“Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” — Folk saying about ownership
“Own the libs.” — Right-wing political slogan that helped bring us deep social division and Trump
How do our tech titans, past and present, resemble Josef Stalin?
They want to control and centralize everything. They want to put all your digitized data — all the detailed records of your business life, love, work and politics — as well as all the means of using them, in “clouds,” in their possession and under their control. And over the past decade they have largely succeeded in doing so.
For a few bright years in the 1980s and 1990s, personal computers promised to personalize and democratize computing and data handling. But the Internet let software titans turn your personal computer, and lately your smartphone, into mere dumb terminals serving as gateways to
their digital empires in
their clouds. They control how you compute, what programs you use, what you see on your screens, and most importantly, when and how you can access and use your own data and whether others (including government and malefactors worldwide) can.
They have centralized business, commerce, social life, and politics to an extent that Stalin, in his wildest dreams, never could have imagined. His ghost is green with envy.
In so doing, the Internet titans have subverted the promise of personal computers, and even some of the promise of smartphones. These personal devices
could have been great tools of democratization. They could have “leveled the playing field” by putting all your data and computing literally in your own hands, and doing the same for every small shop and restaurant in America.
But that’s not how things turned out. The vast bulk of computing power, data storage, and the economic, social and political power they generate now lies in the hands of “Big Tech.” That’s a deceptively benign moniker for a very few gigantic privately-owned (and obscenely rich) corporations, including Alphabet (which owns Google), Amazon, Apple, Meta (which owns Facebook), and Microsoft.
It’s hard to prove that any of them has unlawfully achieved or maintained a “monopoly” in the traditional language of antitrust law. Settled legal norms of “market power” and “market share” are hard to apply to them because the economic influence of their software and hardware is so broad, deep and difficult to unwind, even for experts. But their practical dominance of commerce and Internet discourse is evident to all of us who shop or wander online.
As these firms have broadened and entrenched their practical power, they have subjected you and me to a daily avalanche of intrusive and disruptive importunities from strangers: online ads, political pitches, conspiracy theories, “breaking news,” a veritable cesspool of lies, inventions and exaggerations, and more. Sometimes this online sewage spurts out of our monitors in unwanted full-motion video. Sometimes it distracts our attention by jumping around in the margins of web pages. Very often, it uses sex as a come-on. Sometimes it assaults our ears with disruptive and ear-busting simulacra of “music.” In addition to on-screen interruptions in almost every website we visit, it appears in unwanted texts, robocalls, and a daily torrent of email spam. And throughout this entire process, Big Tech vacuums up our private data and uses it as it pleases, subject only to nascent, belated and feeble federal, state and EU laws, which are poorly and inconsistently enforced.
All of these intrusions on our privacy and thought processes have three things in common: (1) they are unexpected and unwanted; (2) they interrupt our attention and trend of thought, turning us into digital scatterbrains: and (3) they produce profit, or at least the
hope of profit, for private firms that exploit our supposedly “own” personal data and devices as means of imposing all this on us. They seem more intrusive — and they are supposedly more effective for those who pay for them — than print and TV advertising precisely because they use our own private data to target us. When you consider their effects on
small businesses, which generally lack the money and sophistication to use them, as well as individuals, you can begin to appreciate how drastically so-called “Big Tech” has transformed our economy and our daily life through unnecessary and undesirable centralization of data.
It’s no secret that small retail shops and restaurants are in steep decline nationwide. You can go “downtown” in nearly every small town or big city in America and see some vacated, some even boarded up. The pandemic and its dismal aftermath are partly to blame, but the roots of this decline are decades old.
It all started in the 1950s, with the proliferation of suburbs, new roads and highways, and the cars needed to traverse them. When I was a young adult in Southern California, we thought nothing of driving thirty miles,
one way, to go to dinner, or sometimes even lunch. It’s hard for a restaurant to sustain a personal reputation and regular clientele in a world like that, practically devoid of casual “walk-ins.” Today that on-the-road lifestyle is waning under the influence of massive traffic congestion, increasing fossil-fuel pollution (despite afterburners), distaste for the suburban lifestyles with far too much time spent in a car and on the road, and awareness of the role of excessive personal travel on climate change. But foot traffic has yet to replace it.
The next big change was much more recent. In the past decade or so, Internet recommendations by such sites as Around Me, Google, Tripadvisor and Yelp virtually replaced (pun intended) word-of-mouth recommendations from friends, neighbors and relatives. So posted reviews by unknown patrons, many visitors from far away, began to replace recommendations from people you know personally.
Now that the Covid pandemic appears to be winding down, people and small businesses (the ones that survived!) seem to be yearning to return to an earlier era of walk-ins, personal service and in-person human relations. We all crave small grocery stores, convenience stores and restaurants whose vendors know us and our preferences personally, or at least have human staff that can attend to our needs in person. Most of us abhor those supposedly automated telephone queues that trap us in seemingly endless, repetitive message loops and give us all the options and information but what we are looking for.
This is especially so for restaurant dining, the quintessential retail social occasion. For me at least, the mechanical, regimented, soulless experience of reserving through Open Table, or ordering online through one of the many online food delivery services, is as tasteful as spoiled milk. And this is so without even considering the many features that harassed programmers neglected, like reserving an outside table during pleasant weather or during the pandemic, or receiving information on how busy or crowded the restaurant is
now. (I won’t even mention reports, during the pandemic, of delivery services adding or taking as much as 30% of the bills from small restaurants, whose profit margins are, at best, in the 5-10% range.)
So how can all this change for the better? The solution, I think, is to get the software and websites out of the hands of Big Tech and put them in the hands of the small-business or restaurant owner. (The hardware, I think, is already there, in the form of a desktop or laptop, even if only the owner’s personal device.)
It’s neither hard nor expensive to register a proprietary Internet domain name through
ICANN (the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers), and to get (or repurpose) a desktop or laptop and an Internet connection. The only thing missing, in most cases, is specialized, decentralized small-business Internet software, running on the business’ own small computers and providing its unique Internet face to the world, while managing its own internal operations, free from domination or interference by “Big Tech” or other outside intermediaries.
This software would involve just a few basic modules: (1) public Internet face, (2) receiving, including accounts payable, (3) inventory, (4) online ordering, purchasing and/or (for restaurants) reservations, with fields for special requests and replies, (5) accounts receivable, (6) pickup and delivery (by USPS or private courier) and (7) HR and employee matters. (Part (7) could be separate or integrated.)
Ideally, the software would be largely and easily customizable, with ways for businesses to insert such things as photos, audio/music, menus, lists of “specials” and other unique material, so as to customize their offerings and their public faces. But the basic public
data interface would be unchanging, so that a customer who learned to use the site of one small shop or restaurant could use the sites of others without re-education. There might be special features (included or optional at additional cost) like Q-code scanners for incoming shipments, to put the product IDs and quantities directly and automatically into inventory, perhaps with prices paid added manually. The software might even have optional tax modules for preparing local, state and/or federal tax returns at the push of a virtual button.
Programs like these are basically a matter of simple accounting, data storage, and online presentation. They could be generalized for almost any operating system and small-computer hardware, perhaps now with the help of AI. They could be made available to retail shops and restaurants on an extended free-trial basis (say, six months) with later payment made as a small percentage of profits, presumably much lower than Amazon’s royalty. Businesses that now sell on Amazon could thus try out a localized computer system entirely under their control before cutting their ties to Amazon. The end result for small shops and restaurants would be independence, agency, and absolute control of their operations, public face, private data and public image, as well as permanent refuge from the monster that ate retail (you know who!).
Is this already being done? Perhaps, but not enough. There are a few non-titan intermediaries, such as Door Dash and Instacart, that assist in online ordering and delivery from restaurants and supermarkets. But they lack individual identification with the businesses they serve; they take a big cut of the profits; and they take control of the purchasing and delivery experience away from the small-shop or restaurant owner.
That’s why so many small businesses rely on Facebook/Meta for their Internet presence and on Amazon to sell their stuff. Yet in so doing, they cede their public presence, and their agency, not to mention much of their operations, to the likes of Mark Zuckerberg. That’s something
I would rather stick a fork in my eye than do.
It’s not yet thirty years since Bill Clinton, on Al Gore’s recommendation, opened the Internet—originally a secret US-government DARPA project—for general commercial and personal use. At the beginning, I and many others saw that opening as a massive boon to humanity, giving everyone access to all of human knowledge and every thinker, writer and small business, in theory, access to a global audience.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t turned out exactly that way. Big Tech has centralized and dominated commerce and communication in a way that Stalin never could, and on a global scale. The few smaller online intermediaries just do more of the same, albeit on a smaller scale: they act as intermediaries, take a share of the pie, and take control of the data. Isn’t it time for independent programmers to reverse that trend, give people and small businesses some independent agency, and bring back the Internet’s early promise? Who knows? Those programmers might become the next tech billionaires, this time by
decentralizing commerce and communication and giving individuals and small entities back their agency.
Endnote: My Own Personal Data-Control Journey. Years ago, I kept all my own data stored on my personal computer’s internal hard drive, backed up on an external hard drive. The backing up was
and still is easy and cheap: a
two terabyte external drive costs now $72, while 100
megabytes of cloud storage on Google costs me about $20
per year. For two terabytes of storage on Google’s cloud, I would have to pay (if proportional) something like $400 every year.
So why do I keep
any of my data in the cloud when I could have all my data doubly or triply backed up on my own desktop for less money and no recurring payments? Because Google, in ways big and small, has made it difficult if not impossible for me to use my own local internal solid-state storage (256 Gb) on my Chromebook. Out of sheer frustration, I switched back from a Chromebook to a MacBook Air two years ago, only to discover that Apple now also makes it hard, in ways big and small,
not to use its cloud storage, for which I pay about a dollar a month for 50 Gb.
So now, after using my new Apple laptop for two years, and after backing up all my documents and many of my photos on its internal storage, I still have nearly 400 Gb of internal SSD storage unused, on the machine that I bought and paid for. I’m an unwilling, dissenting and much aggrieved captive of Apple’s and Google’s clouds, where much, if not most, of my life data reside, if only in duplicate.
Is this dissatisfaction just theoretical, the discomfort of an aging, old-school purist? Hell, no! My typical day is disrupted, intruded on, and partially wasted considering and deleting ads, text messages, emails from strangers, and all sorts of for-profit and not-for-profit come-ons that some rogue marketing genius (or AI), working through the cloud, thinks I might possibly be interested in. I can spend a half-hour to an hour
every day just deleting unwanted texts and messages from my e-mail inbox. And no matter how many ostensible methods so-called “Big Tech” provides to make unsubscribing easier, the tide of unwanted bilge slopping up daily on my digital decks increases relentlessly.
I understand that we, the public, get to use a lot of complex software for “free,” at the cost of putting up with all this intrusion, annoyance and assault on our privacy, security and agency. But no one ever asked me to make this tradeoff. And as my search requests on Amazon’s site become increasingly useless due to all the clutter from Sponsored but non-responosive search results, I’m not sure I would make this tradeoff today even if fully informed. As for Facebook, I deleted it from my computers and my life about seven years ago, for reasons outlined
here.
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