3: Digital Vertigo

Andrew Keen, unflatteringly relayed in Lawrence Lessig’s Remix as a “failed Internet entrepreneur” (Lessig 90) and author of Digital Vertigo, could be succinctly described as a “.com libertarian”; he and Lessig (arguably the “.com socialist”) fall on approximately opposite sides of the social creativity and transparency spectrum. Keen considers the problem of progress*, in the face of those who’d prefer not to be swept up by it, pondering the following binary opposition:

If, as the fictional Sean Parker argues in The Social Network, our future will be lived on the network, I thought to myself, what would be the fate of the dissenters, of those who don’t update? What, I wondered, in a world in which we all exist on the Internet, will become of those who want to protect our privacy, who pride themselves on their illegibility, who — in the timeless words of Brandeis and Warren — just want to be let alone?

Will they be alive, I wondered, or will they be dead? (Keen 12-13)

Although dramatic, Keen arrives at an important hanging question, and one that rarely garners careful consideration by our generation: how long before abstaining from the social network equates with virtual suicide? His refusal to participate in the social networking revolution, but apparent willingness to entertain a number of Internet business ventures does the credibility of his concern some damage; the price of sensationalism is an invitation to criticism, as in the case of Open Source activist Tim O’Reilly:

“I find, Andrew Keen’s, his whole pitch, I think he was just pure and simple looking for an angle, to create some controversy to sell a book, I don’t think there’s any substance whatever to his rants.” (The Truth According to Wikipedia)

Still, though, it’s not hard to imagine a future like The Matrix — something which will be a common reference for this particular reading, I’m sure. Disregard the whole machine war (mere subplot, I tell you!), and just imagine living life plugged in. It’s actually not hard to conceive of, especially when one considers just how many practices and institutions are moving online. For example, a recent trend — and one that I think much will come of in 5 years — is the movement of higher education to cyberspace. I suspect components of K-12 education will follow suit, in the face of expanded student populations and constant or reduced resource pools. The fact of the matter is that cyberspace is cheap real estate — no subsidized lunches, no air conditioning or plumbing, no property taxes, and one teacher (on one salary) might manage a class of hundreds or thousands easily. There might even be a part-time physical attendance requirement to make the transition more palatable, which would afford students the opportunity to physically interact. And that’s just one possible scenario; there are plenty of other possible outcomes. Keyword: possible.

The most important message Keen has to offer, in doomsayer fashion**, is one he does not (primarily because it doesn’t serve the purpose of making a point as well as obscuring emotional appeals or intimidating factoids, though to be fair, this is only his introduction, meant to draw a reader in). He writes as though massive wheels churn outside the fabric of human activity, deciding the fate of modern society indiscriminately and mercilessly. We are not bound to any fate. As a society of human beings, we are still in charge of our own destiny. It seems unlikely we might do anything to compromise that destiny, especially if it means shedding our humanity — five senses and physical presences — in order to do so.

Reverend Jim Jones, of the Jonestown Massacre. Image courtesy of http://jonestownapologistsalert.blogspot.com/

* excuse the positive connotation.

** also, excuse the dark reference.