by Lucie Greene
As with Hyperloop, does it take an outsider approach to rethink the way things work? Does it take an entrepreneurial and tech-based approach to effect change? Is the government simply unable to do this?
In education, says Ventilla, “It does seem like there is a dearth of people who think about the future, who have been in industries that are going to play a more prominent role in the future. It’s problematic.” This isn’t necessarily confined to entrepreneurs, he adds. “It’s about diversity of perspectives, broadly, and bringing in more people from scientific and technology fields. Separately from that, I think digital technology in particular has this superpower which is to allow you to be very complex and very flexible at the same time.”
Part of AltSchool’s unique approach is the variety of disciplines and a decentralized structure, says Ventilla. Schools are run by the teachers, for example. There are about 165 people in the company, fifty of whom are “world-class engineers” and fifty “world-class educators, working together under one organizational roof.” The staff roster is divided into equal thirds: engineers, educators, and operators. “There’s an opportunity in the education space to take a hard technology approach, and what we mean by that is an approach where you do meaningful R&D prior to when you start scaling,” says Ventilla. “I don’t think it’s too off to say that virtually all of ed tech to date has taken the easy technology route.”
It could potentially be the first slow-burn unicorn. Unicorns in Silicon Valley have historically been defined by being an anomaly, a quick phenomenon that takes off sensationally. AltSchool might have a similar scale and impact, but because it’s in the field of education, it cannot be rushed. AltSchool is taking a challenging route toward long-term, meaningful change in education, rather than merely creating an app. It is an ambitious goal and a complicated field to step into. But it could have big financial rewards if it is successful, especially as more schools get privatized.
Megan Tompkins-Stange highlights that, while meritocratic in narrative, models like these are still inherently skewed toward children with an affluent background, sophisticated communication skills, and self-confidence. Children who have the confidence to choose their learning approach, or find a creative way to solve a problem, are often enabled by upbringing and resources. “It’s about self-confidence and self-advocacy,” she comments. “I work with a lot of first-generation college students, and just being able to advocate for themselves, like ask the teacher for an extension on a paper if something bad has happened with their family, is almost unthinkable. A child from a privileged family, or from a middle-class background with parents who went to college—they don’t hesitate to do that. In those small, socially nuanced ways, you have a lot more advantages when you’ve had access to institutions that are associated with higher class levels. And, of course, race is also highly correlated.”
In other words, despite the affordable price tag, few low-income kids will be skyping to Minerva or taking part in semesters from Amsterdam.
Ventilla, like Nelson, gets frustrated by the blanket view that AltSchool is another form of iPad learning or school tech. “There are a few very common misnomers about AltSchool, and they’re probably not going to go away for a generation,” he says. “If you say technology, people immediately go to e-learning; if you say personalization, they immediately go to kids doing whatever they want; if you say alternative, they immediately go to special needs. There are these ruts that language provides.”
Does AltSchool have ambitions to affect mainstream educational policy? “No. We’re blessedly small,” says Ventilla. “We operate within the ecosystem as it exists, and we’re a long way off from actually influencing policy.” Though, he adds: “We would like to have meaningful scale, and as you have meaningful scale you start to butt up against the bounds of the ecosystem. You start to express your vision of what the future could look like in a way that could start to be relevant not just for policy but also for culture.”
Not now, in other words. But soon.
From Hyperloop One to Altschool, Silicon Valley is stepping up its efforts to reimagine more concretely large aspects of our lives, and increasingly this is leaping off the screen to physical environments, systems, and even cities. Like the Victorian Industrialists before them who built model villages outside cities, many Valley people combine benevolence, social agenda, and business. What will these worlds look like in living color? The veneer of all of it is innovation, openness, broadly egalitarian principles, and altruism. And in many ways it achieves this, even if it’s aimed at white, middle-class, already-somewhat-educated people. But it’s not holistic. And it’s not purely altruistic either. Education is a massively lucrative market and one, as Udacity is proving, that could last for a lifetime, not simply be isolated to one degree (if you can afford that). If tech’s private iterations of charter schools scale and become a national precedent, the same biases that radiate through their existing educational ventures could place more pressure on public schools.
It’s also another instance where, once again, Silicon Valley becomes the expert and leader by controlling one of the most booming sectors around, displaying an outsized influence on what the future looks like. It disproportionately seems to focus on technology and tech skills when in reality this may well, in itself, become an automated sector. Developers are the new factory workers, for now. And while data is being used to decide everything and viewed as the ultimate empirical proof point informing business strategies, will tech be able to teach the emotional intelligence and judgment that the World Economic Forum places equal focus on as future skills? Chances are, probably not. In recent years, liberal arts degrees have been maligned or shunned in favor of degrees that offer more direct links to a long-term lucrative career such as business and technology. Understanding nuance, culture, tone, and society at large have always been the rounding counterpoint to economics, science, and STEM subjects. Will tech’s new-model schools help us learn this? Either way, as a result of market forces and rising prices of education, they will become a rare area of focus, accessible for only the rich to study. But this would arguably be a travesty. Empathy is the famed missing component from Silicon Valley. For all its rhetoric, empathy’s absence is prominent in many of its civic endeavors. What will this world look like when these skewed ideas and biases are increasingly three-dimensional, immersive, and etched on our lives in social structures and institutions? Or worse, our coworkers, who are great at solving problems and coding, but also act like tone-deaf cyborgs. But that’s the thing. Silicon Valley ventures aren’t remaining in our phones anymore. They’re leaping right of the screen into real-world constructs, Disneyland kingdoms of Silicon Valley’s design. What would it be like to live in Silicon Valley’s model of the future? And what, exactly, would that model look like? Perhaps a whitewashed theme park called Airbnb Land.
8
Airbnb Land
South Broadway in downtown Los Angeles is a curious relic of a bygone era. In its golden age in the 1920s, the thoroughfare was the hub of the city’s economic boom. But with the post–World War II suburban sprawl and the development of the freeways, the area dwindled and became a center for L.A.’s homeless population.
There are signs of its former glory everywhere, not least the string of pleasure palaces for movies and plays. These include the Tower Theater, the United Artists Theater, a neo-gothic beauty, and the Orpheum, which at its peak played host to Judy Garland, Ella Fitzgerald, and Duke Ellington. Nearby the Los Angeles Theater, built in 1930, stands as a flamboyant tribute to the baroque period with a glittering interior so lavish it could have been used as the set for Norma Desmond’s mansion in Sunset Boulevard. The original ticket booth is still out front. South Broadway’s Eastern Columbia Building, also constructed in 1930, is a jade-tiled art deco jewel that was created to house the famed apparel trader the Eastern Outfitting Company.
Today, on street level on South Broadway, there’s a mix of cheap jewelry stores, a Burlingto
n Coat Factory, bridal stores, a KFC, and vacant properties. But look up at the columns, soaring windows, and decorative stucco work, and you get a snapshot of the vibrant center that the area used to be.
Little wonder it has proved irresistible to L.A.’s hipsters—and then, pretty quickly, developers. The area is in the midst of a major transformation into a hot new neighborhood. The Ace Hotel in the former United Artists Theater is just a start; the neighborhood is taking on all the bells and whistles of havens such as Brooklyn in New York and Shoreditch in London.
Luxury condos are being developed (reportedly 102 projects were underway in 2016, and the projects continue to get more ambitious). Historic buildings are being renovated into apartments, and new complexes imagined with star-studded renderings. Hip boutiques are moving in, too. Luxury brand Acne Studios has a spot in the Eastern Columbia Building. Urban Outfitters has taken over the former Rialto Theater. Nearby warehouse districts have become hotspots for tech startups, among them Virgin Hyperloop One. Meanwhile, in the streets stride bearded hipsters—boys with exposed ankles and brogues. Girls wearing felt hats, flowing skirts, and biker jackets clutch take-out matcha lattes. Inside the Ace Hotel, an army of laptops is opened projecting blue light, orb-style, onto the faces of its tapping users.
Downtown Los Angeles is also, aptly, where Airbnb staged its third annual host jamboree, Airbnb Open, described by the company as “a community-powered festival of travel and hospitality that celebrates a city and its neighborhoods.” After all, Airbnb is all about authentic travel. From its beginnings as a couch-surfing website launched in 2008 for backpacking students, Airbnb has emerged as a bastion of more than economical travel (it allows homeowners to rent out their rooms or entire properties to travelers at rates historically cheaper than hotels). Today it’s something altogether bigger. More than Homeaway.com or other homeowner rental sites, it pitches itself as a gateway to true local immersion and authentic travel. Staying in someone’s spare room isn’t just a cheap bed, it’s a view into another culture that traditional hotels simply can’t offer. And mingling with your hosts is all part of the experience. It’s this emphasis that has in recent years given Airbnb license to become an aspirational brand, along with prices that now can match or exceed that of hotels. Today, mansions, private islands, and penthouses are available on the site.
Airbnb’s rise has coincided with a shift in consumer culture toward spending on experiences over “stuff.” Experience culture started with millennials, who in the absence of funds to buy apartments (some would say) have prioritized spending on travel, festivals, food, and living in the moment. After all, if you’re never going to be able to buy that apartment anyway, why not book a life-enhancing trip to Petra, Jordan?
But experience culture is now a bona fide consumer movement for all generations, and one that favors unique, unchartered, and “authentic” (there it is again) above all else. All the better if it can be Instagrammed. As a result, it’s become a new, lucrative industry. On cue, luxury-goods groups like LVMH and Ralph Lauren have diversified from bags and clothing to resorts, restaurants, and experiences. Department stores are rapidly being superseded by foodie theme parks like Eataly, packed to the gills with consumers on weekends. Or they’ve started adding yoga, spa treatments, and more to attract customers through their doors. And tickets to Burning Man have become hotter (and more desirable) than a designer handbag.
As a forecaster, I have found it fascinating to watch. The rise in global travel, intertwined with the explosion of visual media from Instagram to Snapchat, has accelerated the speed of travel and food trends and shortened the life of any hot destination, ingredient, or restaurant exponentially (and thus, its bragging rights). Cuba, so over! Ditto for cauliflower. Experiencing novel and arresting things in travel has become integral to people’s projected social media identity and personal brand. And it has all put Airbnb—with its promises of raw authenticity, localism, and connections—in prime position to lead.
Airbnb has grown in sync with millennials becoming the most influential consumers to the travel industry, prompting major hotel chains and airlines to hurriedly switch up their offerings to cater to their tastes, from hipster stylings to global cuisines to free wi-fi in an attempt to claw back market share from its coral-hued new competitor.
Much like its founders, who are now in their mid-thirties, Airbnb is growing up, trying to pitch itself as the ultimate experience brand for people seeking original and life-transforming travel, for work and play. Today it’s expanded beyond property rentals to Trips; it’s platform that lets hosts sell guided local experiences. It’s partnered with Delta Airlines so Airbnb guests earn Delta SkyMiles on bookings. It’s paired up with booking app Resy to offer restaurant reservations. In October 2017, it took this a step further, announcing it was planning to launch its own branded apartments. Its first property in Kissimmee, Florida, will feature 300 units, according to the Financial Times. Its purported aim, and the theme of its new festival, is to allow people to “Belong Anywhere.” In May 2017, the company was valued at $31 billion.
Airbnb Open DTLA is one of the latest examples of its expanding ambition. The event is part of a new trend in consumer events—part festival for members, part educational platform, part rally, part entertainment, and part gala, in some instances brand extensions—that blend thought leadership with self-improvement and celebrity culture. (At Airbnb Open, Gwyneth Paltrow, Brian Grazer, and Ashton Kutcher are speakers on the lineup of talks staged in the district’s historic theaters.) They have become attractions people will travel to; they are akin to concerts but present branded content in experience form. They have also become a cash cow and prime platform for other brands to participate and market toward audiences. Airbnb Open 2016 cost $345 to attend, plus $60 for the Bélo Awards celebrating the best hosts, and it accommodated 6,000 attendees. In 2016, Salesforce’s Dreamforce tickets cost nearly $2,000. Women’s media brand Refinery29 has launched 29Rooms, an interactive exhibit of twenty-nine immersive, highly Instagrammable installations—tickets were sold out the entire weekend at its 2017 events in New York and Los Angeles. Teen Vogue staged a ticketed Summit in L.A. in December 2017, with single-day entrance starting at $399 and guests including Hillary Clinton and teen influencer Amandla Stenberg (the lineup was a testament to Teen Vogue’s new “wokeness,” but only for those who could afford it). Goop’s sold-out well-being bonanza weekends In Goop Health started at $500 a ticket. Vaginal steaming, presumably, not included.
Salesforce’s annual Dreamforce extravaganza, staged in San Francisco, is for businesses or entrepreneurs that use, or may want to use, Salesforce’s cloud computing or CRM (customer relationship management) tools. “At Dreamforce, you’ll learn, connect, and grow. You’ll mingle with thought leaders, industry pioneers, and thousands of your peers, and you’ll walk away with knowledge, connections, and memories that last a lifetime. Best of all, you’ll have the time of your life,” promises the company. It’s attended by 130,000 people—which makes getting a hotel room in San Francisco at this time akin to a challenge from The Hunger Games.
As events go, Airbnb Open is a master class in brand immersion. From enthusiastic slogans to banded merchandise to talks and appearances, it simultaneously entertains while making Airbnb the educator and champion of its entrepreneur community. As a 3-D, three-day experience, it’s also like stepping into an Airbnb-branded town, with all its rainbow-hued optimism, but also its failings. After three days, the placards are taken down, and the speakers wheeled away, but what if we were forced to live in Airbnb Land forever? Many of the tropes and the disconnects at Airbnb Open are universal to Silicon Valley. And attending, in some ways, gave a glimpse into the future of what a Silicon Valley world might look like.
The Truman Show
It’s lunchtime on registration day at Airbnb Open and already the music is blasting. It’s sunny, and as part of the three-day affair, downtown L.A. has essentially turned into an Airbnb-branded village. People are
carrying branded totes everywhere, like a mini army. Free coffee, snacks, and bottled water are abundant. Airbnb merchandise, from bags to mugs emblazoned with the famous “Bélo,” is sold at stands. Bands are playing in communal areas. The car park is a hotspot for wi-fi and taking selfies next to a giant sculpture of the Airbnb Bélo logo. People run through a white suspended installation behind, which is lit up at night.
Elsewhere there are lounges dedicated to Airbnb’s brand partnerships with American Express and Delta. The historic theaters are venues for talks featuring Airbnb founders Joe Gebbia, Brian Chesky, and Nathan Blecharczyk, as well as senior staff such as then marketing chief Jonathan Mildenhall. Neighborhood stores are settings for seminars on entrepreneurship, interior design, and how to be a better host. There are installations exploring notions of belonging and authentic travel. The brand announces the unveiling of a new, beautifully designed community center in the mountains of Yoshino in Japan, a World Heritage Site where, because young people are increasingly fleeing villages to work in cities, traditional life and homes are dwindling.
As for the experience itself, it’s like a cross between a cult gathering and the audience of a children’s TV show. TED-style microphones abound and speeches are delivered slowly, with dramatic flair, to incite cheers and adoration, announcing new services on the platform, offering tips on hosting, and telling inspirational stories about the Airbnb community.
And incredibly, people buy it. There is a genuine sense of hysteria at some events. Especially when, after announcing the launch of Airbnb Magazine, Hearst Chief Content Officer Joanna Coles exclaims, with true Oprah Winfrey drama, that there is magically a copy of the first issue under every seat. On cue, everyone in the audience rushes to yank the magazine out, flipping through, with collective gusto, what amounts to be a fairly thin glossy branded title. (Each copy is taped to the bottom of the seats. Who knows what damage was inflicted by an audience of hundreds yanking the publication from the bottom of withered theater seats.)