Date: Wed, 03 Aug 1994 14:28:08 -0800 From: nicka@mccmedia.com (Nick Arnett) Subject: File 2--The Internet and the Anti-net THE INTERNET AND THE ANTI-NET Two public internetworks are better than one BY NICK ARNETT Networking policy debates tend to paint a future monolithic internetwork that will follow consistent policies despite a number of independent operators. Although that's how the interstate highway and telephone systems -- favorite metaphors for network futurists -- operate, historical comparisons suggest that it is probably not what the future holds. Two distinct, interconnected publicly accessible digital internetworks are likely to emerge, which is surely better than just one. One of the future internetworks will grow out of today's Internet, whose roots are in the technology and scientific/academic communities, funded by government, institutions and increasingly, corporate and individual users. Although the Internet will support commercial services, they rarely will depend on advertising. The other great internetwork will grow out of the technology and mass communications industries, especially cable and broadcast industries. The "Anti-net" will rely on advertising revenue to recoup the cost of the infrastructure necessary to create cheap, high-speed bandwidth. (I call this second network the Anti-net not to be a demagogue but to make a historical allusion, explained shortly.) All three communities -- technology, science and academia, and mass media -- will participate in many joint projects. The most successful new ventures often will arise from three-way collaborations; skills of each are essential to create and deliver network-based information products and services. The Internet community reacts with profound anger and resentment at Anti-net behavior on the Internet -- in net-speak, "spamming" advertising messages into hundreds of discussions. The outrage is based in part on the idealistic traditions of academic and scientific freedom of thought and debate, but there's more behind it. Anger and resentment fueled by the world's love-hate relationship with the mass media, particularly television, surface in many other contexts. Nearly everyone in the modern world and large segments of the third world watches television; nearly all think broadcast television is stupid, offering a homogenized, sensationalized point of view that serves advertising interests above all others. In competition with television's hypnotic powers, or perhaps simply due to the high cost of distribution, other mass media have followed suit. Idealistic defenders of the Internet's purity believe they are waging a humanitarian or even a holy war that pits a democracy of ideas against the mass media's empty promises and indulgences. Television and its kin offer the false idols and communities of soaps, sitcoms and sports. The mass media tantalize with suggestions of healing, wealth, popularity and advertising's other blessings and temptations. Internet idealists even question the U.S. administration's unclear proposal of an "information superhighway," suspecting that the masses will be taxed only to further expand the Anti-net's stranglehold on information. The same kind of stage was set 500 years ago. The convergence of inexpensive printing and inexpensive paper began to loosen the Roman Catholic church's centuries-old stranglehold on cultural information. The church's rise to power centuries earlier had followed the arrival of the Dark Ages, caused in Marshall McLuhan's analysis by the loss of papyrus supplies. The church quickly became the best customer of many of the early printer-publishers, but not to disseminate information, only to make money. The earliest dated publication of Johann Gutenberg himself was a "papal indulgence" to raise money for the church's defense against the Turk invasions. Indulgences were papers sold to the common folk to pay for the Pope's remission of their sins, a sort of insurance against the wrath of God. Indulgences had been sold by the church since the 11th century, but shortly after the arrival of printing, the pope expanded the market considerably by extending indulgences to include souls in purgatory. Indulgence revenue was shared with government officials, becoming almost a form of state and holy taxation. The money financed the church's holy wars, as well as church officials' luxurious lifestyles. Jumping on the new technology for corrupt purposes, the church had sown the seeds of its own undoing. The church had the same sort of love-hate relationship with common people and government that the mass media have today. The spark for the 15th-century "flame war," in net-speak, was a monk, Martin Luther. Outraged by the depth of the church's corruption, Luther wrote a series of short theses in 1517, questioning indulgences, papal infallibility, Latin-only Bibles and services, and other authoritarian, self-serving church practices. Although Luther had previously written similar theses, something different happened to the 95 that he nailed to the church door in Wittenburg. Printers -- the "hackers" of their day, poking about the geographic network of church doors and libraries -- found Luther's theses. As an academic, Luther enjoyed a certain amount of freedom to raise potentially heretical arguments against church practice. Nailing his theses to the Wittenburg door was a standard way to distribute information to his academic community for discussion, much like putting a research paper on an Internet server today. In Luther's time, intellectual property laws hadn't even been contemplated, so his papers were fair game for publication (as today's Internet postings often seem to be, to the dismay of many). Luther's ideas quickly became the talk of Europe. Heresy sells, especially when the questioned authority is corrupt. But the speed of printing technology caught many by surprise. Even Luther, defending himself before the pope, was at a loss to explain how so many had been influenced so fast. Luther's initial goal was to reform the church. But his ideas were rejected and he was excommunicated by his order, the pope and the emperor, convincing Luther that the Antichrist was in charge in Rome. Abandoning attempts at reform, but accepting Biblical prophecy, Luther resisted the utopian goal of removing the Antichrist from the papacy. Instead, as a pacifist, he focused on teaching and preaching his views of true Christianity. Luther believed that he could make the world a better place by countering the angst and insecurity caused by the Antichrist, not that he could save it by his own powers. Luther's philosophy would serve the Internet's utopians well, especially those who believe that the Internet's economy of ideas untainted by advertising must "win" over the mass media's Anti-net ideas. The Internet's incredibly low cost of distribution almost assures that it will remain free of advertising-based commerce. Nonetheless, if lobbying by network idealists succeeds in derailing or co-opting efforts to build an advertising-based internetwork, then surely commercial interests will conspire with government officials to destroy or perhaps worse, to take over the Internet by political and economic means. Historians, instead of comparing the Internet to the U.S. Interstate highway system's success, may compare it with the near-destruction of the nation's railroad and trolley infrastructure by corrupt businesses with interests in automobiles and trucking. The printing press and cheap paper did not lead to widespread literacy in Europe; that event awaited the wealth created by the Industrial Revolution and the need for educated factory workers. Printing technology's immediate and profound effect was the destruction of the self-serving, homogenized point of view of a single institution. Although today's mass media don't claim divine inspiration, they are no less homogenized and at least as self-serving. The people drown in information overload, but one point of view is barely discernable from another, ironically encouraging polarization of issues. Richard Butler, Australia's ambassador to the United Nations, draws the most disturbing analogy of all. Butler, a leader in disarmament, compares the church's actions to the nuclear weapons industry's unwillingness to come under public scrutiny. Like the church and its Bible, physicists argued that their subject was too difficult for lay people. Medieval popes sold salvation; physicists sold destruction. Neither was questioned until information began to move more freely. The political power of nuclear weapons has begun to fall in part due to the role of the Internet and fax communications in the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The truly influential and successful early publishers, such as Aldus Manutius, were merchant technologists who formed collaborations with the scientific/academic community and even the church, especially those who dissented against Rome. Out of business needs for economies of scale, they brought together people with diverse points of view and created books that appealed to diverse communities. The Renaissance was propelled in part by books that allowed geniuses such as Copernicus to easily compare and contrast the many points of view of his predecessors, reaching world-changing conclusions. Today we are at a turning point. We are leaving behind a world dominated by easy, audiovisual, sensational, advertising-based media, beginning a future in which the mass media's power will be diluted by the low cost of distribution of many other points of view. Using the Internet is still something like trying to learn from the pre-Gutenberg libraries, in which manuscripts were chained to tables and there were no standards for organization and structure. But like the mendicant scholars of those days, today's "mendicant sysops," especially on the Internet, are doing much of the work of organization in exchange for free access to information. Today, the great opportunity is not to make copies of theses on the digital church doors. It is to build electronic magazines, newspapers, books, newsletters, libraries and other collections that organize and package the writings, photos, videos, sounds and other multimedia information from diverse points of view on the networks. The Internet, with one foot in technology and the other in science and academia, needs only a bit of help from the mass media in order to show the Anti-net how it's done. _________________________________________________________________ Nick Arnett [nicka@mccmedia.com] is president of Multimedia Computing Corporation, a strategic consulting and publishing company established in 1988. Comments about this article e-mailed to [antinet@mccmedia.com] will be linked to a copy of this essay on Multimedia Computing Corp.'s World-Wide Web server: Recommended reading: "The printing press as an agent of change: Communications and cultural transformation in early-modern Europe," Vols. I and II. Elizabeth Eisenstein. Cambridge University Press, 1979. 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