Internet of Shit | The Verge The Verge is about technology and how it makes us feel. Founded in 2011, we offer our audience everything from breaking news to reviews to award-winning features and investigations, on our site, in video, and in podcasts. 2017-08-03T12:45:02+00:00 https://www.theverge.com/authors/internet-of-shit/rss https://platform.theverge.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2025/01/verge-rss-large_80b47e.png?w=150&h=150&crop=1 Internet of Shit <![CDATA[Apple has proven me wrong about HomeKit]]> https://www.theverge.com/2017/8/3/16083996/internet-of-shit-wrong-about-homekit 2017-08-03T08:45:02-04:00 2017-08-03T08:45:02-04:00

The Internet of Shit is a column about all the shitty things we try to connect to the internet, and what can be done about it. It’s from the anonymous creator of the Internet of Shit Twitter account.

Earlier this year, I wrote that Apple’s HomeKit was a failure as a standard for the Internet of Things, but since then, Apple has turned around and proven me wrong. The company has made major changes to HomeKit that accelerate the standard’s trajectory, making it easier for manufacturers to use while offering a compelling platform for the future of connected devices in the home.

Back when HomeKit was announced, Apple set forth rules that made the standard incredibly onerous for device makers: they had to add a specific Apple-approved authentication chip to their devices, get the device approved by the company, and tell nobody about it. If they were unlucky, maybe Apple would take issue with where it was being manufactured and kill the whole project. Oh, and if you were an Android user, you were shit out of luck.

That position has changed in a big way this year. At WWDC in May, Apple quietly announced that it planned to relax some of those restrictions. The biggest change was the introduction of software-based authentication. In other words, you won’t have to replace your stuff to make it Apple-compatible going forward, and you’ll get HomeKit’s lauded security thrown in for free — provided the device maker actually goes in and implements it.

Ikea, which announced its own smart lighting system in 2016, looks to be one of the first companies to take advantage of this change: it’ll add HomeKit support, presumably via a software update, later this year. So there should be no need to pay for replacement hardware like when Philips required users to buy a HomeKit-compatible version of its Hue hub. In the future, these HomeKit-via-software updates could mean products from Nest get HomeKit compatibility, simply because the company will be able to expand its user base retrospectively. What remains to be seen is how many device makers will follow the charge.

You really own your devices

There’s one other key feature that makes HomeKit interesting: if device makers want to use it, they’re required to integrate directly with Apple’s Home app and can’t force you to use a third-party app exclusively. That’s huge, simply because it grants you the freedom to avoid touching the device maker’s software on your phone if you don’t want it, and it allows you to interact with the smart home directly through Apple’s app without an intermediary. In theory, it means you really own your devices, and they shouldn’t just break if the company that makes them disappears since you’ll still have a direct connection with each device, thanks to HomeKit.

HomeKit still assumes everyone in your house has an iPhone in their pocket all the time, but with the announcement of the Apple HomePod smart speaker, that changes as well. Android-loving family and friends can just use their voice to tap into your smart home, which brings it on par with Amazon and Google (albeit at a far higher price of $349) when it ships later this year.

This isn’t to say HomeKit is perfect: you still need to spend a lot of money on a HomePod or Apple TV to get full functionality, such as remote access or home automation. There’s also still a relative lack of choice in the HomeKit accessory market, but Apple’s efforts to expand the category are slowly bearing fruit. Works With Nest is similarly plagued by limited choice, as noted in The Wirecutter’s “The Best Smart Hub” review. Other platforms like Samsung’s $80 SmartThings Hub basically allow you to wire up every permutation of smart sensor you can imagine (sometimes at the expense of security, compatibility, and ease of use).

Apple is streamlining the reviews process

Additionally, while the rules surrounding HomeKit’s implementation have been relaxed, Apple’s review process is just as arduous: if you want to sell certified hardware, you’ll have to get it approved — and that could have taken up to five months in the past. But Apple is streamlining the process, having recently announced an increase in its review capacity with new testing labs in the US and abroad, and new automated tools to speed up the process.

Because Apple provides detailed instructions on how to actually build a secure device, the review process should prevent major security mix-ups long term from inexperienced or ham-fisted device makers. That should help it avoid feeding into networks like the Mirai botnet which used thousands of compromised security cameras to attack targets en masse.

Despite these nitpicks, Apple’s recent changes, additions, and loosening of the hardware authentication restriction are making it easier for anyone to build, experiment with, and use HomeKit while still maintaining a high level of security. As I see it, HomeKit now has far more potential in the long run than any of its competitors.

Maybe Apple can save us from the Internet of Shit after all.

]]> Internet of Shit <![CDATA[Even Apple can’t make the Internet of Things tolerable]]> https://www.theverge.com/circuitbreaker/2017/5/6/15566630/homekit-internet-of-shit 2017-05-06T09:45:01-04:00 2017-05-06T09:45:01-04:00

The Internet of Shit is a column about all the shitty things we try to connect to the internet, and what can be done about it. It’s from the anonymous creator of the Internet of Shit Twitter account.

If you want to start an absolutely thrilling dinner table conversation with friends, try asking them what Internet of Things platform they’re using. Unsurprisingly, not many people know what IoT means, let alone what’s going on beneath their gadgets. All they care about is whether they work together or not — and most of the time they don’t.

HomeKit, by Apple, was launched as a way to finally bring together all of your awful-but-slightly-useful internet gadgets for the home. Instead of dealing with a bunch of disparate standards promoted by different companies, Apple proposed a new ecosystem of smart home accessories that could be built securely on a series of common requirements. Then Apple would surface each one of those devices in Siri or, eventually, in its own Home app on iOS devices.

Here’s the thing, though: the result isn’t really a logical evolution of what a “smart” home should look like.

Being the ever-ironic person behind the Internet of Shit account, I own a ton of shitty internet-connected devices — despite how much I abhor them. At first, when I was starting out, I’d try to buy HomeKit-compatible ones to make life easier, but it’s amounted to little in the end.

The peculiarities become obvious within a few minutes of using Apple’s Home app. Want to automate anything or control your devices remotely? Better go out and buy an Apple TV!

This is crazy for many reasons, in no small part because millions of people, including myself, have an Airport router lying around that’s better suited for the job. Other home device makers, like Samsung’s SmartThings, have “hub” devices that take care of all of this for a reasonable price — spending an additional $149 for an Apple TV is not reasonable. Alternatively, Apple suggests using an iPad (starting price $329) for the home hub, but it must be “in your home, connected to your home Wi-Fi network, and powered on” at all times. Is this really the post-PC future we were promised?!

Things get weirder once you’re set up with all your devices in the Apple Home app. I was lured into HomeKit by the promise of one app to rule them all — which it is, to an extent — but the Home app gives all of your light bulbs, humidity sensors, temperature sensors, and whatever else you have connected the same amount of precedence in the interface. After you’ve added a thermostat, a lock, some light bulbs, a doorbell, sensors, and maybe a security camera, the Home app displays a bunch of buttons that are all the same size and shape, some of which are actionable and others which are simply informing you it’s 70 percent humidity right now. The default Home app, which comes preinstalled on every iPhone, ends up being a useless sea of icons that’s difficult to navigate or search — there’s no way to hide devices, and even useless items like the Philips Hue Bridge, which does nothing more than connect your widgets to the internet, shows up as a button. There are third-party app alternatives which can tap into the standard underneath, but they’re limited in what Apple allows them to do.

HomeKit is marred by Apple being the middle-aged dad of technology

HomeKit itself, while a good idea in theory, is marred by Apple being the middle-aged dad of technology. It ignores newfangled cloud technologies entirely — you’re forbidden from storing any device logic in the cloud, for example — and would rather dictate from its own Silicon Valley bubble about what a smart home should look like, forcing device makers into subservient relationships in the process. The companies behind our devices, both big and small, must make hardware changes to be accepted into HomeKit, must add authentication chips that are only available from Apple, must choose an Apple-approved manufacturer, must send free samples for certification, and must not talk about the certification while hoping they don’t go bankrupt while waiting for the entire process to complete.

Here’s an example of the frustration HomeKit creates: I bought Philips Hue lights a few years ago, and had been happily using them via the app provided by Philips. But if I wanted to get them working with HomeKit and the Home app I’d need to go out and buy an upgraded $59.99 bridge with Apple’s special chip just to get them talking — a change that could normally be done via a software upgrade. The same goes for other existing devices. If it didn’t ship with HomeKit support, you’ll have to replace it at your own cost to get it working later on. With Google Home, all I had to do was pair my existing Hue bridge and it worked immediately with my voice — no weird naming or specific phrases like “Siri, turn off Office Lights 2” required.

I must concede that this rigor is a net positive: Apple’s approved HomeKit devices are presumably the least likely to suffer from IoT plagues like the Mirai botnet that famously took down millions of connected cameras. For many IoT manufacturers and their customers, the last thing they’re thinking about is security, as we’ve all seen. What frustrates me is that HomeKit ignores all previous work done to standardize the Internet of Things, leaving thousands of useful products incompatible. Because HomeKit is designed to be the secure all-encompassing platform for IoT devices for iPhone users, there’s no way Apple will ever include other standards because, by their definition, they’re stupid and insecure. This forces you, your family members, house guests, and anyone else in your home to commit to a phone platform for the long haul — an unreasonable ask.

HomeKit only advantages iOS users, not the billions of other device users out there. If you — or someone in your home — switches from iOS to Android, you might find yourself needing to replace your smart home one day. It’s incredibly “Apple” to exclude any other platform, a similar attitude to how the company deals with iMessage, AirPlay, FaceTime, and other technologies.  But when you’re talking about the home, which is a far longer commitment than a two-year contract with your carrier, ecosystem lock-in is a huge problem.

HomeKit also requires you to speak using painfully specific names for each device, which can mean it simply doesn’t work much of the time, and you have to recall the awkward naming scheme to actually get it to work. Home and Alexa are much more linguistically flexible in this regard. For example, you’re able to refer to “the lights” and the commands will just work.

Siri on an iPhone is no match for an Amazon Echo or Google Home

Voice is where the takes from Amazon and Google on the smart home really shine: you can control your home devices without being dependent on a smartphone. Apple can’t (but does) expect every man, woman, and child to have an iPhone or iPad with them at all times in the family home. An Amazon Echo or Google Home speaker with built-in microphones as your smart home interface makes a lot more sense, as it opens up your space for everyone to interact with the home in a far more natural way. Amazon is being particularly aggressive with its rollout: Alexa is now being integrated into kitchen appliances, speakers, lamps, TVs, and cameras, (even cars) which significantly lowers the barrier to making every room in your house smart. You can just speak aloud to your fridge — even though that’s ridiculous — to mute the music or turn off the lights.

What I had hoped HomeKit would do is “just work” with a wide range of certified devices. But Apple’s vice-like grip on the program means it’s been slow progress in the three years since HomeKit was announced. And you’ll never see support for voice systems like Alexa or Home, so you’re stuck with Siri forever, along with a hope that rumors of an Echo-like device from Apple will one day bear fruit.

Soon you’ll be choosing your smart home — like I did — based on the platform underneath, locking you to a bunch of devices that one filthy-rich company chose. And if you’re placing your bet on HomeKit, then you’ll be stuck with it and it alone for the long term, in a marketplace that’s evolving faster than Apple. Apple’s consumer lock-in is a smart play for its profit margin, but not for you or your home.

Correction: An earlier version of this column wrongly said that Siri on Apple TV could not control HomeKit devices. We regret the error.

]]> Internet of Shit <![CDATA[The Internet of Things has a dirty little secret: it’s not really yours]]> https://www.theverge.com/circuitbreaker/2016/7/12/12159766/internet-of-things-iot-internet-of-shit-twitter 2016-07-12T11:35:00-04:00 2016-07-12T11:35:00-04:00

The Internet of Shit is a column about all the shitty things we try to connect to the internet, and what can be done about it. It’s from the anonymous creator of the Internet of Shit Twitter account.

If you pay any attention at all to technology news right now, you might be led to believe that “smart” devices are here to liberate you from your old, dumb objects around your home. Over the last few years the Internet of Things craze has slowly but surely taken hold — and every company you can imagine wants to bring your stuff into a Jetsons-esque future.

I started the Internet of Shit Twitter account a year ago, sensing a trend in the rush to desperately add Wi-Fi and Bluetooth to everything: nobody really knew why any of this stuff was being put online.

Not only are the customers buying smart devices cluelessly roped in, if you ask the companies behind the devices you’ll almost always get a vague pipe dream that doesn’t match the reality of connecting your home’s most crucial devices.

Fridges, washing machines, ovens, thermostats, mattresses, light bulbs, shoes, and even umbrellas: our glorious future of flying cars and convenience was somehow switched out for umbrellas that tweet us when it’s going to rain, and a fridge that live streams its contents. How did the Jetsons become so lame?

When put on a store shelf in front of you, the IoT trap is obvious. If you’re shopping for a thermostat you’ll see two choices: the boring but reliable Honeywell that doesn’t do much more than turn on your heaters, or the slick, shiny iPhone-esque Nest that promises to change the way your home is heated forever by just connecting to the internet.

What would you choose? I can almost guarantee that you’ll end up with a Nest, or at least something similar. It’s only logical, but therein lies the trap: the unsaid things that come hand-in-hand with an internet-connected widget. They weren’t written on the shiny box and you won’t know about them until years down the track.

Consider this: when you bought your humble “dumb” thermostat 10 years ago, you connected it to the wall, programmed it and probably forgot about it. Sure, it was inefficient since it’d sometimes heat your house when you weren’t there, but it worked. Now imagine that same thermostat suddenly stopped working after five years, the LED display blinking back at you “thermostat no longer compatible.” So you sit in the cold.

That’s a reality that will unfold one day with internet-connected versions of everything. You’ve heard the horror stories about Samsung Smart TVs slowing down to uselessness with every update, or suddenly getting ads all across the menus before obsolescence, but what happens when it’s actually part of your house?

Well, for one, it means things are less reliable. More than once I’ve come home to an icy house because the internet had gone down, then spent hours trying to fix it only to have the thermostat jammed on 86 degrees until tech support reset my account.

Say Google someday decides that Nest’s drama is a little bit too much for the company to deal with and it offloads it to a company without such deep pockets. That company’s going to look for ways to either reduce costs or extract more money from you — and with smart devices there are plenty of ways to do that.

Firstly, that company could cut support for older devices — turn off the servers that keep those old thermostats running, or simply change the endpoint it connects to so it doesn’t function anymore. Alternatively, the new owner could try to monetize you further by selling what your thermostat knows about you to an advertiser.

You probably think that data is meaningless, but it’s enough to make an advertising network salivate: knowing how warm or cold your house is and how often you’re home is enough information to change the ad-personalization game and tailor some incredibly specific advertising on Facebook.

These scenarios aren’t some far-fetched fantasy, it already happened when Nest acquired a home automation company called Revolv, then decided to quietly leave its customers out in the cold when it couldn’t be bothered servicing its devices anymore.

The hidden costs of running these operations are immense. There are servers to rent, bandwidth to pay for, and salaries to pay. But none of that is mentioned when you buy a gadget off a shelf, and in the majority of cases there’s no way to actually pay for your ongoing use of the product. How are those costs going to be recaptured when you’re paying a one-time fee for the hardware? I can’t wait until my Nest starts asking for an in-app purchase to heat my house one day.

When you’re sitting in front of a computer and find yourself signing up to a free new service, clicking past some long-winded terms and conditions screen, it’s easy to at least understand the implicit contract: I’m giving something about myself away for free in exchange for this, and this service might eventually just go away.

Unlike that scenario, buying something that’s attached to your wall, in your light sockets, or even on your person is far more intimate and you expect longevity, but there’s almost no chance it’ll work for as long as your offline gadget did. The tech world moves so fast it’ll be forgotten before the decade is out.

I’m no saint. I run a parody account that pokes fun at the ever-escalating hilarity of these devices, yet I’ve bought into them frivolously. I have smart speakers, online lightbulbs that need firmware updates, an internet-connected thermostat that’s repeatedly left me freezing in the winter, and smart plugs that apparently can’t figure out how to turn themselves on.

Embarrassingly, as a result, a good chunk of my grown-up life has been spent standing in my living room, cursing at my lights as they refuse to update (or even turn on) while trying to show people who visit just how cool my internet house is.

What we really need from those building the Internet of Things is commitment. Companies should step up and guarantee the longevity of their products, no matter the cost or bind it might put them in. If I buy a thermostat, it should last at least five years — at least enough time for me to start lusting after something else.

Unfortunately so far nobody’s made any such claim. No promises that your Nest, Sonos, Philips Hue, or Amazon Echo will work any longer than Myspace was in fashion, and that’s the biggest concern. When everything’s connected and nobody’s responsible for the consequences, what happens? I can’t wait for awkward sex ads to start appearing on Facebook because of what my connected mattress company sold to some other business.

The lure of these devices when presented against the backdrop of old, offline devices is obvious: they could change your whole life and in some ways for me, they have, but the headaches are only beginning, and selling them as life-changers without commitment is irresponsible, and there’s no transparency about how they could change in the future.

My old devices were so dumb, but in hindsight, that was kind of charming. They didn’t do much, and perhaps that simplicity is really what we need.

As we face the bold new world of every inanimate object coming online, ask yourself this: do you need this now, or can it wait? Until there are commitments or infrastructure to keep it working forever, it’s nothing more than a fad, with bad actors and those seeking short-term profit piling on endlessly.

With time, things will improve and the market will shake out, just as it did with cellular networks and FM radio, but right now the Internet of Things is an awkward teenager, and the simple fact is this: everything you buy is no longer your own.

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