PHOTO: darren hopes
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Within the next 12 months, as many as 10 million
laptop computers will be distributed to children in
Argentina, Brazil, Libya, Nigeria, Pakistan, Rwanda, and
Uruguay. Countless youngsters who live in remote
villages, perhaps without electricity, who may not have
access to clean water or health care, will suddenly have
computing power pretty close to that of businesspeople
and college students.
It's one of the biggest nonprofit technology-based
projects in a decade, and yet it's only the first phase
of a program that seeks to put a staggering 100 million
laptops into the hands of developing-world
schoolchildren in the next couple of years, at a cost of
at least US $10 billion. By any standard, the numbers
are enormous: 100 million laptops is double the number
produced annually throughout the world today. Simply
meeting that target would almost surely cause global
shortages of liquid-crystal displays and other key components.
The initiative, known as the One Laptop Per Child
(OLPC) project, is the brainchild of Nicholas
Negroponte, the founder of MIT's Media Lab, who
announced the project at the World Economic Forum in
Davos, Switzerland, in 2005. Hardly anyone questions the
worthiness of the project's goals, but just about
everything else about it has been fair game.
First, there are the technical challenges: designing a
computer that's rugged, useful, superefficient, and
cheap enough for the Libyan deserts and the Brazilian
rain forests isn't easy, to put it mildly. In fact, it
has forced the One Laptop team, with its abundance of
former MIT engineers, to reinvent the portable computer
as we know it.
Then there are the social and logistical issues. The
project is counting on teachers, who may or may not
welcome these electronic replacements for books. Money
for the laptops will come out of already tight
government budgets and will mean that other, perhaps
better, government programs will lose funding. Theft of
computers will undoubtedly be a problem, as will repair
and maintenance. And what will happen when millions of
computer-literate teens graduate into low-tech
societies? Nobody knows. Nobody is even trying to find out.
Sometime next year, if all goes according to plan and
the organization is selling millions of laptops every
month, economies of scale are supposed to bring the
manufacturing cost of an individual laptop down to $100.
It's now somewhere around $150. From that gallant goal
has come the program's informal identification as the
$100 laptop project.
The One Laptop effort is just one of at least 20
low-cost computing initiatives under way worldwide [see
the online sidebar, “Other
Roads to Computing for All”]. But it's the
biggest, best-funded, and most hyped of all the
initiatives, so it's the one that will almost certainly
determine whether the mass distribution of PCs to
children becomes an enduring component of national
development or just another well-meaning but ultimately
misguided experiment in social engineering.
Without a
doubt, Negroponte has captured the world's
imagination with the $100 laptop. Since his 2005
announcement, he has worked the international media to
develop momentum for the project, even conducting
demonstrations of the device for global figures like
Kofi Annan, former secretary-general of the United
Nations. In 2006, the project spun out of MIT into a
nonprofit called One Laptop Per Child. That June, the
team demonstrated a working proto type. The pilot phase
of the project, just getting under way now, promises to
roll out at least a million laptops in each of at least
five different developing nations.
As of January, the OLPC team believed it had brought
on board at least seven countries. Commitments in this
arena are notoriously fungible; people rise and fall in
government power structures, and a commitment made by
one official may not be honored by others. Still,
Michail Bletsas, chief connectivity officer for the
organization, says OLPC has more than reached its goal
of 5 million orders for delivery in the first year—that
is, by early 2008.
Those who have struggled for years to bring the
developing world into the Internet age are watching
these efforts closely. For the most part, they are
thrilled about the technology but are worried about the
sales strategy, which is to sell the PCs in lots of 1
million to national ministries of education for
deployment throughout national school systems. The
ministries are using funds that otherwise would go to
buy textbooks, leading some wags to declare that it's a
“$100 million laptop,” not a $100 laptop.
And, typically, schools in developing countries are
already struggling with an array of
problems—overcrowded classrooms, incompetent or absent
teachers, and a lack of textbooks, chalk, and other
basic materials. “It's right out of Alice in
Wonderland,” says Atanu Dey, chief economist for Netcore
Solutions, in Mumbai, India. “When Alice meets the
Cheshire cat, she says that she's seen a cat without a
smile but never a smile without a cat. I've seen a
school with teachers, blackboards, and books without
laptops, but I've never seen a school with laptops but
without teachers and the rest.”
Others worry that theft or government corruption will
mean money will be spent but laptops won't get to
students. And even if the computers are properly
distributed, it's easy to imagine that some teachers may
become miffed when their more computer-literate students
start using their laptops to chat and pass notes during
class (they're all wireless-equipped).
Says Lee Felsenstein, chief technical officer of
Fonly, a product development firm in Palo Alto, Calif.,
and a pioneer in personal computer design, “The kids
will pass notes. It happened in college lecture halls,
and the teachers turned the wireless network off,
because no teacher allows the passing of notes in class.
Likely, the laptops will be banned from classrooms.”
The computers
are engineering marvels. So far, preproduction models
have been built. Each rugged, self-networking unit has a
screen that is readable in darkness or full sunlight.
“The technology is clock-stopping hot,” says Wayan Vota,
director of International Executive Service Corps
Geekcorps, a nonprofit organization that works with
information and communications technologies in the
developing world.
These $100 laptops (well, okay, $150 laptops) have
capabilities beyond those of units costing 10 times
more. The first-generation product is equipped to
function not only as a fully featured laptop but also as
a game console, a home theater, and an e-book. In
practice, this diversity of uses means the user must be
able to fold the screen back against the top of the
computer, to hold it like a book, as well as to stand
the screen up perpendicular to the keyboard to share it
with groups.
Designers made this kind of flexibility possible by
mounting the motherboard directly behind the screen. As
a result, the hinge contains only the wires to the
keyboard, not the large number of fragile connections
embedded within a traditional laptop hinge. It's just
one of several clever innovations that address the
computer's unique niche.
In the developed world, most laptops are traded in for
new ones every few years. But the youngsters in the OLPC
program will be driving theirs, so to speak, for the
computer equivalent of 500 000 kilometers. And they are,
after all, kids, so their computers need to be as close
to indestructible as possible. The models going out now
have a 2-millimeter-thick plastic shell, compared with
the 1.3 mm used for most commercial machines. When
folded, the laptop seals with a rubber gasket, to keep
out water and dust. The rubberized keyboard also helps
protect the innards from liquids and dirt.
This model does without the three components that most
frequently fail in laptops: the hard drive, the cooling
fan, and the monitor screen's fluorescent backlight.
Lacking a hard drive, the system will store its 130
megabytes of applications and operating system plus any
documents on 512 MB of flash RAM. Light-emitting diodes
will illuminate the display, and the designers decided
that with a low-power processor and no hard drive, they
could get by without a fan. Even in hot environments,
this lack of a fan is not likely to be a problem, says
Felsenstein.