mobile

People worried about mobile phones, what’s the actual problem?

It’s the predatory corporations, stupid

Three simple mobile phones, called 'dumb phones' because they do not have the smartphone features that will ruin teenagers' lives, apparently. — Smartphone precursors

I don’t want to be too pedantic. When people – some of whom are well-informed, even brilliant – become hysterical about the alleged damaging effects of mobile phones, in particular on young people, I know they’re not proposing that we give up on decades of technological progress or deprive our kids of access to knowledge. They’re worried about harm to our children, which is very reasonable. Honestly, I get it. But what is it about these devices that they’re actually upset about?

Is it the portable supercomputer? The general-purpose powerhouse they’re carrying around with them? The device that’s capable of running a complex AI model, shooting and editing a 4K video, translating speech in real time, making a 3D model of your house?

Or is it the universal communicator? The multi-channel messaging device they can use to reach essentially anyone on earth (including you), to share their creations worldwide, to locate and contact practically anyone?

Or the unlimited access to information? The infinite photo album they can flick through on the bus? The continually-expanding encyclopaedia of human knowledge, the inexhaustible library of movies and books? The deep archive of world art and creativity they can access in class or in breaktime?

Of course not. It’s none of these things. What is it then? Well, if you don’t mind my saying so:

It’s the predatory corporations. Excuse me while I state the obvious: the problem is the corporations. And not all of them, either. Just the handful of vast, stock market-listed businesses whose robotic, out-of-control profit-seeking cannot apparently be impeded.

Still from science fiction film Predator — Another smartphone precursor

This is a variant of capitalist realism – the sense we all have that THERE IS NO ALTERNATIVE. We’ve convinced ourselves that, somehow, a modern state – a nation, a people – cannot say ‘no’ to manipulation and exploitation by these huge companies, with their trillion-dollar valuations and their megalomaniac management. It’s a remarkable bind to have got ourselves into. The seventh largest economy on earth – a nuclear power, a permanent member of the UN security council etc. etc. – cannot even try to protect its population from the various depradations of the platforms – from the anxiety and misery they produce to the literal fraud and theft that they enable on their platforms to [insert your own risk here].

Remarkably, in the Guardian, Torsten Bell – a famously clever man, a superlative communicator and now a member of parliament and a junior member of the UK government – cannot imagine any exit from this dilemma better than chucking our children’s smartphones – the most sophisticated technology most of humanity will ever own – in the bin and replacing them with something from an earlier era – from the era, to be specific, before they became general purpose computers.

Steve Jobs called computers bicycles for the mind – capacity multipliers, accessible devices that would amplify the capabilities of human beings in remarkable ways. The smartphone is perhaps the ultimate expression of this vision – a powerful computer you can carry around in your pocket and use to transform reality, create and communicate.

Two young me in laboratory white coats operate the Manchester Baby, also called the Small-Scale Experimental Machine (SSEM), the first stored-programme computer, in the late 1940s — Teenagers wasting their lives on a smartphone precursor

But, for some reason, instead of asserting our sovereignty, expressing the independence and the self-confidence of an ancient democracy, Britain must just cave in, dump the smartphones and surrender our kids to primitive, pre-IT era kit. Here in this advanced economy, in the nation where the stored-programme computer was invented, we must not expose our children to the unlimited possibilities of the computers in their pockets but rather shelter them from the evils of the computer era because we have no idea how to tell these plutocrats to fuck off.

Games that disappear

You can’t play Godfinger any more. It’s gone. ngmoco, the developer, removed the game (plus a couple of others) from app stores during February – and it’ll stop working all together at the end of this month. The raw economics of mobile gaming. But what happens to games that are packaged as apps when they’re discontinued? Looks like they disappear completely, as Jared Nelson points out on TouchArcade. No shoebox of carts under the bed, no stack of dusty DVDs, no folder of neglected binaries. Gone. Absent from the record.

The closed nature of mobile platforms means you can’t capture a binary for the archives and, unless the Library of Congress has an archiving scheme I don’t know about, this piece of intellectual labour will be removed from the record for good come April, leaving a tiny but perceptible hole in the timeline. This isn’t even a DRM story. It’s just about the mechanics of distributing entertainment in the app era. Is it important? Should we just accept it: the ruthless logic of 21st Century digital creation? Or are we going to be freaking out in fifty years when we realise we’ve built a one-way conveyor-belt to oblivion for digital work and we’re all going “what were they actually DOING back in the early twenty-first Century? They seem to have left no trace.”

Phones that go bling

Nokia are betting they can create a super-luxury mobile phone brand. It’s called Vertu. £15,000 buys you a pretty ordinary GSM phone (called an ‘instrument’) in a hand-tooled platinum, white gold or silver enclosure. They’re borrowing explicitly from the vocabulary of hand made mechanical watches and they come with a one-button concierge service for helpless billionaires.

I guess it’s logical to expect this kind of luxury segment to emerge as the market matures, in fact, Frank Nuovo, Nokia’s California-based head of design, tells the FT (subscription) that they’re now designing phones “…for six separate product categories: Premium at the top; Fashion (“stylishly provocative and creatively trend-conscious”); Classic; Expression; Active (“healthy active sports and leisure”); and Basic. He believes these categories will grow more diverse”.

Moore’s law doesn’t apply in the world of timepieces, though, so unless the Vertu ‘intruments’ can be upgraded continually into the future it’s hard to see them becoming heirlooms. The Vertu is more LA bling than Zurich swank. It’ll fit in nicely on the dash of that Escalade you’ve been thinking about.