It may not always be profitable at first for businesses to be

Hear the foresightful words of Esther Dyson, oracle of the digital frontier, who declared: “It may not always be profitable at first for businesses to be online, but it is certainly going to be unprofitable not to be online.” These words, spoken at the dawn of the Internet age, ring like prophecy across the chambers of commerce and history. They remind us that though the first steps into new lands may be costly and uncertain, to refuse the journey altogether is to consign oneself to decline.

In her time, many doubted the significance of the online world. Some merchants believed it a passing fancy, unsuited for “serious” trade. They looked at the expense of building websites, the slowness of early networks, the chaos of untested markets, and they hesitated. Yet Dyson saw what others could not: that the digital realm was not a fad, but a new continent, vast and inevitable, where the future of business, communication, and community would be forged. To delay was dangerous, but to refuse was ruin.

History offers us many such moments. Recall the tale of the railroads in the nineteenth century. At first, they seemed uncertain ventures, expensive to build, unstable in profit. Many small traders clung to the canals, the stagecoach, the older ways of moving goods. Yet soon the iron rails proved unstoppable. Those who had embraced them flourished, opening markets, linking cities, and multiplying wealth. Those who refused were left behind, their goods too slow, their reach too narrow, their profits withered to dust. What Dyson declared of the Internet echoes the same eternal pattern: those who cling to the past perish, while those who dare to step into the new world live on.

The meaning of her words is thus both practical and eternal. To be profitable is not only to seek gain, but to remain alive in the flow of history. The online realm became the new marketplace, the new gathering place of human attention. At first it was chaotic, unmeasured, unrefined. But as with all new frontiers, its soil proved fertile beyond measure. Those who endured the early difficulties found themselves masters of entire new kingdoms. Those who refused found themselves invisible, unheard, unprofitable.

Consider also the fate of Blockbuster, the mighty chain of video rentals. They scoffed at the Internet’s challenge, ignoring the rising tide of Netflix’s online model. For a time, they still profited in the old way. But soon, what was once comfortable became unthinkable. The profits of yesterday could not withstand the new reality, and the empire of Blockbuster collapsed into memory. This is Dyson’s warning made flesh: not to be online is death to profit and to relevance.

The lesson for us is clear: do not judge new paths only by their immediate profit. Sometimes the first harvest is small, the first investment heavy. But look not only to today—look to the flow of the age. Ask yourself: Where is humanity moving? Where will attention, exchange, and life itself gather? If the answer lies in a new realm, then to ignore it is to cut yourself off from the very source of tomorrow’s prosperity.

Therefore, beloved listener, take action. Do not fear the new. Step into it, even when the return seems meager, even when the way is unproven. Plant your seeds in the soil of tomorrow, not just in the soil of today. For Dyson’s wisdom tells us that while the first step into the digital marketplace may not bring instant riches, the refusal to step at all will bring only decline.

Thus the words of Esther Dyson endure as a beacon: “It may not always be profitable at first to be online, but it is unprofitable not to be online.” Let them remind you that survival and growth demand courage. To live in harmony with the march of time is to accept the cost of change, knowing that the true loss lies in standing still while the world moves forward.