[Draft: for comment. Copyright Langdon Winner 1997]
CYBERLIBERTARIAN MYTHS
AND THE PROSPECTS FOR COMMUNITY
By Langdon Winner
Department of Science and Technology Studies
Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute
Troy, NY 12180
winner@rpi.edu
One of the changes in our world that characterizes the late twentieth century is the digital transformation of an astonishingly wide range of material artifacts interwoven with social practices. In one location after another, people are saying in effect: Let us take what exists now and restructure or replace it in digital format. Let's take the bank teller, the person sitting behind the counter with little scraps of paper and an adding machine and replace it with an ATM accessible 24 hours a day. Let's take analog recording and the vinyl LP and replace it with the compact disc in which music is encoded as a stream of digital bits. Or let's take the classroom with the teacher, blackboard, books, and verbal interchange and replace it with materials presented in computer hardware and software and call it "interactive learning".
In case after case, the move to computerize and digitize means that many preexisting cultural forms have suddenly gone liquid, losing their former shape as they are retailored for computerized expression. As new patterns solidify, both useful artifacts and the texture of human relations that surrounds them are often much different from what existed previously. This process amounts to a vast, ongoing experiment whose long term ramifications no one fully comprehends.
As they ponder astonishing transformations associated with the new electronics, thoughtful people need to ask: What kinds of personal practices, social relations, legal and political norms, and lasting institutions will emerge from this upheaval? More importantly, what kinds of practices, relations, rules, and institutions do we want to emerge in these settings.
But before we forge ahead with our inquiries, it is worth noting that,
in fact, a philosophy of sorts has already taken shape in this domain,
a widely popular ideology that dominates much of today's discussion on
networked computing. A suitable name for this philosophy is cyberlibertarianism,
a collection of ideas that links ecstatic enthusiasm for electronically
mediated forms of living with radical, right wing libertarian ideas about
the proper definition of freedom, social life, economics, and politics
in the years to come. Any attempt to philosophize about computers and society
must somehow come to terms with the wide appeal of this widespread perspective,
its challenges and shortcomings.
The ideology is announced in a great many places these days. It is the
coin of the realm in a great many popular computer magazines, Wired
magazine most notably.
It can also be found in countless books on cyberspace, the Internet, and interactive media; Nicolas Negroponte's Being Digital and George Gilder's Microcosm are especially vivid examples. Writers in this strand include Alvin Toffler, Esther Dyson, Stewart Brand, John Perry Barlow, Kevin Kelly, and a host of others that some have called the digerati. As a political ideology, the cyberlibertarian vision is perhaps most clearly enunciated in a publication first released by the Progress and Freedom Foundation in the summer of 1994, a manifesto entitled "Cyberspace and the American Dream: A Magna Carta for the Knowledge Age" by Esther Dyson, George Gilder, George Keyworth, and Alvin Toffler. For my purposes here I will refer to this document as simply the "Magna Carta".
From such writings and the musings of countless on-line chat groups there
emerges a set of shared themes and a vision of what the world of networked
computing holds in store.
The first and most central characteristic of cyberlibertarian world
view is what amounts to a whole hearted embrace of technological determinism.
This is not the generalized determinism of earlier writings on technology
and culture, but one specifically tailored to the arrival of the electronic
technologies of the late twentieth century. In harmony with the earlier
determinist theories, however, the cyberlibertarians hold that we are driven
by necessities that emerge from the development of the new technology and
from nowhere else.
One familiar expression is Alvin Toffler's openly determinist wave theory
of history. Having traversed the first wave of the agricultural revolution
and a second wave of the industrial revolution, humankind is now in the
midst of third wave upheavals produced by advanced computing and telecommunications.
This is a period in human history in which information comes to dominate
earlier ways of living that were based upon land, physical resources and
heavy machinery.
To describe these changes, cyberlibertarians use familiar terms of inevitable,
irresistible, world-transforming change. Writing of the impact of the Third
Wave, the writers of the Magna Carta observe, "As it emerges, it shapes
new codes of behavior that move each organism and institution -- family,
neighborhood, church group, company and nation..." (Magna Carta) As
Stewart Brand explains to the readers of Wired, "Technology is rapidly
accelerating and you have to keep up." (Brand)
In this perspective, the dynamism of digital technology is our true destiny.
There is no time to pause, reflect or ask for more influence in shaping
these developments. Enormous feats of quick adaptation are required of
all of us just to respond to the requirements the new technology casts
upon us each day. In the writings of cyberlibertarians those able to rise
to the challenge are the champions of the coming millennium. The rest are
fated to languish in the dust.
From the standpoint of contemporary social theory, there is a wonderful
irony here. For the past twenty years sociologists and historians have
been busily at work trying to defeat what they saw as an unwarranted determinism
in earlier interpretations of the interactions between culture and technology.
In one way or another most scholars believe in the social construction
or social shaping of technology in which outcomes are negotiated among
a variety of actors with complex motives. It is interesting to note how
little such understanding enters libertarian writings on cyberspace. A
similar raw boned determinism is prominent in today's literature on global
communication and global business where the eager pursuit of technotrends
is the order of the day.
In fact, increasingly popular among cyberlibertarians is the conclusion
that rapid development of artificial things amounts to a kind of evolution
that can be explained in quasi-biological terms. As Kevin Kelly explains
in his book Out of Control "We should not be surprised that
life, having subjugated the bulk of inert matter on Earth, would go on
to subjugate technology, and bring it also under its reign of constant
evolution, perpetual novelty, and an agenda out of our control. Even without
the control we must surrender, a neo-biological technology is far more
rewarding than a world of clocks, gears, and predictable simplicity."
(Kelly, 472) In Kelly's view, the effort to engage in deliberative social
choice about technology can only be a destructive practice.
Another key theme in this emerging ideology is that of radical individualism.
Writings of cyberlibertarians revel in prospects for ecstatic self-fulfillment
in cyberspace and emphasize the need for individuals to disburden themselves
of encumbrances that might hinder the pursuit of rational self-interest.
The experiential realm of digital devices and networked computing offers
endless opportunities for achieving wealth, power and sensual pleasure.
Because inherited structures of social, political, and economic organization
pose barriers to the exercise of personal power and self-realization, they
simply must be removed.
Seeking intellectual grounding for this position, writers of the Magna
Carta turn to prophetess of unblushing egoism, Ayn Rand. Rand's defense
of individual rights without responsibilities and her attack upon altruism,
social welfare and government intervention are upheld as dazzling insights
by the team from the Progress and Freedom Foundation. Indeed, her portraits
of heroic individuals struggling to realize their vision and creativity
against the opposition of small minded bureaucrats and ignorant masses
both foreshadow and inform the cyberlibertarian vision. Less apparent to
Rand's new followers is the bleak misanthropy her writings express.
Yet another element in this vision of the world perhaps could well have
been placed at the top of the list. Crucial to cyberlibertarian ideology
are concepts of supply-side, free market capitalism, the school of thought
reformulated by Milton Friedman and the Chicago school of economics. I
will not summarize the features of this well-known persuasion here, only
to notice that it is now fully incorporated within much of the thinking
that focuses upon cyberspace as an interesting topic. George Gilder, one
of the writers of the Magna Carta, provides a crucial bridge. His best
seller Wealth and Poverty helped popularize and politicize the ideas
of the Chicago school during the early days of the Reagan administration.
His later book, Microcosm, develops the social gospel of electronics,
focusing upon Moore's law, the law that says that computing power available
on the most advanced microprocessors doubles every eighteen months. In
Gilder's view, the wedding of free market economics with the overthrow
of matter by digital technology is a development that will liberate humankind
by generating unprecedented levels of wealth.
But cyberlibertarians do not argue that the wedding of digital technology
and the free market will produce nothing more than a world of brass knuckled,
and winner take all competition. Instead they anticipate the rise of social
and political conditions that would realize the most extravagant ideals
of classical communitarian anarchism. As Nicolas Negroponte writes in Wired,
, "I do believe that being digital is positive. It can flatten organizations,
globalize society, decentralize control, and help harmonize people..."
(Negroponte, 182) Just ahead is a time in which the new technology fosters
sweeping structural change in which decentralization, diversity and harmony.
"It is clear," the Magna Carta exclaims, "that cyberspace
will play an important role knitting together the diverse communities of
tomorrow, facilitating the creation of 'electronic neighborhoods' bound
together not by geography but by shared interests." (Magna Carta)
By the same token, democracy will flourish as people use computer communication
to debate issues, publicize positions, organize movements, participate
in elections and perhaps eventually vote on line. In cyberlibertarian writings
the prospect of many-to-many, interactive communication via computer networks
are upheld as the source of a renewed "Jeffersonian Vision" of
citizen and political society. When television is thoroughly linked to
computing power, the universal access to cable television will finally
eliminate "the gap between the knowledge rich and knowledge-poor."
In this new sociotechnical setting, the authority of centralized government
and entrenched bureaucracies will simply melt away. Cyberspace democracy
will "empower those closest to the decision." (Magna Carta)
Although my sketch of the cyberlibertarian position has been an abbreviated
one, the basic outlines should be clear. We see here the coalescence of
an ideology that is already extremely influential, one likely to have substantial
influence in years to come. Indeed, there seems to be no coherent, widely
shared philosophy of cyberspace that offers much of an alternative. Woven
together from available themes and arguments from earlier varieties of
social thought, the cyberlibertarian position offers a vision that many
middle and upper class professionals find coherent and appealing.
As is generally true of ideologies, this framework of thought serves to
both illuminate and obscure. It certainly illuminates the desires and intentions
of those who see themselves on the cutting edge of world-historical change
in Silicon Valley, Seattle and other high tech centers. More specifically,
it illuminates what are ultimately power fantasies that involve
radical self-tranformation and the reinvention of society in directions
assumed to be entirely favorable. But this ideology obfuscates a
great many basic changes that underlie the creation of new practices, relations
and institutions as digital technology and social life are increasingly
woven together.
One especially foggy area in cyberlibertarian rhetoric is its depiction
of matters of power and distribution. Who stands to gain and who will
lose in the transformations now underway? Will existing sources of
injustice be reduced or amplified? Will the promised democratization benefit
the populace as a whole or just those who own the latest equipment? And
who gets to decide? About these questions, the cyberlibertarians show little
concern.
Characteristic of this way of thinking is a tendency to conflate the activities
of freedom seeking individuals with the operations of enormous, profit
seeking business firms. In the Magna Carta for the Knowledge Age, concepts
of rights, freedoms, access, and ownership justified as appropriate to
individuals are marshaled to support the machinations of enormous transnational
firms. We must recognize, the manifesto argues, that "Government does
not own cyberspace, the people do." One might read this as a suggestion
that cyberspace is a commons in which people have shared rights
and responsibilities. But that is definitely not where the writers carry
their reasoning.
What "ownership by the people" means, the Magna Carta insists,
is simply "private ownership." And it eventually becomes clear
that the private entities they have in mind are actually large, transnational
business firms, especially those in communications. Thus, after praising
the market competition as the pathway to a better society, the authors
announce that some forms of competition are distinctly unwelcome. In fact,
the writers fear that the government will regulate in a way that requires
cable companies and phone companies to compete. Needed instead, they argue,
is the reduction of barriers to collaboration of already large firms, a
step that will encourage the creation of a huge, commercial, interactive
multimedia network as the formerly separate kinds of communication merge.
They argue that "obstructing such collaboration -- in the cause of
forcing a competition between the cable and phone industries -- is socially
elitist."
From that standpoint, The Magna Carta moves on to advocate greater concentrations
of power over the conduits of information which they are confident will
create an abundance of cheap, socially available bandwidth. Today developments
of this kind are visible in the corporate mergers that have produced a
tremendous concentration of control over not only the conduits of cyberspace
but the content it carries. We see elaborate weddings between Turner Broadcasting
and Time Warner, ABC and Disney, and other media giants. What, one wonders,
ever happened to the predicted collapse of large, centralized structures
in the age electronic media? And what happened to the movement of power
closer to the realm of everyday actors and decisions?
Why this is problematic is suggested by the fact that during deliberations
over telecommunications reform legislation in 1995, CNN refused to carry
ads critical of legislation that would allow concentration of ownership
and control. In a similar vein, The New York Times reported recently that
Ted Turner's TNT "quietly delayed production of "Strange Justice,"
a TV movie adaptation of the best selling book about the Clarence Thomas
hearings. "The reason?" asks the Times editorialist. "Fear
of offending Justice Thomas during the Supreme Court's ongoing deliberations
over a cable-regulation case whose outcome could enrich Time Warner by
zillions."
The larger issue concerns the problems for a democratic society created
when a handful of organizations control all the major channels for news,
entertainment, opinion, artistic expression, and the shaping of public
taste. In the dewy-eyed vision cyberlibertarian thought, such issues are
bracketed and placed out of sight. As long as we are getting rapid economic
growth and increased access to broad bandwidth, all is well. To
raise questions about emerging concentrations of wealth and power around
the new technologies would only detract from the mood of celebration.
The combined emphasis upon radical individualism, enthusiasm for free market
economy, disdain for the role of government, and enthusiasm for the power
of business firms places the cyberlibertarian perspective strongly within
the context of right wing political thought. Indeed, The Progress and Freedom
Foundation that sponsored the Magna Carta for the Knowledge Age, is the
creation of Newt Gingrich and his associates. It is no coincidence that
a radical cyberlibertarian vision is to an increasing extent the position
of persons who call themselves "conservatives." In Gingrich's
view, the celebration of cyberspace is directly linked to the attempts
repeal the New Deal and major social reforms enacted this century. Following
the logic of cyberlibertarianism one affirms a range of anti-government,
anti-welfare, anti-labor, anti-environment, and anti-public education policies.
One aspect of this thrust is the rejection of any and all attempts to guide
technological development in ways shaped by publicly debated, democratically
determined social choice, a commitment made more than clear by the abolition
of the Office of Technology Assessment of the U.S. Congress. In his most
enthusiastic moments, Gingrich describes the computer as a powerful social
solvent that can help dissolve existing institutions in education, medicine,
law and the like, institutions that he associates with an outmoded welfare
state As he asked a gathering at the Heritage Foundation in late 1996,
"Why can't se have expert systems and advanced computers replace 80
percent of the legal system?" (Koprowski, 12)
It is interesting to speculate about how it happened that prominent views
about computing and society have become associated with a political agenda
of the far right. There are a number of explanations one might give, explanations
about the rise of the electronics industry in the of the Cold War, or about
the role of former hippies in Norther California's high tech industries
who now affirm libertarianism as the spirit of Haight/Ashbury finally realized.
But such speculation is a project for another occasion. The pressing challenge
now is, in my view, something entirely different: Offering a vision of
an electronic future that specifies humane, democratic alternatives to
the peculiar obsessions of the cyberlibertarian position.
An important first step, in my view, is to relocate the starting point
for the whole discussion about society and networked computing. In one
of his memorable epigrams, the American humorist Ashleigh Brilliant recommended
the following procedure: "To be sure of hitting the target, shoot
first, and call whatever you hit the target." Among cyberlibertarians
and other enthusiasts of cyberspace, that procedure seem the touchstone
of argument. First one observes what is presently happening in the realm
of networked computing and in the development of a rapidly evolving global
technosphere. Then one chooses an impressive term: community or democracy,
or citizenship or equality or some other lovely concept to describe aspects
of what one observes. Other contexts in which those terms have meaning,
contexts in history, philosophy and contemporary experience, need not enter
the picture. No, they are not the target.
Let us take the topic of community, for example. Here one finds a tradition
of social, religious and political speculation of more than two thousand
years, a tradition that includes writings from Old and New Testaments,
Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Locke, Montesquieu, Rousseau,
Proudhon, Kropotkin, and a many other sources. For more recent points of
reference, one can turn to a wealth of scholarly studies of historical
and contemporary communities in Weber, Durkheim, Tonnies, and countless
other modern sociologists about how living communities actually work. For
the cyberlibertarians, of course, none of this matters. Visions of community
found in the literature of philosophy, history and social science are not
significant points of reference. If they were, the notions of "community"
often used to discuss what is happening on the Net would likely have a
much different complexion.
Among libertarian cyberspace enthusiasts what is important about human
relations on the Internet are warm and fuzzy experiences of connection
that arise in computer mediated forums. Along with feeling free and empowered
by the new media, we can also be closely in touch with other people. Indeed,
this is a crucial aspect of previous renderings of ideas about community,
part of the story that always bears watching. It is, however, only one
dimension of the experience of community and of theoretical concepts employed
to focus inquiries into the matter. But along with a sense of belonging,
historical communities have carried a strong sense of obligation, imposing
demands, sometimes highly stringent ones, upon their members. You know
you are in a community when the phone rings and someone informs you that
it is your turn to assume the burden, devoting months of your time to a
chore the group deems necessary, organizing this year's fund raiser, for
example. Unfortunately, most writings about on-line relationships blithely
ignore the obligations, responsibilities, constraints, and mounds of sheer
work that real communities involve. Are there any Usenet Newsgroups with
names like alt.politics.duty? Don't hold your breath.
The hollowness and banality of cyberlibertarian conceptions of community
are also reflected in their frequent assertions that the goal is finding
people in the world who are very much like you, enjoying them for their
similarity. In the context of actual communities, of course, that is a
highly problematic assumption. Even intentional communities that begin
with fairly homogeneous populations and commitment to a core of shared
ideals must eventually confront serious differences and conflicts among
their members. Among political theorists who have written about the matter,
the troubling question of how to balance the desires of the individual
with the needs of the group is usually understood to be the key to any
useful grasp of community life. In contrast, here is a description from
a recent best seller about the promise of networked computing.
"For a typical electronic community, the greater the number of people
who join the more valuable it becomes to everybody. Eventually most of
the world's skiing enthusiasts will participate in one electronic community
or another....If you want to get yourself in better physical condition
before you try a difficult slope, you might find training more fun if you're
in close electronic touch with a dozen other people your size, weight,
and age who share your specific goals for exercise and losing weight. Members
of this community could get together to encourage each other and even work
out at the same time. You'd have less to be self-conscious about in an
exercise program in which everybody is like you." (Gates, p. 242)
The quest, therefore, is to be connected to those who are like you and
to void situations in which you would feel awkward. Some communities these
will be! Although the above description makes this tendency seem innocent
enough, within in the larger picture of social development there is a disturbing
trend at work. The "Magna Carta," for example, looks forward
to "the creation of 'electronic neighborhoods' bound together not
by geography but by shared interests." Its authors believe that this
holds out the promise of a rich diversity in social life. But what will
be the exact content of this diversity? An important feature of life in
cyberspace is that it will "allow people to live further away from
crowded or dangerous urban areas, and expand family time." Exploring
this idea, the Magna Carta quotes cyberspace guru Phil Salin who argues
that "Contrary to naive views, ... cyberspaces [of the coming century]
will not all be the same, and they will not all be open to the general
public...Just as access to homes, offices, churches and department stores
is controlled by their owners or managers, most virtual locations will
exist as distinct places of private property." (Magna Carta) A wonderful
aspect of this arrangement, in Salin's account, is that inexpensive innovations
in software can create barriers so that "what happens in one cyberspace
can be kept from affecting other cyberspaces."
As the picture clarifies, what appears is diversity achieved through segregation.
Away from the racial and class conflicts that afflict the cities, sheltered
in a comfortable cyberniche of one's social peers, the Third Wave society
offers electronic equivalents of the gated communities and architectural
barriers that offer the well-to-do freedom from troubles associated with
urban underclass. Indeed, many proponents of the on-line world, openly
celebrate the abandonment of older cities in favor of the "wired"
exurban enclaves. For George Gilder the new promised land is to be found
in such homogeneous and untroubled locations as Provo, Utah.
By comparison, the urban communities of the industrial past were laboratories
of social diversity, seeking ways for people of vocations, ethnic backgrounds,
income levels, and social interests to mediate their differences and to
stake out some areas of shared commitment. There were successes and failures
in these attempts. But the geographical confines of urban space and the
needs of social organization required that an effort be made to find constructive
ways of living together. Is the promise of networked computing that people
(or at least the wealthy) will now be released from this task?
The shallowness evident in cyberlibertarian conceptions of community are
echoed in their views of other key themes in social and political thought.
Their imaginings of on-line democracy, for example, seldom taken note of
even the most elementary findings of political scientists from Aristotle
to Hannah Arendt. Were they to do so, they might acknowledge that only
a mere sliver of a minority is likely to be involved in politics on the
Internet for the foreseeable future, a fact that calls into question the
supposedly "democratic" character of the new media. But again,
the focus of these writings is never community, democracy, equality, or
citizenship in the world at large sense, only faint echoes of these matters
in the on-line realm.
My suggestion is, therefore, that in addressing the possibilities and propects
of networked computing, we return to well known historical and theoretical
contexts for discussing social and political life in a world that will
now add networking to a vast complex of other significant features. In
that light, many of the most interesting questions for speculation and
research have to do with the boundaries between conventional practices
and institutions and those being created on the Net. Rather than proclaim
community, democracy, citizenship it would be better to study these boundaries,
to think about how communities are likely to be affected by the arrival
of networked computing and what a reasonable response would be.
Let us explore an example that concerns the prospects for community in
years to come. At present there is great enthusiasm about the rise of a
new sphere of economic transactions, the sphere of Internet commerce. In
effect, a vast cyber-mall has recently moved into the neighborhood of every
village, town and city on the planet, selling clothing, CDs, computers,
automobiles, and other products to millions of potential customers. Digital
entrepreneurs predict that people will relish the "convenience"
of buying things on the Net and that they will flock to the digital stores
(where parking is never a problem). Of course, to this point the hoped
for bonanza of Internet commerce has not materialized, frustrated by sluggish
sales and profits. But a few retailers have begun making strong inroads
into domains of traditional business especially in the realm of book selling.
At first glance the electronic book vendors Amazon.com, Book Stacks Unlimited,
and others have much to recommend them: enormous catalogs searchable by
home computer, twenty-four-hour a day service, literary reviews on the
Web, and other nifty services. Amazon.com, for example, carries 1.5 million
or more English-language books, roughly ten times the number available
in the largest conventional stores. Adding to their appeal, Internet sellers
typically give impressive discounts of 10 to 40 percent on many titles.
Many people look at this development and find it cause for celebration.
The low prices, wide selection and speedy service seem to make this new
market the wave of the future. Thus I find my colleagues recommending the
Internet bookstores as the greatest technology since Pachelbel's canon.
But before we seize the advantage, shifting our purchases to Internet vendors,
we need to recognize a hidden price we may end up paying: the demise of
traditional shops. A bookstore, after all, is first and foremost a gathering
spot for those who care about books and reading. In these places the purchase
of a product is only part of the experience. As we enter the stacks, we
often expect to talk with store clerks or other patrons about what's new
or interesting in a particular genre. This aspect of browsing is especially
important for children to learn as they approach a life with books. "I'm
finished with all the Brian Jacques stories," my son recently announced
to Muriel, proprietor of a bookshop in my town. The old woman raised her
impressive eyebrows, smiled and led him up the stairs to a shelf of children's
novels, enthusiastically describing each volume. The $9 we paid for the
book cannot approach the real value of Muriel's gift, a child's heightened
sense of the horizons between two covers.
Some will argue that fast search engines supplemented by and on-line help
desk can replace the human depth that traditional stores have to offer.
But this reflects an impoverished understanding of what the social life
of books involves. Even if a Web site learns our names and buying habits,
even if it automatically notifies us when "books you want to know
about are published," can it connect us to the world living readers,
the place where the pages come alive? Probably not.
The benefit bookstores and other local shops offer individuals is matched
by the way the serve as anchors for the civic culture of our towns and
cities. One sign that a community is flourishing is the presence of well-maintained,
well-stocked shops in downtown and neighborhood centers. These are not
only places where commodities are bought and sold, but also social gathering
places. Writers like Jane Jacobs and Kevin Lynch among others have articulated
the relationship of the form of towns and cities to the social practices
that sustain community life. In that context it is possible to offer moral
arguments about the relationship of design to the good life. As Lynch summarizes
his lengthy argument, "That settlement is good which enhances the
continuity of a culture and the survival of its people, increases a sense
of connection in time and space, and permits or spurs individual growth:
development, within continuity, via openness and connection." (Lynch,116-117)
Similar kinds of reflection, I believe, are crucial to our understanding
of choices about relationships between the interweaving of technological
patterns and civic culture as well.
In that light, there is now widespread awareness in the United States that
the arrival of huge, corporate superstores tends to kill small businesses,
leaving main street with boarded up buildings, prey to all the social ills
that crop up when the economic core of a community expires. But I wonder
if those newly vigilant about mega-mall sprawl are aware that potentially
greater destruction will occur as people abandon local concerns to start
buying on-line? Many shops survive on a precarious margin. If, for example,
10-15 percent of the sales of the neighborhood bookstore quietly migrate
to the Internet, there's good likelihood likely that shop will eventually
fold.
In this regard, the threat to local concerns posed by Net vendors is far
more insidious than presented by the large chains. Communities may summon
their powers to unite against a Borders or Wal-Mart. But electronic vendors
can creep in under their radar screens.
This suggests that in the age of global communications we will have to
become more judicious about where and how we make purchases. In the interest
of sustaining living communities, it makes sense to avoid Internet net
commerce altogether when there are reasonable, local sources of supply.
This is not only a question of altruism, but of self-interest broadly informed.
The short term advantage of sending to a computer data bank in Seattle
for a bargain priced book to be read thousands of miles away makes no sense
if the action contributes to a depleted economy down the street, undermining
the integrity of community life. Yes, we should use every Internet resource
to explore the market and make intelligent comparisons. But when it comes
to casting "dollar votes," the money is often better spent closer
to home, in a neighborhood where people actually live rather than the neverhood
of digital bits.
In sum, my suggestion is not that we need a cyber-communitarian philosophy
to counter the excesses of today's cyberlibertarian obsessions. Instead
is a recommendation to take complex communitarian concerns into account
when faced with personal choices and social policies about technological
innovation. Superficially appealing uses of new technology become much
more problematic when regarded as seeds of evolving, long term practices.
Such practices, we know, eventually become parts of consequential social
relationships. Those relationships eventually solidify as lasting institutions.
And, of course, such institutions are what provide much of the actual framework
for how we live together. That suggests that even the most seemingly inconsequential
applications and uses of innovations in networked computing be scrutinized
and judged in the light of what could be important moral and political
consequences. In the broadest spectrum of awareness about these matters
we need to ask: Are the practices, relationships and institutions affected
by people's involvement with networked computing ones we wish foster? Or
are they ones we must try to modify or even oppose?
**********************************************************************************
References
Stewart Brand, "Two Questions," in "Scenarios: The Future
of the Future," Wired, December 1995.
Esther Dyson, George Gilder, George Keyworth, Alvin Toffler, "Cyberspace
and the American Dream: A Magna Carta for the Knowledge Age," Release
1.2, Progress and Freedom Foundation, Washington, D.C., August 22, 1994,at
http://www.townhall.com/pff/position.html. This document was published
to the World Wide Web where there is no standard style for pagination.
Bill Gates, The Road Ahead, revised edition (New York: Penguin Books,
1996).
Kevin Kelly, Out of Control: The New Biology of Machines, Social Systems
and the Economic World (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1994).
Gene Koprowski, "Gingrich Proposal: Let's Delete All Lawyers...",
New Technology Week, December 9, 1996, p. 12.
Kevin Lynch, Good City Form (Cambridge, Massachusetts: M.I.T. Press,
1984)
Nicholas Negroponte, "Being Digital -- A book (p)review," Wired,
February 1995, p. 182