Ten years after we founded it, The Verge is still the best place to discover the import and impact of technology in our culture, but after today, the team will be doing that without me. I decided it was time to do something new after 20 years in media. Disclosure is our brand, so I'm headed to work on the Platforms and Ecosystems team. I'm excited to help shape the future of software platforms like Android and Chrome, and continue to work at the intersection of technology and culture, just in a different way.
I have not been involved in editorial decisions for some time, even as you read these words.
I want to reflect on those 20 years before I say thank yous. We had grand ideas about how to do technology journalism differently. The thesis was that technology creates culture. It seemed like a big idea at the time, but it has turned out to be bigger than we could have imagined.
The way technology shapes culture and is, in turn, shaped by culture, is something The Verge does a better job at than anyone else. An insight that was once shocking is now accepted by everyone. Policy, science, climate, transportation, creators, games, movies, and more are just some of the topics that our coverage has expanded to. The evolution has been frightening.
Technology has changed us in fundamental ways, not just the way we communicate, but the way we think and what we are. 25 years ago, I was the person who grabbed random people in the hallway and said, Look At This, This will change you.
I pulled a professor aside and showed them my Handspring Visor device. I said that it was an entertainment device with music, a camera, and a research device. I created an app to track my studies and add marginalia to quotes. The professor found it interesting but didn't think it was important. They weren't necessarily wrong. I didn't know if it would be important.
It's hard to remember that being gadget-obsessed was weird. It was something I had to defend or apologize for. I used to have to give a speech defending the idea of fandom for gadgets or pop culture that is now quaint at best. If you're not a nerd, you don't care about anything.
I am a nerd for gadgets and consumer technology. I think it matters. A majority of people don't care about the small improvements in technology over time, but they aggregate into a big impact over time. I think our discourse about gadgets is still new.
Technology is a cultural object just as worthy of analysis, critique, and serious attention as any piece of artwork or fashion trend. I prefer the term instrument overtool as a metaphor for most technology. Both metaphors are useful, but the instrument has a different meaning. It suggests that we have a relationship to the objects we use to create our own culture.
This idea is so embedded in the philosophy of reviews at The Verge that it is hard to see, and to a casual reader, indistinguishable from a bare speeds-and-feeds kind of review. A simpler way to think of it is that we always take the things themselves seriously, living in the strange space between a phone and a vital instrument.
As I write this, I find it odd. Nobody knew what was coming so these insights were important. I think these insights are important because we are living in a world where tech has made it hard to see them. I am a fish talking about the water.
Consumer tech used to matter more than it does now, and a lot of my favorite moments at The Verge happened at the Consumer Electronics Show. It has been standard for all the reporters who trekked to Las Vegas to point out that the best products don't get announced there, that it's a depressing slog, and that all their claims about being the best are false.
We never shied away from those realities in our coverage. We didn't dismiss it all as meaningless. We take the impact of technology products seriously. I meant it quite seriously when I said that we shot a video recontextualization of a classic Walter Benjamin essay about how technology was changing art but set in the age of gadgets.
It was great to work in person with our growing team and to see each other do great work under intense pressure. The answer was simple, we just combined planning and organization with a team that understood how to collaborate, worked at a very high level. Simple. Although it has been a minute since I managed anyone here, I am proud of the culture of actually giving a shit and constantly trying to improve.
When tech keynotes happened in person, I was always the first journalist in line. I often was, and I took all the ridicule in stride because it didn't matter as much as the real reason I always showed up so early. I always believed those events to be important. I wanted to make sure I was doing everything I could to not let our team or audience down.
In the room where the announcements were made and the gadgets first shown, I might have had a chance to talk to a passing executive. The products and software shown at those events would end up being part of the daily experience for thousands if not millions of people, so I took the work of holding companies to their promises as a duty. I would like to think that caring came through in my work. It comes through in the work The Verge does.
I am not naively optimistic about tech in the way many of us used to be. I don't think technology is going away, so we should do our best to make it so.
We are better at talking about how technology affects marginalized communities. I haven't done as much as I should in these spaces, and we can all do better. I won't take credit for the work, but I am proudest of how The Verge has stood up for people in the face of digital harassment, bias, and many other problems big tech has brought on.
I think we are getting better at discussing tech in a more nuanced way. I am hoping to make a small contribution on my way out the door.
Technology is a method for making meaning.
The English major who studied semiotics is bringing it to his hometown. I don't want to count too many angels on this pinhead and build a whole system of thought. I want to show a useful metaphor, not a definitive truth.
I took away the idea that thinking about how writing relates to meaning yields more insight than thinking about speech. Rather than belabor the semiotics, I will just say that thinking about the relationship between writing and meaning instead of just speech and meaning forces us to contend with just how complicated and rich this business of using language to create meaning out of nearly nothing actually is.
It is true that writing changes how we think and relate to one another. It is an entirely different mode of thought than just the logistics of communication. It makes us think differently. The semiotics nerds groaned at the thought that I was about to make a joke.
Writing sheds light on what it means to be human and changes what it means to be human at the same time. Writing shows us that we need more than a simple set of rules to understand meaning in language.
If you haven't figured out the game yet, I'll let you know that you can replace the word writing with technology.
The idea of agency is brought back to the forefront by thinking of technology as a kind of writing. The same methods of thought that you learned to read critically and consider whether or not you agree with a piece of writing can be applied to tech. It becomes more clear that the choices and abilities of human authors are the reason for it.
Think about the way your phone's interface slices your experience into small chunks of time, while your desktop computer lets you arrange your experience spatially. Think about how the social media feeds and search results are the result of people's work. Think about how much technology involves building a worldview, just like a piece of writing does, and that context matters just as much as the content.
I believe that revealing those contexts is essential to The Verge's work. I will not be a part of this team anymore, but I am excited to watch the people who will continue to make The Verge great find new ways to use technology to reveal how technology changes us. A redesign of a website coming later this year is much more than a fresh coat of paint.
Is it possible that I have been sublimating my feelings about my time at The Verge into some half-baked philosophy? Obviously. I believe that technology is a powerful instrument for making meaning, but I should come out and say that reporting on it and reviewing it has been very meaningful to me.
I built a career here, but I helped build The Verge, and I will be eternally proud of it. I have been at the forefront of watching how tech is changing us, and it has been exhilarating, but also filled me with dread. It deepened my compassion for those around me and for humanity as a whole. I tried to give back as much as I could. I'm just thankful.
It's difficult to sum up the past decade in a single post and it's even more difficult to say thank you. I can praise Jim Bankoff for his faith and for building an incredible media company to work at, as well as Helen Havlak for her steady leadership, Dan Seifert for his amazing reviews program, and Walt Mossberg for his guidance and kindness. I will cut it short and thank everyone at The Verge for their dedication to their craft and to our journalistic mission.
Nilay Patel, my editor-in-chief who is fearless and inspiring and whose least appreciated asset is his deep well of empathy and respect for his colleagues and our audience, I would like to thank him.
I have been in media for 20 years and have found engaging with readers, viewers, and fans to be one of the great joys. The Verge has always believed in its audience to be smart and take technology seriously. Our audience is smarter and cares more than I could have imagined.
I feel I have been able to have an actual relationship with so many of our readers, listeners, and viewers because I have been lucky in that. You have allowed me to take risks, crack jokes, and have taught me so much.
Readers, listeners, viewers, fans, audience are too passive. I thank you for making it feel like I'm talking with spirits. It is wonderful to hang with a spirit that is similar to yours. I will always be thinking of you even though I may be hearing from you less.
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