I spent the summer researching technical standards. More than any particular standard or spec, I was interested in the idea of standardization: the history, the methods, the heroes.
Most people, when I told them about my research topic, gave me a puzzled look: Why are you doing that?
The reason was self-serving. Based on my involvement in the creation of a new marine connectivity standard, the Bristlemouth project, I was convinced that standards-making was an underappreciated and powerful way to shape the technological landscape. I wanted to explore and tell that bigger story.
The culmination of that research is out now: Standards Make the World
It’s a long essay, but I do hope you’ll read it and consider the ideas. My initial hunch was confirmed: the world needs more standards entrepreneurship. I hope this piece contributes to a better conversation about these engineering rules that shape and maintain our modern lives.
I have more to write about the topic—footnotes and stories that turned into standalone pieces. I’ll publish them here in the months ahead.
Here’s a short excerpt from the essay to get you started.
Standards are everywhere. These nearly invisible rules establish trust between engineers and give rise to commerce, industry, and possibilities. Even now, just by reading these words, you are relying on dozens, if not hundreds, of guiding technical standards. Some of them might be familiar, like the World Wide Web (WWW) or the Internet Protocol (IP) that delivers packets of information to your device. What about the standards that went into manufacturing the device you might be reading on, like the allowable Radio Frequency Interference (RFI) and Electromagnetic Interference (EMI) limits for that device? What about the shipping and transportation standards that brought it across oceans? Would you know where to find the specification? What about the group that created them? Or who maintains them?
The rabbit hole of questioning extends to almost every object in our lives. Technical standards form the foundation of our built environment. They're often regarded as burdensome constraints on creativity, which can happen when they're poorly constructed, but if they're well designed and effectively implemented by engineers on the front lines, standards can become enabling technologies: the Internet, shipping containers, time.
Startups and companies get all the headlines, but the tools we use to cooperate—standards and protocols—drive an equal measure of civilizational progress.
Despite their importance, standards often go unnoticed. Most people, if they're aware of them at all, think they’re boring and overly bureaucratic. This is partially due to the word itself—standard. It sounds basic, and it’s broad enough to cause constant confusion. A standard could refer to anything from the Unicode system that approves new emojis to the bacteria levels allowed in pasteurized milk. Standards end up as outcomes—agreed-upon measurements, terms, and rules—but they always involve a process as well. For the purposes of this essay, standard refers to the specification and standards-making to the process.
The term protocol is also diluted from overuse. The word can be used to describe everything from the steps of scientific experimentation to royal etiquette. In this essay, I’m mostly referring to protocols in the way that computer scientists use the term: a specific set of rules and instructions for handling and exchanging information on digital networks–standardized protocols. In that sense, protocols are a specific subgenre of standards.
The names are just a small reason that standards get overlooked. A bigger issue is first impressions.
The popular portrayal of standards is through coverage of “standards wars” where similar implementations compete for supremacy in the marketplace: VHS vs. Betamax, Blu-Ray vs. HD DVD, AC vs. DC power. These famous examples get attention because of the public nature of the competition and the investment on either side, but standards wars are relatively uncommon. Standards-making is always a negotiation, with competing ideas and trade-offs on multiple sides, but the majority of those disagreements and differences are settled in committees and small groups through defined processes well before they ever become an open conflict in the market. Still, the visibility of standards wars remains, and it makes the whole endeavor seem corporate and dangerous.
The other common interaction with standards is as a boundary or constraint. People encounter them on the way to some other goal. For example, a product designer runs into several safety and interoperability standards through the course of making a new product. An architect is bound by building codes in designing a new home. Even managers are guided by standards—such as ISO 9000—when they try to add quality assurance measures to company processes. Then, when anyone starts asking why the standard is the way it is, they find a committee or a consortium or some other process that seems impenetrable.
Understandably, this is where most people stop thinking about standards. They adhere to their basic legal and technical obligations and they move on.
This is unfortunate. A deeper understanding of standards-making—and how that process has evolved over time—creates a healthy respect for the scale of influence. Standards are some of the most powerful tools we have to affect our world. And here’s the kicker: you can make them.
Standards are not divine laws. They are made and remade by (usually small) groups of people and projected into the world through various means and with varying levels of effectiveness. And that process is dynamic. Standards-making is something that anyone can engage in, even though almost no one thinks to do it. But they should. You should. Too often, better societal outcomes —overcoming technological bottlenecks or ensuring tools are safely deployed—are held back by poorly designed or missing standards.
What is needed is more widespread literacy in the language of standards. And as with any other language, developing this literacy starts with a new vocabulary.
MORE — Download the full essay from the Summer or Protocols page.