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Google is the Internet, Too Big to Fail

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google is the Internet, Too Big to Fail
Today, I woke up late, turned on my cellphone’s screen, and saw six new emails. I touched my fingerprint to the display, unlocked the phone, and briefly checked the messages. The contents and senders weren’t all that important though. What was striking, in this brief moment, was what I realized: Google is the Internet.

We’ve been living with the Internet as we know it for a couple decades now. Technology companies have come and gone, but the behemoths have grown to epic proportions. Amazon, Apple, Google, Facebook, and Microsoft have all become some of the largest companies in the world. But there’s a distinct difference between those other names and Google (or, Alphabet, as it’s now called).

The company launched on August 18, 2004 on the Nasdaq Stock Exchange as GOOG. The four-letter ticker symbol was met with great fanfare and excitement. People wanted in on this inventive company that was revolutionizing search, ads, and online video.

Founders, Larry Page and Sergey Brin, penned an IPO letter before the launch of the stock. They detailed how Google would be different from all the rest. Shareholders wouldn’t be given special privileges and likely wouldn’t benefit from dividends (any time soon). Their votes wouldn’t matter, as control of the company would steadfastly be kept with those in leadership. And the stock could trade wildly, as profits weren’t of utmost importance. Page and Brin wanted to, first and foremost, build great technologies.

This focus on innovation over quarterly profit gains was a winning combination. Alphabet now sits as the second largest market capitalization — to Apple — in America. From a scrappy startup to tens of thousands of employees and billions in profits, this has been a meteoric rise. But it hasn’t always been an easy ride.

Every step they took, they were met with scrutiny. Countless antitrust lawsuits suggest Google is being monopolistic or manipulating search results in their own favor. There are accusations that the company doesn’t respect user’s privacy, and can be easily compelled to hand over what they know to information-hungry government surveillance organizations. They’ve been sued for driving around neighborhoods scanning people’s wi-fi networks and locations, too.

Despite these challenges, their efforts don’t seem to be slowing. The company is creating new hubs around the country. Heck, just north of where I used to live in Colorado they’re building an extensive mini-campus for Googlers! Lest you think construction and new-hires are their only areas of growth, think again. Alphabet is branching into artificial intelligence in mind-bending ways, too. The team, aptly named Google Brain, is leading the charge to develop machines that think for themselves, learn, and become smarter. Right now, they’re capable of beating chess and go champions, moving objects more efficiently, and finding answers more rapidly. In time, it’s easy to see these technologies testing humans’ capabilities.

Amidst this rapid ascendency into artificial intelligence and machine learning is also a company with more earthly ambitions: storing the world’s data. When I get on my smartphone or computer, check my emails in Inbox by Gmail, type out a note about research in Google Drive, write new appointments in Google Calendar, conduct a Google Search to find the 2004 Founders’ IPO Letter for this article, check a stock price on Google Finance (GOOG is at $782 right now), and then wrap this all up by looking at photos from last week on Google Photos, Google is at the heart of it.

Importantly, amidst this growth is an important consideration: most everything is free. For the frugal people that follow my blog, I wouldn’t be surprised if you embraced this cost-effective solution as I do. If you use other technologies, you’ll be spending a small fortune in comparison to Google’s products. Want to get an Apple iPhone? It’ll cost you $600-800 off contract. Google’s smartphones cost about $300-400 less. Want to use a word processor? Microsoft’s will cost you about $10 per month for access. Google’s is free. Interested in getting a new laptop? A good Mac or PC could run you $800-1000. Google’s Chromebooks are about $200-500.

Yes, people will argue that you’re sacrificing your privacy. Some say, “If you use Google, you’re the product because they sell your data to advertisers!” While factually blurry, the gist is true. We’re exchanging this right to services (like the Google Doc I’m typing this into) for our data and privacy. Contrary to popular belief, no individual advertiser has my data; instead, Google aggregates the world’s data for its advertisers.

The cost savings that Google has handed to us has led to an information revolution. Schools can afford to reduce technology costs, while increasing students’ access to the Internet and productivity tools. If we want an answer to Pythagorean theorem, we just Google it. Want to take a free, online course? Google it and start watching the YouTube videos. The answers are there for the taking. Information has been democratized and it’s not because of a government agency or hardware manufacturer. It’s this one software and search company.

So here we are, with Google as the Internet. It’s everything we interact with and rely on to get things done; at least, for much of us. You might be thinking I love this progression, advancement, and technological prowess. But to be honest, I’m concerned.

Here we are in the 21st century, and one company seems to be leading everything. If there’s real competition, they either build their own competitor or swallow it up through acquisitions. People are getting rich — wealth is spilling into their coffers. Meanwhile, we place our trust, data, and reliance on this one company to handle it all.

We don’t get to vote on Google’s proceedings. They aren’t a government agency. What they choose to do with our data is their decision. And even if we used tools like Google Takeout to take everything off their servers, we’d probably end up using Google Search, YouTube, and other Google services to get through our day. We’re stuck with this Internet leader — for better and for possibly worse.

As much as I love the company and everything they’ve done to make the Internet more affordable to everyone, I wonder what it might look like if something failed, new leadership took over that wasn’t friendly to users, or if governments around the world started demanding even more from Google’s servers. Right now, Google is too big to fail. And just like banks, that’s a frightening proposition — no matter the cost savings.

What Happens To Data After Death?

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Francie and Me

I miss my grandmother. She brings tears to my eyes when I think back on our time together. She would’ve turned 98 last weekend. And while she lived a good, long life, she’s been dead for about eight years.

Sometimes I wonder what she’d say to me — what she’d think of my academic endeavors, writing, friends, and loves.

Would she be proud of her grandson? Would I be living up to her expectations? Would she understand how much I miss her?

There are times when I stare at an old photo of the two of us. There she is, in her pearl earrings — a gem from another generation. She was a product of a time when women demanded civil liberties and spoke out bravely. Individually, she was highly educated, musically gifted, crafted an alarmingly kind, talented group of friends. She attracted her equals. I admired her.

But now, as I reflect on these eight years, I long for a video, text, or email between us. Something I can click play on.

There is nothing. I can’t find any artifact nor proof of our love and affection — our bond. We only have a handful of progressively fading photographs. Burned, stained from the sun, time is making us increasingly more sepia and prone to rosy retrospection.

Towards the latter years of her life, I grabbed whatever technology I had — at the time, a Motorola Razr — and pointed the “camera” her way. She didn’t mind my intrusion. She didn’t “get” that there was a video camera on the phone. I held it up as she talked to one of her dear friends.

She was talking about me and said into the phone, “Yes, Sam’s going to Colorado University.” I chimed in, like I always had to as her memory waned, “No Francie, Colorado State University.” She quickly relayed that correction.

A few more seconds passed and I turned off the camera. Somehow I knew this would be one of the most important, last moments with her. Her hospice treatments had accelerated. She was becoming weaker, but her hands gripped firm with mine until the end. She’d pass away shortly after this call.

To have that file meant the video was mine. I’d have it as long as I’d like it. A rare glimpse, however distorted and pixelated that would take me back.

Her voice. Her demeanor. Her playfulness. For a few seconds.

It’d have to do. There wasn’t much else to cling and hold.

Maybe it was her birthday, or maybe it was my addiction to nostalgia; whatever it was, I looked for the clip the other day. I desperately wanted to relive it. To touch through time. To bridge the gap between life and death. To see the pixels dance before my eyes and make me feel… there.

Amidst gigabytes of photos and videos on my computer, the little clip was gone. I rummaged through flash drives, hard drives, cloud storage — nothing. There was no file to be found.

It was a foreign feeling — loss — amidst this digital era. We live in a time of Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, iMessage, WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger, Gmail, Google Drive, iCloud, and Dropbox. Data costs little to nothing. And the world seems settled on one major goal: saving and storing your life for eternity.

Today, it’s not uncommon for me to send hundreds of texts, emails, and tweets in a day between friends and family — many of which include photos and videos.

I’m curious what Francie would think of these advancements. As I get older, the data seems to have a redundancy and staying power — beyond anything we could’ve imagined 10 years ago. She died before we started speaking to our phones, searching for rashes on WebMD, and sharing our meals over Facebook.

A file created today may well live beyond my lifetime, and maybe even my children’s (if I’m lucky enough to have them some day). What of these things would be passed onto future generations?

There’s that photo of me crossing the marathon finish line in Houston. There’s that kiss with my love in Colombia. There’s that random photo of my cousin and I when we were four years old — grinning from ear to ear. There’s that video tour of my old, Siberian-prison inspired apartment.

They’ll outlive me.

Storage is becoming cheaper every day. Companies are propositioning themselves to be the keeper of all your photos and videos, forever — just look at Google Photos. They’re saying they have the ultimate solution. Unlike my missing video of Francie, photos and videos are now saved and backed up; then, replicated across data centers across the globe. No flood, tornado, earthquake, hurricane, or mudslide can touch these memories. No user or device error can stop us now.

Maybe she belongs in the past, but she’d be here so much more amidst this technology. I could share a video of Francie to my partner. And I could connect with the memories that my mind slowly lets drift. Nothing would pass the intense scrutiny and analysis of today’s servers. The computers might serve the memories to me when I needed them most.

But what happens now? What will happen to our memories as they pass from generation to generation in this increasingly connected and backed up society? What will companies keep of us? What will our loved ones hold on to? What will they look to for connection with their pasts?

What will happen to our data after death?

Apple Pay Will Make You Pay

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iPhone and Macbook for Apple Pay
Photo: William Iven/Unsplash

Apple’s agenda should scare you

Last week, Apple held their 2016 Worldwide Developer Conference (WWDC). Like always, it was a smorgasbord of updates to operating systems and apps, developer fandom, and hooplah over Siri’s special powers (now she’ll work across devices!).

Cue the applause.

However, I had this weird problem when I went to stream the keynote. You see, Google Chrome was blocked from being able to watch the event. The website told me I needed to be in the Safari browser on a Mac or iOS device (i.e., iPhone or iPad).

I thought nothing of it at the time; except, “Well, this is inconvenient.” But really, why should I care? I simply switched to Safari and then streamed every remaining second of it. My mind spit out whatever I was doing beforehand in favor of all things Apple. I was jacked in.

But in that moment — that blip of inconvenience due to Apple’s desire to withhold information from any Android or PC user, something distasteful festered. My head kept picking at it like a stubborn cuticle. It felt uncomfortable to be forced to switch. Why should I need to? There’s something arrogant about it. Apple was a pioneer in technology; surely, they knew how to present the keynote address across multiple browsers, right? The intentionality felt hostile — a confrontation to openness in the Internet Age.

The cost of being a user

Many people have talked about Apple as a “walled garden.” What they’re implying is that the company is protective of their devices, operating system functions, and who can play in the iOS world. For developers and consumers, the effects have pros and cons. Apple’s devices are more secure, but they’re also more expensive.

You’ve got to pay up to belong, but membership has its… privileges. The devices are beautiful and the operating system is solid. But paying up – in more ways than one — is quickly becoming Apple’s specialty. For starters, their devices have some of the largest margins in the industry. As most of the hardware industry has dwindled, Apple’s pushed on to become one of the largest companies in the world.

Now, their financial acumen goes beyond the machines they manufacture. About two years ago, the company made moves into the financial industry with Apple Pay. It used to be limited to restaurants, groceries, gas stations, and other retailers that accept plastic credit cards. Those retailers employed Near-Field Communication (NFC) devices that could then accept iPhones and Watches via Apple Pay. Users could rid their wallet of the extra plastic in the process. How easy!

You’ll pay for updates to Apple Pay

This year’s WWDC contained a little nod to Apple Pay in the form of a button that could be placed on websites that accept credit transactions. They dubbed it, “Apple Pay on the Web.” This new button would take the place of filling out forms and spending countless hours of your life punching in 16-digit numbers, expiration dates, CVV codes, full names, addresses, phone numbers, your blood type, your cousin’s maiden name, and your favorite fruit.

Apple’s making a value proposition. Essentially, they’re saying, “We know you value your time. That’s why we’ve created an ingenious solution that’ll solve the hassle and time it takes to shop online.”

Behind this “solution” is a masterclass in consumption. First, Apple Pay will only work with Macs; at least, to start. You’ll need a Mac running Safari. As always, Apple’s computers have a large profit margin built in. That means you’re paying a hefty amount over comparable systems just to pay for things online (are we noticing a consumption loop here?).

Second, Apple is pairing Apple Pay on the Web with iPhones. That phone is going to cost you, as well. Heck, a new iPhone costs about $700 off contract. The phone will be used to “confirm” transactions — press your thumb (or any other digit of your choosing) to your TouchID sensor. Et voila! You’ve purchased… something.

Third, all this “innovation” is to help you consume, to pay more, to think less, to spend more time mashing your thumb against a sensor. It’s made for businesses more than consumers. And while it’s awesome to have autofill forms, instant transactions, and secure payments, shouldn’t we weigh the potential costs of this so-called progress?

Reduced friction = increased spend

The convenience of online retailers contains a risk for some spenders: reduced friction. Friction occurs when you rub your hands together — feel that heat? Friction is the reason I’m burning so much gas in my car, too. Just read the company’s description about Apple Pay:

Customers love the simplicity of Apple Pay, and you’ll love the increased conversion rates and new user adoption that come with it.

Apple Pay for the Web will reduce time spent critically making important decisions that directly affect your wallet. Will you spend or save today? Even more, the method continues to encourage the Apple-everything mindset in the face of lofty price points. They’ve created a system to reduce friction for a small subset of the population — those that can pay up to have at least two Apple-branded products at all times.

Today, I see a modality that shouldn’t be encouraged. For Apple, by Apple. They’re creating a world where nobody else can play; unless, you’re an Apple owner, then you’ll pay.

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.

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