper for companies
and governments. Its more efficient.
Bateman, like everyone else in this
organisation, believes that efficient, market
based information management is the only
solution for a troubled economy.
Governments are steeped in obsolescence.
The civil service is an oxymoron. All things
are possible through the application of logic,
commonsense, innovation, partnership and
passion. In EDS, such ideas are not
discussion points: they are axiomatic truths.
Without so much as a blush of reserve, people
here will tell you EDS is creating templates
for the worlds future.
I ask Bateman if he sees any role for
government in the future.
"The role of government may well be
associated with...", He pauses for reflection. "To be honest I really struggle to come up with a clear definition of ultimately what role
government has."
And then he laughs.
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Simon Davies is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and Director General of Privacy International. An earlier version of this article appeared in the October 1996 edition of Wired (UK).
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