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- Ever since the viral attack engineered
in November of 1988 by Cornell University hacker Robert Morris on
the national network system Internet, which includes the Pentagon's
ARPAnet data exchange network, the nation's high-tech ideologues and
spin doctors have been locked in debate, trying to make ethical and
economic sense of the event. The virus rapidly infected an estimated
six thousand computers around the country, creating a scare that
crowned an open season of viral hysteria in the media, in the course
of which, according to the Computer Virus Industry Association in
Santa Clara, the number of known viruses jumped from seven to thirty
during 1988, and from three thousand infections in the first two
months of that year to thirty thousand in the last two months. While
it caused little in the way of data damage (some richly inflated
initial estimates reckoned up to $100m in down time), the
ramifications of the Internet virus have helped to generate a moral
panic that has all but transformed everyday "computer culture."
- Following the lead of DARPA's (Defence
Advance Research Projects Agency) Computer Emergency Response Team
at Carnegie-Mellon University, anti-virus response centers were
hastily put in place by government and defence agencies at the
National Science Foundation, the Energy Department, NASA, and other
sites. Plans were made to introduce a bill in Congress (the Computer
Virus Eradication Act, to replace the 1986 Computer Fraud and Abuse
Act, which pertained solely to government information), that would
call for prison sentences of up to ten years for the "crime"
of sophisticated hacking, and numerous government agencies have been
involved in a proprietary fight over the creation of a proposed
Center for Virus Control, modelled, of course, on Atlanta's Centers
for Disease Control, notorious for its failures to respond
adequately to the AIDS crisis.
- In fact, media commentary on the virus
scare has run not so much tongue-in-cheek as hand-in-glove with the
rhetoric of AIDS hysteria--the common use of terms like killer virus
and epidemic; the focus on hi-risk personal contact (virus infection,
for the most part, is spread on personal computers, not mainframes);
the obsession with defense, security, and immunity; and the climate
of suspicion generated around communitarian acts of sharing. The
underlying moral imperative being this: You can't trust your best
friend's software any more than you can trust his or her bodily
fluids--safe software or no software at all! Or, as Dennis Miller
put it on Saturday Night Live, "Remember, when you
connect with another computer, you're connecting to every computer
that computer has ever connected to." This playful conceit
struck a chord in the popular consciousness, even as it was
perpetuated in such sober quarters as the Association for Computing
Machinery, the president of which, in a controversial editorial
titled "A Hygiene Lesson," drew comparisons not only with
sexually transmitted diseases, but also with a cholera epidemic, and
urged attention to "personal systems hygiene."1
In fact, some computer scientists who studied the symptomatic path
of Morris's virus across Internet have pointed to its uneven effects
upon different computer types and operating systems, and concluded
that "there is a direct analogy with biological genetic
diversity to be made."2
The epidemiology of biological virus, and especially AIDS, research
is being closely studied to help implement computer security plans,
and, in these circles, the new witty discourse is laced with
references to antigens, white blood cells, vaccinations, metabolic
free radicals, and the like.
- The form and content of more lurid
articles like Time's infamous (September 1988) story, "Invasion
of the Data Snatchers," fully displayed the continuity of the
media scare with those historical fears about bodily invasion,
individual and national, that are often considered endemic to the
paranoid style of American political culture.3
Indeed, the rhetoric of computer culture, in common with the medical
discourse of AIDS research, has fallen in line with the paranoid,
strategic style of Defence Department rhetoric. Each language-repertoire
is obsessed with hostile threats to bodily and technological immune
systems; every event is a ballistic manoeuver in the game of
microbiological war, where the governing metaphors are
indiscriminately drawn from cellular genetics and cybernetics alike.
As a counterpoint to the tongue-in-cheek AI tradition of seeing
humans as "information-exchanging environments," the
imagined life of computers has taken on an organicist shape, now
that they too are subject to cybernetic "sickness" or
disease. So, too, the development of interrelated systems, such as
Internet itself, has further added to the structural picture of an
interdependent organism, whose component members, however autonomous,
are all nonetheless affected by the "health" of each
individual constituent. The growing interest among scientists in
developing computer programs that will simulate the genetic behavior
of living organisms (in which binary numbers act like genes) points
to a future where the border between organic and artificial life is
less and less distinct.
- In keeping with the increasing use of
biologically derived language to describe mutations in systems
theory, conscious attempts to link the AIDS crisis with the
information security crisis have pointed out that both kinds of
virus, biological and electronic, take over the host cell/program
and clone their carrier genetic codes by instructing the hosts to
make replicas of the viruses. Neither kind of virus, however, can
replicate themselves independently; they are pieces of code that
attach themselves to other cells/programs-- just as biological
viruses need a host cell, computer viruses require a host program to
activate them. The Internet virus was not, in fact, a virus, but a
worm, a program that can run independently and therefore appears
to have a life of its own. The worm replicates a full version of
itself in programs and systems as it moves from one to another,
masquerading as a legitimate user by guessing the user passwords of
locked accounts. Because of this autonomous existence, the worm can
be seen to behave as if it were an organism with some kind of
purpose or teleology, and yet it has none. Its only "purpose"
is to reproduce and infect. If the worm has no inbuilt
antireplication code, or if the code is faulty, as was the case with
the Internet worm, it will make already-infected computers
repeatedly accept further replicas of itself, until their memories
are clogged. A much quieter worm than that engineered by Morris
would have moved more slowly, as one supposes a "worm"
should, protecting itself from detection by ever more subtle
camouflage, and propagating its cumulative effect of operative
systems inertia over a much longer period of time.
- In offering such descriptions, however,
we must be wary of attributing a teleology/intentionality to worms
and viruses which can be ascribed only, and, in most instances,
speculatively, to their authors. There is no reason why a cybernetic
"worm" might be expected to behave in any fundamental way
like a biological worm. So, too, the assumed intentionality of its
author distinguishes the human-made cybernetic virus from the case
of the biological virus, the effects of which are fated to be
received and discussed in a language saturated with human-made
structures and narratives of meaning and teleological purpose.
Writing about the folkloric theologies of significance and
explanatory justice (usually involving retribution) that have sprung
up around the AIDS crisis, Judith Williamson has pointed to the
radical implications of this collision between an intentionless
virus and a meaning-filled culture: Nothing could be more
meaningless than a virus. It has no point, no purpose, no plan; it
is part of no scheme, carries no inherent significance. And yet
nothing is harder for us to confront than the complete absence of
meaning. By its very definition, meaninglessness cannot be
articulated within our social language, which is a system of
meaning: impossible to include, as an absence, it is also impossible
to exclude-- for meaninglessness isn't just the opposite of meaning,
it is the end of meaning, and threatens the fragile structures by
which we make sense of the world.4
- No such judgment about meaninglessness
applies to the computer security crisis. In contrast to HIV's lack
of meaning or intentionality, the meaning of cybernetic viruses is
always already replete with social significance. This meaning is
related, first of all, to the author's local intention or motivation,
whether psychic or fully social, whether wrought out of a mood of
vengeance, a show of bravado or technical expertise, a commitment to
a political act, or in anticipation of the profits that often accrue
from the victims' need to buy an antidote from the author. Beyond
these local intentions, however, which are usually obscure or, as in
the Morris case, quite inscrutable, there is an entire set of social
and historical narratives that surround and are part of the "meaning"
of the virus: the coded anarchist history of the youth hacker
subculture; the militaristic environments of search-and-destroy
warfare (a virus has two components--a carrier and a "warhead"),
which, because of the historical development of computer technology,
constitute the family values of information techno-culture; the
experimental research environments in which creative designers are
encouraged to work; and the conflictual history of pure and applied
ethics in the science and technology communities, to name just a few.
A similar list could be drawn up to explain the widespread and
varied response to computer viruses, from the amused concern
of the cognoscenti to the hysteria of the casual user, and from the
research community and the manufacturing industry to the morally
aroused legislature and the mediated culture at large. Every one of
these explanations and narratives is the result of social and
cultural processes and values; consequently, there is very little
about the virus itself that is "meaningless." Viruses can
no more be seen as an objective, or necessary, result of the "objective"
development of technological systems than technology in general can
be seen as an objective, determining agent of social change.
- For the sake of polemical economy, I
would note that the cumulative effect of all the viral hysteria has
been twofold. Firstly, it has resulted in a windfall for software
producers, now that users' blithe disregard for makers' copyright
privileges has eroded in the face of the security panic. Used to
fighting halfhearted rearguard actions against widespread piracy
practices, or reluctantly acceding to buyers' desire for software
unencumbered by top-heavy security features, software vendors are
now profiting from the new public distrust of program copies. So,
too, the explosion in security consciousness has hyperstimulated the
already fast-growing sectors of the security system industry and the
data encryption industry. In line with the new imperative for
everything from "vaccinated" workstations to "sterilized"
networks, it has created a brand new market of viral vaccine vendors
who will sell you the virus (a one-time only immunization shot)
along with its antidote--with names like Flu Shot +, ViruSafe,
Vaccinate, Disk Defender, Certus, Viral Alarm, Antidote, Virus
Buster, Gatekeeper, Ongard, and Interferon. Few of the antidotes are
very reliable, however, especially since they pose an irresistible
intellectual challenge to hackers who can easily rewrite them in the
form of ever more powerful viruses. Moreover, most corporate
managers of computer systems and networks know that by far the great
majority of their intentional security losses are a result of
insider sabotage and monkeywrenching.
- In short, the effects of the viruses
have been to profitably clamp down on copyright delinquency, and to
generate the need for entirely new industrial production of viral
suppressors to contain the fallout. In this respect, it is easy to
see that the appearance of viruses could hardly, in the long run,
have benefited industry producers more. In the same vein, the
networks that have been hardest hit by the security squeeze are not
restricted-access military or corporate systems but networks like
Internet, set up on trust to facilitate the open academic exchange
of data, information and research, and watched over by its sponsor,
DARPA. It has not escaped the notice of conspiracy theorists that
the military intelligence community, obsessed with "electronic
warfare," actually stood to learn a lot from the Internet
virus; the virus effectively "pulsed the system," exposing
the sociological behaviour of the system in a crisis situation.5
The second effect of the virus crisis has been more overtly
ideological. Virus-conscious fear and loathing have clearly fed into
the paranoid climate of privatization that increasingly defines
social identities in the new post-Fordist order. The result-- a
psycho-social closing of the ranks around fortified private spheres--runs
directly counter to the ethic that we might think of as residing at
the architectural heart of information technology. In its basic
assembly structure, information technology is a technology of
processing, copying, replication, and simulation, and therefore does
not recognize the concept of private information property. What is
now under threat is the rationality of a shareware culture, ushered
in as the achievement of the hacker counterculture that pioneered
the personal computer revolution in the early seventies against the
grain of corporate planning.
- There is another story to tell, however,
about the emergence of the virus scare as a profitable ideological
moment, and it is the story of how teenage hacking has come to be
increasingly defined as a potential threat to normative educational
ethics and national security alike. The story of the creation of
this "social menace" is central to the ongoing attempts to
rewrite property law in order to contain the effects of the new
information technologies that, because of their blindness to the
copyrighting of intellectual property, have transformed the way in
which modern power is exercised and maintained. Consequently, a
deviant social class or group has been defined and categorised as
"enemies of the state" in order to help rationalize a
general law-and-order clampdown on free and open information
exchange. Teenage hackers' homes are now habitually raided by
sheriffs and FBI agents using strong-arm tactics, and jail sentences
are becoming a common punishment. Operation Sundevil, a nationwide
Secret Service operation in the spring of 1990, involving hundreds
of agents in fourteen cities, is the most recently publicized of the
hacker raids that have produced several arrests and seizures of
thousands of disks and address lists in the last two years.6
- In one of the many harshly punitive
prosecutions against hackers in recent years, a judge went so far as
to describe "bulletin boards" as "hi-tech street
gangs." The editors of 2600, the magazine that publishes
information about system entry and exploration that is indispensable
to the hacking community, have pointed out that any single invasive
act, such as that of trespass, that involves the use of computers is
considered today to be infinitely more criminal than a similar act
undertaken without computers.7
To use computers to execute pranks, raids, frauds or thefts is to
incur automatically the full repressive wrath of judges urged on by
the moral panic created around hacking feats over the last two
decades. Indeed, there is a strong body of pressure groups pushing
for new criminal legislation that will define "crimes with
computers" as a special category of crime, deserving "extraordinary"
sentences and punitive measures. Over that same space of time, the
term hacker has lost its semantic link with the journalistic hack,
suggesting a professional toiler who uses unorthodox methods. So,
too, its increasingly criminal connotation today has displaced the
more innocuous, amateur mischief-maker-cum-media-star role reserved
for hackers until a few years ago.
- In response to the gathering vigor of
this "war on hackers," the most common defences of hacking
can be presented on a spectrum that runs from the appeasement or
accommodation of corporate interests to drawing up blueprints for
cultural revolution. (a) Hacking performs a benign industrial
service of uncovering security deficiencies and design flaws. (b)
Hacking, as an experimental, free-form research activity, has been
responsible for many of the most progressive developments in
software development. (c) Hacking, when not purely recreational, is
an elite educational practice that reflects the ways in which the
development of high technology has outpaced orthodox forms of
institutional education. (d) Hacking is an important form of
watchdog counterresponse to the use of surveillance technology and
data gathering by the state, and to the increasingly monolithic
communications power of giant corporations. (e) Hacking, as
guerrilla know-how, is essential to the task of maintaining fronts
of cultural resistance and stocks of oppositional knowledge as a
hedge against a technofascist future. With all of these and other
arguments in mind, it is easy to see how the social and cultural management
of hacker activities has become a complex process that involves
state policy and legislation at the highest levels. In this respect,
the virus scare has become an especially convenient vehicle for
obtaining public and popular consent for new legislative measures
and new powers of investigation for the FBI.8
- Consequently, certain celebrity hackers
have been quick to play down the zeal with which they pursued their
earlier hacking feats, while reinforcing the deviant category
of "technological hooliganism" reserved by moralizing
pundits for "dark-side" hacking. Hugo Cornwall, British
author of the bestselling Hacker's Handbook, presents a
Little England view of the hacker as a harmless fresh-air enthusiast
who "visits advanced computers as a polite country rambler
might walk across picturesque fields." The owners of these
properties are like "farmers who don't mind careful ramblers."
Cornwall notes that "lovers of fresh-air walks obey the Country
Code, involving such items as closing gates behind one and avoiding
damage to crops and livestock" and suggests that a similar code
ought to "guide your rambles into other people's computers; the
safest thing to do is simply browse, enjoy and learn." By
contrast, any rambler who "ventured across a field guarded by
barbed wire and dotted with notices warning about the Official
Secrets Act would deserve most that happened thereafter."9
Cornwall's quaint perspective on hacking has a certain "native
charm," but some might think that this beguiling picture of
patchwork-quilt fields and benign gentleman farmers glosses over the
long bloody history of power exercised through feudal and postfeudal
land economy in England, while it is barely suggestive of the new
fiefdoms, transnational estates, dependencies, and principalities
carved out of today's global information order by vast corporations
capable of bypassing the laws and territorial borders of sovereign
nation-states. In general, this analogy with "trespass"
laws, which compares hacking to breaking and entering other people's
homes restricts the debate to questions about privacy, property,
possessive individualism, and, at best, the excesses of state
surveillance, while it closes off any examination of the activities
of the corporate owners and institutional sponsors of information
technology (the almost exclusive "target" of most hackers).10
- Cornwall himself has joined the
lucrative ranks of ex-hackers who either work for computer security
firms or write books about security for the eyes of worried
corporate managers.11
A different, though related, genre is that of the penitent hacker's
"confession," produced for an audience thrilled by tales
of high- stakes adventure at the keyboard, but written in the form
of a computer security handbook. The best example of the "I Was
a Teenage Hacker" genre is Bill (aka "The Cracker")
Landreth's Out of the Inner Circle: The True Story of a Computer
Intruder Capable of Cracking the Nation's Most Secure Computer
Systems, a book about "people who can't `just say no' to
computers." In full complicity with the deviant picture of the
hacker as "public enemy," Landreth recirculates every
official and media cliche about subversive conspiratorial elites by
recounting the putative exploits of a high-level hackers' guild
called the Inner Circle. The author himself is presented in the book
as a former keyboard junkie who now praises the law for having made
a good moral example of him: If you are wondering what I am like, I
can tell you the same things I told the judge in federal court:
Although it may not seem like it, I am pretty much a normal American
teenager. I don't drink, smoke or take drugs. I don't steal, assault
people, or vandalize property. The only way in which I am really
different from most people is in my fascination with the ways and
means of learning about computers that don't belong to me.12
Sentenced in 1984 to three years probation, during which time he was
obliged to finish his high school education and go to college,
Landreth concludes: "I think the sentence is very fair, and I
already know what my major will be...." As an aberrant sequel
to the book's contrite conclusion, however, Landreth vanished in
1986, violating his probation, only to face later a stiff five-year
jail sentence--a sorry victim, no doubt, of the recent crackdown. Cyber-Counterculture?
- At the core of Steven Levy's bestseller Hackers
(1984) is the argument that the hacker ethic, first articulated in
the 1950s among the famous MIT students who developed multiple-access
user systems, is libertarian and crypto-anarchist in its right-to
know principles and its advocacy of decentralized technology. This
hacker ethic, which has remained the preserve of a youth culture for
the most part, asserts the basic right of users to free access to
all information. It is a principled attempt, in other words, to
challenge the tendency to use technology to form information elites.
Consequently, hacker activities were presented in the eighties as a
romantic countercultural tendency, celebrated by critical
journalists like John Markoff of the New York Times, by
Stewart Brand of Whole Earth Catalog fame, and by New Age
gurus like Timothy Leary in the flamboyant Reality Hackers.
Fuelled by sensational stories about phone phreaks like Joe Egressia
(the blind eight- year old who discovered the tone signal of phone
company by whistling) and Cap'n Crunch, groups like the Milwaukee
414s, the Los Angeles ARPAnet hackers, the SPAN Data Travellers, the
Chaos Computer Club of Hamburg, the British Prestel hackers, 2600's
BBS, "The Private Sector," and others, the dominant media
representation of the hacker came to be that of the "rebel with
a modem," to use Markoff's term, at least until the more recent
"war on hackers" began to shape media coverage.
- On the one hand, this popular folk hero
persona offered the romantic high profile of a maverick though nerdy
cowboy whose fearless raids upon an impersonal "system"
were perceived as a welcome tonic in the gray age of technocratic
routine. On the other hand, he was something of a juvenile
technodelinquent who hadn't yet learned the difference between right
and wrong---a wayward figure whose technical brilliance and
proficiency differentiated him nonetheless from, say, the
maladjusted working-class J.D. street-corner boy of the 1950s (hacker
mythology, for the most part, has been almost exclusively white,
masculine, and middle- class). One result of this media profile was
a persistent infantilization of the hacker ethic--a way of
trivializing its embryonic politics, however finally complicit with
dominant technocratic imperatives or with entrepreneurial-libertarian
ideology one perceives these politics to be. The second result was
to reinforce, in the initial absence of coercive jail sentences, the
high educational stakes of training the new technocratic elites to
be responsible in their use of technology. Never, the given wisdom
goes, has a creative elite of the future been so in need of the
virtues of a liberal education steeped in Western ethics!
- The full force of this lesson in
computer ethics can be found laid out in the official Cornell
University report on the Robert Morris affair. Members of the
university commission set up to investigate the affair make it quite
clear in their report that they recognize the student's academic
brilliance. His hacking, moreover, is described, as a "juvenile
act" that had no "malicious intent" but that amounted,
like plagiarism, the traditional academic heresy, to a dishonest
transgression of other users' rights. (In recent years, the privacy
movement within the information community--a movement mounted by
liberals to protect civil rights against state gathering of
information--has actually been taken up and used as a means of
criminalizing hacker activities.) As for the consequences of this
juvenile act, the report proposes an analogy that, in comparison
with Cornwall's mature English country rambler, is thoroughly
American, suburban, middle-class and juvenile. Unleashing the
Internet worm was like "the driving of a golf-cart on a rainy
day through most houses in the neighborhood. The driver may have
navigated carefully and broken no china, but it should have been
obvious to the driver that the mud on the tires would soil the
carpets and that the owners would later have to clean up the mess."13
- In what stands out as a stiff reprimand
for his alma mater, the report regrets that Morris was educated in
an "ambivalent atmosphere" where he "received no
clear guidance" about ethics from "his peers or mentors"
(he went to Harvard!). But it reserves its loftiest academic
contempt for the press, whose heroization of hackers has been so
irresponsible, in the commission's opinion, as to cause even further
damage to the standards of the computing profession; media
exaggerations of the courage and technical sophistication of hackers
"obscures the far more accomplished work of students who
complete their graduate studies without public fanfare," and
"who subject their work to the close scrutiny and evaluation of
their peers, and not to the interpretations of the popular press."14
In other words, this was an inside affair, to be assessed and judged
by fellow professionals within an institution that reinforces its
authority by means of internally self-regulating codes of
professionalist ethics, but rarely addresses its ethical
relationship to society as a whole (acceptance of defence grants,
and the like). Generally speaking, the report affirms the genteel
liberal ideal that professionals should not need laws, rules,
procedural guidelines, or fixed guarantees of safe and responsible
conduct. Apprentice professionals ought to have acquired a good
conscience by osmosis from a liberal education rather than from some
specially prescribed course in ethics and technology.
- The widespread attention commanded by
the Cornell report (attention from the Association of Computing
Machinery, among others) demonstrates the industry's interest in how
the academy invokes liberal ethics in order to assist in the
managing of the organization of the new specialized knowledge about
information technology. Despite or, perhaps, because of the report's
steadfast pledge to the virtues and ideals of a liberal education,
it bears all the marks of a legitimation crisis inside (and outside)
the academy surrounding the new and all-important category of
computer professionalism. The increasingly specialized design
knowledge demanded of computer professionals means that codes that
go beyond the old professionalist separation of mental and practical
skills are needed to manage the division that a hacker's functional
talents call into question, between a purely mental pursuit and the
pragmatic sphere of implementing knowledge in the real world. "Hacking"
must then be designated as a strictly amateur practice; the
tension, in hacking, between interestedness and disinterestedness
is different from, and deficient in relation to, the proper balance
demanded by professionalism. Alternately, hacking can be seen as the
amateur flip side of the professional ideal--a disinterested love in
the service of interested parties and institutions. In either case,
it serves as an example of professionalism gone wrong, but not very
wrong.
- In common with the two responses to the
virus scare described earlier--the profitable reaction of the
computer industry and the self-empowering response of the
legislature-- the Cornell report shows how the academy uses a case
like the Morris affair to strengthen its own sense of moral and
cultural authority in the sphere of professionalism, particularly
through its scornful indifference to and aloofness from the codes
and judgements exercised by the media--its diabolic competitor in
the field of knowledge. Indeed, for all the trumpeting about
excesses of power and disrespect for the law of the land, the
revival of ethics, in the business and science disciplines in the
Ivy League and on Capitol Hill (both awash with ethical fervor in
the post-Boesky and post-Reagan years), is little more than a weak
liberal response to working flaws or adaptational lapses in the
social logic of technocracy.
- To complete the scenario of morality
play example- making, however, we must also consider that Morris's
father was chief scientist of the National Computer Security Center,
the National Security Agency's public effort at safeguarding
computer security. A brilliant programmer and codebreaker in his own
right, he had testified in Washington in 1983 about the need to
deglamorise teenage hacking, comparing it to "stealing a car
for the purpose of joyriding." In a further Oedipal irony,
Morris Sr. may have been one of the inventors, while at Bell Labs in
the 1950s, of a computer game involving self-perpetuating programs
that were a prototype of today's worms and viruses. Called Darwin,
its principles were incorporated, in the eighties, into a popular
hacker game called Core War, in which autonomous "killer"
programs fought each other to the death.15
- With the appearance, in the Morris
affair, of a patricidal object who is also the Pentagon's guardian
angel, we now have many of the classic components of countercultural
cross-generational conflict. What I want to consider, however, is
how and where this scenario differs from the definitive contours of
such conflicts that we recognize as having been established in the
sixties; how the Cornell hacker Morris's relation to, say, campus
"occupations" today is different from that evoked by the
famous image of armed black students emerging from a sit-in on the
Cornell campus; how the relation to technological ethics differs
from Andrew Kopkind's famous statement "Morality begins at the
end of a gun barrel" which accompanied the publication of the
do-it-yourself Molotov cocktail design on the cover of a 1968 issue
of the New York Review of Books; or how hackers' prized
potential access to the networks of military systems warfare differs
from the prodigious Yippie feat of levitating the Pentagon building.
It may be that, like the J.D. rebel without a cause of the fifties,
the disaffiliated student dropout of the sixties, and the
negationist punk of the seventies, the hacker of the eighties has
come to serve as a visible public example of moral maladjustment, a
hegemonic test case for redefining the dominant ethics in an
advanced technocratic society. (Hence the need for each of these
deviant figures to come in different versions-- lumpen, radical
chic, and Hollywood-style.)
- What concerns me here, however, are the
different conditions that exist today for recognizing
countercultural expression and activism. Twenty years later, the
technology of hacking and viral guerrilla warfare occupies a similar
place in countercultural fantasy as the Molotov Cocktail design once
did. While I don't, for one minute, mean to insist on such
comparisons, which aren't particularly sound anyway, I think they
conveniently mark a shift in the relation of countercultural
activity to technology, a shift in which a software-based
technoculture, organized around outlawed libertarian principles
about free access to information and communication, has come to
replace a dissenting culture organized around the demonizing of
abject hardware structures. Much, though not all, of the sixties
counterculture was formed around what I have elsewhere called the technology
of folklore--an expressive congeries of preindustrialist,
agrarianist, Orientalist, antitechnological ideas, values, and
social structures. By contrast, the cybernetic countercultures of
the nineties are already being formed around the folklore of
technology--mythical feats of survivalism and resistance in a
data-rich world of virtual environments and posthuman bodies-- which
is where many of the SF-and technology-conscious youth cultures have
been assembling in recent years.16
- There is no doubt that this scenario
makes countercultural activity more difficult to recognize and
therefore to define as politically significant. It was much easier,
in the sixties, to identify the salient features and symbolic
power of a romantic preindustrialist cultural politics in an
advanced technological society, especially when the destructive
evidence of America's supertechnological invasion of Vietnam was
being daily paraded in front of the public eye. However, in a
society whose technopolitical infrastructure depends increasingly
upon greater surveillance, cybernetic activism necessarily relies on
a much more covert politics of identity, since access to closed
systems requires discretion and dissimulation. Access to digital
systems still requires only the authentication of a signature or
pseudonym, not the identification of a real surveillable person, so
there exists a crucial operative gap between authentication and
identification. (As security systems move toward authenticating
access through biological signatures-- the biometric recording and
measurement of physical characteristics such as palm or retinal
prints, or vein patterns on the backs of hands--the hacker's staple
method of systems entry through purloined passwords will be further
challenged.) By the same token, cybernetic identity is never used
up, it can be recreated, reassigned, and reconstructed with any
number of different names and under different user accounts. Most
hacks, or technocrimes, go unnoticed or unreported for fear of
publicising the vulnerability of corporate security systems,
especially when the hacks are performed by disgruntled employees
taking their vengeance on management. So, too, authoritative
identification of any individual hacker, whenever it occurs, is
often the result of accidental leads rather than systematic
detection. For example, Captain Midnight, the video pirate who
commandeered a satellite a few years ago to interrupt broadcast TV
viewing, was traced only because a member of the public reported a
suspicious conversation heard over a crossed telephone line.
- Eschewing its core constituency among
white males of the pre-professional-managerial class, the hacker
community may be expanding its parameters outward. Hacking, for
example, has become a feature of the young adult mystery-and-suspense
novel genre for girls.17
The elitist class profile of the hacker prodigy as that of an
undersocialized college nerd has become democratized and customized
in recent years; it is no longer exclusively associated with
institutionally acquired college expertise, and increasingly it
dresses streetwise. In a recent article which documents the spread
of the computer underground from college whiz kids to a broader
youth subculture termed "cyberpunks," after the movement
among SF novelists, the original hacker phone phreak Cap'n Crunch is
described as lamenting the fact that the cyberculture is no longer
an "elite" one, and that hacker-valid information is much
easier to obtain these days.18
- For the most part, however, the self-defined
hacker underground, like many other protocountercultural tendencies,
has been restricted to a privileged social milieu, further
magnetised by the self-understanding of its members that they are
the apprentice architects of a future dominated by knowledge,
expertise, and "smartness," whether human or digital.
Consequently, it is clear that the hacker cyberculture is not a
dropout culture; its disaffiliation from a domestic parent culture
is often manifest in activities that answer, directly or indirectly,
to the legitimate needs of industrial R&D.; For example, this
hacker culture celebrates high productivity, maverick forms of
creative work energy, and an obsessive identification with on-line
endurance (and endorphin highs)--all qualities that are valorised by
the entrepreneurial codes of silicon futurism. In a critique of the
myth of the hacker-as-rebel, Dennis Hayes debunks the political
romance woven around the teenage hacker: They are typically white,
upper-middle-class adolescents who have taken over the home computer
(bought, subsidized, or tolerated by parents in the hope of
cultivating computer literacy). Few are politically motivated
although many express contempt for the "bureaucracies"
that hamper their electronic journeys. Nearly all demand unfettered
access to intricate and intriguing computer networks. In this,
teenage hackers resemble an alienated shopping culture deprived of
purchasing opportunities more than a terrorist network.19
- While welcoming the sobriety of Hayes's
critique, I am less willing to accept its assumptions about the
political implications of hacker activities. Studies of youth
subcultures (including those of a privileged middle-class formation)
have taught us that the political meaning of certain forms of
cultural "resistance" is notoriously difficult to read.
These meanings are either highly coded or expressed indirectly
through media--private peer languages, customized consumer styles,
unorthodox leisure patterns, categories of insider knowledge and
behavior--that have no fixed or inherent political significance. If
cultural studies of this sort have proved anything, it is that the
often symbolic, not wholly articulate, expressivity of a youth
culture can seldom be translated directly into an articulate
political philosophy. The significance of these cultures lies in
their embryonic or protopolitical languages and technologies
of opposition to dominant or parent systems of rules. If hackers
lack a "cause," then they are certainly not the first
youth culture to be characterized in this dismissive way. In
particular, the left has suffered from the lack of a cultural
politics capable of recognizing the power of cultural expressions
that do not wear a mature political commitment on their sleeves. So,
too, the escalation of activism-in-the- professions in the last two
decades has shown that it is a mistake to condemn the hacker impulse
on account of its class constituency alone. To cede the "ability
to know" on the grounds that elite groups will enjoy unjustly
privileged access to technocratic knowledge is to cede too much of
the future. Is it of no political significance at all that hackers'
primary fantasies often involve the official computer systems of the
police, armed forces, and defence and intelligence agencies? And
that the rationale for their fantasies is unfailingly presented in
the form of a defence of civil liberties against the threat of
centralized intelligence and military activities? Or is all of this
merely a symptom of an apprentice elite's fledgling will to
masculine power? The activities of the Chinese student elite in the
pro-democracy movement have shown that unforeseen shifts in the
political climate can produce startling new configurations of power
and resistance. After Tiananmen Square, Party leaders found it
imprudent to purge those high-tech engineer and computer cadres who
alone could guarantee the future of any planned modernization
program. On the other hand, the authorities rested uneasy knowing
that each cadre (among the most activist groups in the student
movement) is a potential hacker who can have the run of the
communications house if and when he or she wants.
- On the other hand, I do agree with
Hayes's perception that the media have pursued their romance with
the hacker at the cost of underreporting the much greater challenge
posed to corporate employers by their employees. It is in the arena
of conflicts between workers and management that most high-tech
"sabotage" takes place. In the mainstream everyday life of
office workers, mostly female, there is a widespread culture of
unorganized sabotage that accounts for infinitely more computer
downtime and information loss every year than is caused by
destructive, "dark-side" hacking by celebrity cybernetic
intruders. The sabotage, time theft, and strategic monkeywrenching
deployed by office workers in their engineered electromagnetic
attacks on data storage and operating systems might range from the
planting of time or logic bombs to the discrete use of
electromagnetic Tesla coils or simple bodily friction: "Good
old static electricity discharged from the fingertips probably
accounts for close to half the disks and computers wiped out or down
every year."20
More skilled operators, intent on evening a score with management,
often utilize sophisticated hacking techniques. In many cases, a
coherent networking culture exists among female console operators,
where, among other things, tips about strategies for slowing down
the temporality of the work regime are circulated. While these
threats from below are fully recognized in their boardrooms,
corporations dependent upon digital business machines are obviously
unwilling to advertize how acutely vulnerable they actually are to
this kind of sabotage. It is easy to imagine how organised computer
activism could hold such companies for ransom. As Hayes points out,
however, it is more difficult to mobilize any kind of labor movement
organized upon such premises: Many are prepared to publicly oppose
the countless dark legacies of the computer age: "electronic
sweatshops," Military technology, employee surveillance,
genotoxic water, and ozone depletion. Among those currently leading
the opposition, however, it is apparently deemed
"irresponsible" to recommend an active computerized
resistance as a source of worker's power because it is perceived as
a medium of employee crime and "terrorism." 21
Processed World, the "magazine with a bad attitude"
with which Hayes has been associated, is at the forefront of
debating and circulating these questions among office workers,
regularly tapping into the resentments borne out in on-the-job
resistance.
- While only a small number of computer
users would recognize and include themselves under the label of
"hacker," there are good reasons for extending the
restricted definition of hacking down and across the caste
system of systems analysts, designers, programmers, and operators to
include all high-tech workers, no matter how inexpert, who can
interrupt, upset, and redirect the smooth flow of structured
communications that dictates their positions in the social networks
of exchange and determines the temporality of their work schedules.
To put it in these terms, however, is not to offer any universal
definition of hacker agency. There are many social agents, for
example, in job locations that are dependent upon the hope of
technological reskilling, for whom sabotage or disruption of
communicative rationality is of little use; for such people,
definitions of hacking that are reconstructive, rather than
deconstructive, are more appropriate. A good example is the crucial
role of worker technoliteracy in the struggle of labor against
automation and deskilling. When worker education classes in computer
programming were discontinued by management at the Ford Rouge plant
in Dearborn, Michigan, union (UAW) members began to publish a
newsletter called the Amateur Computerist to fill the gap.22
Among the columnists and correspondents in the magazine have been
veterans of the Flint sit-down strikes who see a clear historical
continuity between the problem of labor organization in the thirties
and the problem of automation and deskilling today. Workers'
computer literacy is seen as essential not only to the
demystification of the computer and the reskilling of workers, but
also to labor's capacity to intervene in decisions about new
technologies that might result in shorter hours and thus in
"work efficiency" rather than worker efficiency.
- The three social locations I have
mentioned above all express different class relations to technology:
the location of an apprentice technical elite, conventionally
associated with the term "hacking"; the location of the
female high-tech office worker, involved in "sabotage";
and the location of the shop- floor worker, whose future depends on
technological reskilling. All therefore exhibit different ways of claiming
back time dictated and appropriated by technological processes,
and of establishing some form of independent control over the work
relation so determined by the new technologies. All, then, fall
under a broad understanding of the politics involved in any extended
description of hacker activities. [This file is continued in ROSS-2
990]
The Culture and Technology
Question
- Faced with these proliferating practices
in the workplace, on the teenage cult fringe, and increasingly in
mainstream entertainment, where, over the last five years, the
cyberpunk sensibility in popular fiction, film, and television has
caught the romance of the popular taste for the outlaw technology of
human/machine interfaces, we are obliged, I think, to ask old kinds
of questions about the new silicon order which the evangelists of
information technology have been deliriously proclaiming for more
than twenty years. The postindustrialists' picture of a world of
freedom and abundance projects a sunny millenarian future devoid of
work drudgery and ecological degradation. This sunny social order,
cybernetically wired up, is presented as an advanced evolutionary
phase of society in accord with Enlightenment ideals of progress and
rationality. By contrast, critics of this idealism see only a
frightening advance in the technologies of social control, whose
owners and sponsors are efficiently shaping a society, as Kevin
Robins and Frank Webster put it, of "slaves without
Athens" that is actually the inverse of the "Athens
without slaves" promised by the silicon positivists.23
- It is clear that one of the political
features of the new post-Fordist order--economically marked by
short-run production, diverse taste markets, flexible
specialization, and product differentiation--is that the New Right
has managed to appropriate not only the utopian language and values
of the alternative technology movements but also the marxist
discourse of the "withering away of the state" and the
more compassionate vision of local, decentralized communications
first espoused by the libertarian left. It must be recognized that
these are very popular themes and visions, (advanced most famously
by Alvin Toffler and the neoliberal Atari Democrats, though also by
leftist thinkers such as Andre Gortz, Rudolf Bahro, and Alain
Touraine)--much more popular, for example, than the tradition of
centralized technocratic planning espoused by the left under the
Fordist model of mass production and consumption.24
Against the postindustrialists' millenarian picture of a
postscarcity harmony, in which citizens enjoy decentralized, access
to free-flowing information, it is necessary, however, to emphasise
how and where actually existing cybernetic capitalism presents a
gross caricature of such a postscarcity society.
- One of the stories told by the critical
left about new cultural technologies is that of monolithic,
panoptical social control, effortlessly achieved through a smooth,
endlessly interlocking system of networks of surveillance. In this
narrative, information technology is seen as the most despotic mode
of domination yet, generating not just a revolution in capitalist
production but also a revolution in living--"social
Taylorism"--that touches all cultural and social spheres in the
home and in the workplace.25
Through routine gathering of information about transactions,
consumer preferences, and creditworthiness, a harvest of information
about any individual's whereabouts and movements, tastes, desires,
contacts, friends, associates, and patterns of work and recreation
becomes available in the form of dossiers sold on the tradable
information market, or is endlessly convertible into other forms of
intelligence through computer matching. Advanced pattern recognition
technologies facilitate the process of surveillance, while data
encryption protects it from public accountability.26
- While the debate about privacy has
triggered public consciousness about these excesses, the liberal
discourse about ethics and damage control in which that debate has
been conducted falls short of the more comprehensive analysis of
social control and social management offered by left political
economists. According to one marxist analysis, information is seen
as a new kind of commodity resource which marks a break with past
modes of production and that is becoming the essential site of
capital accumulation in the world economy. What happens, then, in
the process by which information, gathered up by data scavenging in
the transactional sphere, is systematically converted into
intelligence? A surplus value is created for use elsewhere. This
surplus information value is more than is needed for public
surveillance; it is often information, or intelligence, culled from
consumer polling or statistical analysis of transactional behavior,
that has no immediate use in the process of routine public
surveillance. Indeed, it is this surplus, bureaucratic capital that
is used for the purpose of forecasting social futures, and
consequently applied to the task of managing the behavior of mass or
aggregate units within those social futures. This surplus
intelligence becomes the basis of a whole new industry of futures
research which relies upon computer technology to simulate and
forecast the shape, activity, and behavior of complex social
systems. The result is a possible system of social management that
far transcends the questions about surveillance that have been at
the discursive center of the privacy debate.27
- To further challenge the idealists'
vision of postindustrial light and magic, we need only look inside
the semiconductor workplace itself, which is home to the most toxic
chemicals known to man (and woman, especially since women of color
often make up the majority of the microelectronics labor force), and
where worker illness is measured not in quantities of blood spilled
on the shop floor but in the less visible forms of chromosome
damage, shrunken testicles, miscarriages, premature deliveries, and
severe birth defects. In addition to the extraordinarily high stress
patterns of VDT operators, semiconductor workers exhibit an
occupational illness rate that even by the late seventies was three
times higher than that of manufacturing workers, at least until the
federal rules for recognizing and defining levels of injury were
changed under the Reagan administration. Protection gear is designed
to protect the product and the clean room from the workers, and not
vice versa. Recently, immunological health problems have begun to
appear that can be described only as a kind of chemically induced
AIDS, rendering the T-cells dysfunctional rather than depleting them
like virally induced AIDS.28
In corporate offices, the use of keystroke software to monitor and
pace office workers has become a routine part of job performance
evaluation programs. Some 70 percent of corporations use electronic
surveillance or other forms of quantitative monitoring on their
workers. Every bodily movement can be checked and measured,
especially trips to the toilet. Federal deregulation has meant that
the limits of employee work space have shrunk, in some government
offices, below that required by law for a two-hundred pound
laboratory pig.29
Critics of the labor process seem to have sound reasons to believe
that rationalization and quantification are at last entering their
most primitive phase.
- These, then, are some of the features of
the critical left position--or what is sometimes referred to as the
"paranoid" position--on information technology, which
imagines or constructs a totalizing, monolithic picture of
systematic domination. While this story is often characterized as
conspiracy theory, its targets--technorationality, bureaucratic
capitalism--are usually too abstract to fit the picture of a social
order planned and shaped by a small, conspiring group of centralized
power elites. Although I believe that this story, when told inside
and outside the classroom, for example, is an indispensable form of
"consciousness-raising," it is not always the best story
to tell.
- While I am not comfortable with the
"paranoid" labelling, I would argue that such narratives
do little to discourage paranoia. The critical habit of finding
unrelieved domination everywhere has certain consequences, one of
which is to create a siege mentality, reinforcing the inertia,
helplessness, and despair that such critiques set out to oppose in
the first place. What follows is a politics that can speak only from
a victim's position. And when knowledge about surveillance is
presented as systematic and infallible, self-censoring is sure to
follow. In the psychosocial climate of fear and phobia aroused by
the virus scare, there is a responsibility not to be alarmist or to
be scared, especially when, as I have argued, such moments are
profitably seized upon by the sponsors of control technology. In
short, the picture of a seamlessly panoptical network of
surveillance may be the result of a rather undemocratic, not to
mention unsocialistic, way of thinking, predicated upon the
recognition of people solely as victims. It is redolent of the old
sociological models of mass society and mass culture, which cast the
majority of society as passive and lobotomized in the face of the
cultural patterns of modernization. To emphasize, as Robins and
Webster and others have done, the power of the new technologies to
despotically transform the "rhythm, texture, and
experience" of everyday life, and meet with no resistance in
doing so, is not only to cleave, finally, to an epistemology of
technological determinism, but also to dismiss the capacity of
people to make their own uses of new technologies.30
- The seamless "interlocking" of
public and private networks of information and intelligence is not
as smooth and even as the critical school of hard domination would
suggest. In any case, compulsive gathering of information is no guarantee
that any interpretive sense will be made of the files or dossiers,
while some would argue that the increasingly covert nature of
surveillance is a sign that the "campaign" for social
control is not going well. One of the most pervasive popular
arguments against the panoptical intentions of the masters of
technology is that their systems do not work. Every successful hack
or computer crime in some way reinforces the popular perception that
information systems are not infallible. And the announcements of
military-industrial spokespersons that the fully automated
battlefield is on its way run up against an accumulated stock of
popular skepticism about the operative capacity of weapons systems.
These misgivings are born of decades of distrust for the plans and
intentions of the military-industrial complex, and were quite
evident in the widespread cynicism about the Strategic Defense
Initiative. Just to take one empirical example of unreliability, the
military communications system worked so poorly and so farcically
during the U.S. invasion of Grenada that commanders had to call each
other on pay phones: ever since then, the command-and- control code
of Arpanet technocrats has been C5-- Command, Control,
Communication, Computers, and Confusion.31
It could be said, of course, that the invasion of Grenada did, after
all, succeed, but the more complex and inefficiency-prone such
high-tech invasions become (Vietnam is still the best example), the
less likely they are to be undertaken with any guarantee of success.
- I am not suggesting that alternatives
can be forged simply by encouraging disbelief in the infallibility
of existing technologies (pointing to examples of the appropriation
of technologies for radical uses, of course, always provides more
visibly satisfying evidence of empowerment), but technoskepticism,
while not a sufficient condition of social change, is a necessary
condition. Stocks of popular technoskepticism are crucial to the
task of eroding the legitimacy of those cultural values that prepare
the way for new technological developments: values and principles
such as the inevitability of material progress, the
"emancipatory" domination of nature, the innovative
autonomy of machines, the efficiency codes of pragmatism, and the
linear juggernaut of liberal Enlightenment rationality--all
increasingly under close critical scrutiny as a wave of
environmental consciousness sweeps through the electorates of the
West. Technologies do not shape or determine such values. These
values already exist before the technologies, and the fact that they
have become deeply embodied in the structure of popular needs and
desires then provides the green light for the acceptance of certain
kinds of technology. The principal rationale for introducing new
technologies is that they answer to already existing intentions and
demands that may be perceived as "subjective" but that are
never actually within the control of any single set of conspiring
individuals. As Marike Finlay has argued, just as technology is only
possible in given discursive situations, one of which being the
desire of people to have it for reasons of empowerment, so
capitalism is merely the site, and not the source, of the power that
is often autonomously attributed to the owners and sponsors of
technology.32
- In fact, there is no frame of
technological inevitability that has not already interacted with
popular needs and desires, no introduction of new machineries of
control that has not already been negotiated to some degree in the
arena of popular consent. Thus the power to design architecture that
incorporates different values must arise from the popular perception
that existing technologies are not the only ones, nor are they the
best when it comes to individual and collective empowerment. It was
this kind of perception--formed around the distrust of big,
impersonal, "closed" hardware systems, and the desire for
small, decentralized, interactive machines to facilitate
interpersonal communication--that "built" the PC out of
hacking expertise in the early seventies. These were as much the
partial "intentions" behind the development of
microcomputing technology as deskilling, monitoring, and information
gathering are the intentions behind the corporate use of that
technology today. The growth of public data networks, bulletin board
systems, alternative information and media links, and the increasing
cheapness of desktop publishing, satellite equipment, and
international data bases are as much the result of local political
"intentions" as the fortified net of globally linked,
restricted-access information systems is the intentional fantasy of
those who seek to profit from centralised control. The picture that
emerges from this mapping of intentions is not an inevitably
technofascist one, but rather the uneven result of cultural
struggles over values and meanings.
- It is in this respect--in the struggle
over values and meanings--that the work of cultural criticism takes
on its special significance as a full participant in the debate
about technology. In fact, cultural criticism is already fully
implicated in that debate, if only because the culture and education
industries are rapidly becoming integrated within the vast
information service conglomerates. The media we study, the media we
publish in, and the media we teach within are increasingly part of
the same tradable information sector. So, too, our common
intellectual discourse has been significantly affected by the recent
debates about postmodernism (or culture in a postindustrial world)
in which the euphoric, addictive thrill of the technological sublime
has figured quite prominently. The high-speed technological
fascination that is characteristic of the postmodern condition can
be read, on the one hand, as a celebratory capitulation on the part
of intellectuals to the new information technocultures. On the other
hand, this celebratory strain attests to the persuasive affect
associated with the new cultural technologies, to their capacity
(more powerful than that of their sponsors and promoters) to
generate pleasure and gratification and to win the struggle for
intellectual as well as popular consent.
- Another reason for the involvement of
cultural critics in the technology debates has to do with our
special critical knowledge of the way in which cultural meanings are
produced--our knowledge about the politics of consumption and what
is often called the politics of representation. This is the
knowledge which demonstrates that there are limits to the capacity
of productive forces to shape and determine consciousness. It is a
knowledge that insists on the ideological or interpretive dimension
of technology as a culture which can and must be used and consumed
in a variety of ways that are not reducible to the intentions of any
single source or producer, and whose meanings cannot simply be read
off as evidence of faultless social reproduction. It is a knowledge,
in short, which refuses to add to the "hard domination"
picture of disenfranchised individuals watched over by some by some
scheming panoptical intelligence. Far from being understood solely
as the concrete hardware of electronically sophisticated objects,
technology must be seen as a lived, interpretive practice for people
in their everyday lives. To redefine the shape and form of that
practice is to help create the need for new kinds of hardware and
software.
- One of the latter aims of this essay has
been to describe and suggest a wider set of activities and social
locations than is normally associated with the practice of hacking.
If there is a challenge here for cultural critics, then it might be
presented as the challenge to make our knowledge about technoculture
into something like a hacker's knowledge, capable of penetrating
existing systems of rationality that might otherwise be seen as
infallible; a hacker's knowledge, capable of reskilling, and
therefore of rewriting the cultural programs and reprogramming the
social values that make room for new technologies; a hacker's
knowledge, capable also of generating new popular romances around
the alternative uses of human ingenuity. If we are to take up that
challenge, we cannot afford to give up what technoliteracy we have
acquired in deference to the vulgar faith that tells us it is always
acquired in complicity, and is thus contaminated by the poison of
instrumental rationality, or because we hear, often from the same
quarters, that acquired technological competence simply glorifies
the inhuman work ethic. Technoliteracy, for us, is the challenge to
make a historical opportunity out of a historical necessity.
Princeton University
Copyright © 1990 Andrew Ross
Notes
1.
Bryan Kocher, "A Hygiene Lesson," Communications of the
ACM, 32.1 (January 1989): 3.
2. Jon
A. Rochlis and Mark W. Eichen, "With Microscope and Tweezers:
The Worm from MIT's Perspective," Communications of the ACM,
32.6 (June 1989): 697.
3.
Philip Elmer-DeWitt, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," Time
(26 September 1988); 62-67.
4.
Judith Williamson, "Every Virus Tells a Story: The Meaning of
HIV and AIDS," Taking Liberties: AIDS and Cultural Politics,
ed. Erica Carter and Simon Watney (London: Serpent's Tail/ICA,
1989): 69.
5.
"Pulsing the system" is a well-known intelligence process
in which, for example, planes deliberately fly over enemy radar
installations in order to determine what frequencies they use and
how they are arranged. It has been suggested that Morris Sr. and
Morris Jr. worked in collusion as part of an NSA operation to pulse
the Internet system, and to generate public support for a legal
clampdown on hacking. See Allan Lundell, Virus! The Secret World
of Computer Invaders That Breed and Destroy (Chicago:
Contemporary Books, 1989), 12-18. As is the case with all such
conspiracy theories, no actual conspiracy need have existed for the
consequences--in this case, the benefits for the intelligence
community--to have been more or less the same.
6. For
details of these raids, see 2600: The Hacker's Quarterly, 7.1
(Spring 1990): 7.
7.
"Hackers in Jail," 2600: The Hacker's Quarterly,
6.1 (Spring 1989); 22-23. The recent Secret Service action that shut
down Phrack, an electronic newsletter operating out of St.
Louis, confirms 2600's thesis: a nonelectronic publication
would not be censored in the same way.
8.
This is not to say that the new laws cannot themselves be used to
protect hacker institutions, however. 2600 has advised
operators of bulletin boards to declare them private property,
thereby guaranteeing protection under the Electronic Privacy Act
against unauthorized entry by the FBI.
9.
Hugo Cornwall, The Hacker's Handbook 3rd ed. (London:
Century, 1988) 181, 2-6. In Britain, for the most part, hacking is
still looked upon as a matter for the civil, rather than the
criminal, courts.
10.
Discussions about civil liberties and property rights, for example,
tend to preoccupy most of the participants in the electronic forum
published as "Is Computer Hacking a Crime?" in Harper's,
280.1678 (March 1990): 45-57.
11.
See Hugo Cornwall, Data Theft (London: Heinemann, 1987).
12.
Bill Landreth, Out of the Inner Circle: The True Story of a
Computer Intruder Capable of Cracking the Nation's Most Secure
Computer Systems (Redmond, Wash.: Tempus, Microsoft, 1989), 10.
13. The
Computer Worm: A Report to the Provost of Cornell University on an
Investigation Conducted by the Commission of Preliminary Enquiry
(Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University, 1989).
14. The
Computer Worm: A Report to the Provost,8.
15.
A. K. Dewdney, the "computer recreations" columnist at Scientific
American, was the first to publicize the details of this game of
battle programs in an article in the May 1984 issue of the magazine.
In a follow-up article in March 1985, "A Core War Bestiary of
Viruses, Worms, and Other Threats to Computer Memories,"
Dewdney described the wide range of "software creatures"
which readers' responses had brought to light. A third column, in
March 1989, was written, in an exculpatory mode, to refute any
connection between his original advertisement of the Core War
program and the spate of recent viruses.
16.
Andrew Ross, No Respect: Intellectuals and Popular Culture
(New York: Routledge, 1989), 212. Some would argue, however, that
the ideas and values of the sixties counterculture were only fully
culminated in groups like the People's Computer Company, which ran
Community Memory in Berkeley, or the Homebrew Computer Club, which
pioneered personal microcomputing. So, too, the Yippies had seen the
need to form YIPL, the Youth International Party Line, devoted to
"anarcho- technological" projects, which put out a
newsletter called TAP (alternately the Technological American Party
and the Technological Assistance Program). In its depoliticised
form, which eschewed the kind of destructive "dark-side"
hacking advocated in its earlier incarnation, TAP was
eventually the progenitor of 2600. A significant turning
point, for example, was TAP's decision not to publish plans
for the hydrogen bomb (which the Progressive did)--bombs
would destroy the phone system, which the TAP phone phreaks
had an enthusiastic interest in maintaining.
17.
See Alice Bach's Phreakers series, in which two teenage girls
enjoy adventures through the use of computer technology. The
Bully of Library Place, Parrot Woman, Double Bucky
Shanghai, and Ragwars (all published by Dell, 1987-88).
18.
John Markoff, "Cyberpunks Seek Thrills in Computerized
Mischief," New York Times, November 26,1988.
19.
Dennis Hayes, Behind the Silicon Curtain: The Seductions of Work
in a Lonely Era (Boston, South End Press, 1989), 93. One
striking historical precedent for the hacking subculture, suggested
to me by Carolyn Marvin, was the widespread activity of amateur or
"ham" wireless operators in the first two decades of the
century. Initially lionized in the press as boy-inventor heroes for
their technical ingenuity and daring adventures with the ether, this
white middle-class subculture was increasingly demonized by the U.S.
Navy (whose signals the amateurs prankishly interfered with), which
was crusading for complete military control of the airwaves in the
name of national security. The amateurs lobbied with democratic
rhetoric for the public's right to access the airwaves, and although
partially successful in their case against the Navy, lost out
ultimately to big commercial interests when Congress approved the
creation of a broadcasting monopoly after World War I in the form of
RCA. See Susan J. Douglas, Inventing American Broadcasting
1899-1922 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987),
187-291.
20.
"Sabotage," Processed World, 11 (Summer 1984),
37-38.
21.
Hayes, Behind the Silicon Curtain, 99.
22. The
Amateur Computerist, available from R. Hauben, PO Box, 4344,
Dearborn, MI 48126.
23.
Kevin Robins and Frank Webster, "Athens Without Slaves...Or
Slaves Without Athens? The Neurosis of Technology," Science
as Culture, 3 (1988): 7-53.
24.
See Boris Frankel, The Post-Industrial Utopians (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1987).
25.
See, for example, the collection of essays edited by Vincent Mosco
and Janet Wasko, The Political Economy of Information
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1988), and Dan Schiller, The
Information Commodity (Oxford UP, forthcoming).
26.
Tom Athanasiou and Staff, "Encryption and the Dossier
Society," Processed World, 16 (1986): 12-17.
27.
Kevin Wilson, Technologies of Control: The New Interactive Media
for the Home (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1988),
121-25.
28.
Hayes, Behind the Silicon Curtain, 63-80.
29.
"Our Friend the VDT," Processed World, 22 (Summer
1988): 24-25.
30.
See Kevin Robins and Frank Webster, "Cybernetic
Capitalism," in Mosco and Wasko, 44-75.
31.
Barbara Garson, The Electronic Sweatshop (New York: Simon
& Schuster, 1988), 244-45.
32.
See Marike Finlay's Foucauldian analysis, Powermatics: A
Discursive Critique of New Technology (London: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1987). A more conventional culturalist argument can be
found in Stephen Hill, The Tragedy of Technology (London:
Pluto Press, 1988).
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