From Gutenberg to Google Read online

  From Gutenberg to Google

  The History of Our Future

  TOM WHEELER

  BROOKINGS INSTITUTION PRESS

  Washington, D.C.

  Copyright © 2019

  THE BROOKINGS INSTITUTION

  1775 Massachusetts Avenue, N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036

  www.brookings.edu

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the Brookings Institution Press.

  The Brookings Institution is a private nonprofit organization devoted to research, education, and publication on important issues of domestic and foreign policy. Its principal purpose is to bring the highest quality independent research and analysis to bear on current and emerging policy problems. Interpretations or conclusions in Brookings publications should be understood to be solely those of the authors.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data are available.

  ISBN 978-0-8157-3532-8 (cloth : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978-0-8157-3533-5 (ebook)

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Typeset in Bulmer MT

  Composition by Elliott Beard

  For Melvin, Hunter, and Skyler—it is you who will decide the future

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Preface

  Prologue

  Part I

  Perspective

  One

  Connections Have Consequences

  Part II

  Predicates

  Two

  The Original Information Revolution

  Three

  The First High-Speed Network and the Death of Distance

  Four

  The First Electronic Network and the End of Time

  Part III

  The Road to Revolution

  Five

  Computing Engines

  Six

  Connected Computing

  Seven

  The Planet’s Most Powerful and Pervasive Platform

  Part IV

  Our Turn

  Eight

  The History We Are Making

  Nine

  Connecting Forward

  Epilogue

  Notes

  Index

  Acknowledgments

  Typically, after thanking those who helped in the creation of a book, the author adds a final note of thanks to his wife. For me, it is the place to start. Absent the love and support of Carol Wheeler, my life would be resoundingly less rich, and I most certainly would be a different person. Her wisdom is a North Star. Her love has shaped my existence. Within that broad scope, this book is a trifle, yet producing it required a shared commitment. Patience, understanding, and good humor are required as your husband retreats into research or pecks away at his computer, tasks go undone, and you are ignored. Tolerance is tested when an obscure discovery captures his imagination and dinner table conversations continually revert to that fascination. But beyond all that, Carol is the editor in chief: it doesn’t get in the book until it makes sense to her. Thank you to a great lady who plays so many roles so well!

  While I was at the Federal Communications Commission, dealing with changes imposed by technology, the echoes of history were everywhere. The last sections of the book were stimulated and influenced by that experience. It was an experience I was fortunate to share with an amazing team who together wrestled with our role in building the future. Every morning I would gather with Ruth Milkman, Phil Verveer, Jon Sallet, and Louisa Terrell to tackle the challenges. We were fortunate to be able to call on Gigi Sohn, Diane Cornell, and Howard Symons and to be able to turn to bureau and office chiefs Dave Simpson, Roger Sherman, Jon Wilkins, Julie Veach, Matt DelNero, Travis LeBlanc, Alison Kutler, Shannon Gilson, Julius Knapp, Bill Lake, and Mindel De La Torre, along with Gary Epstein, Kim Hart, Sagar Doshi, and Emmaka Porchea-Veneszee. Probably the toughest job in the chairman’s office is the legal adviser’s; Maria Kirby, Daniel Alvarez, Renee Gregory, Jessica Almond, Stephanie Weiner, “Smitty” Smith, and Holly Sauer all filled that role with distinction. It was a privilege to work with and learn from these talented individuals, all of whom helped shape this book by shaping how we dealt with the challenges the new network technologies were imposing on consumers and the market.

  A writer is very fortunate when he has a substantive sounding board. Jon Sallet, legal intellect and eloquent writer, was that gift for me. As general counsel of the FCC, Jon was intimately involved in how we applied the lessons of history to shaping the future. After leaving the FCC, Jon was the sounding board for just how these experiences could be reflected in the book.

  Blair Levin is a font of stimulating insights and the one from whom I lifted the wonderful alliteration that the internet is the “most powerful and pervasive platform in the history of the planet.” Bob Barnett has been indefatigable in his support of this and other undertakings. Marion Maneker, editor of an earlier book of mine, helped me sharpen the original idea. Tom Standage, whose wonderful books link history and current events, was an inspiration. Scott Jordan, former CTO of the FCC, kept me on the straight and narrow technically (any errors are mine, not his). Dipayan Ghosh provided great counsel and review. Tom Schwartz, Joel Swerdlow, Robert Roche, Rajeev Chand, Rick Stamberger, Kathy Brown, Susan Crawford, Kevin Werbach, and Lawrence Yanovitch contributed insights, facts, and counsel. Matthew Spector came into the process late as research assistant and, among other contributions, broke me of the habit of capitalizing the word “internet.” Marjorie Pannell’s eagle eye caught several infelicities in my prose. Heidi Fritschel’s performed the same service during proofreading.

  In my post-FCC life, I have been fortunate to be able to turn to Darrell West of the Brookings Institution and Nicco Mele of the Shorenstein Center at the Harvard Kennedy School. I am grateful to them for providing me the opportunity to work on this and other projects.

  And to Bill Finan of Brookings Institution Press, thank you for your faith in this book.

  Preface

  When President Obama asked me to be chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, I was in the midst of research on a book tracking the creation and impact of new technology-driven networks. Taking over the federal agency responsible for the nation’s networks (approximately one-sixth of the national economy), I moved from a career in new technology and an observer of technology-driven change to suddenly becoming a participant in shaping society’s response to such change. As the economy evolved from old analog practices to a new digital reality, I found myself dealing with twenty-first-century iterations of the same kinds of issues I had been studying.

  The opportunity to put into practice the lessons of historical precedent led to a series of decisions that themselves were historic. The Open Internet Rule (sometimes called net neutrality) dealt with the well-documented incentive of networks to discriminate against users for commercial gain. The kinds of privacy responsibilities that applied to traditional telephone networks were extended to internet access networks. Because networks have always been routes of attack, a new regulatory process was developed to coordinate and oversee the cybersecurity hygiene practices of digital networks, and cyber expectations were established for the next-generation wireless network.

  Unfortunately, these and other initiatives have been repealed by the Trump FCC or the Republican Congress. While such a result is woeful, it fits with the narrative of this book that network-driven change is a bumpy road. What makes a nation great is not a retreat into hazy recollections of the “good old days” but rather how it responds to the challenges of changed circumstances, including the impact of new technology. Historically, such responses have occurred in fits and starts. Ultim
ately, new rules and practices embrace the reality of the future over the practices of the past—but getting there isn’t easy.

  The networks that connect us are a force that defines us. The telephone, internet, and broadcasting, satellite, and cable networks regulated by the FCC may constitute one-sixth of the American economy, but they are relied on by the other five-sixths to do business and by every individual in his or her daily life.

  This book looks at the pattern of such network-driven outcomes over time. The first sections tell the stories of how the great network technologies came to be. They also recount society’s response to the changes—those who rose in opposition and those who saw opportunity. Finally, each of these chapters draws a Darwinian connection between the earlier technology and today’s technology.

  While new networks may be the primary enabling force, history shows it is the secondary effects of such networks that are transformational. The last section of the book, therefore, looks at what is happening today and what is developing for tomorrow. The penultimate chapter reports on a select group of ongoing effects of today’s technology. While it is a subjective selection of topics based on personal experiences, it is nonetheless representative of our ongoing challenges.

  The final chapter looks at four network-driven forces that will transform tomorrow. The combination of low-cost computing and ubiquitous networks has changed the primary activity of networks from transporting information to orchestrating information to creating something new. Combining ubiquitous computing and Big Data has created artificial intelligence. The distributed network has replaced the traditional paradigm of centralized trust with the distributed trust of blockchain. And hanging over everything is the challenge of cybersecurity.

  The privilege of being FCC chairman gave me the opportunity to try to relate the lessons of the past to some of the most high-profile and important network-related disputes of today. The book you hold reflects that experience. I hope to show you the power of network revolutions, the fears they foster, and the opportunities they create. I want to illustrate how some of my own decisions in office were affected by the lessons of the past. Most of all, I want to convince you that the most important impact of network revolutions is not the network technology but how society reacts to that technology—and how that is something we control.

  Tom Wheeler

  June 2018

  Prologue

  “Move Fast and Break Things.” The message was ubiquitous as I walked through Facebook’s offices. Neatly printed signs proclaimed the admonition, as did freehand felt-pen scrawlings or cut-out letters. The gospel was everywhere: in hallways, stairwells, break areas, and workspaces.1

  Indeed, Facebook and its internet cohorts have broken things at an amazing pace. Fifty-two percent of companies in the Fortune 500 at the turn of the twenty-first century don’t exist anymore.2

  The largest taxi company owns no vehicles.

  The largest accommodations firm owns no hotels.

  Associated Press stories on baseball games and corporate earnings are composed without human involvement as computer programs turn statistics into words to create journalism.3

  Teenagers’ applications for driver’s licenses are down. Why bother? Online constant connectivity and on-demand transportation provide independence without the parallel parking test.4

  Google is better informed about health outbreaks than the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). As the infected go online to check their symptoms, Google’s algorithms identify and track health trends long before doctors report to the CDC.

  Inanimate objects are talking to us. An umbrella sends a text message you are about to leave it behind. A dog bowl signals it is time for Fido’s walk by reporting his water consumption. A tampon signals it needs to be changed.5

  And autonomous cars driving down the highway symbolize the heretofore unimaginable new realities that result when tens of billions of microchips embedded into everything flood the world with never-before-seen amounts of data, to be orchestrated by computer intelligence into completely new products and services.

  Yes, we are moving fast and breaking things. We sit astride the most powerful and pervasive platform in the history of the planet6: the combination of low-cost, ever more powerful computing power and ubiquitous digital connectivity.

  How did we get here? What does it mean?

  We Have Been Here Before

  Our new network technology may be the most powerful and pervasive in history, but it is not the first time new networks have confronted individuals and institutions with massive change. We should not delude ourselves into believing that somehow we are experiencing the greatest technology-driven changes in history—at least not yet.

  We have been here before. What we are presently experiencing is history’s third great network revolution.

  The original information network was Johannes Gutenberg’s fifteenth-century discovery of movable-type printing. The network of printers that sprang up across Europe ended the monopoly of information that priests and princes had exploited in pursuit of power. The free movement of ideas fired the Reformation, spread the Renaissance, and became the basis of all that followed.

  Four centuries passed before the next great network-driven transformation appeared. This time it was a pair of symbiotic networks: the railroad and the telegraph. Steam locomotives vanquished the geographic distances that had always defined the human experience. As if that weren’t revolution enough, the telegraph simultaneously eliminated time as a factor in the delivery of information. As one historian graphically described it, the resulting upheaval imposed the paradox of people living their lives “with one foot in manure and the other in the telegraph office.”7

  Viewed in context, the changes of the twenty-first century do not yet measure up to the effects of printing, steam power, and messages by sparks. Today’s “revolutionary” technologies are a continuation of those earlier discoveries. While the new technologies have shown hints of transformative powers, we can only forecast an expectation of the true transformation that is coming.

  The network technologies that are changing our today and defining our tomorrow are part of a Darwinian evolution. Technologically, each of the earlier network revolutions was a building block to the networked technologies of today. Sociologically, the angst and anger occasioned by today’s upheavals track with the sentiments of earlier eras.

  Reverse-engineer the TCP/IP language of the internet and you’ll find Gutenberg’s intellectual breakthrough for expressing information.

  Track the history of the computer microchip and you’ll end up in the era of steam and the world’s first commercial railway. At a time when replacing muscle power with steam power was creating the Industrial Revolution, the idea of replacing brain power with machinery presaged the computer revolution.

  Consider the off-on signals of the binary digital network and discover the dot-dash of the telegraph.

  Amid these earlier technological changes, fear, resistance, and pushback were ever present. The railroad, for instance, was “an unnatural impetus to society,” one journalist concluded, that would “destroy all the relations that exist between man and man, overthrow all mercantile regulation, and create, at the peril of life, all sorts of confusion and distress.”8

  These are the stories this book explores. We didn’t reach today by accident, and that journey is important to appreciating what we’re doing and where we’re going.

  The “Good Old Days” Weren’t

  The involuntary imposition of technology-driven change severs today from many of the anchors that previously provided stability and security. In reaction, a desire for the “good old days” manifests itself in everything from the ballot box to the nostalgic marketing of products.

  The good old days, however, were far from idyllic—yet they produced greatness.

  Throughout the stories of the earlier network revolutions, opposition was rampant as tradition was upset by economic insurgency and social insecuri
ty. While attention tends to focus on the new technology itself, history makes it clear that it is the secondary effects of the primary technology that are transformative. And the transformation is inherently difficult because, by definition, neither the technology nor its effects are sufficiently mature to effectively substitute for the institutions they are disrupting. The history of new technology is the often painful process of reaching such maturity, including dealing with the opposition of those whose interests are threatened.

  When Rupert Murdoch warned about the internet’s threat to publishing,9 for instance, he sounded very much like the sixteenth-century Vicar of Croydon warning “We must root out printing or printing will root out us.”10 Similarly, when today we complain about how constant connectivity is dominating our lives, we echo Henry David Thoreau’s lament that “we do not ride on the railroad, it rides on us,”11 or the warnings of nineteenth-century doctors who argued that by upsetting nature’s natural rhythm, the “whirl of the railways and the pelting of telegrams” would produce mental illness.12

  While the difficulties and struggles initiated by the earlier networks have been buffed smooth by the sands of time, we should not delude ourselves with idyllic images of golden bygone eras devoid of network-initiated pain, pathos, and struggle.

  Relying on gauzy images of the past and our limited calendar of personal experience to make judgments about our own circumstances obscures the essential fact that we aren’t alone in facing these challenges. Limiting our horizons by ignoring our history denies us an essential appreciation: that the greatness of a people comes not from a retreat into halcyon memory but from the advances they make as they respond to newly created challenges.

  This book tells that history through the stories of the step-by-step creation of the technologies at the root of our new realities, as well as through the insight those stories provide into how earlier generations responded when confronted by destabilizing new technology. It is now our turn to craft stability out of technological tumult. The last section of the book addresses a sample of such modern challenges.