Platform Lockdown: The Growing Trend of API Restrictions

Spotify just announced they're restricting access to their API endpoints. If you're wondering why this matters, stick with me – because when a platform starts closing its APIs, it's a clear sign of enshittification: the inevitable decline of platforms after they've achieved market dominance.

Let's step back for a moment. The Internet and the Web were built on openness and interoperability. Early hackers and developers created protocols and standards that allowed anyone to build on top of existing platforms. This spirit of openness wasn't just ideological – it was practical. It led to innovations that the original platform creators never imagined.

APIs are the digital handshake that lets different software talk to each other, and more importantly, they're what allows users to interact with platforms on their own terms. When a platform starts limiting its API access, it's like watching a relationship enter its "taking you for granted" phase. Sure, they might be posting record profits and their stock might be soaring, but for the users who've been there since day one? The magic is gone.

Take Spotify's recent API restrictions. They've essentially told their most innovative users, "Thanks for the creativity, but we'll take it from here." To paraphrase Paul Graham, when platforms restrict third-party development, it often means they're not innovating fast enough themselves.

This isn't just about Spotify. OKCupid was once the dating site for data nerds – their API allowed creative developers to build better matching algorithms and interesting tools. Now? They're just another swipe-right platform with questionable "compatibility scores" that nobody can verify. At companies without API access, "Head of Data" positions might as well be renamed "Head of Propaganda" because we can't verify any of their claims.

You might be wondering why platforms do this. They often fear third-party apps because they expose their own limitations. Look at Reddit's third-party apps – they weren't just alternatives, they were superior experiences that made the platform better for everyone. Consider YouTube Music. As a Premium subscriber, I can tell you the app is a mess, and there's no API to let anyone make it better. Their vast music catalog is trapped behind an interface that feels like it was designed by a committee that's never actually listened to music.

When platforms close their APIs, they're breaking a social contract with their most engaged users.

Is API access a fundamental digital right? Maybe not. But it represents something important: a platform's willingness to be transparent and collaborative with its users. When a platform starts closing its APIs, it's usually not the beginning of their decline – it's a sign they're already well down that path.

There are two ways forward here. First, as users, we can vote with our feet (and our wallets) when platforms start showing these signs. There are always alternatives, even if they're not perfect. Second, platforms could offer an affordable "Developer Tier" for power users – not the insulting $100/month API access that Twitter pushed, but something reasonable that acknowledges APIs are part of what made these platforms great in the first place.

And maybe that's the real lesson here. In the end, it's not about the APIs – it's about whether platforms see their users as partners in innovation or just numbers on a quarterly report.