|To: Peter Ecclesine who wrote (46757)||6/29/2019 6:53:51 AM|
|What Happened to Facebook's Grand Plan to Wire the World?|
Five years ago Mark Zuckerberg debuted a bold, humanitarian vision of global internet. It didn’t go as planned—forcing Facebook to reckon with the limits of its own ambition.
ELMAT: You can't connect the unconnected with Wi-Fi. You can't connect the unconnected without spectrum
Author: Jessi Hempel BY Jessi Hempel
In August 2013, Mark Zuckerberg tapped out a 10-page white paper on his iPhone and shared it on Facebook. It was intended as a call to action for the tech industry: Facebook was going to help get people online. Everyone should be entitled to free basic internet service, Zuckerberg argued. Data was, like food or water, a human right. Universal basic internet service is possible, he wrote, but “it isn’t going to happen by itself.” Wiring the world required powerful players—institutions like Facebook. For this plan to be feasible, getting data to people had to become a hundred times cheaper.
Zuckerberg said this should be possible within five to 10 years.
It was an audacious proposal for the founder of a social software company to make. But the Zuckerberg of 2013 had not yet been humbled by any significant failure. In a few months, the service he’d launched between classes at Harvard would turn 10. A few months after that, he would be turning 30. It was a moment for taking stock, for reflecting on the immense responsibility that he felt came with the outsize success of his youth, and for doing something with his accumulated power that mattered.
A few days later, Facebook unveiled what that something would be: Internet.org. Launched with six partners, it was a collection of initiatives intended to get people hooked on the net. Its projects fell into two groups. For people who were within range of the internet but not connected, the company would strike business deals with phone carriers to make a small number of stripped-down web services (including Facebook) available for free through an app. For those who lived beyond the web’s reach—an estimated 10 to 15 percent of the world’s population—Zuckerberg would recruit engineers to work on innovative networking technologies like lasers and drones.
The work was presented as a humanitarian effort. Its name ended in “dot-org,” appropriating the suffix nonprofits use to signal their do-gooder status on the web. Zuckerberg wrote that he wasn’t expecting Facebook to earn a profit from “serv[ing]the next few billion people,” suggesting he was motivated by a moral imperative, not a financial one. The company released a promotional video featuring John F. Kennedy’s voice reading excerpts from a 1963 speech imploring the students of American University to remember that “we all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.” Andrew Carnegie believed in libraries. Bill Gates believed in health care. Zuckerberg believed in the internet.
Zuckerberg was sincere in his swashbuckling belief that Facebook was among a small number of players that had the money, know-how, and global reach to fast-forward history, jump-starting the economic lives of the 5 billion people who do not yet surf the web. He believed peer-to-peer communications would be responsible for redistributing global power, making it possible for any individual to access and share information. “The story of the next century is the transition from an industrial, resource-based economy to a knowledge economy,” he said in an interview with WIRED at the time. “If you know something, then you can share that, and then the whole world gets richer.” The result would be that a kid in India—he loved this hypothetical about this kid in India—could potentially go online and learn all of math.
For three years, Zuckerberg included Internet.org in his top priorities, pouring resources, publicity, and a good deal of his own time into the project. He traveled to India and Africa to promote the initiative and spoke about it at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona two years in a row. He appeared before the UN General Assembly to push the idea that internet access was a human right. He amassed a team of engineers in his Connectivity Lab to work on internet-distribution projects, which had radically different production cycles than the software to which he was accustomed.
But from the start, critics were skeptical of Zuckerberg’s intentions. The company’s peers, like Google and Microsoft, never signed on as partners, preferring instead to pursue their own strategies for getting people online. Skeptics questioned the hubris of an American boy-billionaire who believed the world needed his help and posited that existing businesses and governments are better positioned to spread connectivity. They criticized Facebook’s app for allowing free access only to a Facebook-sanctioned set of services. At one point, 67 human rights groups signed an open letter to Zuckerberg that accused Facebook of “building a walled garden in which the world’s poorest people will only be able to access a limited set of insecure websites and services.”
At first, Zuckerberg defended his efforts in public speeches, op-eds, and impassioned videos that he published on his own platform. I had a front-row seat for these events, as I spent most of 2015 reporting an article on Facebook’s connectivity efforts that took me to South Africa, London, Spain, New York, and Southern California to observe the company’s efforts to advance its version of universal connectivity.
My story was published in January 2016, a month before India banned Facebook’s app altogether. Shortly after that, Facebook stopped talking about Internet.org. While bits of news about the company’s drone project or new connectivity efforts still emerge, Facebook hasn’t updated the press releases on the Internet.org website in a year. That led me to wonder, what exactly happened to Internet.org?
The second time Mark Zuckerberg traveled to Barcelona to headline the Mobile World Congress, in the spring of 2015, I conducted the keynote interview. He arrived on a Sunday afternoon and was whisked to a dinner that he hosted for a group of telecom operators. We didn’t meet up until the next day, just minutes before we were to walk onstage. Zuckerberg, dressed in jeans, black Nikes, and a gray T-shirt, appeared confident. His face still had the youthful plumpness it has since lost.
The annual telecom trade show routinely draws tens of thousands of people, including the chiefs of all the big telecom operators. Attendees had begun lining up to hear him in the morning, and as I peered out from the wings just before our midday appearance, all 8,000 seats were filled; people watched from overflow rooms throughout the conference hall. I remember the cacophony of clicking camera flashes as Zuckerberg joined me onstage.
Zuckerberg spent only a few minutes touting the promise of drones and lasers in connecting people to the internet. This technology was exciting, he told the crowd, but distant. It would be years before a solar-powered plane hovered 60,000 feet in the air, beaming the internet to the disconnected. One year earlier, in Zuckerberg’s first Mobile World Congress appearance, he’d introduced a plan to get loads of people online seemingly overnight: Facebook wanted to partner with telecom operators to offer them a free app that had access to a few services like Wikipedia and health information. Oh, and Facebook. Zuckerberg believed this would be great for operators because they’d be able to get new customers. The app would be a gateway drug for people who’d never tried the internet before, and they’d subsequently decide to pay operators for more data. Zuckerberg had returned to Barcelona to promote this idea.
He was greeted by a skeptical, and at times hostile, audience of telecom operators who were vexed by his proposal. They were already concerned that people were communicating through services like WhatsApp and Facebook instead of the more lucrative text-messaging services they offered. They'd spent the money to lay down fiber and build an actual network, and people were now opting not to pay them for minutes. In effect, before Internet.org was even a gleam in Zuckerberg’s eye, Facebook had already undermined their core business. They were reluctant to partner with the social network to get even more people online, and specifically, on Facebook. Denis O’Brien, chairman of the international wireless provider Digicel Group, told the Wall Street Journal that Zuckerberg was like “the guy who comes to your party and drinks your champagne, and kisses your girls, and doesn't bring anything."
So far, operators had signed on in just six countries: Zambia, Tanzania, India, Ghana, Kenya, and Colombia. Zuckerberg invited three telecom executives to join him onstage to describe how things were going. One, from Paraguay, suggested his company had seen an uptick in subscribers during its Facebook trial. But even onstage at the invitation of Zuckerberg, they were reserved. “It all comes down to data,” said Jon Fredrik Baksaas, then CEO of Telenor Group. “It is challenging not to give the keys of your house to your competitor." That is to say, he was worried that Facebook’s messaging capabilities would siphon off his company's customers.
Human rights activists worried about Internet.org for different reasons. While the app allowed numerous services, they were concerned that Facebook was the ultimate arbiter of which ones were included. Facebook had much to gain by centralizing the web onto one platform: Facebook. Critics charged that, in its haste to get services to people using the least amount of data possible, Facebook was compromising their security.
Not long after Mobile World Congress, in that May 2015 letter signed by 67 human rights groups, activists accused the company of promoting and attempting to build a two-tiered internet, saying: “These new users could get stuck on a separate and unequal path to Internet connectivity, which will serve to widen—not narrow—the digital divide.”
The growing backlash caught Zuckerberg by surprise. He was accustomed to people resisting changes the company made to Facebook, but eventually they always came around. Users hadn’t liked Facebook’s News Feed at first, but they came to embrace it. With Internet.org, though, the more he tried to explain Facebook’s motives, the more the criticism mounted. The opposition was particularly significant in India, where a group of activists were pushing regulators to ban its app. They said it violated net neutrality, the idea that internet providers should treat all online services equally, by making some services available for free.
In the spring of 2015, Zuckerberg published an op-ed, this time in the Hindustan Times and not on Facebook, in which he tried to explain that his initiative didn’t run counter to net neutrality. He argued that a limited internet was better than no internet; if people couldn't afford to pay for connectivity, “it is always better to have some access and voice than none at all.” But Indian activists only grew louder in their declaration that Facebook just didn’t get it.
One evening a few weeks later, Zuckerberg called in some employees after hours to record a video in which he made a case for Internet.org. The lights were off behind him, a row of desks sat empty as he spoke. He framed the debate over whether to allow Internet.org to operate in India as a moral choice: “We have to ask ourselves, what kind of community do we want to be?” he said, in the video, which he published on his profile and on the Internet.org Facebook page. “Are we a community that values people and improving people’s lives above all else? Or are we a community that puts the intellectual purity of technology above people’s needs?”
In the months that followed, Facebook changed the app’s name from Internet.org to Free Basics in an attempt to mitigate the impression that Facebook was trying to take over the web. To counter the argument that Facebook was deciding what services people could access, the company opened up the app to more services. It also improved security and privacy measures for users.
While the company continued to sign on partners in new markets, like Bolivia and South Africa, in India the debate grew more heated. The company sent messages to developers throughout India to encourage them to advocate for Free Basics. Facebook-sponsored billboards asked Indians to support “a better future” for unconnected Indians—meaning a future with Free Basics. Advertisements for Facebook were plastered inside Indian newspapers. That year, Facebook spent roughly $45 million in Indian advertising to spread word about its Free Basics campaign, according to the Indian media. In an op-ed that Zuckerberg wrote for the Times of India, he asked: “Who could possibly be against this?”
In February 2016, India’s telecom regulator blocked Facebook’s Free Basics service as part of a ruling to support net neutrality.
Later that month, I joined Zuckerberg in Barcelona for his third appearance at the Mobile World Congress. Again, he wore dark jeans and black Nikes, and just before we left the green room, he pulled on a fresh gray T-shirt. He followed me onstage with confidence, but as soon as we sat down, his microphone malfunctioned, producing high-pitched feedback when he spoke. At first we tried to soldier through the interview, but the distraction grew too great and we both began to perspire.
Our voices dropped in and out like a bad cell connection. We stopped to ask for new equipment, which improved the situation only slightly. Inches away from me, Zuckerberg seemed perturbed, but in the recording I later watched, he appeared to maintain his composure as he announced a new Internet.org project. This one had nothing to do with Free Basics. Dubbed the Telecom Infra Project, it would bring together 30 companies to help improve the underlying architecture of the networks that provide internet access.
I asked Zuckerberg what he’d learned so far from the Internet.org efforts. He intimated that he’d learned that people didn’t take him at face value. "I didn't start Facebook to become a company initially, but having a for-profit company is a good way to accomplish certain things,” he said.
To wit: Zuckerberg still thought of himself as a humanitarian and a philanthropist, uniquely positioned because of his capital and his influence to bring the internet to those who couldn't get access to it quickly in other ways. The global corporation that was threatening local businesses and sucking the air out of entire industries while minting millionaires in sunny Menlo Park? That was just the means to an end. From my interviews that year, both onstage and privately, it was clear to me that Zuckerberg was sincere in this belief, even if others didn’t buy into it.
Recently I wrote to a South African guy named James Devine. He works for a nonprofit called Project Isizwe, which makes Wi-Fi more available in his home country. In 2015, I'd visited him to check out a partnership he’d forged with Facebook. We met in Polokwane, in the impoverished Northeast, and then traced red dirt roads through the countryside until we got to a tiny village. There, above a chicken stand in the town center, was a WiFi hot spot. People could sit beneath it and access a small amount of free bandwidth—enough for a few minutes of playing games or streaming music—to surf the open web, or they could use the services within the Free Basics app as long as they wanted for free. As part of a trial, Facebook was paying for hot spots like this one in several villages, and Isizwe tended to their upkeep.
I asked Devine if he was still working with Facebook. “Things kind of died down after the satellite blew up,” he wrote, referring to the SpaceX satellite that blew up over Africa in September 2016. Facebook had contracted SpaceX to deliver the first Internet.org satellite into space; it was supposed to deliver wireless connectivity to large portions of sub-Saharan Africa. “All the current projects with them that we’ve been involved with have now come to an end.” It’s just one of a slew of projects Facebook has attempted in the five years since it launched the work.
While the larger world fixated on the connectivity experiments of Free Basics, the company sank resources into other partnerships and experiments to build devices (like lasers and autonomous planes) that could distribute the internet cheaply. These projects involved the type of deep technical know-how that a company with a healthy research arm, like Facebook, was designed to take on. Facebook funneled these projects through its Connectivity Lab, which is committed to initiatives intended for the distant future.
While they required Facebook to invest in unfamiliar areas of science and engineering—building an airplane is a different art form than, say, building a messaging app—these projects are in Zuckerberg’s wheelhouse. He read up on how the technologies operated and then either acquired or recruited the technical talent to realize them. Once, when I visited Facebook’s Menlo Park headquarters, Zuckerberg had Hamid Hemmati’s textbook on lasers on his desk. He’d had his assistant reach out to schedule a call with Hemmati, who’d spent most of his career at NASA. “He was super surprised to hear from me,” Zuckerberg told me at the time. “He thought that it was fake.” Within a month, Zuckerberg had convinced Hemmati to leave NASA to open a Facebook laboratory in Woodland Hills, California.
These technical projects have a lot more in common with the types of connectivity efforts embarked on by Facebook’s peers. Alphabet shut down its drone program, Project Titan, last year, but it continues to develop Project Loon, which is housed in X—Alphabet’s so-called moonshot factory—and aspires to beam the internet from high-altitude balloons. Microsoft has attempted to deploy unused television airwaves to get more people online. Within Google and Microsoft, these projects don’t front as philanthropy; they’re ambitious technical challenges undertaken as research for the company’s future business.
The occasional Connectivity Lab updates Facebook offers suggest that it is distancing these efforts from its Internet.org work. Aquila, the name for Facebook’s plane-size drone, has now had two publicized test flights, and on the second one it even stuck the landing. (The National Transportation Safety Board opened an investigation after the first flight crashed in the summer of 2016.) It has also partnered with Airbus to lobby the FCC for the spectrum it will need to beam the internet from the sky. The company has also added new projects to the mix. Another Connectivity Lab project involves building better maps to help plan where networks need to improve. Facebook no longer talks about these projects publicly as part of Internet.org. Blog posts are shared on Facebook’s coding blog, and the posts don’t reference Internet.org at all. Instead, they’re tagged “connectivity.” Internet.org doesn’t include these updates in its press section.
Engineering projects like Aquila, an internet-providing drone, were more firmly in Zuckerberg's wheelhouse.
Meanwhile, the project that has done the most to help cement connectivity has been separated from Internet.org entirely. Although Zuckerberg introduced the Telecom Infra Project as an Internet.org project in 2016, including its logo alongside logos for Free Basics and the Connectivity Lab in his post, there are no references to TIP on the Internet.org site.
The way Facebook has handled this telecom project suggests it is learning from past missteps. The effort is modeled on Facebook’s Open Compute Project, which developed technology to make data centers more efficient and then made that technology available to other tech companies. Under the leadership of Jay Parikh, the infrastructure chief who also helmed Open Compute, Facebook will join with partners to pay for and develop new technology that companies can use to improve their infrastructure; telco partners will be expected to pay for deployment. These upgrades range from improved base stations to a new radio wave technology that will make the internet faster in densely populated places. Telcos are embracing this approach, according to Quartz. So far, Facebook has attracted more than 500 partners.
The Telecom Infra Project has its own website (which pointedly downplays Facebook’s central role), its own board of directors that includes just one Facebook executive, and it has hosted two autumn summits so far. Last November, Yael Maguire, who directs Facebook’s connectivity programs, opened up the second day of the summit by explaining “why Facebook cares so much about connectivity.” He explained that Facebook is a social networking company, focused on bringing people together in the digital world, and it depends on physical networks to do that. “Every step of progress around the world allows us to create a better and closer experience where people can come closer together,” he explained.
In other words, healthy networks make for a better Facebook. That in turn is good for Facebook’s bottom line. This is what Zuckerberg wasn’t saying directly in any of his earlier public addresses.
For all of Facebook’s early experiments, carriers have finally come around to Facebook’s model. Facebook says it is working with 86 partners to offer the Free Basics app in 60 countries. These carriers have found Facebook’s formula to be helpful in their attempts to attract and retain new customers. So far this year, Free Basics has launched in Cameroon for the first time and added additional carriers in Colombia and Peru.
In the five years since Zuckerberg introduced Internet.org, 600 million people have come online. In the company’s April 25 earnings call, Zuckerberg said the company’s Internet.org and connectivity efforts (he differentiated the two) have brought 100 million of these people to the internet. Facebook commissions annual research on the number of connected people. This year’s report, which was not published on the Internet.org web site, suggests the costs of accessing the net have fallen, while the rate at which people are coming online for the first time has grown particularly fast in developing countries.
But while this looks like success, Zuckerberg never anticipated the consequences of universal connectivity that are now emerging. Small countries like Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, and the Philippines are reporting outbreaks of violence and political strife that local activists blame partly on Facebook. These countries are facing many of the same challenges—hate speech, false information, and political movements that complain of bias—that we are confronting in the United States, where Congress recently called Zuckerberg to Washington to testify. But often, the developing world lacks the institutions and government regulators to help educate and protect individuals. What’s more, Facebook has been slower to introduce the moderating tools that might help curtail hate speech and misinformation in the developing world.
In March, the United Nations called out Facebook for its role in inciting the violence in Myanmar that has led to a humanitarian crisis. Military strikes since last August have spurred roughly 700,000 Rohingya Muslims to flee to Bangladesh to escape what some members of the UN consider a genocide. The officials said hateful Facebook posts have helped amplify the ethnic tensions. Yanghee Lee, the UN official charged with investigating events in the country, said, “I’m afraid that Facebook has now turned into a beast, and not what it was originally intended.
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|From: Glenn Petersen||7/6/2019 11:10:50 AM|
|What Trump’s Huawei Reversal Means for the Future of 5G|
Huawei is the top threat to American dominance in wireless technology. And the U.S. is woefully, even disgracefully, behind.
By Andrew Ross Sorkin
New York Times
July 1, 2019
A Bangkok shop selling phones from Huawei, the Chinese company that poses the biggest threat to the United States’ dominance of the future of wireless technology.CreditCreditDiego Azubel/EPA, via Shutterstock
In an impromptu question-and-answer session late last month at the White House, President Trump was asked about the nation’s efforts to block Huawei, the Chinese telecommunications company, from doing business in the United States and with our allies around the globe.
“Huawei is something that is very dangerous,” Mr. Trump said. Then, almost in the same breath, he added: “It’s possible that Huawei would be included in a trade deal. If we made a deal, I can imagine Huawei being included in some form or some part of a trade deal.”
Over the weekend in Japan, Mr. Trump appeared to choose trade over national security, suspending the ban on United States companies’ supplying equipment to Huawei as he hopes to reach a trade deal with President Xi Jinping of China. Without providing any details, he declared that American companies could sell to Huawei without creating a “great, national emergency problem.”
He said this even as own secretary of state, Mike Pompeo, spent the past several months traveling the world warning our allies that Huawei is a profoundly dangerous security threat and instructing them to freeze out the company.
Senator Marco Rubio, Republican of Florida, used Twitter to call Mr. Trump’s reversal “a catastrophic mistake” that “will destroy the credibility of his administration’s warnings about the threat posed by the company, no one will ever again take them seriously.” (Mr. Trump followed the same playbook with ZTE earlier this year, banning it and then reversing the ban to placate the Chinese.)
While Mr. Trump may view Huawei as both “dangerous” and a pawn in the trade war, the truth is it may be something else entirely.
Huawei is the most significant long-term competitive threat to the United States’ dominance of the future of wireless technology. And the United States is woefully — even disgracefully — behind.
No matter what the United States does to hobble Huawei — and Mr. Trump’s latest stance will only hasten its rise — it will not alter a fundamental problem that clouds the conversation: The United States needs a meaningful strategy to lead the world in next-generation wireless technology — a kind of Manhattan Project for the future of connectivity.
Don’t take my word for it.
In April, amid the frenzy over the report from Robert S. Mueller III, the special counsel investigating Russian election interference, another alarming government report was issued — and largely overlooked.
It was written by the Defense Innovation Board, a group of business leaders and academics that advises the Defense Department. And it was a scathing indictment of the country’s 5G efforts.
“The leader of 5G stands to gain hundreds of billions of dollars in revenue over the next decade, with widespread job creation across the wireless technology sector,” wrote the board, a who’s-who of the tech world that includes the former Alphabet chairman Eric Schmidt, the LinkedIn founder Reid Hoffman and Walter Isaacson, the author and a former chief executive of the Aspen Institute.
“The country that owns 5G will own many of these innovations and set the standards for the rest of the world,” the board wrote.
It added in no uncertain terms: “That country is currently not likely to be the United States.”
It is no wonder. No American company makes the devices that transmit high-speed wireless signals. Huawei is the clear leader in the field; the Swedish company Ericsson is a distant second; and the Finnish company Nokia is third.
It is almost surprising that the Defense Department allowed the report to be published at all, given the board’s remarkably blunt assessment of the nation’s lack of innovation and what it said was one of the biggest impediments to rolling out 5G in the United States: the Pentagon itself.
The board said the broadband spectrum needed to create a successful network was reserved not for commercial purposes but for the military.
To work best, 5G needs what’s called low-band spectrum, because it allows signals to travel farther than high-band spectrum. The farther the signal can travel, the less infrastructure has to be deployed.
In China and even in Europe, governments have reserved low-band spectrum for 5G, making it efficient and less costly to blanket their countries with high-speed wireless connectivity. In the United States, the low-band spectrum is reserved for the military.
The difference this makes is stark. Google conducted an experiment for the board, placing 5G transmitters on 72,735 towers and rooftops. Using high-band spectrum, the transmitters covered only 11.6 percent of the United States population at a speed of 100 megabits per second and only 3.9 percent at 1 gigabit per second. If the same transmitters could use low-band spectrum, 57.4 percent of the population would be covered at 100 megabits per second and 21.2 percent at 1 gigabit per second.
A London sign advertising 5G, which works best using a part of the wireless spectrum that in the United States is reserved for the military.CreditSuzie Howell for The New York Times
In other words, the spectrum that has been allotted in the United States for commercial 5G communications makes 5G significantly slower and more expensive to roll out than just about anywhere else.
That is a commercial disincentive and puts the United States at a distinct disadvantage.
The spectrum challenge creates a negative feedback loop for manufacturers, which may help explain why no major American technology company has jumped into the fray. But since President Trump issued an executive order that banned the purchase of equipment from companies posing a national security threat — which include Huawei — it threatens the ability of American companies to expand their 5G networks, particularly in rural areas.
United States phone companies like AT&T and Verizon may end up seeking to manufacture their own transmitters given the dearth of options.
Not winning the 5G contest comes with consequences. “If China leads the field in 5G infrastructure and systems, then the future 5G ecosystem will likely have Chinese components embedded throughout,” the Defense Innovation Board wrote. “This would pose a serious threat to the security of D.O.D. operations and networks going forward.”
One of the board’s recommendations is that the Defense Department share its low-band spectrum to accelerate the commercial development of the technology in the United States.
While sharing spectrum comes with its own security challenges, the board raised the prospect of some unique, surprising benefits: “Integration of government and civil use may provide a layer of security by allowing military traffic to ‘hide in plain sight’ as traffic becomes more difficult to see and isolate. Similarly, adversaries might be deterred from jamming this spectrum because they might be operating on the same bands.”
None of this is meant to suggest that Huawei does not represent a national security threat if the Chinese government were to use it to spy on foreign adversaries in the future. (Though, it is worth saying, there is no evidence presented publicly by any American agency that the company’s hardware has been used that way — yet.)
Nor should it be read as an apology for Huawei’s record of stealing intellectual property, which has been well chronicled.
Sharing spectrum should be only the start, however. Policymakers must grasp that the “market” in the United States isn’t working the way it should, especially when state actors like China are supporting companies like Huawei.
If the United States is going to lead the world, Washington needs to think hard about the incentives it provides companies — not only for research and development, where we are still leading, but also for manufacturing the technology that is in our national interest to control as well as what mergers it allows.
One morning in late February, Mr. Trump typed out a message on Twitter: “I want the United States to win through competition, not by blocking out currently more advanced technologies.”
That is a worthy goal, and an achievable one. But it requires more than the Band-Aid solution that is a trade deal or a blacklist. It requires a new strategy.
Maybe we’ll have one in time for 6G.
Andrew Ross Sorkin is a columnist and the founder and editor-at-large of DealBook. He is a co-anchor of CNBC’s Squawk Box and the author of “Too Big to Fail.” He is also the co-creator of the Showtime drama series Billions. @andrewrsorkin • Facebook
A version of this article appears in print on July 1, 2019, on Page B1 of the New York edition with the headline: U.S. Lags In the Race For 5G Edge.
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|From: Frank A. Coluccio||8/24/2019 11:19:30 AM|
Dear Fellow Forum Members,
It is with deep sorrow and a heavy heart that I must inform you of the passing of Jim Kayne, a.k.a. axial, a longtime forum member and, for a while, one of the board's most active participants. Jim died on July 8th from a heart attack while doing some renovations.
I learned of Jim's passing while cruising the Cook Report on Internet Economics mailing list several weeks after its posting, where a lifelong friend of his, after gaining access to his pc and files, sent out notices to apparent friends and colleagues.
I'll be obtaining additional contact information over the next several days, which I'll make available via PM to interested members who contact me with a request. Or, you can simply PM me and leave your email address if you prefer.
Frank A. Coluccio
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|To: Glenn Petersen who wrote (46762)||9/11/2019 8:07:24 AM|
|From: Peter Ecclesine|
|Huawei Has a Plan to Help End Its War With Trump During a rare interview, the company’s chief executive proposed negotiations with the Justice Department.|
By Thomas L. Friedman Opinion Columnist Sept. 10, 2019
nytimes.com After a week of interviews in Beijing, Shenzhen and Hong Kong, I’ve come away with some strong feelings about the United States-China trade dispute. There are two battlefronts: One is the negotiation to eliminate the barriers to American companies competing in China, and the other is what to do about Huawei, China’s enormous telecom networking company that Beijing sees as a crown jewel of national innovation and the Trump team sees as a giant global espionage device.
<> That is why I was happy to accept the invitation of Huawei’s founder and chief executive, Ren Zhengfei, to come to his company’s headquarters in Shenzhen for a rare interview, which he used to — for the first time — propose negotiations with the Justice Department to try to resolve all the outstanding issues between Washington and Huawei.
<> Ren told me: “If the U.S. reaches out to us in good faith and promises to change their irrational approach to Huawei, then we are open to a dialogue. The U.S. shouldn’t try to destroy Huawei over something trivial. If the U.S. feels we have done something wrong, then we can discuss it in good faith and find a reasonable solution. I think we can accept that approach."
He added for emphasis, “There are no restrictions on what we would be willing to discuss with the Department of Justice.”
And if the United States — which has no indigenous 5G networking manufacturer — still does not trust Huawei to install its equipment across America at scale, added Ren, then he is also ready, for the first time, to license the entire Huawei 5G platform to any American company that wants to manufacturer it and install it and operate it, completely independent of Huawei.
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|From: Frank A. Coluccio||10/2/2019 2:51:26 PM|
|Huawei CEO Has an Elaborate Plan to Create a 5G Rival in the U.S.|
Naomi Xu Elegant | September 28, 2019
Huawei Technologies Co Ltd. is willing to license its 5G cellular networking technology to another rival company for a one-time fee—provided that company is American.
Cont. : fortune.com
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|To: Lazarus who wrote (46767)||12/23/2019 12:01:58 AM|
|From: Peter Ecclesine|
|Cisco has a common hardware group developing ASICs for all products, meaning |
CiscoOne management and processing will be across most wireless and wire access technologies
e.g., common random MAC address processing, common multicast forwarding, etc.
Most switching products do not understand or manage wireless the same way they manage wired.
The significance is to organizations with a lot of wireless connectivity.
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|To: Peter Ecclesine who wrote (46768)||12/23/2019 12:10:05 AM|
|Thanks Peter. Of course, having read that I'm glad I'm not 5 'cuz my 67 year old mind doesnt quite get it. But, I will put CSCO on watch. I though to buy it around $14 - $17 after the dot-com bust but never did.|
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