Posts Tagged ‘wireless’
“Technology doesn’t force us… it merely opens the door”*…
The estimable Tim O’Reilly reminds us to think deeply about how AI could and should turn out. He suggests that Jeff Ding‘s diffusion theory of the role of technology in great-power competition also applies to AI adoption– and that it suggests that companies obsessed with the frontier might be optimizing for the wrong thing…
In the 1980s, Japan led the world in semiconductors, consumer electronics, and computer hardware, the industries everyone assumed would decide the next phase of economic power. Japan won them and still did not overtake the United States in the information revolution that followed. Jeff Ding, a political scientist at George Washington University, opens his book Technology and the Rise of Great Powers with the history of the first and second industrial revolutions and the third, the information revolution. The explanation he gives for who wins and who loses applies to companies as well as it does to nations, and very much to the current trajectory of AI.
Ding contrasts two theories of how technological revolutions reshape economic power. The conventional one he calls the leading sector model, or LS theory. It goes like this: New technologies create fast-growing new industries like steel and railroads and automobiles and semiconductors, and the country that dominates invention in those sectors captures the monopoly profits and the upstream and downstream economic linkages that come with them. As the story goes, if you win the leading sector, you win the era. Britain won in the first industrial revolution through its mastery of steam power, and then was surpassed by the US in the second through its leadership in electrification, the internal combustion engine, and mass manufacturing. The US kept its lead over Japan in the information systems revolution not by competing in the “leading sector” of electronic hardware but by diffusing “up the stack” via software that took the power of computing into every sector of the economy. (OK, that last bit is my explanation of what happened rather than Ding’s, but it’s consistent with his theory.)
Leading Sector theory is pretty clearly the working hypothesis of today’s AI industry and the national strategy that is forming around that industry. The company and the country with the biggest and best models wins. Everyone else is an also-ran.
Ding offers another explanation, which he calls diffusion theory. He points out that general-purpose technologies, foundational ones like the steam engine, electricity, and the computer, don’t just create massive profits and productivity gains in a single industry but instead spread across the whole economy. National economic leadership comes not from inventing the new sector but from diffusing the general-purpose technology more quickly and more broadly than your rivals. This happens over decades. The win goes to whoever most successfully embeds the technology into a wide range of ordinary productive work. This is how the US kept its lead over Japan rather than being surpassed by it.
This is obviously aligned with the thinking of Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor in “AI as Normal Technology,” which Ding cites in his book.
A big part of what enables diffusion is what Ding calls skill infrastructure, the education and training systems that widen the pool of people who can actually work with the technology. When the priority is widespread adoption rather than invention, he argues, the institutions that matter are the ones that build engineering skill at scale, standardize good practice, and tie research to industry. He writes:
GPT diffusion theory highlights the importance of GPT [General Purpose Technology] skill infrastructure. Education and training systems that widen the pool of engineering skills and knowledge linked to a GPT. When widespread adoption of GPTs is the priority, it is ordinary engineers, not heroic inventors, who matter.
Music to my ears, as it should be to yours: “It is ordinary engineers, not heroic inventors, who matter.”
That is not how the current AI narrative goes. Everyone is fixated on the labs, the frontier models, and the most famous researchers. And that fixation shapes enterprise strategy. Inside many companies AI strategy is a procurement decision: Which model and which vendor and which flagship tool should we choose? Or it’s a moonshot to stand up a lab and build an impressive demo and hire your own famous developer. Both approaches treat AI as a sector to be won. Ding’s argument is that the breakthrough sector itself is not where the long-term value for national power lives. And I believe that the same applies to corporate success. The value is in how widely and how well the technology gets embedded into the work of the people you already employ. The company that puts AI to work in finance and support and legal and sales and operations, across every unglamorous process, as well as in product and engineering, outperforms its competitors and drives its industry forward.
The reason diffusion takes a long time is that it is an organizational problem and not a technical one…
[Tim elaborates, and specifies the requirements for successful management of what is an “enterprise transformation problem”; he then unpacks the geopolitics of AI. He concludes…]
… Sovereign AI is not just a matter of national power. It is a predictable consequence of diffusion. A technology that diffuses widely will be adapted by different societies, firms, and institutions to suit their own needs, values, and constraints. Sovereign AI is AI designed for diffusion, not just raw increases in capability.
This is one reason the arms-race framing is unhelpful. It encourages us to treat AI as if it were a weapons system or a scarce strategic asset. But if AI is closer to electrification, computing, or the written word, the important thing is how the technology is embedded into the ordinary life of economies and institutions, and whether that embedding happens in ways that increase agency broadly rather than concentrating it in a few hyperpowerful companies.
There are a few additional lessons we can take from the history of electrification. While motors became decentralized, factories stopped generating their own power and bought it from a centralized grid. The unit-drive revolution decentralized application, not generation. This limitation, which we are now working to overcome to some extent with decentralized solar generation, is perhaps ironically showing up most strongly in the strain that AI data centers are placing on the grid. Let’s learn from that misstep. You can diffuse AI into every workflow via API calls to a big centralized model, or it can be diffused by a network of smaller models that turbocharge every part of the economy.
We should design for a future of multiple AIs, not a single universal system. Different countries will want systems shaped by different legal regimes, languages, histories, and cultural assumptions. So will companies. So will professions and communities of practice. The instinct of some frontier labs is to imagine that the right answer is to homogenize the technology, purge it of bias, and offer a single sanitized intelligence layer for the world. But AI is a social and cultural technology. The differences are not a defect to be smoothed away.
We do need to think about standards and interoperability. The historical analogy that comes to mind is railroad gauge. When real world systems are built to incompatible standards, the result is not healthy diversity but decades of friction, kludges, and retrofitting. The same may prove true for AI. If we force the future into a choice between one universal model and a patchwork of disconnected sovereign systems, we will get the worst of both worlds. We need a layer between uniformity and fragmentation, which can come from standardized protocols that allow different models, tools, and institutions to interoperate without requiring them to become identical.
This is also why open source matters, but only if it is properly understood. Open source is not just about licenses. My earliest introduction to the shared development of software that now goes by that name came from the research community that grew up around Bell Labs’ Unix operating system despite AT&T’s proprietary (albeit permissive) licensing. Because of that experience, I became convinced that it was the modular, protocol-centric architecture of Unix that was a key driver of collaborative, internet-enabled software development.
Open source AI depends on far more than open models. It depends on the architecture of participation built into the systems above and around them: the protocols, servers, interfaces, and shared technical conventions that let many different actors build on common foundations. The Open Source AI Gap Map shows just how rich that open source AI ecosystem is becoming. But open source can also coexist with proprietary, de facto standards like the OpenAI and Anthropic APIs. Like the electric grid we are now beginning to rebuild, the AI future will be a mix of centralized and decentralized systems. Cooperation and competition can coexist. Different actors can build different systems, for different purposes, under different forms of governance, while still participating in a shared technical and economic order.
This is how the future can belong not just to the inventors of AI but to the people who make it usable, adaptable, interoperable, and worth adopting.
Eminently worth reading in full. AI for all of us: “Ordinary Engineers, Not Heroic Inventors,” from @timoreilly.bsky.social
Apposite: “How to talk about “AI” without adding to the anthropomorphization“
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As we amplify access, we might we might spare a thought for someone who launched more than one central technology into braod diffusion: the Serbian-American electrical engineer and inventor Nikola Tesla; he died on this date in 1943. Tesla is probably best remembered for his rivalry with Thomas Edison: Tesla invented and patented the first AC motor and generator (c.f.: Niagara Falls); Edison promoted DC power… and went to great lengths to discredit Tesla and his approach. In the end, of course, Tesla was right.
Tesla patented over 300 inventions worldwide, though he kept many of his creations out of the patent system to protect their confidentiality. His work ranged widely, from technology critical to the development of radio to the first remote control. At the turn of the century, Tesla designed and began planning a “worldwide wireless communications system” that was backed by J.P. Morgan… until Morgan lost confidence and pulled out. “Cyberspace,” as described by the likes of William Gibson and Neal Stephenson, is largely prefigured in Tesla’s plan. On Tesla’s 75th birthday in 1931, Time put him on its cover, captioned “All the world’s his power house.” He received congratulatory letters from Albert Einstein and more than 70 other pioneers in science and engineering. But Tesla’s talent ran far, far ahead of his luck. He died penniless in Room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel.
“A bill of rights is what the people are entitled to against every government on earth, general or particular, and what no just government should refuse, or rest on inference.”*…
Following the often heated debate between Federalists and their opponents that led to the the ratification and adoption of the U.S. Constitution, the Anti-Federalists were still unsatisfied. Then-Representative James Madison, who studied the deficiencies of the Constitution pointed out by Anti-Federalists, collected proposals (16 in all), and then crafted a series of 12 proposed corrective amendments. Congress approved the twelve articles of amendment on September 25, 1789, and submitted them to the states for ratification. 10 were ultimately ratified– the first 10 amendments to our Constitution… or as we know them, The Bill of Rights.
In an excerpt from his book, Constitutional Myths: What We Get Wrong and How to Get It Right, Ray Raphael elaborates…
The Constitution of the United States, drafted in 1787 and ratified in 1788, did not follow the precedent set by these state constitutions. Despite spending almost four months drafting their new plan, the framers did not include within it a thoughtful listing of rights but only a scattering of guarantees. On September 12, just five days before the end of the Convention, George Mason finally suggested that delegates add a “Bill of Rights” similar to the state declarations of rights, but his motion failed to garner the support of a single state delegation.
Although state conventions ratified the Constitution, several included a caveat: the new plan should be amended as soon as possible. In fact, they proposed scores of amendments, some resembling provisions of what we now know as the Bill of Rights, but many others altering or even deleting structural features of the Constitution. New York’s convention coupled its list of proposed amendments with a demand for a second federal convention to consider these various proposals. The profusion of proposed amendments, plus the prospect of a second convention, frightened supporters of the Constitution, who feared that a new convention, if it met, would revise the fledgling Constitution before it could be put into effect and gut some of its major provisions.
Most leading Federalists hunkered down. In arguing against a second federal convention, they insisted that a bill of rights was not necessary and could even jeopardize rights that were not included. The job of the Constitution, they said, was to state what government could do, not what it couldn’t do. Rights already were secured because the government possessed no power that allowed it to impinge upon them. In fact, any catalog of specified rights would imply that rights were limited to those in the catalog, and not others.
James Madison and George Washington agreed with this argument, but they also took an accurate measure of people’s displeasure. It was strong and it was widespread. Rather than fight a rearguard action against the wave of discontent, they preferred to channel and control it. Article V of the Constitution stipulated that either Congress or state conventions might propose amendments. If Congress acted first, Madison and Washington reasoned, it could take charge of the issue and protect the substantive features of the new plan–congressional taxation, for instance–while giving ground elsewhere. Madison, meanwhile, pledged to his Virginia constituents that he would work to add a bill of rights if they elected him to represent them in Congress.
Once elected, in the First Federal Congress, Madison whittled down the large list of amendments suggested by the states’ ratifying conventions. With President Washington’s blessing, he proposed nineteen that did not endanger key constitutional components. After considerable debate and some revision, Congress pared Madison’s list down to twelve amendments, which it sent to the states for approval. Ten of these, which we call today the Bill of Rights, were ratified by three-quarters of the states, as required by the new Constitution. The genesis of the Bill of Rights, like the origins of the Constitution, was political as well as theoretical.
The short-term effect of the framing and ratification of the Bill of Rights was to put a Federalist stamp on the amendments and to doom the attempts by the Constitution’s opponents to modify the substantive or structural features of the new plan. The long-term effect was to reinforce America’s culture of rights and to infuse specific rights into American jurisprudence. After more than two centuries, the Bill of Rights, which had been so casually dismissed by the framers, figures so prominently in our minds that it often eclipses the Constitution itself. In an era when the word “government” has a bad name, the ten amendments that circumscribe the federal government’s authority over individuals are often viewed more favorably than the Constitution the framers created in 1787…
The backstory of the Bill of Rights, via the always-illuminating Delanceyplace.com
For more on the process that yielded them, and the texts of all 16 proposed amendments, see here.
* Thomas Jefferson, a critic of Federalists, in a 1787 letter to James Madison (who had originally been opposed to the idea of a “bill of rights,” both because he believed that the Constitution as written did not grant the federal government the power to take away people’s rights, and because he [and some other Framers] believed that we have natural rights too numerous to list– and that anything not explicitly included in a Bill of Rights would be unprotected.)
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As we ponder precedent, we might recall that it was on this date in 1930 that a BBC newsreader had nothing to communicate. His entire script for the 8:45 pm news bulletin was: “There is no news”… after which piano music was played for the rest of the 15-minute segment. The wireless service then returned to broadcasting from the Queen’s Hall in London, where the Wagner opera Parsifal was being performed.
“[TV commercials] are about products in the same sense that the story of Jonah is about the anatomy of whales”*…
Since his involuntary retirement, Mikhail Gorbachev has raised money for worthy causes, attempted to make a comeback in Russian politics, and, notoriously, made an advertisement for Pizza Hut.
The ad would have become a footnote were it not for its long second life online, where it’s rediscovered every few years. There’s an undeniable voyeuristic frisson of seeing a man who once commanded a superpower hawking pizza.
Each time it repeats, it leaves behind a new flood of clickbait—Time listing it among the “Top 10 Embarrassing Celebrity Commercials” in 2010, Mental Floss using Gorbachev’s birthday as a hook to link to it in 2012, Thrillist naming it the sixth-most bizarre celebrity endorsement of all time. Most of the facts dredged up in these deluges are recycled from a 1997 New York Times article.
More serious authors treat the commercial as a free-floating signifier to prove whatever thesis they are peddling, as when Jacobin cites it as another data point showing that Gorbachev was a sellout or David Foster Wallace uses it to prove the vacuity of popular culture.
But the conventional stories don’t really hold up. Gorbachev isn’t actually the star of the commercial. He doesn’t even speak. He’s a bystander to the commercial’s central drama, a fight over Gorbachev’s legacy between a fiery, pro-reform young man and a dour, anti-Gorbachev middle-aged man—possibly father and son. The two exchange charges and defenses of Gorbachev’s record—“Because of him, we have economic confusion!” “Because of him, we have opportunity!” “Complete chaos!” “Hope!”—before an older woman settles the argument: “Because of him, we have many things … like Pizza Hut!”
In a lot of ways, it’s a beautiful short film and a very weird advertisement: Who would have thought that a bunch of Muscovites bickering about the end of communism would be a natural pitch for pizza?
For the people who created the ad—the executives, the agents, the creatives—it was a professional landmark. But for Gorbachev himself, the story of the ad is a tragedy: one man’s attempt to find—and to fund—a place in a country that wanted nothing more to do with him…
Finally, the full (sad) story of the Pizza Hut ad that became a meme: “Mikhail Gorbachev’s Pizza Hut Thanksgiving Miracle.”
* Neil Postman
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As we grab for a slice, we might recall that this is an important date in broadcast history. On this date in 1896, Guglielmo Marconi introduced “radio”: he amazed a group at Toynbee Hall in East London with a demonstration of wireless communication across a room. Every time Marconi hit a key beside him at the podium, a bell would ring from a box being carried around the room by William Henry Preece.
Then exactly five years later, on this date in 1901, Marconi confounded those who believed that the curvature of the earth would limit the effective range of radio waves when he broadcast a signal from Cornwall, England to Newfoundland, Canada– over 2,100 miles– and in so doing, demonstrated the viability of worldwide wireless communication.
“Encryption works”*…
A SIGSALY terminal in 1943
During World War II, a British-American team that included Claude Shannon and Alan Turing created the first digitally scrambled, wireless phone known as SIGSALY…
Declassified only in 1976, it was a joint effort of Bell Labs and Britain’s Government Code and Cipher School at Bletchley Park, north of London. It had a scientific pedigree rivaling that of the Manhattan Project, for the British-American team included not only Shannon but also Alan Turing. They were building a system known as SIGSALY. That was not an acronym, just a random string of letters to confuse the Germans, should they learn of it.
SIGSALY was the first digitally scrambled, wireless phone. Each SIGSALY terminal was a room-sized, 55-ton computer with an isolation booth for the user and an air-conditioning system to prevent its banks of vacuum tubes from melting down. It was a way for Allied leaders to talk openly, confident that the enemy could not eavesdrop. The Allies built one SIGSALY at the Pentagon for Roosevelt and another in the basement of Selfridges department store for Churchill. Others were established for Field Marshal Montgomery in North Africa and General MacArthur in Guam. SIGSALY used the only cryptographic system that is known to be uncrackable, the ‘onetime pad.’ In a onetime pad, the ‘key’ used for scrambling and decoding a message is random. Traditionally, this key consisted of a block of random letters or numbers on a pad of paper. The encoded message therefore is random and contains none of the telltale patterns by which cryptograms can be deciphered. The problem with the onetime pad is that the key must be delivered by courier to everyone using the system, a challenge in wartime.
SIGSALY encoded voice rather than a written message. Its key was a vinyl LP record of random ‘white noise.’ ‘Adding’ this noise to Roosevelt’s voice produced an indecipherable hiss. The only way to recover Roosevelt’s words was to ‘subtract’ the same key noise from an identical vinyl record. After pressing the exact number of key records needed, the master was destroyed and the LPs distributed by trusted couriers to the SIGSALY terminals. It was vitally important that the SIGSALY phonographs play at precisely the same speed and in sync. Were one phonograph slightly off, the output was abruptly replaced by noise.
Alan Turing cracked the German ‘Enigma’ cipher, allowing the Allies to eavesdrop on the German command’s messages. The point of SIGSALY was to ensure that the Germans couldn’t do the same. Part of Shannon’s job was to prove that the system was indeed impossible for anyone lacking a key to crack. Without that mathematical assurance, the Allied commanders could not have spoken freely. SIGSALY put several other of Shannon’s ideas into practice for the first time, among them some relating to pulse code modulation. AT&T patented and commercialized many of Shannon’s ideas in the postwar years…
The first wireless “phone”: an excerpt from William Poundstone’s Fortune’s Formula, via Delancey Place.
* Edward Snowden
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As we keep a secret, we might recall that it was on this date in 1909 that Thomas M. Flaherty filed for the first U.S. patent for a “Signal for Crossings”– a traffic signal. His signal used a large horizontal arrow pivoted on a post, which turned to indicate the right of way direction, and was activated by an electric solenoid operated by a policeman beside the road.
Flaherty’s was the first U.S. application for a traffic signal design, later issued as No. 991,964 on May 9, 1911. But though it was filed first, it was not the first patent actually issued for a traffic signal: Ernest E. Sirrine filed a different design seven months after Flaherty; but his patent was issued earlier, and thus he held the first U.S. patent for a “Street Traffic System.”
“Every day sees humanity more victorious in the struggle with space and time”*…
Contact: A hundred years before iconic figures like Bill Gates and Steve Jobs permeated our lives, 60 years before Marshall McLuhan proclaimed media to be “the extensions of man,” an Irish-Italian inventor laid the foundation of the communication explosion of the 21st century. Guglielmo Marconi was arguably the first truly global figure in modern communication. Not only was he the first to communicate globally, he was the first to think globally about communication. Marconi may not have been the greatest inventor of his time, but more than anyone else, he brought about a fundamental shift in the way we communicate.
Today’s globally networked media and communication system has its origins in the 19th century, when, for the first time, messages were sent electronically across great distances. The telegraph, the telephone, and radio were the obvious precursors of the Internet, iPods, and mobile phones. What made the link from then to now was the development of wireless communication. Marconi was the first to develop and perfect a practical system for wireless, using the recently-discovered “air waves” that make up the electromagnetic spectrum…
An excerpt from Marconi: The Man Who Networked the World by Marc Raboy. Oxford University Press. Via “How Marconi Gave Us the Wireless World.”
* Guglielmo Marconi
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As we tweak the dial, we might recall that, thanks to a handwritten note by illustrator Heinrich Cremer, we know that the final binding of the Gutenberg Bible took place on this date in 1456.
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