I don’t usually like to advocate for particular products or technologies. There’s no shame whatsoever in having an opinion and – in this space – it’s my job. But there’s a difference between arguing for a particular approach to something and arguing for a particular thing.

It’s time to make an exception.

The Linux operating system has a well-earned reputation as the software of choice for uber-hackers and propellor-heads the world over. That’s because it is. It runs the majority of the world’s servers right now, from giant supercomputing clusters to Google to the Dow Jones stock exchange.

So what, exactly, is this Linux thing? At its core, it’s a suite of very basic utilities that allow a computer to run. Because it’s so easy to configure and customise, it runs on everything from supercomputers to your wireless router. Google’s new Android mobile phones are built on it, as are many of Nokia’s.

Nearly two decades after it took its first faltering steps, I can say with some assurance that Linux is good enough, easy enough and – this is important – safe enough for you to pick it up and use it without really breaking a sweat.

Linux has been poised on the verge of a breakthrough for years. It had smashingly cool graphics, ran better on typical hardware, and supported more general purpose hardware than virtually any other system. It’s always been free of charge – one company will actually ship you CDs at their own expense – and it’s relatively easy to learn.

But (you knew there was a ‘but’): For all the appeal of its bits and pieces, there were always a few blemishes, mismatched parts and assorted loose ends. It didn’t support wireless perfectly; there weren’t any good financial apps; Windows didn’t always play nice with it; documents written in one system were subtly but noticeably different on the other.

None of these problems were insurmountable, but taken together they created just enough friction to stop casual users from using it.

This year, things have changed. Windows 7 is just out and with its arrival come the first death knells of Windows XP – for most people in Vanuatu, the only operating system they’ve ever known.

Windows 7 is much improved, but it’s new. Given the intense pushback that Windows Vista has received locally (virtually everyone hates it), there’s a good deal of resistance to moving to a new interface. Pretty soon, though, you won’t have a choice.

You will, however, get to choose which one you want. By every metric, Ubuntu Linux wins over Windows 7. It runs better on all hardware. It’s much prettier and better laid out. Looking for graphics software? Rather than having to remember that it’s called PseudoLogic Superbad 3D Render Graphic Pro Deluxe Edition Starter Pack, you just go to… the Graphics Menu.

There’s a ton of eye candy too. Let me assure you, a pleasant presentation matters a lot. Rather than a clutter of icons all jammed up together into a tiny corner of your screen, each of them screaming for your attention, you have a simple, clean theme whose elements cooperate rather than compete. It’s as delightful as reading in a quiet room.

Better still, you can have your cake and eat it too. XP installs and runs just fine inside the system, in something called a virtual machine. If you only need one or two Windows apps, you can install them individually, too. I’m writing this column on Word right now. It looks and behaves exactly as it does under Windows.

Linux is safe. You will not get any viruses. All of the software available for it is collected in one place. The system I use has 2174 packages including games, education, Internet and multimedia software. They’re free, not pirated, and can be downloaded from a single, safe source with a click.

Linux is professionally supported. When I asked them, CNS, Computer World, Datec, ITWorks and SPIM all indicated that they could provide technical support for your Linux system. (Daltron didn’t get the chance to reply before publication.)

All of this is to say there are no obstacles to moving to Linux. But what compelling reason is there to move? Just one: Your children.

Top to bottom, Linux is based on a philosophy of community, exploration and learning, equality and respect. It is open to investigation and improvement virtually without limitation. You can encourage your children to explore a computing environment that’s safer, more open and largely free of charge.

Whether your child is a geek or not, there is no more powerful learning tool currently available to families in Vanuatu than a Linux computer with an Internet connection.

How to get started? Ask your local geek for a copy of Ubuntu Linux on a CD or a USB stick. Most everyone has one these days. Boot the computer from that, and see how you like it. If you find it’s not for you, no problem. Just reboot and everything will be as it was before.

(By the way, did I mention that it’s so versatile you can actually carry around your own system on a USB stick? It’s a great way to protect yourself from viruses when you use someone else’s computer. Just boot from your USB stick, and you’re in your own private workspace.)

If Windows is all you know, you’ll want a little hand-holding at first, much as you would with a Mac. But really, everything is where it should be. You can cut and paste, switch between documents, log in and out almost exactly as you would with XP.

Safer, simpler, less costly and more rewarding: That’s Linux in a nutshell. It’s compatible with what you have today, and with tomorrow’s tech as well. Linux is simply better than what you have. Isn’t it time you made the change?

A friend of mine recently completed a photography project documenting the people of Dhaka, Bangladesh. These 265 mostly candid portraits capture what I like to call the miracle of the mundane. Without editorialising, they create a compelling polemic for the inherent dignity of every human being.

They’re noteworthy precisely because they’re not newsworthy.

If you were to ask me what animates me, what makes me take on the labours of love that fill my time to brimming, I would likely point to something like this. I’ve often been accused of being an idealist, but that’s only partly true. The ideals that I aspire to are simple:

We should have the right to a peaceful, respectful existence, with all the rights and responsibilities that this entails.

We should be able to choose which dramas and adventures we become involved in. Those we can’t choose should never grow so large that we lose all choice whatsoever.

One of the most alluring and endearing aspects of life in Vanuatu is our collective ability to drift along with few cares and few (sometimes too few!) responsibilities. The machinery of government grinds and chugs on by like a smoking bus with three cylinders firing, but aside from a bit of smoke and noise, leaves us largely unscathed.

Recent events, especially last Thursday’s tsunami warning, serve as a reminder just how fortunate we are. Within an hour of the alert being issued, news agencies the world over were contacting the Daily Post. Intent on the next human tragedy, they wanted to know: How much damage? How many dead?

The answer, happily, was that only one young girl was hurt when she ran in front of a moving truck.

Had a similar area in virtually anywhere else in the world been struck as we were by 3 earthquakes in quick succession, each in excess of 7.0, thousands, even millions might have suffered.

The simplicity of our existence – our lack of development – has in many ways saved us from the worst. If we didn’t have so little, we might have more to lose.

Life goes on today as it did the day before. We worry about where the next bag of rice is going to come from. We ruin our sandals in the mud. We bicker and fuss our way through petty jealousies. And we laugh at every opportunity.

In a place where the worst example of anarchy we can find is a dozen children playing on the beach, where the sum of our fears extend no more than a few miles from home, where even a hurricane is more frightening than deadly, we should really consider ourselves blessed.

But that should never make us complacent. For all its manifold blessings, Vanuatu society is still fraught with imperfection. Violence may not be institutionalised, but it is systemic. Too many women and children, safe from the predations of the state, are nonetheless victims in their own homes. Family, stronger here than in most other societies, is increasingly strained by distance and economic forces.

The difference between Vanuatu and its more turbulent Melanesian neighbours is as much one of luck as anything else. We all have corruption, venality, social and economic tensions and occasional violence. But for some reason, Vanuatu always pulls back from the brink.

How is this? What exactly is it that has allowed us to avoid the worst excesses of violence, economic and social dispossession? I honestly don’t know. If I were forced to answer, I’d likely wave my hands vaguely and mutter something about how people just don’t like things getting out of hand.

During the incipient insurrection some years ago between Police and Mobile forces, a besieged Police commander delivered an impassioned speech to the throng assembled behind the VMF picket. What began as an angry peroration culminated in a series of (ultimately tearful) apologies to everyone concerned for having caused such a ruckus. By observing the rhetorical standards of public oratory, the rebel leader defused his own obduracy.

We are a decent society, therefore, because we are used to acting like decent people.

Conclusions like this are dangerous. Too often, they lead only to self-satisfied complacency. As one chief explained it to me, it’s as if we are given the gift of a lovely garden with bountiful fruit trees. With such abundance, it becomes difficult to see the sweat and the toil that went into clearing the ground, the care and attention that allowed the tiny seed to become an adult tree.

It’s far too easy as well to assume that the tree will continue to bear fruit forever.

Thursday’s tsunami warning was a false alarm. But there is another tsunami approaching whose effects will be more widespread and, if we don’t prepare for them, more devastating than anything the ocean could do.

As development continues its inexorable spread through Vanuatu society, we must ensure that our politicians and policy makers never lose sight of individual faces of the people on whose behalf they were chosen to work.

They aren’t newsworthy, but they are noteworthy. They are us.

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” – Leo Tolstoy

On Wednesday this week at a quiet ceremony in Chantilly’s Resort, Minister Rialuth Serge Vohor presented six organisations with telecommunications operator licenses. His action marked the beginning of a new chapter in Vanuatu’s integration into the wider technological world.

The Minister’s speech touched on many aspects of the technical and social challenge ahead of us, but its illuminating principle was his lifelong conviction that Vanuatu should control its own destiny. Acknowledging and applauding the invaluable assistance provided by numerous donor and commercial partners from overseas, he nonetheless displayed great satisfaction at seeing local operations moving into the spotlight.

There was an air of quiet excitement in the room as, after patient months of waiting, representatives from the six groups, along with Digicel Vanuatu CEO Tanya Menzies, strode to the front of the room to accept the newly signed documents.

At the risk of sounding like a giddy shoolchild, I wonder if everyone realises just how fundamentally this moment is going to affect our generation and the next.

We’ve had Internet services in Vanuatu for some time now and TVL has consistently worked to improve it. When I arrived here in 2003, an unlimited dial-up account cost 25,000 vatu per month. Today, a dedicated broadband line with roughly 3 times the capacity is available at about 20% of the price.

In 2003, it was possible – in theory at least – to connect from any telephone line. But that did mean being near a telephone line, and contending with all the other voice traffic coming and going. In practice, using the Internet regularly for anything but the most basic purposes in the islands was a challenge, to say the least. Today, we have broadband service in Vila and Santo (and soon in Tanna). And even if you’re not near a phone line, you can use TVL’s WiMax or Digicel’s GPRS service.

The pattern we’re seeing in Internet closely echoes what we saw in the months before Digicel rolled out its mobile telephone service, with a few critical differences. Prices have dropped, coverage and capacity have improved. If anything, TVL’s been even more aggressive this time in improving its core infrastructure, expanding its coverage area and reducing prices. It has clearly become a much more agile organisation than it once was. Consumers nationwide can only benefit from the result.

This time around, it’s Digicel that runs the risk (albeit a slight one) of being the one caught on the hop. On the same day the six new licenses were awarded, Digicel also received an amended license – essentially giving it the right to compete in all segments of the telecoms market.

I spoke with CEO Tanya Menzies about what Digicel’s plans regarding Internet services. When asked about becoming a full-service ISP, She said they were in the process of developing their business plan and didn’t want to make any firm pronouncements at that moment. She did, however, draw my attention to a recent contract between Digicel and Huawei to provide roaming wireless broadband in 5 Caribbean nations.

It’s no accident that Digicel’s new CTO is a wireless Internet veteran with a long list of large-scale network roll-outs to his credit. “That’s why we brought him here,” said Menzies, smiling.

I suspect, though, that most people’s first contact with the Internet here will be through smaller local commercial and community-based operations. Telsat Pacific has ambitious plans to push Internet service as widely as they can using a mix of small satellite dishes and wireless technology. Yumi Konek, an NGO-driven project designed to provide access to email to Vanuatu’s remotest areas, is already providing services in Aneityum and the Banks islands. The Pentecost community of Pangi and Malekula’s Southwest Bay are next.

No matter how you slice it, Internet will remain relatively expensive for some years to come. In addition to that, taking full advantage of the Internet involves a good deal more capital – both intellectual and technical – than using a mobile phone. So, for the majority in Vanuatu, the face of technology will be the neighbourhood geek who keeps the equipment chugging along.

My guess is that the biggest winners among our current heavy hitters will be those who push the support role closer to the customer by offering wholesale services to ‘Mom and Pop’ businesses operating in neighbourhoods throughout Vanuatu.

Pent-up demand for learning, for a glimpse of the outside world, is far greater than many people realise. If people in a remote village in South Malekula will clear a mountain hillside just to speak with their families, what lengths won’t others go to in order to explore the world? More importantly, what would parents not give to allow their children to do so?

The expansion of Internet use is not likely to follow the rocket-like trajectory of mobile services, but it will hit quickly and run deep. Too deep for some, I fear. Having lived on the bleeding and the trailing edge of technology (sometimes both at once), I find the contrast between the two is enough to cause a kind of cognitive whiplash.

Heaven alone knows what will happen when it reaches the village.

Most people fear the obvious: pornography, graphic violence and other morally dubious fare. I think they’re missing the point. The really disruptive influences are the social ones.

What will happen to society when we chat more with people on other continents than the ones sitting right beside us?

What will happen to families when their members start to see what else they could belong to?

The societies where Internet runs deepest bear the least resemblance to the country we live in today.

The Vanuatu we know is about to change utterly. The only question now is: What do we want Vanuatu to become, and what are we willing to do – now, today – to achieve that?

“This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change.”

President-Elect Barack Obama spoke these words to nearly a quarter of a million people in Grant Park, Chicago, Illinois on a night that I will remember as one of the highlights of my life.

Reporting on the event, even the normally sober Economist Magazine could not avoid tingeing its account with giddiness. Shyly, almost ashamedly, the anonymous author recounts how American and international journalists lost all semblance of restraint when CNN called the race. They came tumbling out of the media tent en masse to join the multitude of revelers.

How could they not be affected? Each and every one of us was changed personally, individually, by this event.

But it would be disingenuous for any journalist to declare from the pulpit of their own column, that – just this once – they’ve forsaken their dais to speak as woman or man. I will not do that. I will instead sit down on the steps to this poor podium. Indulge me while I speak from my own experience….

I was a bit prodigal as a child, reading words from the newspaper before I was four. I remember my mother’s shock when Bobby Kennedy was shot. (I recall less about her reaction to the death of Reverend Martin Luther King – and that in itself is telling.)

Since that day, I have watched as American democracy progressively lost whatever luster it had gained through the efforts of its greatest practitioners. Franklin Roosevelt set an economic example for the world with his New Deal. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights owes its existence to his wife Eleanor. Lyndon Johnson turned his back on the bigoted southern Democratic Party bloc when he signed the Civil Rights Act into law. But from the late ’60s onward, things went downhill.

I was still a pup when the Watergate scandal splashed itself across the world’s front pages, and young enough to naively wonder how the American people could buy into the facile pseudo-logic of the Reagan regime. I couldn’t comprehend how a country founded on the Enlightenment ideals of freedom and equality could support brutal regimes in Vietnam, Indonesia, Chile and countless other countries across the globe.

But the more I reflect on the events of my youth, the more I realize that the baying maw of cynical opportunism – called Realpolitik when it dresses for dinner – has been with us throughout history. It has always been easier to win the argument with the fist than with reason and the rule of law. Why compromise when you can just murder the other guy?

And that’s just what they did. John and Robert Kennedy, along with civil rights leaders Medgar Evers, Martin Luther King and countless others, died for daring to use reason in place of force.

The very best of them were taken. And they left behind an angry, aimless generation. Without compass, without real leadership, without a guiding philosophy to pull them out of themselves, they opposed the ‘Establishment’ for opposition’s sake. They ended a war but left peace to fend for itself. In the end, they sold everything in exchange for credit, a suburban home and a La-Z-Boy mythology.

Barack Obama and I are nearly the same age. I can’t claim to see into his mind, but I must assume that he and I, awkward, skinny kids puzzling over world events from the sidelines of society, have seen the same patterns. And judging from his words and deeds, I’m inclined to think we’ve reached the same conclusions.

He does not preach Reagan’s mythical ‘Morning in America’. Not for him a ‘Thousand Points of Light’. His rhetoric isn’t the murderous travesty of ‘Compassionate Conservatism’. Rather, it’s the very essence of the original American myth, the City on the Hill. The preamble of the US Constitution speaks of building a ‘more perfect union’, a shining New Jerusalem to act as a beacon to the oppressed in all nations and a refuge for all who reach its shores.

Obama understands – and requires that his followers remember – that this city is neither myth nor metaphor, and cities don’t build themselves. He asks them instead “to join in the work of remaking this nation, the only way it’s been done in America for 221 years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.”

Every ni-Vanuatu knows what it means to be discriminated against in one’s own country. They know the trials, the travails and above all the tedium of building that more perfect union. Barack Obama’s election is not just a victory for people of colour, it is a victory of human ideals.

For the first time in a lifetime, Americans looked past their own selfish interests and chose the change they need. For the first time in a lifetime, they have joined hands to clean out the shambles of self-interest and willful ignorance. They have at last begun rebuilding their city on the hill.

We must all learn from this moment. This is the change we need.