Book Reviews
Ink into Bits: A Web of Converging Media. Charles T. Meadow.
Lanham, MD: The Scarecrow Press; 1998; 292 pp. Price: $24.50
(ISBN: 0-8108-3508-8.)
Some believe that the “death of the book” or the “paperless
office” is imminent. If so, what would a world without books on
printed paper be like? How would people communicate or gather
information in such an environment? Charles Meadow addresses
these and other issues by providing the reader with a rational view
of the dynamics between print and electronic media.
Charles Meadow has over 40 years of experience in the fields of
computer science and communication, and has written nine books
plus many scholarly articles and papers. He has worked in both
government and corporate arenas, and is currently professor emeritus
at the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Information Studies.
The primary aim of the author is to get readers thinking about
the future of the word and to ponder upon the changes affecting
media and communications due to the shift from print to electronic
publishing. This is no small task, for the import is great. As
Meadow notes “[b]ooks have had a tremendous role in transmit-
ting culture. Changing books too fast may have consequences we
cannot foresee now” (p. xv).
I had a difficult time drawing the line at what to include in this
review. The book has so much substance in it worthy of comment.
Therefore, I will only touch upon parts of certain chapters that
struck me as significant.
In Chapter 2 “Media and Information,” Meadow discusses the
relationship of information and the media that communicates it.
Information is “evaluated, validated, or useful data . . . data that
changes the state of a system that perceives it” or as Claude
Shannon wrote “a measure of the absence of uncertainty” (pp. 16
and 17, emphasis in the original). Some people remark that society
is in the midst of an information explosion or is experiencing
information overload. In promoting either of these views, the
speaker falsely assumes that the mounds of data that are being
continually produced possess some sort of meaning to all people.
If someone is not affected by the string of symbols swirling around
them, “[i]f more messages arrive or are available than one can
assimilate, that which is not taken in and digested is not informa-
tion! . . . A stream of data is just a stream of data” (p. 20).
Media are in the middle of the communication of potential
information. Here, one may flash back to Marshall McLuhan’s
aphorism “the medium is the message.” Media can affect the
manner in which messages are conveyed, therefore influencing
how the recipient understands them. Yet, it should be plainly
understood that the message is not the medium. Medium “does not
make or constitute the message” (p. 5, emphasis in the original).
Meadow states that the “most used and most influential” media in
human communications are “voice and language, writing and print-
ing, graphic art including photography, telephone, radio, cinema,
television, and the new computer-based communication forms” (p.
22). He then goes on to say that “other media” include plastic art,
architecture, music, and dance. While I agree that oral-based commu-
nication is probably the most used media, I tend to question his label
of “most influential” in regard to the other media. Personally, I would
place music in the “most influential” list over graphic art. It is rather
difficult to imagine radio, television, or cinema without a musical
presence. How influential would these be without the addition of
© 1999 John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR INFORMATION SCIENCE. 50(7):629 – 633, 1999
music? This chapter ends with a prediction that could have serious
repercussions—the standardization of messages in electronic form.
All digital messages would be encoded with instructions on what the
message contains and how it is structured. In addition, all electronic
messages would be in a standard format so the message would be
generic enough to be suited for presentation on most, if not all, media.
The end result would be that the receiver would “decide how to read,
see, hear, or maybe even feel, a message and . . . decide what kinds of
receiving equipment to have in the home or office” (p. 24). The user
could view it as a news cast, hear it as a radio announcement, or read
it as a press release. What would this standardization do to creativity
and self-expression?
Chapter 4 takes a look at “The Special Place of Books and Writing
in Our Culture.” The physical form of the book has been gradually
changing from its origin to the present with the help of Gutenberg,
indexers, and technology. There is not any reason to think that the
book’s evolution will end. “New materials and their costs, the costs of
production, social changes, and consequent changes in user demand”
will continue to impact the book as an artifact (p. 42).
Potential problems arise when there are changes in the physical
organization of a book, especially those that encourage the forfei-
ture of linear, sequential reading. Ivan Illich wrote about “the need
for discipline in reading . . . the discipline of paying respect to the
author—that we owe it to the author to follow the intended
sequence in order to follow the author’s line of thought” (pp.
47– 48). When the environment cultivates lessened reader disci-
pline, the possibility arises that “future generations would become
snippers of items, rather than comprehenders and deep thinkers
about what they read” (p. 48).
Not too long ago, letter writing was considered an art form.
Today we have “while you were away” note pads, voice mail, and
e-mail. Meadow observes:
If people do not learn to express their feelings in writing, they cannot
do so. If people are not used to the written word, as opposed to the
video or cinematic word, to convey feelings to themselves, they might
not be able to extract the emotional content from a text. (p. 49)
This chapter concludes with a look at the book as a permanent
record. A major benefit of a book is its archival nature— once
thoughts are recorded, they stay recorded. This staying power has
allowed those who discuss the thoughts in a book to draw upon and
refer back to the text in question. Debaters have access to the same record.
Now we have the ability to continually update and edit re-
corded material. This benefit carries with it a potentially significant
problem. We may “lose the very concept of original or canoni-
cal. . . [a] document, whether text, graphic, or sound recording,
could become only what it is at the moment, not the same for all
time” (p. 54, emphasis in the original). For example, a text may be
quoted in a scientific paper. The original document’s author may
then change the quoted source to reflect new insights or correct
faulty results. If the quoting author does not know this, the quoting
source remains unchanged, and misinformation is spread to all that
refer to this document. Scientific research in particular could be
greatly impacted by continual document editing.
Chapter 6 “Linear Text and Hypertext” presents some pros and
cons about the use of hypertext. One major benefit of this elec-
tronic medium is its ability to aid the user in coming up to speed
faster on a particular subject. By being able to follow links at will,
the user can “quickly build up a comprehensive mental model of
the subject and its relationship to other subjects” (p. 76).
Critics of hypertext also point to this ability to jump around
links as a potential cause of superficiality. Hypertext allows one to
CCC 0002-8231/99/070629-05
keep moving about the text without stopping and absorbing the
material presented. If and when an answer is found, users may
assume that there is no further need to search any further. This
could result in a situation in which the user “missed important
correlative material upon which to base true understanding” (p.
78). The user may also face the danger of losing those special
pearls serendipity casts ones way.
Students can transcend passive roles in acquiring information
by active participation in using hypertext to seek the answers to
their questions. Yet, problems arise of a financial nature due to the
cost of computers to read hypertext. Many but not all schools can
afford to purchase computers. More importantly, what about those
students who do not have access to a computer? We could see an
ever widening gulf between the have and have nots.
Chapter 13 “Markets” discusses the marketing of electronic
publishing. Publishers who produce reference or instructional
items or material for children are more inclined to promote elec-
tronic products than those publishers that deal with adult fiction,
essay, or narrative-type works.
Meadow sees six major obstacles to the promotion of electronic
media. First and probably the greatest obstacle is that there is no real
contender for a good, highly portable computer reader. Second, au-
thors lack experience and skills with the new media. The third
obstacle is that there are no clear models of what electronic publica-
tions should be, due to people transferring likes and dislikes of past
media to new media. Copyright protection and the threat of piracy is
the fourth obstacle to overcome. Inertia is fifth, and involves not only
resistance to change, but also wariness concerning the benefits of a
mad rush towards change. Last and probably least on the list of
obstacles is the lack of electronic media quality and substance.
Chapter 15 “Thinking about Change” looks at what character-
istics any new media should possess. First on the list is ease of use,
or better stated “ease of initial use as well as at the maximum level
of intended use” (p. 200). Ease of use is not synonymous with the
phrase “user friendly.” The latter expression Meadow finds “hor-
rible . . . [because] it tends to concentrate only on ease of use and
usually on ease of the first use. It does not take into account
performance or what the entity under consideration can accom-
plish” (p. 200). Other properties new media should possess include
interactivity, versatility, accessibility and connectivity, portability
and capacity, durability, and clarity and resolution.
A final characteristic is the trait of cultural continuity. Meadow
puts it best:
To a significant extent, a culture is defined by its literature, which
is not limited to the written word, but can include oral tradition,
music, and graphic art. The more media we have and the more
variant forms of literature we produce, the less do we, members of
a community or culture, share the experience of the same songs,
stories, poems, pictures, and novels. (p. 207)
I believe this characteristic has the most potential for being
overlooked. This omission could result in serious repercussions,
not only within ones own culture, but in the ability to interact with
other cultures. If we do not know what a particular society values
and how that group communicates, how are we to engage in
emphatic and effective dialog?
Within Chapter 16 “Thinking about the Future,” Meadow offers
his view of libraries in the digital future. The library as an entity will
not be a physical structure with granite walls and shelves of paper
materials. Somewhere, there would be an inexpensive storage space
for the electronic file collection. The library itself would essentially be
a reference service “par excellence” that assists users in accessing the
file collection. This chapter also includes skills an “educated” person
in the future electronic environment would need to prosper. These
success factors entail a person being:
literate. 1. Able to read and comprehend written material and to
completely express thoughts in written form. 2. Having a good
knowledge of the best of printed works.
630 JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR INFORMATION SCIENCE—May 15, 1999
numerate. The ability to read and understand materials that present
data quantitatively and to be able to express data quantitatively.
computer literate. Essentially, able to use a computer, or plan for
its use, productively . . .
graphicate. (Not a word in your dictionary.) The ability to com-
prehend and appreciate information presented in graphic form
and to present ideas in this form. Graphic form means not just
graphs of quantitative data, but “art,” as well.
information literate. Knowing how to deal with information,
particularly how to evaluate it and be adept at searching for it
(p. 223, emphasis in the original).
Chapter 17 “Conclusions” contains a list of potential outcomes
we may see in a digital environment. “Good things” involve a
diverse selection of products and services; the ability to commu-
nicate easily across geographic boundaries; a greater opportunity
for individualized learning; easier dissemination to the public of
new productions; and increasing technology that will allow us to
accomplish new and better things.
The use of multiple media by all classes of literature will be
seen as a “neutral thing.” Meadow also labels neutral the gradual
disappearance over “many, many years” of the need for print. This
is neutral, because the people of the future will not really notice
any major change because communication will have evolved be-
yond the written word.
“Bad things” include the economic fact that technology costs
money, and some people will not be able to access these “bless-
ings”; society possibly bankrupt due to technological obsoles-
cence; increased uniformity and decreased creativity; students who
only browse, retrieve, and report what others have already said and
done; and ease in disseminating to the public created material.
(The latter depends on what is produced and who accesses it. This
access could also be a good thing.)
Meadow ends this chapter and book with a final conclusion,
remarking that “electronic publishing is not something to fear. It
has at least as much promise as threat. It does, however, call for
some intelligent thought before jumping into the next glib an-
nouncement from the marketers. But then, what doesn’t?” (p. 238).
Ink into Bits includes an appendix of 17 statistical charts noting
changes and trends in electronic publishing. The charts are time
series showing various factors like demographics, economic, ed-
ucation, and cultural data, print and disk publication, and nonprint
media like telephones, radios, cable TV, etc. There are also a
section of notes, a bibliography (of cited sources I believe), a
reading list by subject (with some sources not noted in the bibli-
ography), and an index.
I found this book to be very thought provoking. It more than lived
up to its stated intent. The writing was engaging and quite fluid. This
book should easily find a place in most libraries, be they academic,
secondary, public, or special in setting. It is must reading for anyone
concerned about social informatics, the future of communication and
media, and issues surrounding new technology.
In conclusion, I can not refrain from quoting Meadow one last
time. I feel it is a fitting remark about our profession and humanity
in general:
Only future people will be able to judge how we did in the pursuit
of wisdom. Perhaps human adaptability is far greater than we give
it credit for and, machines or no machines, we will continue to
thrive, think, invent, and feel. If we can continue to do those things,
that would not be a bad future for the human race. (p. 230)
Jeff White
Medical Group Management Association
104 Inverness Terrace East
Englewood, CO 80112-5306
E-mail: jsw@mgma.com
Technology and Privacy: The New Landscape. Philip E. Agre
and Marc Rotenberg, eds. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press; 1998;
325 pp. Price: $15.00. (ISBN: 0-262-51101-0.)
Privacy is dead; long live privacy. The 10 contributors to this
book on the shifting relationship between technology and privacy
do not agree on prognosis or cure, but that is not their intent. They
set out to report on the frontline skirmishes between the two
kingdoms of Hide and Seek. With a few exceptions, they succeed
in providing an excellent, accessible overview that should stimu-
late discussion and debate. Privacy needs its protectors, the authors
claim, and two more steadfast watchdogs would be hard to find
than the two editors of this volume—Philip E. Agre and Marc
Rotenberg. But these two are no junkyard dogs: they’re pedigreed,
indeed.
Agre is an associate professor of information studies at UCLA.
With a doctorate from MIT’s department of electrical engineering
and computer science, he has written mostly in computer science,
but has some recent work in “information science” as well. Ro-
tenberg, on the other hand, has written extensively on privacy law
and policy. A graduate of Harvard and of Stanford Law School, he
teaches privacy law at Georgetown’s Law Center, and is the
Director of the Electronic Privacy Information Center (EPIC) in
Washington, DC. EPIC tends a widely touted website concerning
the diverse concerns under the rubric of privacy.
The technology and policy divide represented by the two edi-
tors is represented in their volume as well, not only in its title, but
in its content, too. Four articles focus on policy, four on new
technology, and two are lodged between. Although the book tells
us irritatingly little about these contributors, we can glean from the
skeletal list of contributors that two reside in Europe, two in
Canada, and the rest in the United States. The names of the
contributors are likely to be familiar to readers with an interest in
these issues. The policy group includes Viktor Mayer-Schon-
berger, Robert Gellman, Colin J. Bennett, and David H. Flaherty.
Firmly in the technology camp are Victoria Bellotti, Herbert Berk-
ert, David J. Phillips, and Rohan Samarajiva. Bridging the two
groups conceptually are Simon G. Davies and Philip Agre himself.
Agre’s introduction to these 10 pieces attempts to place them
into some broad conceptual scheme. Unfortunately, it is similar to
a friend fresh from a film festival wanting to tell you in detail how
each film fit into its genre and the history of film generally. Done
briefly, it might whet one’s appetite for popcorn; done too late into
the night, it doesn’t. But before you abandon the introduction and
run to see the films yourself, first note the fundamental distinction
that Agre makes between two models of computing.
The early model was of a single, centralized database and a
state-run mainframe: Orwell’s Big Brother. But today’s model, if
you’re buying, is a computer world of atomized, autonomous
entities only potentially, though likely, tied together, for better or
worse. The change inherent in the shift from the Old Monolithic
(OM) to the New Ubiquitous Model (NUM) is a theme of every
contributor to this volume. It is, in fact, the collection’s raison
d’etre: the new computer technology, networked and not just in the
box, but out of the box and inconspicuously lodged in the little
cubbyholes of your life, is both the promise and the peril of the
“new landscape” that serves as the subtitle for the book.
This promise and peril is what Agre takes up in the book’s
opening article, and the article is everything the introduction was
not. It is informative, interesting, even enlightening. His central
claim is that the metaphors we use to describe “information”—
historically conditioned but still operative—affect how we view
the gathering and dissemination of that information. An early
metaphor, “information processing,” was based on an industrial
analog. Information is just so much grist for the mill in this model,
and information scientists are to attend to the process, not to the
informational grist or that the grist is “about” anything, or anyone.
A later metaphor arose as databases came into prominence. In that
model, rows correspond to things in the world and columns to
JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR INFORMATION SCIENCE—May 15, 1999
attributes of those things and the dream is of a vast computer
system that contains a complete “mirror image” of reality. Agre
argues this metaphor is just the flip side of the industrial metaphor,
and it negates content as surely as the earlier metaphor. What we
need, Agre asserts, are new metaphors based on new technologies.
These new technologies, privacy-enhancing technologies for
instance, create the promise of new ways of imagining information
or data and perhaps new ways of imagining ourselves. Privacy-
enhancing technology, based at least in part upon user-controlled
pseudonyms, might help create new models that grant content to
data or information, and that would allow us to separate data
records from personal identity. Agre recognizes, however, that
those with a pecuniary interest in using personal information
would not be enthusiastic about these new privacy-enhancing
techniques. One wonders, then, would they allow Agre’s wished-
for metaphors to bloom?
Another contributor, Viktor Mayer-Schonberger, recognizes
metaphor as a driving force in privacy policy as well. In his
historical overview of European privacy law, he recommends that
we hang on to the old “data protection” metaphor, even though the
phrase is a misnomer because it is “not ‘data’ that is in need of
protection; it is the individual to whom the data relates” (p. 219).
Abandoning the phrase though would be foolish because it is a
revered “metaphor” that has proven a useful tool in public dis-
course. His article identifies four waves of data protection that
have corresponded with the technology extant at the time the
policy was developed.
The first wave, engendered by centralized databanks, resulted
in institutions set up to supervise computers and information
processing. The second wave was brought on by the proliferation
of smaller computers and a “broad, blurry picture of a constellation
of distinct and novel potential data-protection offenders” (p. 225).
This scene resulted in an emphasis on individual privacy rights and
a shift away from specialized institutions. The third wave, corre-
sponding to an even greater decentralization of technology, in-
sisted upon a “more participatory right to informational self-
determination” (p. 229). Today, privacy activists in the fourth
wave are attempting to recognize and rectify the disjunction in
bargaining power between the individual and the potential privacy
invaders, especially through the use of privacy-enhancing technol-
ogies. But Mayer-Schonberger thinks that governmental policy
and institutions must still be involved to protect privacy. This
sentiment is shared by his United States counterpart in the volume,
Robert Gellman, a privacy and information policy consultant in
Washington, DC.
Gellman surveys familiar territory in U.S. law: that the Con-
stitutional right to privacy is a creation of the courts because the
word privacy does not appear anywhere in the Constitution; that
statutory law is at best a patchy protector of privacy; and that civil
law protections under tort theories are limited. The most interest-
ing service Gellman provides is analyzing the statutory frame-
work—particularly the Privacy Act of 1974 — by comparing it to
the principles of fair information practices developed several de-
cades ago. Gellman poses the question of whether privacy law
“works” and, after some equivocating, concludes that it would
work if the public had a greater interest in ensuring that the laws
were enforced and had a greater awareness of the dangers tech-
nology might bring.
Colin Bennett would not agree completely that privacy law or
data-protection law works, especially in the United States. His
article reviews both European and North American privacy law,
and finds that protections diverge in three major aspects: whether
both private and public threats to privacy are covered; whether
protections apply only to data gathered electronically or gathered
by any means; and whether there are adequate “policy instruments
to enforce, oversee, and administer the implementation of privacy
legislation” (pp. 100 –101). On this latter point, he finds the Eu-
ropean Union’s recently issued Data Protection Directive to be
especially heartening, in that it begins to codify a consensus about
631
the most effective ways to implement data-protection law. It is also
on this latter point—the instruments to enforce and oversee pri-
vacy protection—that he finds the United States most lacking and
lagging behind the rest of the world. He finds U.S. protections
reactive, incremental, and fragmented, with no oversight agency
and few effective remedies, leaving a lot of law but “not much
protection” (p.113).
One contributor to the book who is charged with such oversight
and implementation is British Columbia’s commissioner for Infor-
mation and Privacy, David H. Flaherty. After he had written a
book as an academic and consultant on privacy in 1989, he set out
to be appointed to an oversight position. In 1993, he got his wish,
but his article here on his current role is far from an apologia. He
is, surprisingly, refreshingly candid about the shortcomings of both
his role and privacy law in general. He states that due to the
bewildering scope and pace of technology a “full-fledged surveil-
lance state” is “almost impossible to prevent in the long term,
whatever the prodigious efforts of data protectors and their allies”
(p. 170). He notes, too, that neither government nor the private
sector really like the privacy issue because it gets in the way of
business-as-usual’s use of personal information. He argues that
especially in the United States, as Bennett had noted, there is a
need for more oversight and enforcement, but he recognizes that
the task of privacy protection is daunting “in a market-driven
capitalistic society that treats personal information as simply one
more tradable commodity” (p. 174). He concludes by stating that
he is less optimistic about privacy protection than he was in 1989
largely “because of the ongoing explosion of the digital economy
and online Internet services” (p. 190).
This dark conclusion is echoed by one contributor who bridges
the gap between policy and technology, Simon G. Davies. He
writes about the reengineering of privacy, and finds that if privacy
is not dead, it’s at least on life support. He attributes this demise to
five factors: the discourse on privacy has changed in favor of
security; partnerships have been formed among stakeholders that
mask disparate interests behind a façade of unity; surveillance
schemes have learned to make submission to surveillance appear
voluntary; privacy rights have been transformed into consumer
issues where privacy is purchasable; and the concept of the public
interest has been wildly expanded to justify privacy invasions. The
technological focus of the Davies piece is on surveillance cameras,
and he is thus one of the few writers here to take us beyond the
box—the computer terminal—as the sole source of privacy con-
cerns. He is also one of the few to see the privacy and technology
tug-of-war from a broader societal perspective: when times are
good, economically and otherwise, then privacy is less threatened
than when times turn bad. He is most distressed about the public
learning to love its loss of privacy in the name of fighting crime,
or internal security, or the public interest. He notes that while polls
throughout the world show a great popular concern over privacy
and surveillance, citizens are all too eager to welcome cameras in
and on every corner. Given this distress, Davies would surely find
his worst nightmare in the contribution to this volume by Victoria
Bellotti.
Bellotti’s promising start makes a distinction between public
and private spaces, and so one is hopeful that this will lead her to
argue that there are some spaces where computer technology is
inappropriate. But instead, she ends up sticking little happy faces
on all the monitors and digital cameras. Though she deftly sets out
the consequences of the New Ubiquity Model (NUM) of computer
technology— dissociation, disembodiment, the breakdown of so-
cial and behavioral norms and practices—she then proceeds to
rearrange the deck chairs into a really nice design, rather than
sounding the alarm on the good ship NUM.
In fact, design is her game, as we find out a third of the way
through her article when she shifts to the personal pronoun to tell
us about her role in designing a ubiquitous computer environment
at the Apple company’s “Virtual Café.” She reviews that experi-
ment and another ubiquitous computer environment, the Ra-
632 JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR INFORMATION SCIENCE—May 15, 1999
venscroft Audio-Video Environment (RAVE) at the Rand Xerox
EuroPARC research laboratory in Cambridge. Such environments
can include networked audio–video communications, device track-
ing, image processing, and on-line activity monitoring. Although
we should take her seriously that she hopes that her article pro-
vides guidance to designers to design “to support privacy for their
users,” there are too many disturbing aspects to her article. About
RAVE in particular, she says, “privacy, while an initial concern,
came to be something people did not worry about very much” (p.
71). This is precisely what Davies would be most worried about:
when people stop worrying about privacy. And later, in her “de-
sign for privacy” framework, Bellotti suggests that one of the
solutions to privacy concerns for people is to “behave appropri-
ately,” that is, “to behave as if they might be being photographed”
(p. 88). No thanks. Let’s look for better solutions.
Unfortunately, one of the other technology entrants here is not
much help either. Herbert Burkert’s article must fulfill some law
that says for every 10 articles there is bound to be a clinker. His is.
Although he initially makes some helpful points, including distin-
guishing between privacy-enhancing technologies and data-secu-
rity technologies, it drops off after that, as the reader is likely to do.
The chapter is a revised version of a presentation, and it might
have succeeded orally where the blank stares of the live audience
would have provided an opportunity for clarification, but in a
book, the best one can do is to turn the page.
When one does happily turn the page, there are two more
excellent efforts with a technology focus to bring the book to a
satisfying close. David J. Phillips writes well and without code
about cryptography, or data scrambling, a technology that has
arisen in the context of networked computers. At stake, he reminds
us, is power, the power to keep secrets. Because of this, struggles
over cryptography are “struggles over the social structure of se-
crecy, trust, and power” (p. 244). The bulk of his article discusses
five past and two nascent “socio-technical” contexts in which this
struggle has been carried out. One is the Data Encryption Standard
(DES), a systematic cipher developed and certified by the U.S.
government. A second is the Rivest-Shamir-Adleman (RSA) al-
gorithm, which was the first efficient and reliable implementation
of a public-key system. The third, the Clipper chip, is a chip
designed by the U.S. National Security Agency for encrypting
voice messages. The fourth, the “pretty good privacy” implemen-
tation, or PGP, is a public-domain implementation of the RSA
algorithm that simplifies the encryption of e-mail. The fifth exam-
ple is Anonymous Remailers. These send encrypted messages
across jurisdictional boundaries, and not only prevent eavesdrop-
pers from deciphering the message content, as PGP does, but also
hide who is talking to whom. The two new ones are DigiCash, a
system for “electronic cash,” and SET, the Secure Electronic
Transaction specification developed by MasterCard and Visa.
Although the discussion is a bit technical here and there,
Phillips resurfaces periodically to remark upon the societal import
of what he is describing. For instance, in describing the hegemony
over encryption that the U.S. National Security Agency has at-
tempted, he notes that the interest that private firms have shown in
cryptography has threatened the control that the U.S. military has
enjoyed over expertise in the area. He ends by restating his
purpose: to review the contests and conflicts inherent in the trust
and power relationships implicated in cryptographic systems. He
reminds us that the U.S. government continues to seek to retain its
dominant position in these relationships, and he urges that suc-
cessfully contesting invasive technologies and hegemonic crypto-
graphic systems “will depend on historical circumstance, applica-
tion of resources, and strategic alignments” (p. 274).
Rohan Samarajiva initially appears to take on a narrower slice
of the privacy pie than most in this volume: the collection and use
of “transaction-generated information,” or TGI in the abbreviation-
happy world of IT, IS, & IM. But this narrow focus quickly takes
in the whole world. He claims our economy has changed from a
mass-production economy to a mass-customization economy. The
mass-production economy depended upon mass media to do mass
marketing; it was a one-size-fits-all consumer economy. The mass-
customization economy depends, instead, upon customizing prod-
ucts and services for spatially dispersed consumers who must be
differentiated into distinct audiences for customized marketing
messages. This economy presupposes an interactive media system,
requiring information-communication technologies and, necessar-
ily, customer surveillance. “Customized production goes with cus-
tomized marketing, which goes with customer surveillance. This is
the surveillance imperative” (p. 279). This surveillance is accom-
plished through TGI, but Samarajiva is able to extract from this
dark cloth a thread of optimism.
That thread is the UBI (Universal, Bidirectional, Interactivity)
network, an interactive media system currently under construction
in Quebec. The UBI network draws revenues from vendors and
information-service providers in exchange for access to 80% of the
households in a spatially defined market. The households get
access, most for free, and UBI seeks to create an “electronic mall”
with a range of commercial, banking, financial, government, and
information services. What Samarajiva finds encouraging is that
UBI found it necessary to create and enforce a privacy code, which
he explores, in recognition of the public’s widespread privacy
concerns. He finds this a positive development for those looking
JOURNAL OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR INFORMATION SCIENCE—May 15, 1999
for protection of privacy in the context of exploiting the tremen-
dous interactivity potential of technology. He is not blind to UBI’s
limitations and dangers, but he, nevertheless, finds in it a positive
counterpoint to the “one-sided analyses” of unspecified “dystopian
prognostications” pertaining to surveillance and interactive net-
works.
Thus, even though it first appears that TGI and UBI are very
narrow concerns, Samarajiva’s article is broad based and serves as
a welcome antidote to the “after a while you’ll learn to just love
being on camera all the time” nonsense of the Bellotti article.
Compared to that, Samarajiva serves as a thundering, foot-stomp-
ing climax to the entire volume, although truthfully, any surveil-
lance camera would show that I wasn’t fully out of my chair and
standing at the end. But his and Agre’s essays, the alpha and
omega of the volume, its bookends, justify the whole enterprise.
Marc Lampson, J.D.
Seattle University School of Law
Tacoma, WA 98402-4470
E-mail: mlampson@u.washington.edu
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