In
one corner we have Jeff
Jarvis, the optimist – in the other Efgeni Morozov, more of a
pessimist although this
article of his disputes the very meaning of the terms used in the
debate
I'm
currently reading Jarvis' recently published The
Gutenberg Parenthesis – the age of print and its lessons for the
age of the internet (2023) of which you can get a very
good sense in this interview which
gives a marvellous timeline of the history of print. Hopefully these excerpts from the
early part of the book will persuade you that it is one of these rare
books which throws new light on an issue -
Halfway
through the fifteenth century came Johannes Gutenberg with his Bible
and the development of movable type. With the printed book, knowledge
came to be bound in covers, with a beginning and an end. Text evolved
to become fixed, unchangeable, permanent. Eventually, texts were
identical, consistent, no longer subject to the idiosyncratic edits,
amendments, whims, and errors of scribes. That is how print gained
trust. Society gravitated from collective credibility to that of
the certified expert, honoring the graduate, the professor, the
published writer. Print gave birth to the author as authority.
Institutions were challenged: popes and princes. And institutions
were reborn: new ideas of publishing, religion, education, childhood,
the public, and the nation emerged. It
took more than two centuries, but the industry found its economic
foundation with the enactment of copyright law in England in 1710.
Then writing, text, and creativity were seen as products and
property: a commodity we call content. Content is that which fills
the container, the book. Society no longer conversed so much as
consumed.
Now
comes the internet and the closing of the Parenthesis. Today, as the
world moves past the Gutenberg era, knowledge is again passed along
freely, link by link, click by click, remixed and remade along the
way. The value of authorship and ownership of content is
diminished—thus we find ourselves in rancorous legal and
political battles over the enforcement of copyright.
As
the book proceeded, I must confess that I found its historical
treatment of the progress of the book from its birth in the 15th
century a bit too detailed for my taste.
Gutenberg
was the early industrialist who brought scale, speed, and
standardization—an assembly line—to craftsmanship. He was the
early entrepreneur who sought risk capital from his partner, Johann
Fust, to pay for the paper, metal, labor, experimentation, and space
needed to produce books before customers could buy them. Printing is
often called a catalyst of capitalism. In Benedict Anderson’s
theory of print-capitalism, the market for vernacular publishing
standardized dialects as languages, which helped draw the boundaries
and concepts of the nation and nationalism. (“A dialect,” in
Umberto
Eco’s definition, “is a language without an army and navy.”
Thus
one of the most momentous decisions made by the first bestselling
author, Martin Luther, was to publish in German rather than Latin,
gathering a public around his ideas and standardizing the language.
The printing of indulgences, starting in Gutenberg’s shop, provoked
Luther to wage his Reformation, and print was the weapon he wielded
to challenge the authority of the Church. The book seeded new
methods in research and science as scholars no longer needed to
travel to information; it could travel to them, eventually
providing distant minds the same information around which they could
compete and collaborate to advance knowledge. Printing— with the
important and coincident development of postal networks—opened the
way for a culture of news, information, and debate that, according to
Jürgen Habermas, fostered the public sphere in the coffeehouses and
salons of eighteenth-century England and Europe. Others say publics
emerged earlier and elsewhere, but print played a role in any case.
Print
stoked the engines of bureaucracies in the modern state with forms,
records, laws, proclamations, and other ephemeral documentation and
data collection. The book revolutionized education—allowing
students to read themselves rather than be read to—thus, it is
said, transforming our idea of childhood. And reading, once it became
silent and solitary, drew us into ourselves, altering our interaction
with others and our view of our world.
The
history of printing is a history of power.
The story of print is one of control, of attempts to manage
the tool and fence in the thoughts it conveyed, to restrict who may
speak and what they may say through gatekeepers, markets, edicts,
laws, and norms. And so the opportunity facing us now is to use
our new tools to redress that crime and pay attention and respect to
the people too long not heard. Or will incumbent institutions instead
succeed in protecting their past, dismissing those the powerful see
as rivals, invoking fear and panic, and passing laws—as princes and
popes did a half a millennium ago—to restrict who may use these new
tools and what they may say and do with them? That is our choice
as we decide what the net should be and how we should use it: to what
end?
At this point, the
language becomes a bit excessive for me -
Again,
what is the net? Thus far, I see it as a mechanism of connection. It
connects people with information, people with people, information
with information, and machines with machines. What is different about
that? This, I think: Everyone can be connected. One-to-many is
replaced by any-to-any and any-to-many. The mass is dead. Communities
and movements rise (and with them sometimes conspiracies and
insurrections).
Everyone
will be able to speak. When and if connection is universal, speaking
need no longer be a mark of privilege, which is just what upsets
those who held the privilege. Voices too long not heard in mass
media now can speak by new means, raising fresh opportunities and
issues. Who will listen? Will all this talk remain cacophony or can
it be productive discourse?
And
who can really believe that conversation is being reinvented???
Today
we think the internet is a story of technology. That is why, in the
coming chapters, I will explore the story of print as a technology:
its invention, spread, development, exploitation, and control. Yet
the real story of print is not about the machines but instead about
what people could do with them, what they could invent—from fiction
to essays, encyclopedias to dictionaries, newspapers to magazines,
bureaucracy to propaganda.
Fundamentally,
this is the story of society relearning how to hold a
conversation with itself. The early days of print were
conversational in nature: Martin Luther in disputatious dialogue with
the Church in pamphlets and books; Dutch philosopher Desiderius
Erasmus conversing with Sir Thomas More via the Adages and Utopia ;
Montaigne deciding whether he was holding a conversation with
himself, his friends, or the world in his Essays ; John Milton,
Benjamin Franklin, and John Wilkes defending the importance of public
debate in their publications—all carrying on the grand traditions
of Plato, Socrates, and Cicero in valuing conversation as a tool of
friendship, of learning, and ultimately of democracy. The public
conversation was drowned out as media became top-down, one-way,
one-size-fits-all. That, too, is a story of technology: of
steam-powered machines bringing scale to printing to create the mass
market, mass media, mass culture, mass politics, and the idea of the
mass. For half a millennium, the mediators of media—editors,
publishers, producers—controlled the public conversation. Now
we may break free of their gatekeeping, agendas, and scarcities—while
at the same time risking the loss of the value these institutions
have brought in recommending quality, certifying fact, and supporting
creativity. What must we create to replace these functions? The
internet finally allows individuals to speak and communities of their
own definitions to assemble and act, killing the mass at last. I
celebrate the closing of the Mass Parenthesis. As for Gutenberg’s
Parenthesis, I do not cheer its end. Instead, I believe this is the
moment to honor its existence and all it has brought us, and to learn
from it as we enter a next age.
Efgeni
Morozov comes from a younger generation and has a fascinating
background – with a couple of books already to his credit the
first of which takes a very different view - viz The
Net Delusion – the dark side of the internet (2011).
The other is “To Save Everything, click here – the folly of
technological solutionism” (2015), the subtitle giving the show away.