In a development that has sent shockwaves through the boardrooms of billionaires and the tiny, gin-soaked hearts of this correspondent, the Commonwealth of Australia has launched legal proceedings against Amazon, alleging the retail behemoth has been force-feeding unfair contracts to its marketplace sellers like a goose destined for foie gras. And if that wasn't enough to make Jeff Bezos choke on his morning rocket fuel, the UK's Competition and Markets Authority has sniffed the air and, like a bloodhound with a law degree, signalled it is preparing to take similar action. Cue the dramatic orchestral sting.
Let us dissect this glorious shambles. Australia, a nation built on the back of sunburn, dangerous spiders, and a steadfast refusal to be told what to do by anyone wearing a crown or a corporate logo, has decided that Amazon's treatment of its third-party sellers is about as fair as a boxing match between a kangaroo and a toddler. The allegation, as far as this correspondent can decipher through the miasma of legal jargon and gin fumes, is that Amazon uses its monstrous market power to dictate terms that would make a Victorian-era factory owner blush. Sellers must agree to pricing clauses that ensure Amazon is always the cheapest, even if that means the seller makes a loss; they must use Amazon's logistics or be banished to the algorithmic hinterlands; and any complaint is met with the digital equivalent of a shrug and a suggestion to 'innovate.' It is the economic equivalent of a mob shakedown, but with better customer service.
The UK's Competition and Markets Authority, finally emerging from a prolonged lunch break (or perhaps it was just waiting for the right moment to pounce), has indicated it is 'monitoring the situation closely.' This is the regulatory equivalent of a parent saying 'just wait till your father gets home.' It is a threat, a promise, and a warning all rolled into one. The CMA has been circling Amazon like a hungry badger for years, poking at its practices, muttering about 'anti-competitive behaviour.' Now, emboldened by Australia's audacity, it seems the badger is ready to feast. One can almost hear the collective gulp in Amazon's London office, though it is likely drowned out by the sound of Prime delivery vans running over pensioners.
What does this mean for the average British shopper, who has grown accustomed to clicking 'Buy Now' with the same casual disregard for consequences as a man lighting a cigarette in a fireworks factory? Possibly nothing, at least in the short term. Amazon will likely fight this with the same ferocity as a cornered badger, deploying armies of lawyers, PR flacks, and the ghost of Jeff Bezos's ambition. But if the regulators win, we might see a future where small businesses can sell on Amazon without having to sacrifice their firstborn or their profit margins. Imagine a world where a local cheesemonger can compete with a multinational without being squeezed into bankruptcy. Utopian? Perhaps. But also, just possibly, fair.
So, raise a glass of overpriced airport gin to the Australian Commonwealth, which has decided that even a bunch of convicts and their descendants can teach the global tech oligarchy a lesson in fair play. And keep an eye on the CMA, for it may yet prove that the British bulldog still has some bite left, even if it is currently distracted by Brexit paperwork and the price of kippers. The game is afoot, as Holmes might say, but only if he'd swapped his deerstalker for a barrister's wig and a deep, abiding hatred for tax avoidance.
