NETFUTURE

                    Technology and Human Responsibility

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Issue #142                                               February 25, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
                 A Publication of The Nature Institute
           Editor:  Stephen L. Talbott (stevet@netfuture.org)

                  On the Web: http://www.netfuture.org/
     You may redistribute this newsletter for noncommercial purposes.

Can we take responsibility for technology, or must we sleepwalk
in submission to its inevitabilities?  NetFuture is a voice for
responsibility.  It depends on the generosity of those who support
its goals.  To make a contribution, click here.


CONTENTS
---------

Editor's Note

Does the Future Compute? (Stephen L. Talbott)
   Where we have come to, and where we may be headed

DEPARTMENTS

About this newsletter


==========================================================================

                              EDITOR'S NOTE

Readers have occasionally asked me to tell a little more about myself --
how I write the newsletter, what I read, things I like or dislike, and so
on.  Somehow I've never quite gotten around to this (beyond what I did
several years ago in NF #47), partly because it never seemed to me very
interesting.  But now, with a couple of major NetFuture projects still a
month or two off, I figured it was a good time to try to satisfy these
requests.

Fortunately or unfortunately, as the case may be, my original idea of
writing down some personal recollections relating to NetFuture's history
quickly became a rather more impersonal review of the "Internet society".
The most I can claim, on the personal side, is to have ventured some
judgments about the correctness of my published opinions dating back to
when the Internet suddenly breeched the surface of the public's
consciousness.

On another note:  the Fall, 2002 issue of The Nature Institute's In
Context newsletter is now online at
http://natureinstitute.org/pub/ic/ic8.  You'll find two articles of mine
there:

** "Do Organisms Merely Survive?"  Here I ask whether the organism is
   adequately explained by random variation and the survival of the
   fittest.

** "Love and Detachment: How We Can Reconnect with Nature".  What does it
   mean to be part of nature, but also to stand over against it -- a dual
   stance we cannot avoid today?

You'll also find in that issue an article by Craig Holdrege dealing with
the rather shameful case of the peppered moth, an insect whose long-time
reign as "Exhibit A" for conventional evolutionary theory has now come to
an end.

SLT

Goto table of contents


==========================================================================

                         DOES THE FUTURE COMPUTE?

                            Stephen L. Talbott
                          (stevet@netfuture.org)

Being in a mood for retrospection, I've been looking back to the 1995
publication of both The Future Does Not Compute and the inaugural issue of
NetFuture, and considering subsequent developments.  Coincidentally, the
January 25 Economist contained an extensive "Survey of the Internet
Society", providing an excellent foil for my own thoughts.  The first
thing to strike me upon reading the survey was how much easier it is
today, even in a mainstream publication, to call Internet silliness by its
proper name.  The Economist's writer, David Manasian, begins by quoting
from John Perry Barlow's grumpily insular "Declaration of the Independence
of Cyberspace":

   Governments of the industrial world, you weary giants of flesh and
   steel, I come from cyberspace, the new home of mind.  On behalf of the
   future, I ask you of the past to leave us alone.  You are not welcome
   among us.  You have no sovereignty where we gather.

To which Manasian replies:

   It is hard to believe today, but Mr. Barlow's musings struck a chord at
   the time, spreading rapidly through the Internet.  The declaration
   encapsulated the exhilaration and wonder of millions of people as they
   logged on to the World Wide Web for the first time.  It really did seem
   possible that the Internet had launched a spontaneous revolution that
   might lead to a brave new borderless world.

   Seven years later, Mr. Barlow's claims sound absurd:  just another
   example of the 1990s hype that produced the dotcom boom and bust.


Who Is the Agent of Change?
---------------------------

One thing I was willing to do in The Future Does Not Compute was to
call nonsense nonsense, and if memory serves me right, Clifford Stoll's
(vastly more popular) Silicon Snake Oil and my book were just about
the first to point out that the national obsession with the Internet was
riddled with nonsense through and through.  Of course, as I noted much
more emphatically, the Internet also bore grave significance for our
future, even if it was not at all the significance hailed in Barlow's
declaration.  Manasian, too, like nearly everyone else, is convinced of
this.  Following his dismissal of Barlow's grab for Founding Fatherhood,
he goes on to make statements like these:

   The changes about to be wrought by new communication technologies will
   stretch the adaptive abilities of western democracies to their limit.

   Far from being over, the computer and telecoms revolution that created
   the Internet has barely begun.

And the entire survey runs under a rubric informing us that "the Internet
and related technologies really will profoundly transform society".  I
will not quarrel here with the general claim of importance.  But I do wish
to point out a curiosity.  In each of these statements -- and in countless
others put before us every day -- it is a technology that is said
to be testing or revolutionizing or transforming society.

But if this is so, why these particular technologies?  Why will the events
of the next few years be a playing out of the computer and telecoms
revolution rather than the printing-press or adding-machine revolution?
Will the online scene we inhabit ten years from now be the result of the
World Wide Web revolution instead of, say, the Gopher revolution (remember
Gopher?) or, as will almost certainly be proclaimed, of a revolution yet
to come?

The questions may seem eccentric, but they serve to shift our attention
away from the rather ridiculous and arbitrary focus upon particular
technologies as the decisive agents for transforming society.  We can then
attend to the much more profound fact:  there is a continuous process of
technological development going on -- a process with a certain historical
character -- and we are the ones driving it from one stage to the next and
determining its character.  If there is an agent at work, revolutionary or
otherwise, it is us.


Revolution -- or Desire for Certainty?
--------------------------------------

Isn't it odd how natural we find it today to speak as if a bit of
technology, rather than we ourselves, were the effective historical actor?
After all, even the technology as such remains an externalization of
ourselves.  Or, rather, an externalization of part of ourselves.  The
important question about digital technology is:  what side of ourselves do
we crystallize into the ubiquitous machinery surrounding us, and how --
given this machinery's powerful reinforcement of our one-sidedness -- do
we find room for the other sides of ourselves?

Part of the answer to the question about our investment in technology is
that, unlike revolutionaries, we crave intellectual security and
certainty.  We want unambiguous clarity, unclouded definition, absolutely
effective rules of thought.  This is why formalisms of every sort -- the
kind of formalism that began with Euclid's geometry, with its simple
axioms and clean deductive steps -- have such a hold on us today.  The
attempt by scholars to formalize universal rules of grammar (innate or
otherwise); the development of computer languages -- formal systems from
which all the disturbing, full-voiced harmonies and dissonances of natural
languages have been removed; the complexity theorist's irrepressible urge
to derive the entire world from a few simple rules; the reduction of the
idea of capitalism to a few well-defined "market mechanisms" and of
evolution to a few well-defined genetic algorithms; the disappearance of
the phenomenal world into the mathematical formalisms of physics -- these
and many similar symptoms have been complemented by the almost unthinkably
sophisticated development of the theory of formal systems as such, one of
the crowning intellectual achievements of our age.

This craving for unproblematic clarity is the side of ourselves we have
invested in "digital logic", which then reflects back to us the
comfortingly well-defined relationships it so effectively embodies.  We
thus find ourselves possessed of ideal mechanisms for rationalizing social
networks, eliminating "friction" from our buying and selling, perfecting
the storage and transmission of information, and pursuing ever greater
efficiency from the manufacturing floor to the emergency room to the
athletic field.  The available, cleanly specified mechanisms and programs
encourage us to fit our problems to them so that these problems can be
quantified, clearly analyzed, and solved.


Some Solutions Are Too Easy
---------------------------

All this is, to one degree or another, necessary and proper.  But by
itself it is spirit-crushing.  What, then, of our second question?  What
is the appropriate counterbalance to our neat logical formalisms and all
the tools based on them?  Here, in the difficulty of articulating an
answer to this question, is where I felt the greatest frustration while
writing The Future Does Not Compute.  And the same frustration remains
today.  But at least it is obvious why this is the right frustration.
When a culture retreats into the satisfyingly clear-cut formulations of
its formal and mechanical systems and will hear of nothing else, how do
you gesture toward the human meaning that these systems leave out?  The
unhappy fact is that there is no clear-cut way to convey the kind of
meaning whose very depth and limitless resonance testify to its not being
clear-cut or automatically conveyable.

The rationalization of social and economic relationships, the refining of
information-processing techniques, and the cultivation of efficiency are
utterly hollow pursuits except insofar as we discover within ourselves the
values, the unprogrammed substance, that makes all this rationalization
and refinement and cultivation worth attempting.  Did you notice how many
years and how many misspent billions were required before policymakers
realized that post-Soviet Russia was not going to transform itself
overnight by implementing a tidy set of democratic and capitalist
"mechanisms"?  The mechanisms can't even exist in any meaningful
sense except as the ever-unfinished attempt to structure most effectively
the values, ideas, significances, aesthetic judgments, traditions, and
communal experiences that are the substance of democracy and capitalism.

The rationalization of any content whatever always tends to destroy that
content, and we see this destruction well-advanced when people begin to
feel that the rationalization, the mechanism, the system, the rules, are
themselves the substance of the matter.

In the same vein, many -- although not nearly so many as when I wrote my
book -- are still trying to convince themselves that email contact between
warring peoples will make violence impossible.  We are learning, however,
that those bent on destruction are quite happy to employ the Internet and
other communication media toward their own ends.  In this, by the way,
they merely follow the lead of our advertisers and politicians, who long
ago exchanged conversation for calculation and the attempt to manipulate.
The Internet serves them all quite satisfactorily.


Stalemate and Reversal
----------------------

My retrospective reading of the Economist's Internet survey brought
gratifying, if less than heartwarming, vindication on the several major
topics we addressed in common.  (I say "less than heartwarming" because I
would rather have been proven wrong on all these counts.)  For example:

** Regarding privacy:  in 1995 the nearly universal consensus among online
pundits was that the digital revolution would, once and for all, provide
an absolute guarantee of privacy.  Today ... well, the Economist's catalog
of technologically based invasions of privacy is enough to drive us all
into hiding beneath our beds.  (But better not use that cell phone.)

** On the use of networking technologies to rejuvenate democracy: "Judging
by the most obvious political effects of the Internet, so far this has not
happened".

** As for the Internet's vaunted power to bring down tyrants, Manasian
notes that western countries "have fallen over each other in their
eagerness to sell the latest surveillance gear and software to China and
Saudi Arabia".  He continues:

   Worryingly, the same technological trends that are so rapidly eroding
   privacy in the West could put powerful tools in the hands of repressive
   regimes .... George Orwell's Big Brother of "1984" might yet become a
   reality, a few decades later than he expected.

There are some interesting things I would like to note under each of these
three heads, privacy, democracy, and tyranny.


No Place to Hide
----------------

In its section on privacy and security, the Economist's survey
informs us that the advertising-network company, DoubleClick

   has agreements with over 11,000 websites and maintains cookies on 100
   million users.  These can be linked to hundreds of pieces of
   information about each user's browsing behavior.  In addition, users
   are being tracked through other methods by Internet service providers,
   website hosts and email services.

Offline, there's the tracking of credit and debit card use, cellphones
(even when turned on but not used), public transportation and toll road
use, and transactions with the government.  Employers monitor telephone
calls, voicemail, email, and computer use.  The average Briton appears on-
camera three hundred times a day.  "And this is only the beginning".  You
can look forward to cameras that "see" through clothing, walls, and
automobiles, all sorts of difficult-to-detect bugging devices, tracking
chips embedded in every conceivable object (including people), unblinking
eyes peering down from satellites, widespread use of face-recognition
software....

Manasian, however, is more concerned about an overly intrusive private
sector "hungry for more and more information" than about Big Brother
governments:

   An entrepreneurial private sector, driven by competition to seize on
   every new technological possibility, is likely to find ways round most
   obstacles placed in its way.  And whatever information the private
   sector collects will be accessible to the government too, through
   subpoenas and search warrants.  Emails have already become a staple of
   court cases.

Remember when the Internet, by its very nature, was going to guarantee
privacy?  Anonymous mail servers and all the rest.  But now we find
ourselves caught between giving government prosecutors the means to track
down malicious hackers, or else seeing our computers trashed by those same
hackers.  Or, more likely, witnessing a continual, escalating warfare
between the two sides.

All of which merely confirms me in my longstanding conviction (see NF #28,
#29, and #30) that neither privacy nor security is a gift of technology.
The most we can gain from technology is an upward-spiraling arms race
between the violators and defenders of virtue -- a race in which the
defenders may worry us at least as much as the violators.

Our overall situation, in other words, looks to be getting worse -- and
for exactly the reason I have cited:  when we come to rely upon
technologies that make it easy to communicate with more people at a
greater distance, we naturally find more and more of our communication --
more and more of our social transactions -- colored by this greater
remoteness.  By "conquering distance" we become more distant and abstract
to each other.  That is, we can more easily cultivate more extensive
contacts, but for this very reason their texture and quality shift toward
the impersonal and one-dimensional, whether the transaction is with an
automated bank teller, a colleague in a distributed work group, or an
email correspondent.  Those communal spaces where mutual concern and an
appropriate reticence (the true sources of security and privacy) can most
readily find a properly nuanced expression are replaced by an abstract
geography of "soulless anonymity" -- the worst possible place to be if you
want to see persons respected.

Of course, none of this is absolutely dictated by the technology.  Just as
an intimate, physically enclosed community can become a hellhole with no
privacy at all, so we can conduct our global commerce in a profoundly
humane way.  Everything depends on the values and inner resources we bring
to our activities.  But the point is that our networking technologies,
already embodying as they do our own drive toward a kind of externalized
efficiency and instrumental effectiveness, require an intensified
commitment on our part if we wish to rise above this instrumentalism and
meet our fellows on the highest possible ground.


Information Is Cheap, Conversation Is Dear
------------------------------------------

As every reader of the Economist knows, its formulaic style requires its
authors to whip us back and force upon oppositely contending surges of
rhetoric.  The one place where Manasian can follow this procedure most
dramatically is on the topic of democracy, where he is convinced that the
future is more promising than the past might indicate.  Immediately after
acknowledging that "on the whole, the Internet seems to have had
remarkably little impact on mainstream politics", he tells us that this

   will not remain true for much longer.  Communication is the lifeblood
   of politics, and every big change in communication technology, from the
   printing press to television, has eventually produced big, and often
   unexpected, changes in politics.

So it is that "the earliest claims of cyber-dreamers -- that the Internet
will produce a shift of power away from political elites to ordinary
citizens -- may well become a reality".

But what Manasian does not remark is that the "unexpected changes"
produced by new technologies are always changes in which we meet
ourselves.  In particular, we meet the side of ourselves we invested
in the technology when we created it, and the side we now exercise in
using it.  As I stressed over and over in The Future Does Not Compute,
and have repeated in NetFuture, this double expression of ourselves is
where we must look if we want to assess the likely impact of a technology.
Obvious as this may appear, it remains a truth that leavens precious
little commentary today.

For his part, Manasian vests his hope in direct democracy, founded on a
nationalized and Net-enhanced referendum system.  The Internet will enable
us to distribute information, conduct debates, and register votes on a
continuing and nearly instantaneous basis.  This will make our current
system of national elections every few years seem like "a remnant from the
age of steam, when most representative institutions were invented".

Perhaps the Internet will deliver the technical capabilities Manasian
envisions.  But his assumptions about the meaning and use of these
capabilities are strikingly naive.  He relies upon "an educated public for
whom individual choice is an important value", and goes on to say:  "It is
hard to bribe an entire electorate, or even to mislead it for very long,
if there is a free flow of information and open discussion".

But surely both our desire for choice and the mechanisms we use for
exercising that choice are far less important than whether we base our
choices on serious reflection or casual hearsay.  As for misleading the
electorate, the question is not whether a few spin doctors can control our
access to information.  Rather, it is whether we will find the spin
doctors, with their slick production values, more entertaining than those
who would require a little real intellectual work from us.  It does no
good to have gigabits of information if the discussion of this information
(and therefore the information itself) is cheapened beyond repair.

And again:  the nearly instantaneous recording of "votes" is something
whose meaning we can already glimpse, thanks to the polling industry.
Nowhere are the limitations of our quest for yes-or-no certitude more
evident than here.  It is notorious that the pollster's need for
quantifiable and information-processable data requires us in our answers
to falsify the complex truth of whatever insight we have.  At the same
time, our interest in the "definitive answers" yielded by the poll (who
won?) displaces the kind of probing conversation that might have deepened
our insight.

In general, we should ask ourselves:  Did television, which increased the
flow of information so dramatically, raise the level of discussion -- or
even preserve whatever quality had already been there?  Are we of the
computer age becoming more capable of a sustained and coherent national
debate?  Are we training our young people to do a better job than in the
past of avoiding distraction and penetrating to the heart of an issue?

I have no simple answer to these questions, but I am sure that no
answers are to be found by talking about the mechanisms for mediating
our exchange -- not unless we make this a way for talking about ourselves
in that double-sided fashion I referred to above.  And if we do take
this latter approach, then the first thing we notice is the widespread
and unrealistic projection of human hopes upon digital mechanisms.  This
suggests a rather pessimistic answer to our questions.  When technology,
conceived apart from the human being, carries our hope for the future,
we have lost sight of the only work that could possibly realize the hope,
which is the work we accomplish within ourselves.  Yes, this work will
be incarnated in technologies and institutions and the structures of
community, but we are the agents of the work.  Our fading awareness of
the distinction between agent and result, so that we increasingly see
machine activity as equivalent to human activity, may prove to be the
one decisive legacy of the high-tech age.

The thought may sound crazy, but I assure you:  once software makes
possible the kind of voting system Manasian describes, you will find
people writing software to make their choices for them and cast their
votes.  Eventually, the "referendum of the hour" will become a
battleground for competing PR machines operating largely through automated
computer programs.  Serious discussion will take place elsewhere.


Ubiquitous Tyranny?
-------------------

Finally, there is the question whether networking technologies serve or
oppose centralized authority.  "So far", writes Manasian, "the Internet
has not proved as subversive to authoritarian regimes as expected".  In
fact, "it is not impossible that instead of undermining repressive
regimes, the Internet could become the most effective tool of social
control that autocratic rulers have ever wielded".  Citing a recent study
by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Manasian offers this
eminently sensible judgment -- a judgment of the sort you rarely heard
when I was writing my book:

   The political impact of the Internet varies from country to country,
   say the authors [of the Carnegie study], and depends more on social or
   economic circumstances and the government's own policies than on the
   catalytic effects of the Internet itself.

Manasian notes in particular the self-censorship exercised by Internet
service providers, content companies, and users:

   Although China has welcomed private investment into its telecoms
   infrastructure, it has carefully retained control over operating
   licenses and over the system's backbone.  This allows the authorities
   not only to use sophisticated monitoring techniques, but to punish any
   firms that step out of line.  Most, including many big western firms,
   have been eager to comply.  Likewise, by occasionally cracking down
   harshly on individuals, the authorities have intimidated most Chinese
   into staying within accepted boundaries on the Internet.  Chinese users
   never know who might be watching the way they use it, or when the axe
   might fall.

   So far, this approach has been highly successful.  The Falun Gong, the
   only direct challenger to the government's domination of public life in
   recent years, won a large following in the late 1990s by using email
   and websites, but today the group's dwindling membership inside the
   country communicates mostly by payphone, which is harder to trace than
   email.

Personally, I remain as noncommittal about the issue (formulated in this
way) as I was in my book.  I am convinced that in the long run the
underlying evolution of human consciousness is making autocratic regimes
less and less tolerable to the healthy human being.  But whether healthy
or unhealthy impulses will prevail in this or that nation in the short run
-- who can say?  In any case, insofar as the Internet does help to
undermine tyranny in the long run, it will be because we refuse to
participate in tyranny -- not because packet switching, redundancy and
decentralized networks are inherently anti-tyrannical.

The important thing to realize, I continue to believe, is that our
unhealthy impulses need not prop up centralized authorities in order to
get us into trouble.  The deeper threat today is found in the potentials
for an unprecedented sort of distributed tyranny -- a tyranny with no one
particular in charge.  Those we like to point at as "responsible" --
politicians, corporate officers, bureaucratic functionaries -- tend more
and more to be faceless instruments of "the System", with little choice
but to carry out its dictates.  But all the rest of us, too, find
ourselves implicated, by a thousand connections, in the workings of the
System as a whole.

Suppose I sat down and tallied all the implications of a trip to the store
for milk -- from car and fuel use, to farming practices and genetic
engineering, to the style of operation of retail, wholesale, and
distribution businesses.  I would find that virtually nothing going on in
the world is more than a "degree or two of separation" from my casual
trip.  Altering any one of these connections hardly seems worthwhile --
the disruption to my own life would be so great, and the difference to the
System so vanishingly small -- yet changing everything at once is
impossible.  So a kind of paralysis sets in, which is exactly what allows
the ever more tightly woven web of automatisms embodied in machine and
software to direct us according to its own, self-propelled logic.  The
aggressively universal ambition of all such logic is the tyranny I fear.


Finding Ourselves
-----------------

If I were to try to encapsulate everything I've been saying within the
briefest compass possible, I would offer something like this:

Our future depends upon our finding the proper balance and interplay of
two "forces".  One of these propels us to globalize, to extend our reach
ever outward.  As we move in this direction, the temptation is to ignore
and dissolve local distinctions.  A homogenization occurs, tending to cut
us off from the relationships and communities in which we were formerly
embedded.  We gain universality, but it is increasingly the universality
of atoms moving within a common void.

Digital technologies lend themselves particularly well to this one-sided
temptation.  The logic of universal connectivity, left to itself, says
nothing about the individual character of what is connected; and the logic
of programmed interactions says nothing about the meaning of our
exchanges.  We can implement and employ all this logic with a gratifying
sense of "nailing things down exactly".  (The rationally structured
metropolis on a computer chip is wonderfully unambiguous.)  As more and
more of our social and entrepreneurial energy goes into the endless
elaboration and refinement of such logic, we find it all too natural to
ignore the disorderly or "merely poetic" domains of meaning upon which
social health ultimately depends.

The second "force" moves us to intensify our individual lives, our
communities, our rootedness in place, our experience of meaning, our
commitment to the concrete and particular and distinctive.  And what I
want to say is that the trend toward global extension is pathological
except insofar as it is united with -- and actually grows out of -- this
second movement focused on deepening and intensifying the local.

The ultimate local focus is the individual, who is also the agent of both
"forces".  The healthy individual reaches toward ever wider community
only because he reaches ever more deeply into his own center and source,
where he finds not so much a universal logic as a universal humanity
uniting him with all others.  And, in the other direction, he strengthens
his inner life because in embracing a wider community, he finds himself
reflected in it and encounters there the challenge of his own destiny.

For what it's worth, all this can be taken as commentary upon a statement
Samuel Taylor Coleridge offers at the beginning of chapter 13 in his
Biographia Literaria:

   Grant me a nature having two contrary forces, the one of which tends to
   expand infinitely, while the other strives to apprehend or find
   itself in this infinity, and I will cause the world of intelligences
   with the whole system of their representations to rise up before you.

Every age is out of balance one way or another, and our primary challenge
today is not to expand infinitely but to "find ourselves in this infinity"
-- an infinity that science first stretched before us in the objectified
heavens, and technology now implements as a social reality of abstract,
remote distances, universal logic, and the blind, LaPlacean necessities of
"the System".  There never was a fitter matrix for leveraging the System
than the engraved procedures, the endless rows of microscopic cubicles,
and the bland informational efficiencies of a silicon chip.

Every logic is abstracted from our thinking or speaking; every mechanism
is abstracted from our behaving.  I believe we have needed the comforting
structure, the experience of clarity, that our externalized logics and
mechanisms have afforded us -- but only as a confidence-building step
leading to exploration of the deeper significance of our life together.
This significance always lies "off-grid" in the sea of meaning from which
all worthwhile logics and mechanisms crystallize and into which they must
dissolve again in order to be revivified.  The risk is that in our
fascination with the certainties of the grid we will forget everything
except square-cornered obedience to a dead logic -- forget that only by
plunging into the reality between the lines can we gain a fresh draft of
life.

Related articles:

** "The Trouble with Ubiquitous Technology Pushers" in NF #100 (linked to
   two sequel articles):

      http://www.netfuture.org/2000/Jan0600_100.html#3

** "Privacy in an Age of Data" in NF #28 (linked to two sequel articles):

      http://www.netfuture.org/1996/Sep2596_28.html#2


Goto table of contents


==========================================================================

                          ABOUT THIS NEWSLETTER

Copyright 2003 by The Nature Institute.  You may redistribute this
newsletter for noncommercial purposes.  You may also redistribute
individual articles in their entirety, provided the NetFuture url and this
paragraph are attached.

NetFuture is supported by freely given reader contributions, and could not
survive without them.  For details and special offers, see
http://netfuture.org/support.html .

Current and past issues of NetFuture are available on the Web:

    http://netfuture.org/

To subscribe or unsubscribe to NetFuture:
    http://netfuture.org/subscribe.html.

Steve Talbott :: NetFuture #142 :: February 25, 2003

Goto table of contents