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Searching for an Exit on the Information Superhighway
by Gregory Lauer
The Baby Boomers of today grew up in a world devoid of personal computers, fax machines, and pagers. To most of our parents, silicon was associated with sand on the beach, not the inner workings of a digital watch or an answering machine. The advent of electronics has fundamentally altered human interaction over the course of a generation. At the forefront of this revolution is the Internet, a free-wheeling, self-service convenience station distributing information and ideas to wayward electronic travelers.
An outgrowth of a defense project spawned in the early '70s, the Internet has evolved into a society of its own spanning all geographic, social, and economic constructs. It is a communication medium with no out-of-bounds, no guidelines and no rules. To shamelessly borrow from Emma Lazarus, it is a place for all those "yearning to breathe free." With thousands of news groups, numerous IRC channels, and a countless array of WorldWideWeb sites, the Internet offers something for everyone.
Amidst all of this hype and hyperbole, it's hard to avoid jumping onto the electronic bandwagon. Commercial network providers like CompuServe and America Online are experiencing phenomenal growth as millions rush to plug in. Newsweek recently went so far as to declare 1995 the "Year of the Internet." I can't help but question, however, this maddening stampede of digital cowboys as they race towards their keyboards and modems.
Most troubling, the Internet reduces human interaction to a mere string of ones and zeros. In cyberspace, smiles, winks, and nods are reduced to a cryptic series of emotions that trail sentences like an undigested Big Mac. In our technology-driven culture, the computer is becoming man's new and improved best friend.
Clifford Stoll argues along similar lines in Silicon Snake Oil: Second Thoughts on the Information Highway.
In the 1950s, urban planners, engineers, and politicians envisioned a national network of roads that would bring citizens closer together. Proponents hailed the transportation act authorizing the construction of America's freeways as a giant leap forward. Progress, however, introduced congestion and pollution, suburban sprawl, and the decay of America's inner cities. Most damaging, though, this transportation network pushed people farther apart. Today, freeways make it possible to drive across the country without seeing anything or anyone.
The Internet is just as dangerous. Travelling on the Infobahn, human interaction is translated into a few keystrokes or a click of the mouse. The computer is now a cocoon enabling Internet afficionados to withdraw from a world filled with real sights, real sounds, and most importantly, real people. The cyber communities of tomorrow can never replace a parade on the Fourth of July, a Little League baseball game, or a family feast on Thanksgiving Day.
In a recent wave of commercials, AT&T rhetorically asks if you can send a fax from the beach or water your lawn from the Grand Canyon. "You will," the smooth-talking spokesperson says assuringly. In The Road Ahead, Bill Gates writes even more fanciful prophecies. The Internet, he says, will offer everything from groceries to autos to consumers with electronic money. For the more cultured Net surfer, performances of Shakespeare's complete works may someday be available online. Forgive my nostalgia and backward thinking, but I'd rather spend my time at Rosedale and the Guthrie.
The Internet offers an undeniable array of benefits to society. Lost in the fanfare, unfortunately, are the associated costs of "going digital." In its present form, the Net is a technical innovation in desperate need of some social engineering.
As Bob Dylan wryly observed, "The times, they are a-changin'." As America plunges head first into an electronic ether world, however, I wonder if the times are changing for the better.
