Politics has had more than a few mantras over the past generation, but none more lasting than “government ought to be run like a business.” And, by extensions, citizens ought to be treated like customers.

Potlatch takes careful aim at this particular sacred cow:

Treating people purely as customers always leads to the same place: calmly trying to explain to infantile idiots that they can’t have paradise on earth. (I should know – I’ve just spent 48 hours being waited on hand and foot, including having my hotel slippers placed next to my bed at around 9pm every night, the result being that I felt like screaming at a member of staff every time the sun went behind a cloud).

Before September 11th, people used to see air travel as an opportunity to make a fuss. There’d always be someone demanding an upgrade, someone wanting to bring their surf-board on as hand luggage, and the staff would be treated as outlets for any old frustration that related (or didn’t relate) to spending hours cooped up in a cabin. And the airlines response? Indulge these fools further, thus making it even less likely that they would go away feeling satisfied. Customer satisfaction is a moving target, because it’s irrational.

Since September 11th, air travel is dictated by the material realities of moving thousands of people around through the air. You queue, you get treated like shit, you queue some more, and your lucky if you’re even allowed on the plane. You’re promised nothing, and you get it. Which, in a sense, is a slightly over the top model of what is needed in public services to a greater extent. In the same way that ‘public value’ aims to capture three components simultaneously – customer satisfaction, efficiency and accountability – air travel now shows that injecting a bit of harsh reality into the deluded ego of the consumer can actually produce a higher form of satisfaction.