Monday 27 November 2017

The Seventh Sense by Joshua Cooper Ramo



All quotes from Joshua's book




In a world of markets, each of us – our labor, our ideas, our capital – is a commodity.  We are liberated, but only to compete.



In our age of connection, everyone of us is a node.



Someday soon, drones will demand the redesign of our cities as automobiles did in the last century.



Yang is the thunderstorm; yin is the peace that comes afterward.



That yin-yang balance helps us understand the power split on a network is not really split.  Network power is wild at the ends, with all the creative energy of the world filled with devices, empowered human dreams, and the violent slips of old balances.  Yang.  But at the center it is dense, still, and even quiet, with the silently cranking algorithms of massively concentrated power.  Yin.



"Anyone can connect” marks our age as much as Luther’s “anyone can speak to God” characterized the Reformation or Kant’s “dare to know” defined the Enlightenment.



Massive, widespread connection changed everything, including how a phone works.



Robert Morris Sr, a cryptographic and security genius who towered over NSA code-breaking programs for decades in the last century, compressed his lifetime of experience cracking machines into three golden rules of computer security.  Rule one: do not own a computer.  Rule two: do not power it on.  Rule three: do not use it.



All around us today, huge power accumulates in certain irreplaceable cores.  Giant search engines, certain algorithms, database or communications protocols over master us. Imagine life without search.  Or a link to friends.



When everyone links to a core, that core links to everyone – like a country with a single airport. Every evil thing beats in the potential of these central nodes.



Systems can be fast, open, or secure, but only two of these three at a time.



The faster your speed, the less distance matters.



The acceleration from horseback to train to plane speed happened over a period of 150 years.  Each new acceleration diminished the impact of distance.



In a wagon train you might have contemplated the desert with fear; by car you’d merely consider it with care. In a plane it is irrelevant.



The faster links of transportation, whether they are trains or planes or data connections, now lie, blanketlike, atop that slower-moving geological layer.  These high-velocity networks are a new geography.  Mathematicians and architects call the landscape they represent a topology. … Geographies are pretty much constant; topologies can change in an instant.  In geographic terms, Moscow and Saint Petersburg are always 400 miles apart. In topological terms, they are as far apart as the fastest connection between them – about 0.3 milliseconds on a light-speed fiberoptic cable.



If you want to make a fortune or a revolution (or both) – if you hope to shatter some barrier of tools or ideas between you and a dream, or to lead a religious revival, or to spread an infection of hate or revolution or insidious computer code – then, fundamentally, this is what you have to consider: where are the gates? How do you smash them? How do you build your own?



The world should expect that the opening attacks of future wars – directed at the United States or allies that it must defend – will come invisibly and silently through networks or from space, not from noisy land invasions or bombing runs.



While it’s tempting to call the twenty-first century the Urban Century, in fact the billion-people-a-decade rush into cities is a symptom.  A larger hunger for the constant knitting of lives together, for fresh and efficient connection, drives us.



Scientists who study networks call this sort of change “explosive percolation” by which they mean an instant shift in the nature of a system as it passes a threshold level of connectivity.  This melding of many nodes in a single fabric – think of the way phones tie together to make a telephone system – is not unlike the linking of water molecules, one to another, as the temperature drops.  One moment you have something you can drink; the next you hold ice.  So one day you have a few connected users; the next, a billion people are on facebook or youtube.  A new entity has formed.



The great insight of the Enlightenment was that the nature of an object – a person, a piece of land, a vote, a share – changed when it was liberated from fetters of tradition, ignorance, habit or fear.  A peasant pulled from serfdom became a citizen, which changed his politics, his economic hopes, his ability to learn and teach. That shift triggered centuries of disruption. The world realigned itself. 



Protocols are rule books.  On the Internet, for example. Protocol rules place each bit of data in a reliable, predicable order, just as diplomatic protocol might seat ambassadors at a negotiation. This is why computers can speak to each other.  But protocols are about more than bits. They can be used to organize trade networks or stock markets too.  Designing and controlling a protocol, then, means that you can control almost everything important about a system. 



The pre-network instinct to fear Chinese! or fear Spanish! is the wrong one. As is the idea to teach the world Chinese or Spanish as a source of power.  Or, eventually, to demand that everyone in the United States speak English.  Rather, can we control this turbo-smart connected language protocol? is the right question.  Many of the threats we worry about today have been similarly simplified and misunderstood. Fear deflation? Fear Isis? Fear the RMB? Such fear reflects a blindness.  Finance, terrorism, and currency change when they are connected. It’s the network we should be nervous about.



It’s hard to let go of old notions, not just because we’re attached to them, but because in many cases what we’re being asked to hold on to next makes no sense to us.  We honestly don’t understand what network connections can do to a market or a military enemy any more than figures of hundreds of years ago knew what steam engines might do to sailing.



Many of the most unsettling forces in our world are ones we encourage.  If I had said to you a decade ago, “I’m going to record all your movements so that you can spend less time in traffic”, is that really a deal you would have accepted?  But if you use a GPS mapping system on your phone, you have done just that.



Connected forces can move like a capricious monster, smashing businesses or national economies or ecosystems with little warning and merciless efficiency.  Connected terrorists have cost trillions to fight; linked-up businesses have demolished trillions of dollars of profits from old sources with their cold, clicking efficiency.  Skype didn’t steal hundreds of billions of dollars of long-distance telephone fees, for instance.  It made them disappear.



When we say that ours is a revolutionary age, it’s not because you can watch videos on your phone. It’s because of why you can watch videos on your phone – and what that implies for the old, nervous structures around us.