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Will Ad Blockers Kill The Internet?

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Technology iPad and iPhone

It’s been nearly a month since I deleted all the ads from my site. Instead of pasting targeted distractions to my readers, I opted for simplicity. If readers wanted to support me, they could buy my book, donate, or share my work. Since then, an explosive dialogue surrounding the ethics and use of ad blockers has ensued. I decided to share my two cents on advertisers, marketing, and the “death of the web.”

Advertisers want us to believe that their commercials and banner ads inform us. They need us to consider their arguments, and think we’re making rational decisions in response. And they implant a picture of perfection – of what life could look like – with their products.

We’re supposed accept this bombardment of stimuli as the cost of accessing and reading websites. Go to The New York Times, and a slurry of ads feast over your metadata to predict what you might purchase next and serve up a healthy dose of consumerism. Behind the scenes, trackers surreptitiously soak up your browsing history, location, and personal data.

This is the cost of being a content consumer in the 21st century, and for years, we’ve accepted it. Until recently, when the entire Internet exploded in euphoria and vitriol over Apple’s new mobile operating system (iOS). It’s most recent update empowered users to install “content blockers,” which would effectively eliminate advertisements in the mobile browser.

These ad blockers allow users to surf the web cleanly. The busy and distracting pages disappear – suddenly the content comes into focus. Trackers suffer and people’s profiles can’t be built as easily. Now, companies struggle to personalize ads via privacy infractions.

As the browsing experience improves, profit revenue decreases. It’s a perfect inverse correlation. The web feels calmer without ads. I don’t have to be defensive and avert my eyes.

Over the last few weeks, publishers worldwide have clambered to their keyboards, predicting apocalypses. The Verge conducted a poll of its users, which found that 78% said “Yes” they will use an ad blocker. Without ad revenue, how will they survive?! If everyone turns off the ads, how will companies make money?

Publishers are already predicting that companies will cease to exist. One quote from PC Mag highlights the hyperbolic language: “With this move, users will eventually wonder why their favorite website died before finding another set of content to plunder.” Supposedly, a content pirate will kill sites left and right because of their ad blocker use.

Wired highlighted the plight of Google’s profits in an almost sympathetic tone: “Google depends almost entirely on ads for revenue. By one estimate, the giant may be losing billions of dollars from these kind of browser blocking extensions.” What will the massive, multinational corporation do without its record-breaking ad revenue?

Adding to the publisher outcries is The Verge’s Nilay Patel, who said ad blockers could mean the “Death of the web.” Then he added that “taking money and attention away from the web means that web innovation will slow to a crawl.” Wow! Death, as in ceasing to exist. That’s pretty extreme, right? Without ads, your computer literally would cease to surf – browsers would be pointless.

The problem with all this fear mongering is that it’s flawed. The web was not invented by corporate interests; rather, it was a governmental invention that became a public good. Advertising wasn’t part of the equation. Profit wasn’t the sole motivator to those who innovated in the early days of the Internet.

Even today, much of the web exists because of volunteers, governments, and public grants. Open source projects like Wikipedia, Ubuntu, and Firefox are perfect examples of how third-party ads needn’t be the sole source of innovation or income.

Interestingly, in this ad-infested web, major publishers have grown to bloated proportions. Many recycle other news outlets’ content and repackage it as their own. Companies like The Verge, Wired, and PC Mag occasionally publish top-notch journalistic pieces, but they’re most often caught up in quasi-advertisement “product reviews” and republishing. It’s lazy work to draw eyeballs, not critical thinking. To lose these companies would be awful, as I must admit I enjoy them, but we’d move on.

We’ve come to a crossroads as publishers and consumers. Should we put up with ads or use ad blockers? Should we accept distraction or simplicity? Should we keep the status quo or demand an alternative?

Some suggest paywalls, which force readers to subscribe for content. I can guarantee that circulation will drop immensely and many won’t pay (here’s looking at one of them). If it’s news, it’ll be printed somewhere else in a non-subscription form. And if it’s not reprinted, then it can’t be that important, can it? So, that idea’s gone.

Others promote the concept of paid articles. Many publishers have already experimented with advertiser-paid articles such as The New York Times and The Verge. Instead of reading a non-biased, semi-objective piece of journalism, readers have the distinct privilege of reading a lengthy advertisement. Again, everyone loses if the web destroys objectivity in journalism.

We live at a time of immense progress; ironically, technology is contending with these advances. Ad blockers censor and clean the web of the dirty bits. You no longer need to continually feel compelled to buy, buy, buy. Nor do pages deliver 20, 30, or 40+ trackers to your computer.

The rationale is clear: the web is better when it’s simpler. But questions remain about the sustainability of any company once their ad revenue dries up.

Here’s where I must be slightly callous. Frankly, capitalism is said to be flexible and adaptive. The invisible hand is supposed to morph and move with demand. There are companies constantly winning and losing in this roulette wheel of life – not everyone wins all the time. The companies that can successfully adapt to changing market forces… They’re the winners in this game.

Either way, the web is here to stay.

Nonconformity Is Key

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Hard at work, trying to be different.

I regularly workout in flip flops. On the weekends I tend to wear the same shorts and/or T-shirts for two or more days. I’ve had the same breakfast for nearly five years (some type of eggs and toast). I started cutting my hair in sophomore year of college — can’t remember if I’ve paid for a haircut since then. I hate dressing up for work. I don’t have a car, and regularly bike to first dates (Where’s your car parked? Oh, the bike racks over there!). I fantasize about stealing condiments of ketchup and mustard at a local fast-food restaurant. I’d rather enjoy a good book or the company of friends over crowds in a club. I tend to leave the AC off or, at least, at sweaty levels if I’m alone. Vice versa, I tend to freeze in the winter because my room is draftier than the rest of the apartment and I keep the heat low. I’ve been known to pick up grocery items and carry them throughout the store, and then dispense of unnecessary purchases on random shelves (I’m sorry store clerks).

When I was younger, each of these pieces brought me great insecurity. I purchased Under Armour clothing and paid careful attention to be appropriately attired to workout. I was terribly concerned with how I’d be perceived. I used to drive my car to dates, and pay for parking, gas, and all the depreciation in the process. It seemed customary to have and drive a car — the movies always featured the man picking up his date. Many of these examples started out as deep vulnerabilities, which spawned into consumption.

Then frugality hit me. With all of its messages and philosophical underpinnings, I felt this pull to save wherever I could. It worked. I started to save money and act more consciously about my spending. But like many moments in my life, I was insecure to broadly announce that I was frugal. I wondered how people would react.

Reactions varied across genders, ages, and populations. Some loved and admired that I was so “young” and looking to right my financial path. Others were defensive that I was looking to save, as if it said something about their own spending. They’d question just how frugal I was being, and whether I would continue. Doubt was pervasive at times — for me and the person listening. Could I continue frugality in the face of cultural assumptions of consumption?

I gained confidence in this new life by regularly reading websites such as Becoming Minimalist, Budgets are Sexy, and Zen Habits. Each website presented a minimal, simple life. The authors had removed themselves from many of our culture’s trappings. They wanted and professed the mantra of less.

While individuals’ reactions varied, there was consistency in my reading and writing. I found solace in their words and my writing. I could reflect on what this meant to me longer term. The broader picture I kept coming back to was a sense of modesty and necessity. I needed to live on less because I was born privileged, and many weren’t. Additionally, I was motivated to cut back to trim my student loans. These ideas provided a motivation beyond simply wanting to see more money in my bank account. I had no interest in amassing wealth.

Somewhere around then that confidence led to a loss of the previous insecurities. I embraced the weird. In the past, I may have held back with friends and dates. But I turned a new leaf and led with my new life. I’ve made do with less, which is transferable across domains of personal and professional work. There’s a grit that develops from going without.

Yes, I’m sweating profusely as I type these words. Yes, I risk dropping a free weight on my flip flops. Yes, I did bike to our date, and no there aren’t any pegs.

I’ve changed. At times, I’m countercultural, but at the heart is nonconformity. I’m sick of living within the carefully crafted bounds that others expect. Nonconformity has opened doors for me. My creativity has flourished in this time. By accepting a simple path, I’ve written and read more than ever for pure fun and enjoyment. It’s the greatest reward of this new life.

Was Albert Einstein A Minimalist?

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Albert Einstein Laughing

Let me preface this essay by saying I’m not a “genius,” “theoretical physicist,” or “great thinker,” but I decided to pick up Einstein’s biography to learn about someone who’s been called all three. In 2008, the famed biographer and writer, Walter Isaacson, published Einstein’s story in a whole new light. His book catalogues the many triumphs, tribulations, and everyday struggles of the man who has become so revered.

As I read this 704-page tome, the very essence of Einstein came alive. Isaacson is a skilled writer, but he was homing in on something unique about his main character. Einstein extolled and lived for a simple life.

Albert Einstein is remembered for his brilliant discoveries in the field of physics. Without going too far into the weeds, he theorized about relativity and gravity. He felt they overlapped and coalesced. For instance, that light would bend in travel because of the sun’s gravitational pull. At the time, these were maddeningly complex ideas with little experimental support. Despite the novelty and unknowns, he stuck his neck out — time and time again. He didn’t bend or sway to convention, and it ultimately made him famous around the world.

Throughout the book, Einstein is heralded for derision of power, authority, and status quo. Even greater, he seemed to attack the fundamental strictures and culture of materialism. It’s clear that his simple living values made him a better, more unique thinker. Without a doubt, Einstein was an early pioneer for minimalism in the face of excess. And here are 5 reasons how he was a minimalist:

1. He idealized simple lifestyles

Einstein was fascinated with bohemian living. Even in early letters to his first wife, he professed that they shouldn’t ever be trapped by society’s expectations. He seemed to love the idea of eschewing what so many wanted. Einstein loved bohemianism, as he found creativity and passion in literature, music, and science. He commingled the three and crafted magical mental imagery of difficult physical constructions. Self-described bohemians were countercultural, just like the beatniks, hippies, and hipsters of generations to come.

2. He disliked bourgeois pursuits

He consciously avoided upper class trappings. This is captured perfectly by a quote in the book. When traveling to another city, he stayed on an office couch instead of a hotel. His friend said, “This was probably not good enough for such a famous man, but it suited his liking for simple living habits and situations that contravened social conventions.” Fame didn’t mean he would suddenly change his way of living. The rebel inside him allowed for success.

3. He gave away much of his wealth

He feared that fame and wealth might affect and degrade people’s ability to live creatively. Einstein gave generously and even dedicated all the Nobel Prize winnings to his first wife. He didn’t crave wealth, nor did he live by its swings. Einstein enjoyed good coffee, cigars, and conversation. Money allowed for those staples, but otherwise was relatively unnecessary. The power of wealth could’ve purchased many conveniences and statuses, and yet he downplayed its ability. Take this passage from the book: “From Prague, Einstein took the train to Vienna, where three thousand scientists and excited onlookers were waiting to hear him speak. At the station, his host waited for him to disembark from the first-class car but didn’t find him. He looked on to second-class car down the platform, and could not find him there either. Finally, strolling from the third-class car at the far end of the platform was Einstein, carrying his violin case like an itinerant musician.”

4. He ignored conventions

Much like the Mark Zuckerbergs of today, Einstein didn’t follow social norms for dress. Comfort was the more important factor. His hair grew unruly in later life. It was iconic for him, as he was this renowned genius, but I believe that this was a subtle rejection of cultural mores. Einstein wanted to show he was unique in both thought and modest dress.

5. He took time for independent thought

Above all, Einstein’s genius was in his ability to isolate and focus. For days and weeks at a time, he could hole up in his study and work. He didn’t eat regularly, nor did he pay attention to much around him, but in that solitude, he solved some of the greatest questions of all mankind. His habits often made him cold and cantankerous, but it also cultivated a lifelong independence. Simple time alone was vital to discovery.

I’m nearly finished with the book, but these discoveries were too hard to hold back. I figured I’d share them with you as soon as I could. Within these passages, quotes, and stories, I see a man that feared the trappings of privilege. He was a social advocate, scholar, and seeker.

In a way, I wonder if I share something with Einstein: a fear of ever having more than enough. I fear what money can do, and how some people embrace elite statuses at the cost of others. If Einstein were alive today, I’d ask whether he feared he might lose his creativity if he lived more lavishly. My guess is that he would say “yes.”

Oh, one more thing, read his biography: Einstein: His Life and Universe.

We Could Only Bring The Essentials

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Camping is in tents!

I was caked in an unknown quantity of sand, dirt, sunscreen, deet, and sweat. Every time I splashed water on my face, a brownish liquid ran off. As I looked in the mirror, my skin appeared darker by a few shades, with a reddish tinge. I had little doubt that I was developing a burn. Bug bites occupied nearly every part of my body — from head to toe. Three days in the Great Sand Dunes National Park had turned me into a mountain man with overgrown scruff. I was ready to try out to become the next Brawny man.

In this beautiful, alien landscape, I sat crosslegged with a book, ran through the sand, and generally paused to reflect. Life’s busyness faded momentarily, and the only nerves present centered on lightening and bears. These were real threats — everything else was illusory.

With my brother along for the ride, we entered the park with some essentials. There was the two-person tent, camp stove, water, food, matches, and our books. The agenda was two-fold: relax and adventure. I’m proud to say we succeeded on both accounts. We took a long night hike amidst the sand dunes, and relished in the opportunity to read along the river.

As I reflected on the trip, I couldn’t help noticing the takeaway: living simply is restorative.

Many consider camping to be rejuvenating, as people can reconnect with the world. But how can that be if we were missing many of our creature comforts? Heck, my brother and I practically slept on gravel! If we can somehow make do without superfluous items while camping for few days, why do we suddenly need them when we get home?

In regular society, surrounded by others, it’s hard to resist indulging. We buy the shirt that’ll be a “tremendous” addition to our wardrobes. We fantasize about the cars and homes we’ll buy and live in. We eat at the classy restaurant. We dream of contentment that we might have with just one more purchase.

Ironically, the beauty we experienced was because none of these options existed. The campground is magnificent because it’s void of the trappings of mainstream society. There aren’t any big screen TVs, billboards marketing unnecessary products, or commercials penetrating this isolated area. Most of the time, the park is immaculately cleaned and people tend to respect each other. There isn’t a discontent cultivated to encourage spending. They live by a “pack it in, pack it out” mentality. Competition is non-existent here. Everyone’s just trying to take it easy and slow down.

Back in the “real world,” people fight to change lanes — cutting each other off, jump over other shoppers for Black Friday deals, and amass gigantic McMansions with stuff in every nook and cranny.

After spending a few days in this separated world, part of me struggled to return. The essentials are simple: shelter, food, and water. And yet, we fight to make more, buy more, and sell more. Maybe there’s a happy medium, but as I returned home there was a culture shock. I wanted to stay, but obviously couldn’t.

Fortunately, the simple life needn’t end when the busy, city streets come into view. I needn’t regress to this unlearned state. As I transition back to society, I cannot help but wonder what camping taught me about living simply and minimally.

1. Pack light

Pretty simple right? When camping, you can’t bring or carry everything. The solution is to pack light. Get the tent you need, not the bigger one you might want. Don’t be afraid to wear the same thing day after day. In life, packing light means only bringing, buying, and holding on to that which sustains life.

2. Pack it in, pack it out

Whenever people go camping, they should pack up all the trash and mess they make and throw it away appropriately. Camping ethics says that you should leave a place better than you left it. If you brought disposable plates, bring them out of the park. Don’t pollute and litter amidst this beautiful place. Back in society, this helps remind me of my impact on the world around me. We can’t take our purchases into the afterlife. What we buy has a lasting consequence to the environment.

3. Seek out adventure in moments, not things

Nothing is better than free. Although there’s a nominal entrance fee, national parks make this lesson easy. Hours, days, and weeks can be spent exploring and learning. But that fun, adventurous spirit doesn’t need to stop when leaving the park. There are moments everywhere to look, go, and discover — it’s all about the attitude. When I first moved to Iowa, I struggled to occupy my time and spent more money trying to create fun. The best decision I made was to buy a bike and ride everywhere. There’s adventure out there, and money shouldn’t be the necessary variable.

4. Find ways to relax and reflect

There are always moments when camping where the wind blows through my hair and I breathe easy. My brain seems to take a pause, and everyday concerns evaporate. Relaxation is essential to a long life; even more, to creativity. It was on a drive to Burning Man that Elon Musk brainstormed the idea of creating a solar energy company with his cousin. And it was in music that Albert Einstein manipulated complicated physical concepts in his mind. Relaxation is only evil in a corporate world that asks its workers to do the same motion over and over again; there, creativity is shunned. Camping is a reminder that relaxation helps cultivate a diverse, capable mind. Whether in the wilderness or weirdness of home, relaxation and reflection are vital.

5. Respect the environment, each other

Camping in national park changes your appreciation of the environment. The research has repeatedly shown that when people connect with the outdoors, they learn to respect the world around them. When people go out into the wild, a togetherness is cultivated. By staying in a small, two-person tent with little room for more than a book, light, and sleeping bags, it was impossible to ignore the world around the camp site. Bad weather shook and stirred the tent. Rain pelted the lining and attempted to enter the tent. Quickly, I learned to appreciate the weather as the natural state that we must respect. The world has been around for billions of years before us, and is a powerful keeper. But we also must respect and take care of it in return.

Our daily lives offer up countless opportunities to consume more than we need, at great cost to our environment. If we focus on the essentials over the extraneous, we will greatly slow our contributions to climate change.

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