Navigating towards tech independence
For years, I was that person—constantly clicking "Accept All" on cookie prompts without a second thought, almost on autopilot. Every time I reinstalled Windows, I wondered why my system had to send countless reports to Microsoft, or why it needed my location. Did they really need all that data? And, more importantly, what did that even mean for me?
In theory, I knew I should have read through every privacy policy and user agreement before mindlessly agreeing to terms, but who really has time for that? I’m no lawyer, and like most people, I find more exciting ways to spend my evenings than slogging through legal jargon. In fact, I’d be surprised if even lawyers enjoyed reading these things in their downtime. So, I shrugged it off, let the years roll by, and watched data breaches and privacy scandals unfold, from Wikileaks to Cambridge Analytica. Each new scandal nudged me closer to questioning how much I should trust tech giants with my information.
Over time, I grew impressed by people who took radical steps to protect their independence—like Derek Sivers, who quit social media, sticking only to email to preserve his autonomy. His example haunted me a bit, prompting me to wonder: could I ever be that independent from the technology I use every day? I mean, I genuinely love this stuff. But was I becoming too reliant on it?
My tipping point came with artificial intelligence. Working with AI in a professional capacity, I've seen firsthand how this technology operates like a magnifying glass, especially when it comes to data and its impact on our lives. AI starts with data. That’s why so many roles in the field have “data” in their titles, and why data science is foundational to the whole discipline. Data has become more critical than ever, but at the same time, the stakes are higher, too. We’ve moved from having so much data we didn’t know what to do with it, to having a system that can analyze it all—sometimes for better, often for worse.
These days, our biggest risk isn't data overload; it’s what happens when our data is mishandled or misused. So I started asking myself what I could do to protect my information. Gradually, I set some guiding principles. First, whenever possible, I’d use open-source tools. If open source wasn’t an option, I’d go for paid solutions—ones where I’m clearly the customer, not the product. Free services, where my data is essentially the currency, would be my last resort. And I’d steer clear of companies with massive reach and vested interests in processing my data.
This shift brought me back to my roots. In the late '90s, I spent hours exploring the shadowy, somewhat exotic corners of Slackware, a niche Linux distribution, which eventually inspired me to change careers and dive into IT. For over a decade, I moved from system administration to database management and software development. Today, I’ve returned to Debian Linux, but with a similar caution—I avoid Google services wherever I can (without disrupting my family’s routines) and limit my reliance on Microsoft.
I’m now more mindful about the concept of “lock-in.” I think long-term, weighing whether it’s worth investing time and energy into products that seem great now but may quickly become obsolete. In the end, this journey is about future-proofing my digital life, protecting my data, and reclaiming control. We’ll see how it all pans out, but at the very least, it’s a step toward a little more autonomy in an increasingly interconnected world.