MESSAGE
| DATE | 2004-10-12 |
| FROM | Ruben Safir
|
| SUBJECT | Subject: [hangout] Web Browser wars
|
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International Herald Tribune.
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NEW YORK At the moment, at least eight different Web browsers reside in
my computer. There's no earthly reason to have so many except for the
slightly obsessive fun of it. And these are just the non-arcane browsers
- the ones that didn't ask me to install supporting programs I don't
understand. I've also resisted the temptation to build my own browser,
which is the kind of project computer magazines like to publish. I know
what my do-it-yourself browser would look like. The decals would be
crooked and the paint would have fingerprints on it, just like the model
airplanes I built as a kid.
.
The number and diversity of these browsers is, to me, a very hopeful
sign. Not that long ago, Microsoft and Netscape were fighting for
control of the computer desktop, a battle that still goes on in one form
or another. Microsoft argued that only a browser tightly integrated with
the rest of the operating system could deliver the seamless, gratifying
Web-browsing experience most people hope for.
.
But Microsoft was wrong. These days, nobody wants to have anything
tightly integrated with the Windows operating system, which has come to
seem surprisingly troublesome. Windows takes a lot of care and feeding,
more than most people want to give it. As for Internet Explorer, it has
grown into a problem in its own right. Software developers complain
about it. Ordinary users get sick of the pop-up fireworks. Even in
corporate America - which finds its allegiance to Microsoft routinely
tested - business users are being asked to switch from Explorer to the
Mozilla Foundation's Firefox for security reasons. What went wrong with
Internet Explorer is a big subject. But one answer, apart from the
mediocrity of the software itself, is that it sided with the commercial
purposes of the Internet and not with the user. Explorer works like one
of those magical doors in a horror movie: Open it and the ghosts come
flying in, swirling around your head, threatening to suck you into the
maw of chaos. But users want control. They want to believe they have the
power to explore the Web on their own terms. Explorer wants them to sit
still and shut up. A couple of years ago, I switched from Windows to
Apple. The switch was, in many ways, a revelation. Apple's browser,
Safari, seemed astonishingly polite, almost discreet, after the
imperious behavior of Explorer. Switching to Safari was also a reminder
of something that's obvious to computer geeks but not so obvious to
ordinary users. A browser is just a way of putting a friendly face on
code. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't have to become an
institution. It doesn't have to metastasize.
.
I stuck with Safari for a time, largely on the assumption - as endemic
in the Apple world as it is in Microsoft's - that somehow the browser
built by the maker of the underlying operating system must be better
than all the others. But switching from Windows to Apple prepared me to
keep on switching. It taught me that market share means nothing in terms
of quality. It made me wonder whether there was any inherent advantage
in a browser that happened to be the same brand as the computer that was
running it. The answer, it turns out, is no. These days, there is an
array of agile, interesting browsers. What's refreshing about these
programs is their diversity. The best are astonishingly nimble. They are
almost absurdly adaptable to the tastes and needs of the user. Most are
free, and many are open source. They have none of the monolith about
them, none of that feeling of being shackled to a leviathan.
.
For a time in the mid-'90s, it looked as though the Internet, or at
least the tools we used to view it, would be utterly co-opted by
Microsoft and its essentially mercantile vision of the Web. Microsoft
still has an enormous lead in market share when it comes to browsers.
But we've come, in the browser world, to that memorable moment we came
to long ago in the world of telephones: To get telephone service, you
don't need a phone manufactured by the phone company. Verlyn Klinkenborg
is a member of the New York Times editorial board.
NEW YORK At the moment, at least eight different Web browsers reside in
my computer. There's no earthly reason to have so many except for the
slightly obsessive fun of it. And these are just the non-arcane browsers
- the ones that didn't ask me to install supporting programs I don't
understand. I've also resisted the temptation to build my own browser,
which is the kind of project computer magazines like to publish. I know
what my do-it-yourself browser would look like. The decals would be
crooked and the paint would have fingerprints on it, just like the model
airplanes I built as a kid.
.
The number and diversity of these browsers is, to me, a very hopeful
sign. Not that long ago, Microsoft and Netscape were fighting for
control of the computer desktop, a battle that still goes on in one form
or another. Microsoft argued that only a browser tightly integrated with
the rest of the operating system could deliver the seamless, gratifying
Web-browsing experience most people hope for.
.
But Microsoft was wrong. These days, nobody wants to have anything
tightly integrated with the Windows operating system, which has come to
seem surprisingly troublesome. Windows takes a lot of care and feeding,
more than most people want to give it. As for Internet Explorer, it has
grown into a problem in its own right. Software developers complain
about it. Ordinary users get sick of the pop-up fireworks. Even in
corporate America - which finds its allegiance to Microsoft routinely
tested - business users are being asked to switch from Explorer to the
Mozilla Foundation's Firefox for security reasons. What went wrong with
Internet Explorer is a big subject. But one answer, apart from the
mediocrity of the software itself, is that it sided with the commercial
purposes of the Internet and not with the user. Explorer works like one
of those magical doors in a horror movie: Open it and the ghosts come
flying in, swirling around your head, threatening to suck you into the
maw of chaos. But users want control. They want to believe they have the
power to explore the Web on their own terms. Explorer wants them to sit
still and shut up. A couple of years ago, I switched from Windows to
Apple. The switch was, in many ways, a revelation. Apple's browser,
Safari, seemed astonishingly polite, almost discreet, after the
imperious behavior of Explorer. Switching to Safari was also a reminder
of something that's obvious to computer geeks but not so obvious to
ordinary users. A browser is just a way of putting a friendly face on
code. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't have to become an
institution. It doesn't have to metastasize.
.
I stuck with Safari for a time, largely on the assumption - as endemic
in the Apple world as it is in Microsoft's - that somehow the browser
built by the maker of the underlying operating system must be better
than all the others. But switching from Windows to Apple prepared me to
keep on switching. It taught me that market share means nothing in terms
of quality. It made me wonder whether there was any inherent advantage
in a browser that happened to be the same brand as the computer that was
running it. The answer, it turns out, is no. These days, there is an
array of agile, interesting browsers. What's refreshing about these
programs is their diversity. The best are astonishingly nimble. They are
almost absurdly adaptable to the tastes and needs of the user. Most are
free, and many are open source. They have none of the monolith about
them, none of that feeling of being shackled to a leviathan.
.
For a time in the mid-'90s, it looked as though the Internet, or at
least the tools we used to view it, would be utterly co-opted by
Microsoft and its essentially mercantile vision of the Web. Microsoft
still has an enormous lead in market share when it comes to browsers.
But we've come, in the browser world, to that memorable moment we came
to long ago in the world of telephones: To get telephone service, you
don't need a phone manufactured by the phone company. Verlyn Klinkenborg
is a member of the New York Times editorial board.
NEW YORK At the moment, at least eight different Web browsers reside in
my computer. There's no earthly reason to have so many except for the
slightly obsessive fun of it. And these are just the non-arcane browsers
- the ones that didn't ask me to install supporting programs I don't
understand. I've also resisted the temptation to build my own browser,
which is the kind of project computer magazines like to publish. I know
what my do-it-yourself browser would look like. The decals would be
crooked and the paint would have fingerprints on it, just like the model
airplanes I built as a kid.
.
The number and diversity of these browsers is, to me, a very hopeful
sign. Not that long ago, Microsoft and Netscape were fighting for
control of the computer desktop, a battle that still goes on in one form
or another. Microsoft argued that only a browser tightly integrated with
the rest of the operating system could deliver the seamless, gratifying
Web-browsing experience most people hope for.
.
But Microsoft was wrong. These days, nobody wants to have anything
tightly integrated with the Windows operating system, which has come to
seem surprisingly troublesome. Windows takes a lot of care and feeding,
more than most people want to give it. As for Internet Explorer, it has
grown into a problem in its own right. Software developers complain
about it. Ordinary users get sick of the pop-up fireworks. Even in
corporate America - which finds its allegiance to Microsoft routinely
tested - business users are being asked to switch from Explorer to the
Mozilla Foundation's Firefox for security reasons. What went wrong with
Internet Explorer is a big subject. But one answer, apart from the
mediocrity of the software itself, is that it sided with the commercial
purposes of the Internet and not with the user. Explorer works like one
of those magical doors in a horror movie: Open it and the ghosts come
flying in, swirling around your head, threatening to suck you into the
maw of chaos. But users want control. They want to believe they have the
power to explore the Web on their own terms. Explorer wants them to sit
still and shut up. A couple of years ago, I switched from Windows to
Apple. The switch was, in many ways, a revelation. Apple's browser,
Safari, seemed astonishingly polite, almost discreet, after the
imperious behavior of Explorer. Switching to Safari was also a reminder
of something that's obvious to computer geeks but not so obvious to
ordinary users. A browser is just a way of putting a friendly face on
code. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't have to become an
institution. It doesn't have to metastasize.
.
I stuck with Safari for a time, largely on the assumption - as endemic
in the Apple world as it is in Microsoft's - that somehow the browser
built by the maker of the underlying operating system must be better
than all the others. But switching from Windows to Apple prepared me to
keep on switching. It taught me that market share means nothing in terms
of quality. It made me wonder whether there was any inherent advantage
in a browser that happened to be the same brand as the computer that was
running it. The answer, it turns out, is no. These days, there is an
array of agile, interesting browsers. What's refreshing about these
programs is their diversity. The best are astonishingly nimble. They are
almost absurdly adaptable to the tastes and needs of the user. Most are
free, and many are open source. They have none of the monolith about
them, none of that feeling of being shackled to a leviathan.
.
For a time in the mid-'90s, it looked as though the Internet, or at
least the tools we used to view it, would be utterly co-opted by
Microsoft and its essentially mercantile vision of the Web. Microsoft
still has an enormous lead in market share when it comes to browsers.
But we've come, in the browser world, to that memorable moment we came
to long ago in the world of telephones: To get telephone service, you
don't need a phone manufactured by the phone company. Verlyn Klinkenborg
is a member of the New York Times editorial board.
____________________________
NYLXS: New Yorker Free Software Users Scene
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