The dust has mostly settled around Ello, the new social network that promises no information tracking or selling of user data to advertisers. Ello has been popular and refreshing because of these policies. Of course, there's concern and criticism around whether or not the folks behind Ello can be taken on their word and the long-term business viability of this strategy - their current plan (as of 10/08/2014) for revenue is selling premium features:
We occasionally offer special features to our users. If we create a special feature that you really like, you may choose to support Ello by paying a very small amount of money to add that feature to your Ello account.
Aside from these problems, which are understandable for any nascent social network, Ello has been a great opportunity to evaluate what we want and expect from social networks, and the inadequacies against the current dominating services: Ello has frequently been contrasted against Facebook (naturally), who's policies are always found problematic by at least some subset of its users. Facebook's selling of personal data and excessive tracking is the main thing Ello positions itself against, and a big part of what has drawn people to the platform.
I don't think Ello is a solution to these problems. Ello only challenges the symptoms of social networks like Facebook, that is, a centrally-controlled social network that, whether intentionally or not, is perceived to be the one platform everyone needs to be on. For social networking services structured in this way, I believe it is inevitable that user data eventually gets collected (and on Ello, it does, ostensibly to improve the site) and sold. It is a feature of this structure that you, as a user, must entrust your data to a third party which you do not know, to which you have no personal relationship with. What happens with that is then at the discretion of that third party.
To really resolve these problems, we must challenge the fundamental structure of these services. An ideal solution is one similar to that which the ill-fated Diaspora pursued, but perhaps taken a step further. I would love to see a service which allows users to self-host their own social network for their friends or community/communities (or for the less technically-oriented, spawn a cloud-hosted version at the click of a button).
Each community then has the opportunity to manage its own data, implement its own policies, make its own decisions about financial support for the network (e.g. have users pay membership fees, run on donations, or even sell data for ads if the users are ok with it).
Each network can run independently on its own social norms, but all the networks are technically interoperable. So if I wanted to I could join multiple networks, post across networks, and so on, all with the same identity.
But this kind of plurality of networks better acknowledges that people have multiple identities for different social contexts, something which monolithic social networks (i.e. one platform for all things social) are not well-suited for. With the latter, all activity is tied to one identity, and then there's a great deal of manual identity management to keep each social sphere properly contained. With this parallel network design, users can - if they want - share an identity across multiple networks, or they can have different identities for different networks, which for the user are all linked to a private master identity (thus making management a bit easier). To others, each identity appear as a distinct user.
Disallowing anonymity is a very brutish way of curbing bad behavior online. But in certain circumstances it makes sense; there are probably particular online spaces where anonymity doesn't add much. Sites like LinkedIn, for example, which are explicitly meant to bind your real-world identity to the internet. Sites that are for discussion, expression, leveraging distributed expertise, etc—as opposed to merely emulating IRL networks and interactions online—use it sloppily, a lame bandage for problems they'd rather not consider with more nuance. Anonymity needs to be appreciated as a unique feature of the internet, adding dimensions to such platforms which significantly distinguish it from the limitations of meatspace.
Using real identities is appealing for a few reasons. The most obvious is that it attaches an IRL identity to online behavior and ideally transfers some of those IRL dimensions which make us less likely to act like assholes to our online activity. For instance, the accountability you have to your social relationships are transfered.
Related to that, it creates continuity in your online behavior by establishing a record of it. In part over time this becomes valuable if only because of the time investment put into it, but it provides an access to past behavior from which future behavior can be (however unreliably) interpreted. So people are less likely to act like assholes because it jeapordizes the possibility of your being allowed to participate in other online communities.
Finally, there's the simple fact that using a real identity can have increased friction to use when compared to anonymous systems. For instance, anonymous commenting systems often make it so easy to post (just type and send, no authentication process to slow you down) that you're likely to get more knee-jerk reactions. The inconvenience of the flow for associating your real identity is often enough to deter these sorts of low-value contributions.
It is upsetting though unsurprising that, amidst our current internet-driven company bonanza much of the original spirit of the internet has been lost. Yes, most internet companies are founded on networking ideals of connection and communication - the most universally lauded (read: marketed) aspect of internet services - but these manipulatively uplifting appeals overshadow, perhaps intentionally, an equally powerful promise of the internet's architecture.
The internet's architecture is decentralized by nature: it is about individual computers communicating with one another*. But the dominant model is completely antithetical to that: communication between users on the internet are now almost entirely mediated through corporate-controlled and centralized servers (e.g. the servers of social networking services).
The internet services through which most of us find value are typically centralized. When I access Gmail, I am gathering my mail from servers concentrated under Google. When I'm syncing files from Dropbox, those files are coming from servers concentrated under Dropbox. When I send messages to friends on Facebook, those messages are routed through servers concentrated under Facebook.
Centralized internet
If you've been around for the past couple decades then you are well aware that the no-cost distribution and infinite replicability of digital information has undermined many industries founded on the scarcity of their products (i.e. piracy). Anyone appreciative of this unique quality of digital information is likely to wonder: why is this model of infinite replicability and distribution paradoxically absent from services - Google, Dropbox, Facebook, et al - which are digital, born and bred?
It is because the business models of these companies are not about providing digital services. They are about consolidation. Their value is directly derived from being centrally positioned within the network and extracting data (and data == value) from all communication that must pass through it.
This consolidation is created by controlling access. When discussing internet services, we tend to glean over their material foundations. But these companies are about creating a scarcity of service, which is rooted in the concentration of the hardware running the service. Control over the software - that is, the prevention of its distribution and replication - is necessary because it enables control over the hardware as well. Only Facebook, Inc. can administer the Facebook software; thus it will run only on their hardware. If I want to access the service, I must access it on their hardware. Thus my communication must go through their hardware, the wellspring of their value. And because that hardware belongs to them, they control access to it - even if their user policies say otherwise.
The principles of open source software (OSS) is meant to counteract this balkanization of the internet (or the formation of the "Splinternet"). OSS is fundamental to supporting the decentralization spirit of the internet. Anyone can run OSS on their own servers and provide the service to their own community or simply to themselves. I don't have to access the service on an untrusted party's hardware: I can access it on a friend's server or even on my own computer. Open source software enables the freedom to access services on hardware that you or someone you trust controls.
Decentralized internet
Diaspora is an example of an open source, decentralized alternative to conventional social networking services (collectively which are known as "the federated web"). Individuals or organizations can host their own "pods" (servers running the Diaspora software) so that the service is physically distributed across computers that are not concentrated under any one group. However, your identity on the network is portable so that the experience is similar to that of a centralized service: you can access any Diaspora pod without really noticing the difference.
For example, a group of friends decide to host a Diaspora server (pod) and we sign up to the service through it. We're free to interact with each other on it, and your personal data remains on that server, under your jurisdiction. You control the access to it.
If you meet someone who is part of a different pod, that's no problem - you can still communicate with them because the service functions as a cohesive whole.
We could even go a step deeper than the software. Where needed, we should look to the level of collectively defining protocols, or more widespread adoption of those that already exist. A protocol is a set of standardized rules or a "language" which developers can implement in their own software. Provided that everyone adheres to the protocol, different systems can communicate reliably. Thus individuals and communities can run OSS on their own servers, and these servers can communicate amongst each other. Though the hardware is distributed amongst independent hosts, the standardization at the software layer forms a cohesive whole in the final user experience. Thus you can achieve the sensation of a centralized service with the crucial feature that the data is not concentrated under the control of a single entity.
An example of such a protocol are email protocols. There are a few which you may have seen when digging deep into your Gmail settings: SMTP (for outgoing mail), IMAP and POP3 (for incoming mail). There are many, many different email services - Gmail, Hotmail, Yahoo, Fastmail, etc - yet they are all able to communicate with each other because they adhere to these common sets of rules. I can send an email from Gmail and a Hotmail user will receive it without issue. The added benefit here is that the user is not locked into any particular software experience - they can choose from many, or even roll their own, and they will all work so long as it sticks to the protocol.
For example: imagine if you could favorite a tweet through Facebook. You can't right now because they do not share a common standard on how a "favorite" is registered in the software. A favorite on Twitter is not equivalent to a like on Facebook, although what the user is trying to communicate through each action may be equivalent. As a user this becomes inflexible: your activity on one network is not portable at all to another network.
OStatus is an open protocol which attempts to standardize these social interactions. I could host my own social networking service adhering to the OStatus protocol and someone else could have their own service completely independent to mine. So long as their service also implements the OStatus protocol, users will be able to interact across the platforms, and are thus afforded a unique mobility not present in the social networking ecosystem today.
Here's a short list of alternatives to popular, centralized services:
Some of these services still require work and effort; certainly they are at a disadvantage when against capital-laden organizations. But they are worthwhile projects and needed alternatives. The effort is worth it.
Of course, a major appeal of centralized services is their ease of use for non-technical folk. Someone with no experience provisioning servers will have a very hard time deploying a service on their own. It's often a pain even for myself. And it's hard to fully appreciate the decentralization potential of the internet if you have no idea how it works. But these are problems which can be solved with some education and discussion.
It's clear that with tightening grip over the flow of users and their information across networks, the original dream of the internet has been lost, but it is has also become more crucial than ever. The vision of communities running their own servers with open source software, so they have control over access to their own data, is still within reach.
1. It's worth noting that the physical connection between two computers on the internet is typically routed through other hardware controlled by others, such as your ISP. This is where strong encryption practices come into play: while your data travels through many other devices, practically speaking only you and your intended recipient have access to it. Furthermore, initiatives around mesh networking are trying to replace centralized ISP hardware with a distributed model of independently-run nodes.
2. OSS has the additional crucial quality of transparency: anyone can independently audit the code and influence it's development (in theory at least: sometimes you have projects lorded over by a single owner). It's development is more likely to reflect the demands of the community which use and depend on it, as opposed to an external party in what inevitably is an asymmetric relationship of service controller and end user. Not every user of course will be directly involved in it's involvement, but OSS at least allows the possibility.
I was introduced to the Overmind last week, which is a Starcraft (Brood War) AI developed at Berkeley. Starcraft is a "real-time strategy" game, abbreviated as "RTS", where two or more players face-off, competing for resources and building troops to fight and ultimately destroy each other. Last one standing is the victor.
It's an interesting game to develop AI for because it requires a great deal of intricate management, both at the macro level (managing your economy; that is, resource gathering and allocation) and at the micro level (positioning and controlling your individual troops in battle). There's enough complexity that a game can go in many unexpected ways; it is an ideal environment for humans to creatively respond and adapt to - something which computers traditionally have a great deal of trouble with.
The Overmind AI controlling a fleet of Mutalisks (the orange and green flying alien creatures) with terrifying precision
When I think of "AI vs human", I tend to think of it in a sort of Deep Blue vs Garry Kasparov sense. A solitary expert against an expertly programmed machine. The machine proves its superiority by consistently beating the human. The Overmind fits that narrative (though it still had trouble with human professional Starcraft players).
It's interesting to think of the Overmind in contrast to Twitch Plays Pokemon, where masses of participants essentially button-mashed their way through Pokemon Red (and is now making its way through the other titles). Anyone can join the game's chat room and submit a button to press. The system had two modes: "anarchy" and "democracy", the former meaning that every command someone submitted was executed, the latter meaning that there was consensus on what the next command would be. It took 16 days non-stop to complete the game which typically takes a bit more than a day. TPP is the complete antithesis of unitary control by a program.
Twitch Plays Pokemon Twitch Plays Pokemon (via Wikipedia)
Sci-fi AI narratives (and the AI field's ultimate aspirations) are far more ambitious than these video game bots. In Iain M. Banks' The Culture, general artificial intelligences are organizing galactic societies, thus liberating organic beings from the complexities of deciding policy and the stress of providing for and governing themselves.
This is a huge leap from video game bots-impressive as they are-but it was explored long before the conception of these bots, as early as the mid-20th century, in Soviet Russia. Francis Spufford's Red Plenty details an attempt at integrating computers into the central planning model:
Soviet planners, economists, physicists and mathematicians...persuaded the Soviet leadership that, using cybernetic principles and the newly developed computers, the centralised, planned Soviet economy could at last be made efficient.
Francis Spufford's Red Plenty
These ambitions for AI are far removed from one-on-one video game contests. Rather than substituting for an individual, these programs are meant to replace the collective decision-making capacity of entire societies of people. Naturally, at this scale the evaluation of success is much murkier than a game with simple victory conditions. And when we begin discussing decisions which impact peoples' lives, the particular strategies the AI uses become matters of ethics than merely mechanics.
It feels as if we are still quite a long way off from a managerial AI becoming a reality. But with the frenzy around big data, where companies like Palantir aggregate massive amounts of disparate data to draw and act upon high-level conclusions, the technical feasibility of a computational caretaker (/overlord) will only grow. When will we see organizations managed by "Computer Executive Officers" instead of by people? In The Culture, such artificial intelligences are the foundation for utopia, but they are equally the fodder of nightmarish futures - Skynet, ARIIA, etc... - will we be willing to use them?
I like the idea of a digital working environment feeling more like a physical workspace.
I had first encountered the Oculus and Hydra pairing in this great VR demo with holographic pop star Hatsune Miku:
It shows the pretty ingenious use of the Hydra as a way of emulating finger positioning in binary terms: is a particular finger folded or opened? While a finger is pressing that button, that finger is folded in; otherwise, that finger is extended:
