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Blockchain can Revolutionise Business

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It won’t, however, be the saviour it’s being touted to be from the perspective of marketers and businesspeople who don’t understand it. Its real value lies in its ability to decentralise trust, taking that trust away from (centralised) organisations (mainly businesses and people that act as trusted third parties) and putting that trust into open, transparent computing algorithms, code and the community. This has massively disruptive potential for several different industries that have historically relied heavily on centralised networks of trust, especially financial services.

To understand more precisely why the blockchain has disruptive potential, one needs to understand, firstly, what decentralised systems are in general, and, secondly, why the blockchain exists at all. This will also help in understanding why one should not blindly trust the hype around it.

Decentralisation

Take a look at the following three pictures to understand the high-level differences between centralised, decentralised and distributed systems. In the diagrams, black dots represent “client” or “peer” nodes in the network (such as your mobile phone or laptop, or perhaps an individual customer of a bank), and blue dots represent trusted “server” nodes (such as the servers belonging to Facebook, your bank, or your e-mail service).

Centralised System
Facebook, Google, banks, most modern businesses
Decentralised System
Bitcoin/Blockchain, E-mail, YaCy
Distributed System
BitTorrent

I purposefully represented the blockchain as a decentralised system as opposed to a distributed one because not all nodes in the network are full nodes holding the whole blockchain in its entirety. It is possible to make use of the blockchain without storing all historical transactions, but if you don’t store the entire transaction history, you’re implicitly trusting all of the other full nodes who do.

More on this below.

What is the Blockchain?

For the non-technical audience: the blockchain, in the way it’s used by Bitcoin, is simply a way of representing financial ledger transactions in a sequential way (the order of all users’ transactions is vitally important to the integrity of any transactional system). So why all the fuss? Watch the following video – it does a good job of explaining the real value and significance of Bitcoin and the blockchain, and how it works, at a very high level. After that, I’ll dig into some of the differences between traditional, centralised accounting practices, as compared to decentralised, blockchain-based accounting.

The real value of Bitcoin and crypto currency technology – The blockchain explained

Traditional accounting

When using traditional financial accounting software systems (e.g. Sage One), some of the underlying assumptions are that:

  1. You can trust the person (or system) capturing financial transactions that happen in the real world.
  2. You can trust your software to store them in the correct order.
  3. You can trust your people and software to only store a single instance of a particular transaction (no double-spending allowed).
  4. You can trust the people and software to not go back and tweak or modify those transactions’ details.

Companies implement strict, usually hierarchical, controls and governance around who can actually manipulate the data stored by their accounting software, and are audited regularly to ensure there’s no foul play. The servers storing the financial data are usually centralised, so that there’s a single source of truth that all connected clients can trust to give them accurate information.

So how would it work if we decentralised our trust in the financial transaction history?

Decentralised, blockchain-based accounting

There is no single source of truth in the blockchain, which was a novel invention by Satoshi Nakamoto in trying to solve the problem of ensuring that ledger transactions are correctly ordered and cryptographically verified in a decentralised system. Here, users do not trust each other, but rather put their trust into open, transparent, cryptographic algorithms and protocols, and the strength of the network.

Comparing decentralised accounting with the traditional accounting trust points mentioned earlier:

  1. You cannot trust anyone submitting a transaction to the network, but you can trust in the algorithms used by the network to check that your transaction is valid.
  2. You can trust the blockchain to store transactions in the correct sequence. Sometimes, it does happen that the blockchain gets forked due to a disagreement between the peers as to which block of transactions should be next in the sequence. This is automatically resolved by the network.
  3. You can trust the blockchain to ensure no double-spending.
  4. You can trust the cryptographic protocols in the network to ensure that nobody modifies historical transactions. This would result in corruption of the blockchain, and the peers would reject any such modifications.

Disruptive Potential

Now we get to the so what? part of the discussion: what, then, makes the blockchain so “disruptive”?

Goodbye banks?

Since it isn’t just your bank that keeps a copy of the ledger, and you can keep a copy of the ledger yourself too (where you and the rest of the community are held accountable to each other through cryptographic algorithms), why do you need a bank to facilitate transactions for you? Beyond getting credit from the bank, what more does the bank really do for you than act as a trusted third party between you and the other person with whom you’re doing business?

This sort of disruptive potential applies to absolutely any real-world situation where there’s a need for a trusted third party whose sole purpose is to facilitate and reliably track transactions. If it’s in the interest of a community to keep track of something in a trustworthy way, a decentralised blockchain can do just as well today as a trusted third party’s software systems.

Unfortunately, the blockchain is also a relatively new technology and is still being battle-tested by the community to ensure that it really is secure. Information security is far more than just cryptography, as per the following XKCD comic.

Applications outside of finance

Being a decentralised transaction tracking system, the kind of transaction that gets tracked by the blockchain is totally up to the developers building the application layer of software on top of this transaction tracking system. Bitcoin, by design, is a financial transaction tracking system built on top of the blockchain.

Several application areas for the blockchain outside of finance come to my mind:

  • Accommodation booking systems, especially Airbnb-style accommodation bookings.
  • Parcel tracking systems, especially where multiple different courier services are employed to deliver a parcel.
  • Government accountability systems, where the general public can reliably track whether their government is delivering on their promises (whether this be financially or otherwise).
  • Community-oriented agricultural produce tracking systems, which could allow transparent tracking and reporting of local agricultural produce for communities.

And there are potentially loads more.

Don’t trust the (irresponsible) marketers

Therefore, the blockchain is potentially disruptive. But it won’t necessarily benefit all businesses. Disruption might just mean that your business is the one being disrupted, meaning that it might just put you out of business. (If, of course, you’re in the business of acting as a trusted third party).

Who really benefits from the blockchain?

From what I can see, your business only really stands to benefit from the blockchain if you:

  1. rely heavily on one or more trusted third parties,
  2. provide a good/service to the broader community,
  3. would save time/money/etc. if your trusted third parties were decentralised and entrusted to the community, and
  4. the broader community comprises, at least partially, of people who are technologically savvy and invested enough in your good/service to want to be part of the community to whom your data is entrusted.

Don’t trust the banks’ “love” of blockchain

Apparently, many international banks are embracing the blockchain. I would personally be very skeptical of this sort of move on their part, because it is the very nature of the financial institution that currently stands to be disrupted by blockchain-like technologies.

For example, Bank of America is apparently “going big” on Bitcoin and the blockchain. By filing patents? All this does is provide them with ammo to potentially sue people who infringe those patents, potentially hindering efforts to decentralise the financial system. From my perspective, this is a purely self-preservation-oriented move on their part.

I also call bullshit on every bank who claims they’ll benefit by implementing a blockchain internally within the bank for tracking transactions. In computer programming, this is pretty much what we call a CQRS architectural model, and the banks should be using that kind of model anyways.

The whole point of the blockchain is to decentralise its storage and entrust the transaction validation and history to the community. What good is it if all of the nodes are behind the bank’s firewalls? How is that any different, from the perspective of a bank customer, to the situation as it is today, where the customer’s trust still effectively has to be centralised within the bank?

Conclusion

The blockchain is a technology aimed at decentralising trust. This has the potential to disrupt some industries that presently rely on trusted third parties. Those who stand to benefit the most are people who currently rely on trusted third parties, whereas those who stand to lose the most are those who are trusted third parties in facilitating transactions between other people.

Finally, don’t trust irresponsible marketers when they tell you that the blockchain is the solution to all your problems (it only solves a pretty niche sort of problem, actually), and for goodness’ sake don’t trust the banks when they say they’re in full support of the blockchain. These two groups of people are the most likely candidates to, inadvertently or on purpose, strangle it to death while nobody’s paying attention.

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About the Author

This article was written by Thane Thomson, who is currently working for DStv Digital Media in research and development

Entrepreneurship

Reversing the Lies of the Sharing Economy

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There’s nothing resembling a “sharing economy” in an Uber interaction. You pay a corporation to send a driver to you, and it pays that driver a variable weekly wage. Sharing can really only refer to one of three occurrences. It can mean giving something away as a gift, like: “Here, take some of my food.” It can describe allowing someone to temporarily use something you own, as in: “He shared his toy with his friend.” Or, it can refer to people having common access to something they collectively own or manage: “The farmers all had an ownership share in the reservoir and shared access to it.”

None of these involve monetary exchange. We do not use the term “sharing” to refer to an interaction like this: “I’ll give you some food if you pay me.” We call that buying. We don’t use it in this situation either: “I’ll let you temporarily use my toy if you pay me.” We call that renting. And in the third example, while the farmers may have come together initially to purchase a common resource, they don’t pay for subsequent access to it.

In light of this, we should call out Uber for what it is: a company in control of a platform that originally facilitated peer-to-peer renting, not sharing, and that eventually transformed into the de facto boss of an army of self-employed employees. And even as “self-employed employee” might sound like a contradiction, that’s the dark genius of the Uber enterprise. It took the traditional corporation, with its senior managers responsible for controlling workers and machines, and cut it in two — creating a management structure that need not deal with the political demands of workers.

So, how exactly did we get to the point where business executives at conferences can talk about Uber as a “sharing economy” platform with straight faces? How is it that they don’t feel a deep sense of inauthenticity? To understand this, we must return to the roots of the actual sharing economy. It is the only way we can wrest it back from those who have hijacked it.

Our everyday economic life is characterized by three things. First, you get a job at a company — or you start a company — and you produce something. Second, that company goes to market to exchange its product for money. Third, you use that money to get goods or services from others who are also producing. Zoom out, and a market economy is a large-scale network of interdependent production. We cannot survive without accessing the products of other people’s labor.

Monetary exchange takes the form of, “If you give me money, I will give you a service.” There’s always potential for rejection in market offers, which creates uncertainty, and some people fare better than others. Those who undertake the heaviest burden of production don’t necessarily get rewarded commensurately. Individual competition appears to be — at least at first glance — the defining mark of monetary exchange.

There are, however, three major but inconvenient truths that seem to get glossed over when we talk about the market economy. The first is that market systems feed off an extensive, underlying gift economy in which people transfer ideas, goods, services, and emotional support to each other without requesting money. Unpaid childcare is one example. If your mother watches your two children while you’re at a job, that’s the gift economy in action. In fact, without friends and family it’s unlikely that you could even maintain the desire to go to work. Even in professional settings we share common resources with business colleagues. Companies rely upon this internal collaboration to produce the very products they then competitively exchange in markets.

The second inconvenient truth about the market economy is that its products are not really desirable unless we can use them within non-market systems. What’s the point of all this stuff getting produced if we can’t share it, compare it, gloat about it, or enjoy it with others? Friends, family, and various community systems make having material goods meaningful.

And third, many commercial market exchanges are actually hybridized with non-commercial elements that add richness. Take, for example, flirting with a bartender as they serve you drinks, or having a discussion about politics with the stylist you’re paying to cut your hair. Not only do market systems rely on non-market influences in order to work, but their products feel pointless and empty without them. Recognition of this, however, is uneven.

In small community settings it’s often easy to see a balance between market and gift economies. The shop owner gives a spontaneous discount to a retiree, or allows friends to lounge in a coffee shop long after they’ve finished drinking. Commercial exchange is but one element in a broader set of relationships, and this means the exchange takes longer. Economists call this inefficient; we call it enjoying life.

Meanwhile, in megacities such as London or New York there’s a tendency to strip all non-commercial elements from market interactions. This is the hallmark of what we refer to as commercialization. The large-scale mall and corporation are designed to maximize exchange while offering only a shallow appearance of sociability. The McDonald’s employee is forced by contract to smile at you, but prohibited from taking time to have a true conversation.

This phenomenon is even more acute in faceless internet commerce, where clinical, transactional precision dominates. While hyper-efficient exchanges play into our short-term impulses — initially feeling exciting, convenient, and modern — they gradually begin to feel empty. Sure, it’s frictionless commerce, but it’s also textureless.

When detached from a community foundation, markets can bring out people’s most anxious, petty, arrogant, and narcissistic sides, encouraging them to fixate on their individual strands of the overall economic picture, as if it were the whole. The defining qualities of a market economy — like uncertainty and unequal monetary reward — get exalted, and in this frame, everyone else is either a stranger to do battle with or a temporary ally to assist in your personal gain. Socializing becomes “networking.” Non-commercial ties such as friendship, sex, love, and family are either rendered invisible, or presented as kitsch advertisements designed to promote more commercial exchange.

It was in this context that the original sharing economy platforms emerged. Amid the competitive, individualistic rhetoric of the corporate state, people looked to use technology to foreground sharing, gifting, and community activities that were otherwise overshadowed.

One aim was to extend activities between trusted friends to strangers. Friends have long crashed on each other’s couches, but the Couchsurfing site wanted it to happen among strangers. Freecycle allowed you to give gifts to people you didn’t know, while Streetbank let you lend items to strangers in your neighborhood. These platforms encouraged sharing between people who might otherwise be isolated from each other.

All of this was built using the infrastructure of the internet. The ubiquity of interconnected computers and smartphones in the hands of ordinary people allowed them to cheaply advertise their locations and showcase offers. To catalyze a digital platform, all someone needed to do was set up a website as a central hub for aggregating and displaying offers for others to accept. It makes sense to centralize similar information, rather than having it scattered in fragmented locations. This, in turn, builds network effects, meaning that the platform becomes more useful — and thus more valuable — as more people use it.

Attempting to introduce sharing principles into networks of strangers isn’t easy. Our lives are built around large-scale market economies, and many people have internalized the principles of monetary exchange. In the context of huge global supply chains, the rural idyll of community production is long gone, and attempts to reverse-engineer authentic sharing relationships between people we don’t know can feel stilted.

While we might be willing to let a friend borrow our car for the day, we generally don’t trust strangers enough to share our most crucial possessions with them. We may, however, be game to share things that we don’t often use, like a basement that’s only half full or the backseat of a car that could have someone in it while we’re driving to work anyway.

We’ll probably be even more willing to offer this idle capacity to a stranger if there is some third-party assurance that they are legitimate, or will experience some consequences if they behave badly. Likewise, we may be more open to accepting gifts from strangers if such assurances are in place. This is, in effect, why sharing economy platforms developed identity and reputation-scoring systems, adding layers of formality and quantification into non-monetary gifting.

Herein lies one source of corruption, as the very act of earning quantified reputation for gifting adds a feeling of market exchange. But it was building technology to identify and quantify spare capacity that really set the stage for undermining the sharing economy. “Why not get the stranger to pay for the gift as a service?” was a question that couldn’t be far off.

The move from sharing spare, underutilized assets to selling them can be subtle. In hitchhiker culture, a person offering lifts might reasonably expect a fuel money contribution from someone getting a ride — and if the hitchhiker leaves the car without offering it, the driver may be a little irritated. The money though, is never a condition, and until they explicitly say, “If you give me fuel money, I will drive you,” it’s not a commercial relationship. Note, though, how easily the phrase—once uttered—can become generalized into, “If you pay me, I will drive you.”

A new wave of “sharing economy” startups bet on just this concept, as their businesses came to be characterized not by sharing, but by showcasing spare capacity for rent, with the platform taking a cut as broker. So, too, began a hollowing out around the language of sharing. New entrepreneurs feebly hung onto the sharing story with the claim that market mechanisms could re-engineer the very community ties that the markets themselves had eroded. In reality, they were doing nothing more than marketizing things that previously hadn’t been on the market. If anything, this only undermined existing gift economies. A friend calls to ask if she can stay with you, but gets told, “Sorry, we have Airbnb guests this weekend!”

Ah, but there’s another twist. Far from merely facilitating the renting of spare capacity, these platforms grew to such a size that sellers of “normal” capacity started using them—as in, people running professional bed-and-breakfasts migrated to the Airbnb platform, and so on. The irresistible lock-in of network effects dragged the old market into the new, and voilà, the platform corporation emerged.

Let’s be unequivocal here: A platform corporation really only owns two things. It owns algorithms hosted on servers, and it owns network effects—or people’s dependence. While the old corporation had to get financing, invest in physical assets, hire workers to run those assets, and take on risk in the process, a corporation like Uber outsources its risk to independent workers who must self-finance the purchase of their cars, while also absorbing losses from their cars’ depreciation or the failure of their operations. This not only separates corporate managers from ground-level workers, it places the major burden of financing and risk on the workers.

This is a venture capitalist’s wet dream. Give a startup minimal capital to hire developers and run media campaigns, and then watch as the network effects ripple over the infrastructure of the internet. If it works, you’re suddenly in control of a corporation built with digital tools, but extracting value from real-world, physical assets like cars and buildings. The entity holds itself together not via employment contracts, but rather by self-employed workers’ dependence on it to access the market they rely on for their survival.

So, now here you are, staring at your Uber app with irritated sighs because the driver is two minutes late. This is a market transaction. To the driver, you’re just another customer. There is no sharing. You’re as isolated as you ever were.

We have a hard time seeing systems. We find it easier to see what’s tangible and in front of us. We see the app, and we see the driver’s car icon moving along the streets on their way to pick us up. What we can’t see is the deep web of power relations that underpins the system. Instead, we are encouraged to fixate on the flat and friendly interface, the shallow surface layer of immediate experience.

If you’re a driver, that interface doubles as your boss. It doesn’t shout at you like the jerk boss of old corporations. In fact, it shows no emotion at all. It’s the human-readable incarnation of a robotic algorithm that calculates the optimal profit-path for Uber, Inc. As a driver, you have no colleagues and no union. There’s no upward mobility. Uber wants you to leave as soon as you build any expectations of progress. You and thousands more eke out enough to survive, if you’re lucky. This all while the owners of the platform get richer and richer, no matter what.

Of course, if you want to put a positive spin on this kind of work, you can call it flexible, decentralized micro-entrepreneurship. But pan out, and it looks more like feudalism, with thousands of small subsistence farmers paying tribute to a baron that grants them access to land they don’t own.

So, what is to be done? For one, let’s first understand the problem. Innovation and change are pointless unless they’re coming from a real analysis of what’s gone wrong—especially when we’re being made to believe we’ve actually gained an asset. Only then can we rebalance the power.

If we are going to turn ourselves into a sprawling network of micro-entrepreneurs, micro-contracting via a feudalistic platform, let’s at least cooperatively own the platform. In doing this, we might even retain one definition of sharing — the common usage of a shared resource pool, like the farmers who collectively manage a reservoir.

This is the origin of the platform cooperativism movement, one possible counterforce to the rise of platform capitalism. In principle, it’s not that complicated. Spread the ownership of the common infrastructure among the users of that infrastructure, give them a say in how it’s run and a cut of the profits that emerge from it.

The platform cooperativism movement is a new one, with many of its proposals still on paper and yet to be released into the wild. Many have seen the potential to use blockchain technology, whose original promise was to provide a means for strangers to collectively run a platform that keeps track of their situation relative to each other without relying upon a central party. Some, like the blockchain-based ride-sharing platform La’Zooz, have already released apps and are iterating away in the background. Others, like the blockchain-based proposal for an Uber-killer called Commune, are still in their conceptual stages. Arcade City, another attempt at an Uber alternative, has been dogged with controversy—and a split in the team has led to the creation of Swarm City.

Meanwhile, big corporates have increasingly encroached on blockchain technology with an eye toward using a pacified version of it within closed and controlled settings. There are, of course, plenty of talented and idealistic blockchain developers looking for opportunities beyond corporate life.

Either way, fancy technology isn’t a magical recipe. The equally important work involves building a community willing to back new platforms. A Dutch proposal for an Airbnb alternative called FairBnB is making a start as a Meetup group, and food couriers are organizing gatherings to discuss how they can set up cooperative alternatives to Deliveroo.

In the face of massive commercial platforms, aggressively backed by venture capital money, these initial attempts might seem idealistic. But as digital serfdom only expands, we have little choice but to start small with underdog pilot projects that galvanize action.

It’s a new mentality that needs building. In a world where we’re told to be grateful receivers of products and the opportunity to work on them from heroic, demigod CEOs allegedly “democratizing” the workscape, we need to see straighter and expect more. The entrepreneur is still nothing without the underlying people who make their enterprise work; and in this case, their wealth comes directly from skimming money off vast collectives. Let’s fuse the two forces into one, and build collectives with actual sharing in mind.

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About the Author

This article was written by Brett Scott, author of The Heretic’s Guide to Global Finance: Hacking the Future of Money. Exploring urban ecology, economic anthropology, P2P tech & alternative currency.

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Entrepreneurship

Making Globalisation Work for Startups

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AI platform Globality is giving small and medium businesses access to broader opportunities.

Ina post-Brexit, “America First” world, protectionism seems to be back in fashion, and globalization has become something of a dirty word. Since the 1990s, global trade has helped lift over a billion people out of poverty, driven sustained economic growth, lowered consumer prices, and delivered unprecedented freedoms to much of the world’s population.

Still, middle-income earners have seen their living standards stagnate, while many of the great leaps forward in automation are destroying the jobs of those least able to cope, with vastly greater levels of disruption feared.

Large multinational companies still seem to be the greatest beneficiaries of a globalized marketplace. Small and medium-sized businesses, which constitute the bulk of the world’s economy and drive most job creation, find it more difficult to make valuable connections that can lead to international trade opportunities and contracts with large organizations.

This is due in large part to the outdated procurement process based on Requests for Proposals (RFPs), which is still the standard across most industries. RFPs are not only extremely time consuming, but such competitions are used as cover for a procurement decision that has already been made, so prospective smaller suppliers never really stand a chance.

Joel Hyatt cofounded Globality to prove that technology could be the missing link to make globalization work for more businesses. By providing a matchmaking platform that connects big clients–Fortune 500 companies spanning financial services, pharmaceuticals, food and beverage, consumer goods, and other sectors–with a diverse pool of providers, he wants to help those small and medium-sized companies land contracts that would otherwise be out of their reach.

He served as the national finance chair for the Democratic Party during Al Gore’s presidential campaign in 2000, and after the election, partnered with Gore to start a media company that they sold in 2013. When Hyatt started Globality in 2015, Gore became an investor. The company has since raised $35 million in their latest funding round and embarked on a major expansion of its platform that uses artificial intelligence to match the small clients with big contracts all over the world. So far, over a dozen fortune 500 companies and over 40 multinational corporations have signed up on the client side, and its SME (Small and Medium Sized Enterprise) Service Provider Network covers every continent and more than 100 countries.

The platform is made up of three main elements, explains Globality CTO Ran Harpaz: The first gathers information from the client, helping them to determine what their real needs are. The second matches them with the best service provider to fulfill those needs, and the third helps build the relationship by fostering collaboration between the two parties.

For the first part, the client answers a detailed Q&A devised by their experts. Their algorithms then extract a variety of data points from those clients using NLP (Natural Language Processing) and continues to build upon that in a constant learning loop. It takes all the information from the questions it asks of both client and providers during the matching process to suggest a shortlist of possible matches, which is then reviewed by an industry expert consultant at the final stages.

This AI-powered consultancy model effectively harnesses the best of both worlds, according to Harpaz, as it scales the nuanced, sector-specific expertise that traditionally comes at a prohibitive premium. By leveraging machine learning to recognize interactions–often spotting patterns in the data that might not have occurred to a person and using that in the matching process–this high-level human know-how becomes accessible to companies without multimillion-dollar consultancy budgets at their disposal.

“At every step, the system is collating feedback from both sides, learning from signals that tell it how the match is actually working in practice by prompting them with questions based on interaction data,” Harpaz says. “This systematic approach to human knowledge representation effectively gives people superpowers, by taking that magic sauce of human interaction and knowledge, and making it possible to apply that consistently and at scale.”

Although this process is building toward ever more efficient automation, Harpaz says that they will always need a human expert to look at those matches with a strategic eye and make the final decision on the most suitable pairings. “What Globality is doing is making high-level knowledge and expertise accessible to a much larger pool of companies and people, rather than only the large corporations who have been traditionally able to afford the services of consultancy firms,” he explains. Globality’s pricing model is usually free for client companies, with suppliers being charged a percentage of the contract’s value, but only once they receive payment themselves for the services they provided.

Waqqas Mir, a partner at Axis Law Chambers, a law firm based in Lahore, Pakistan, is one of the suppliers using Globality to reach international clients. Mir feels that law firms such as his in developing countries often lose out on such business because of their size. Being on the platform, however, gives them the opportunity to open up new channels of communication, which he believes provides great value in the long term. “That allows you to begin a relationship and remain on their radar,” he explains. “The whole thing is motivated by a desire to ensure a more inclusive global economy.”

Globality matched a Fortune 50 company with South African marketing agency Colourworks. The company had to find service providers who were Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment-certified by the South African government. “So we worked backwards from that, looking at all the providers who matched the certification criteria, and narrowing it down from there,” Harpaz says.

Since winning the Africa account, the agency has continued to use the Globality platform to connect with their new client on a global level, and are now exploring the possibility of working with them in Germany. “In this day and age, it is so easy to do business online or over video conferencing, so distance is really not a barrier,” says Lexy Geyer, account director at Colourworks.

Enabling smaller companies to become “micro-multinationals” means they will in turn fuel job creation and economic growth throughout the developed and developing world. Globalization and AI are often portrayed as inevitable waves of disruption that will leave chaos and inequality in their wake and ultimately make much of humankind and their skills redundant. But if platforms like Globality continue to create opportunities for diverse smaller businesss in this global marketplace, perhaps globalization can become a force for good.

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About the Author

This article was produced by Alice Bonasio.

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