Untitled Document

The Wealth of Networks:
How Social Production Transforms Markets and Freedom
by Yochai Benkler, Yale University Press

Chapter 7 Political Freedom Part 2: Emergence of the Networked Public Sphere

The fundamental elements of the difference between the networked information economy and the mass media are network architecture and the cost of becoming a speaker.

The second is the practical elimination of communications costs as a barrier to speaking across associational boundaries.

Together, these characteristics have fundamentally altered the capacity of individuals, acting alone or with others, to be active participants in the public sphere as opposed to its passive readers, listeners, or viewers.

For authoritarian countries, this means that it is harder and more costly, though not perhaps entirely impossible, to both be networked and maintain control over their public spheres.

China seems to be doing too good a job of this in the middle of the first decade of this century for us to say much more than that it is harder to maintain control, and therefore that at least in some authoritarian regimes, control will be looser.

In liberal democracies, ubiquitous individual ability to produce information creates the potential for near-universal intake.

It therefore portends significant, though not inevitable, changes in the structure of the public sphere from the commercial mass-media environment.

These changes raise challenges for filtering.

They underlie some of the critiques of the claims about the democratizing effect of the Internet that I explore later in this chapter.

Fundamentally, however, they are the roots of possible change.

Beginning with the cost of sending an e-mail to some number of friends or to a mailing list of people interested in a particular subject, to the cost of setting up a Web site or a blog, and through to the possibility of maintaining interactive conversations with large numbers of people through sites like Slashdot, the cost of being a speaker in a regional, national, or even international political conversation is several orders of magnitude lower than the cost of speaking in the mass-mediated environment.

This, in turn, leads to several orders of magnitude more speakers and participants in conversation and, ultimately, in the public sphere.

The change is as much qualitative as it is quantitative.

It relates to the self-perception of individuals in society and the culture of participation they can adopt.

The easy possibility of communicating effectively into the public sphere allows individuals to reorient themselves from passive readers and listeners to potential speakers and participants in a conversation.

The way we listen to what we hear changes because of this; as does, perhaps most fundamentally, the way we observe and process daily events in our lives.

We no longer need to take these as merely private observations, but as potential subjects for public communication.

This change affects the relative power of the media.

It affects the structure of intake of observations and views.

It affects the presentation of issues and observations for discourse.

It affects the way issues are filtered, for whom and by whom.

Finally, it affects the ways in which positions are crystallized and synthesized, sometimes still by being amplified to the point that the mass media take them as inputs and convert them into political positions, but occasionally by direct organization of opinion and action to the point of reaching a salience that drives the political process directly.

The basic case for the democratizing effect of the Internet, as seen from the perspective of the mid-1990s, was articulated in an opinion of the U.S. Supreme Court in Reno v. ACLU:

The Web is thus comparable, from the readers' viewpoint, to both a vast library including millions of readily available and indexed publications and a sprawling mall offering goods and services.

Any person or organization with a computer connected to the Internet can "publish" information.

Publishers include government agencies, educational institutions, commercial entities, advocacy groups, and individuals. . . .

Through the use of chat rooms, any person with a phone line can become a town crier with a voice that resonates farther than it could from any soapbox.

As the District Court found, "the content on the Internet is as diverse as human thought."/1

The observations of what is different and unique about this new medium relative to those that dominated the twentieth century are already present in the quotes from the Court.

The first, as the Court notes from "the readers' perspective," is the abundance and diversity of human expression available to anyone, anywhere, in a way that was not feasible in the mass-mediated environment.

The second, and more fundamental, is that anyone can be a publisher, including individuals, educational institutions, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), alongside the traditional speakers of the mass-media environment-government and commercial entities.

Since the end of the 1990s there has been significant criticism of this early conception of the democratizing effects of the Internet.

A different and descriptively contradictory line of critique suggests that the Internet is, in fact, exhibiting concentration: Both infrastructure and, more fundamentally, patterns of attention are much less distributed than we thought.

As a consequence, the Internet diverges from the mass media much less than we thought in the 1990s and significantly less than we might hope.

I begin the chapter by offering a menu of the core technologies and usage patterns that can be said, as of the middle of the first decade of the twenty-first century, to represent the core Internet-based technologies of democratic discourse.

On the background of these stories, we are then able to consider the critiques that have been leveled against the claim that the Internet democratizes.

Close examination of the application of networked information economy to the production of the public sphere suggests that the emerging networked public sphere offers significant improvements over one dominated by commercial mass media.

Throughout the discussion, it is important to keep in mind that the relevant comparison is always between the public sphere that we in fact had throughout the twentieth century, the one dominated by mass media, that is the baseline for comparison, not the utopian image of the "everyone a pamphleteer" that animated the hopes of the 1990s for Internet democracy.

Departures from the naïve utopia are not signs that the Internet does not democratize, after all.

They are merely signs that the medium and its analysis are maturing.

Networked Information Economy Meets the Public Sphere

The networked public sphere is not made of tools, but of social production practices that these tools enable.

These enable the networked public sphere to moderate the two major concerns with commercial mass media as a platform for the public sphere:

the excessive power it gives its owners, and
its tendency, when owners do not dedicate their media to exert power, to foster an inert polity.

More fundamentally, the social practices of information and discourse allow a very large number of actors to see themselves as potential contributors to public discourse and as potential actors in political arenas, rather than mostly passive recipients of mediated information who occasionally can vote their preferences.

In this section, I offer two detailed stories that highlight different aspects of the effects of the networked information economy on the construction of the public sphere.

The first story focuses on how the networked public sphere allows individuals to monitor and disrupt the use of mass-media power, as well as organize for political action.

The second emphasizes in particular how the networked public sphere allows individuals and groups of intense political engagement to report, comment, and generally play the role traditionally assigned to the press in observing, analyzing, and creating political salience for matters of public interest.

The case studies provide a context both for seeing how the networked public sphere responds to the core failings of the commercial, mass-media-dominated public sphere and for considering the critiques of the Internet as a platform for a liberal public sphere.

Our first story concerns Sinclair Broadcasting and the 2004 U.S. presidential election.

At its core, it suggests that the existence of radically decentralized outlets for individuals and groups can provide a check on the excessive power that media owners were able to exercise in the industrial information economy.

Sinclair, which owns major television stations in a number of what were considered the most competitive and important states in the 2004 election - including Ohio, Florida, Wisconsin, and Iowa - informed its staff and stations that it planned to preempt the normal schedule of its sixty-two stations to air a documentary called Stolen Honor: The Wounds That Never Heal, as a news program, a week and a half before the elections./2

One reporter in Sinclair's Washington bureau, who objected to the program and described it as "blatant political propaganda," was promptly fired./3

The fact that Sinclair owns stations reaching one quarter of U.S. households, that it used its ownership to preempt local broadcast schedules, and that it fired a reporter who objected to its decision, make this a classic "Berlusconi effect" story, coupled with a poster-child case against media concentration and the ownership of more than a small number of outlets by any single owner.

The story of Sinclair's plans broke on Saturday, October 9, 2004, in the Los Angeles Times.

Over the weekend, "official" responses were beginning to emerge in the Democratic Party.

The Kerry campaign raised questions about whether the program violated election laws as an undeclared "in-kind" contribution to the Bush campaign.

By Tuesday, October 12, the Democratic National Committee announced that it was filing a complaint with the Federal Elections Commission (FEC), while seventeen Democratic senators wrote a letter to the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), demanding that the commission investigate whether Sinclair was abusing the public trust in the airwaves.

Neither the FEC nor the FCC, however, acted or intervened throughout the episode.

Alongside these standard avenues of response in the traditional public sphere of commercial mass media, their regulators, and established parties, a very different kind of response was brewing on the Net, in the blogosphere.

Los Angeles Times

By midday that Saturday, October 9, two efforts aimed at organizing opposition to Sinclair were posted in the dailyKos and MyDD.

A "boycottSinclair" site was set up by one individual, and was pointed to by these blogs.

Chris Bowers on MyDD provided a complete list of Sinclair stations and urged people to call the stations and threaten to picket and boycott.

By Sunday, October 10, the dailyKos posted a list of national advertisers with Sinclair, urging readers to call them.

On Monday, October 11, MyDD linked to that list, while another blog, theleftcoaster.com, posted a variety of action agenda items, from picketing affiliates of Sinclair to suggesting that readers oppose Sinclair license renewals, providing a link to the FCC site explaining the basic renewal process and listing public-interest organizations to work with.

That same day, another individual, Nick Davis, started a Web site, BoycottSBG.com, on which he posted the basic idea that a concerted boycott of local advertisers was the way to go, while another site, stopsinclair.org, began pushing for a petition.

In the meantime, TalkingPoints published a letter from Reed Hundt, former chairman of the FCC, to Sinclair, and continued finding tidbits about the film and its maker.

Later on Monday, TalkingPoints posted a letter from a reader who suggested that stockholders of Sinclair could bring a derivative action.

By 5:00 a.m. on the dawn of Tuesday, October 12, however, TalkingPoints began pointing toward Davis's database on BoycottSBG.com.

By 10:00 that morning, Marshall posted on TalkingPoints a letter from an anonymous reader, which began by saying: "I've worked in the media business for 30 years and I guarantee you that sales is what these local TV stations are all about.

They don't care about license renewal or overwhelming public outrage.

They care about sales only, so only local advertisers can affect their decisions."

This reader then outlined a plan for how to watch and list all local advertisers, and then write to the sales managers - not general managers - of the local stations and tell them which advertisers you are going to call, and then call those.

By 1:00 p.m. Marshall posted a story of his own experience with this strategy.

He used Davis's database to identify an Ohio affiliate's local advertisers.

He tried to call the sales manager of the station, but could not get through.

He then called the advertisers.

The post is a "how to" instruction manual, including admonitions to remember that the advertisers know nothing of this, the story must be explained, and accusatory tones avoided, and so on.

Marshall then began to post letters from readers who explained with whom they had talked - a particular sales manager, for example - and who were then referred to national headquarters.

He continued to emphasize that advertisers were the right addressees.

By 5:00 p.m. that same Tuesday, Marshall was reporting more readers writing in about experiences, and continued to steer his readers to sites that helped them to identify their local affiliate's sales manager and their advertisers./4

By the morning of Wednesday, October 13, the boycott database already included eight hundred advertisers, and was providing sample letters for users to send to advertisers.

Davis explained that the CAN-SPAM Act, the relevant federal statute, applied only to commercial spam, and pointed users to a law firm site that provided an overview of CAN-SPAM.

By October 14, the boycott effort was clearly bearing fruit.

Davis reported that Sinclair affiliates were threatening advertisers who cancelled advertisements with legal action, and called for volunteer lawyers to help respond.

Within a brief period, he collected more than a dozen volunteers to help the advertisers.

Later that day, another blogger at grassrootsnation.com had set up a utility that allowed users to send an e-mail to all advertisers in the BoycottSBG database.

By the morning of Friday, October 15, Davis was reporting more than fifty advertisers pulling ads, and three or four mainstream media reports had picked up the boycott story and reported on it.

That day, an analyst at Lehman Brothers issued a research report that downgraded the expected twelve-month outlook for the price of Sinclair stock, citing concerns about loss of advertiser revenue and risk of tighter regulation.

Mainstream news reports over the weekend and the following week systematically placed that report in context of local advertisers pulling their ads from Sinclair.

On Monday, October 18, the company's stock price dropped by 8 percent (while the S&P 500 rose by about half a percent).

The following morning, the stock dropped a further 6 percent, before beginning to climb back, as Sinclair announced that it would not show Stolen Honor, but would provide a balanced program with only portions of the documentary and one that would include arguments on the other side.

On that day, the company's stock price had reached its lowest point in three years.

The day after the announced change in programming decision, the share price bounced back to where it had been on October 15.

There were obviously multiple reasons for the stock price losses, and Sinclair stock had been losing ground for many months prior to these events.

Nonetheless, as figure 7.1 demonstrates, the market responded quite sluggishly to the announcements of regulatory and political action by the Democratic establishment earlier in the week of October 12, by comparison to the precipitous decline and dramatic bounce-back surrounding the market projections that referred to advertising loss.

While this does not prove that the Web-organized, blog-driven and -facilitated boycott was the determining factor, as compared to fears of formal regulatory action, the timing strongly suggests that the efficacy of the boycott played a very significant role.

Figure 7.1: Sinclair Stock, October 8-November 5, 2004

The first lesson of the Sinclair Stolen Honor story is about commercial mass media themselves.

Here was a publicly traded firm whose managers supported a political party and who planned to use their corporate control over stations reaching one quarter of U.S. households, many in swing states, to put a distinctly political message in front of this large audience.

We also learn, however, that in the absence of monopoly, such decisions do not determine what everyone sees or hears, and that other mass-media outlets will criticize each other under these conditions.

This criticism alone, however, cannot stop a determined media owner from trying to exert its influence in the public sphere, and if placed as Sinclair was, in locations with significant political weight, such intervention could have substantial influence.

Second, we learn that the new, network-based media can exert a significant counterforce.

They offer a completely new and much more widely open intake basin for insight and commentary.

The speed with which individuals were able to set up sites to stake out a position, to collect and make available information relevant to a specific matter of public concern, and to provide a platform for others to exchange views about the appropriate political strategy and tactics was completely different from anything that the economics and organizational structure of mass media make feasible.

The third lesson is about the internal dynamics of the networked public sphere.

Filtering and synthesis occurred through discussion, trial, and error.

Multiple proposals for action surfaced, and the practice of linking allowed most anyone interested who connected to one of the nodes in the network to follow quotations and references to get a sense of the broad range of proposals.

Different people could coalesce on different modes of action - 150,000 signed the petition on stopsinclair.org, while others began to work on the boycott.

Setting up the mechanism was trivial, both technically and as a matter of cost - something a single committed individual could choose to do.

Pointing and adoption provided the filtering, and feedback about the efficacy, again distributed through a system of cross-references, allowed for testing and accreditation of this course of action.

High-visibility sites, like Talkingpointsmemo or the dailyKos, offered transmissions hubs that disseminated information about the various efforts and provided a platform for interest-group-wide tactical discussions.

It remains ambiguous to what extent these dispersed loci of public debate still needed mass-media exposure to achieve broad political salience.

BoycottSBG.com received more than three hundred thousand unique visitors during its first week of operations, and more than one million page views.

It successfully coordinated a campaign that resulted in real effects on advertisers in a large number of geographically dispersed media markets.

In this case, at least, mainstream media reports on these efforts were few, and the most immediate "transmission mechanism" of their effect was the analyst's report from Lehman, not the media.

It is harder to judge the extent to which those few mainstream media reports that did appear featured in the decision of the analyst to credit the success of the boycott efforts.

The fact that mainstream media outlets may have played a role in increasing the salience of the boycott does not, however, take away from the basic role played by these new mechanisms of bringing information and experience to bear on a broad public conversation combined with a mechanism to organize political action across many different locations and social contexts.

Our second story focuses not on the new reactive capacity of the networked public sphere, but on its generative capacity.

This story is about Diebold Election Systems (one of the leading manufacturers of electronic voting machines and a subsidiary of one of the foremost ATM manufacturers in the world, with more than $2 billion a year in revenue), and the way that public criticism of its voting machines developed.

It provides a series of observations about how the networked information economy operates, and how it allows large numbers of people to participate in a peer-production enterprise of news gathering, analysis, and distribution, applied to a quite unsettling set of claims.

While the context of the story is a debate over electronic voting, that is not what makes it pertinent to democracy.

The debate could have centered on any corporate and government practice that had highly unsettling implications, was difficult to investigate and parse, and was largely ignored by mainstream media.

The point is that the networked public sphere did engage, and did successfully turn something that was not a matter of serious public discussion to a public discussion that led to public action.

Electronic voting machines were first used to a substantial degree in the United States in the November 2002 elections.

The emphasis was mostly on the newness, occasional slips, and the availability of technical support staff to help at polls.

An Atlanta Journal-Constitution story, entitled "Georgia Puts Trust in Electronic Voting, Critics Fret about Absence of Paper Trails,"/5

is not atypical of coverage at the time, which generally reported criticism by computer engineers, but conveyed an overall soothing message about the efficacy of the machines and about efforts by officials and companies to make sure that all would be well.

The New York Times report of the Georgia effort did not even mention the critics./6

The Washington Post reported on the fears of failure with the newness of the machines, but emphasized the extensive efforts that the manufacturer, Diebold, was making to train election officials and to have hundreds of technicians available to respond to failure./7

After the election, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported that the touch-screen machines were a hit, burying in the text any references to machines that highlighted the wrong candidates or the long lines at the booths, while the Washington Post highlighted long lines in one Maryland county, but smooth operation elsewhere.

Later, the Post reported a University of Maryland study that surveyed users and stated that quite a few needed help from election officials, compromising voter privacy./8

Given the centrality of voting mechanisms for democracy, the deep concerns that voting irregularities determined the 2000 presidential elections, and the sense that voting machines would be a solution to the "hanging chads" problem (the imperfectly punctured paper ballots that came to symbolize the Florida fiasco during that election), mass-media reports were remarkably devoid of any serious inquiry into how secure and accurate voting machines were, and included a high quotient of soothing comments from election officials who bought the machines and executives of the manufacturers who sold them.

No mass-media outlet sought to go behind the claims of the manufacturers about their machines, to inquire into their security or the integrity of their tallying and transmission mechanisms against vote tampering.

No doubt doing so would have been difficult.

These systems were protected as trade secrets.

State governments charged with certifying the systems were bound to treat what access they had to the inner workings as confidential.

Analyzing these systems requires high degrees of expertise in computer security.

Getting around these barriers is difficult.

However, it turned out to be feasible for a collection of volunteers in various settings and contexts on the Net.

In late January 2003, Bev Harris, an activist focused on electronic voting machines, was doing research on Diebold, which has provided more than 75,000 voting machines in the United States and produced many of the machines used in Brazil's purely electronic voting system.

Apparently working from a tip, Harris found out about an openly available site where Diebold stored more than forty thousand files about how its system works.

These included specifications for, and the actual code of, Diebold's machines and vote-tallying system.

In early February 2003, Harris published two initial journalistic accounts on an online journal in New Zealand, Scoop.com - whose business model includes providing an unedited platform for commentators who wish to use it as a platform to publish their materials.

She also set up a space on her Web site for technically literate users to comment on the files she had retrieved.

In early July of that year, she published an analysis of the results of the discussions on her site, which pointed out how access to the Diebold open site could have been used to affect the 2002 election results in Georgia (where there had been a tightly contested Senate race).

In an editorial attached to the publication, entitled "Bigger than Watergate," the editors of Scoop claimed that what Harris had found was nothing short of a mechanism for capturing the U.S. elections process.

They then inserted a number of lines that go to the very heart of how the networked information economy can use peer production to play the role of watchdog:

We can now reveal for the first time the location of a complete online copy of the original data set.

As many of the files are zip password protected you may need some assistance in opening them, we have found that the utility available at the following URL works well: http://www.lostpassword.com.

Finally some of the zip files are partially damaged, but these too can be read by using the utility at: http://www.zip-repair.com/.

At this stage in this inquiry we do not believe that we have come even remotely close to investigating all aspects of this data; i.e., there is no reason to believe that the security flaws discovered so far are the only ones.

Therefore we expect many more discoveries to be made.

We want the assistance of the online computing community in this enterprise and we encourage you to file your findings at the forum HERE [providing link to forum].

A number of characteristics of this call to arms would have been simply infeasible in the mass-media environment.

First, the ubiquity of storage and communications capacity means that public discourse can rely on "see for yourself" rather than on "trust me."

The first move, then, is to make the raw materials available for all to see.

Second, the editors anticipated that the company would try to suppress the information.

Their response was not to use a counterweight of the economic and public muscle of a big media corporation to protect use of the materials.

Instead, it was widespread distribution of information - about where the files could be found, and about where tools to crack the passwords and repair bad files could be found - matched with a call for action: get these files, copy them, and store them in many places so they cannot be squelched.

Third, the editors did not rely on large sums of money flowing from being a big media organization to hire experts and interns to scour the files.

Instead, they posed a challenge to whoever was interested - there are more scoops to be found, this is important for democracy, good hunting!! Finally, they offered a platform for integration of the insights on their own forum.

This short paragraph outlines a mechanism for radically distributed storage, distribution, analysis, and reporting on the Diebold files.

As the story unfolded over the next few months, this basic model of peer production of investigation, reportage, analysis, and communication indeed worked.

The first analysis of the Diebold system based on the files Harris originally found was performed by a group of computer scientists at the Information Security Institute at Johns Hopkins University and released as a working paper in late July 2003.

The Hopkins Report, or Rubin Report as it was also named after one of its authors, Aviel Rubin, presented deep criticism of the Diebold system and its vulnerabilities on many dimensions.

The academic credibility of its authors required a focused response from Diebold.

The company published a line-by-line response.

Other computer scientists joined in the debate.

They showed the limitations and advantages of the Hopkins Report, but also where the Diebold response was adequate and where it provided implicit admission of the presence of a number of the vulnerabilities identified in the report.

The report and comments to it sparked two other major reports, commissioned by Maryland in the fall of 2003 and later in January 2004, as part of that state's efforts to decide whether to adopt electronic voting machines.

Both studies found a wide range of flaws in the systems they examined and required modifications (see figure 7.2).

Figure 7.2: Analysis of the Diebold Source Code Materials

Meanwhile, trouble was brewing elsewhere for Diebold.

Wired

Wired reported that the e-mails were obtained by a hacker, emphasizing this as another example of the laxity of Diebold's security.

However, the magazine provided neither an analysis of the e-mails nor access to them.

Bev Harris, the activist who had originally found the Diebold materials, on the other hand, received the same cache, and posted the e-mails and memos on her site.

Diebold's response was to threaten litigation.

Claiming copyright in the e-mails, the company demanded from Harris, her Internet service provider, and a number of other sites where the materials had been posted, that the e-mails be removed.

The e-mails were removed from these sites, but the strategy of widely distributed replication of data and its storage in many different topological and organizationally diverse settings made Diebold's efforts ultimately futile.

The protagonists from this point on were college students.

First, two students at Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, and quickly students in a number of other universities in the United States, began storing the e-mails and scouring them for evidence of impropriety.

In October 2003, Diebold proceeded to write to the universities whose students were hosting the materials.

The company invoked provisions of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act that require Web-hosting companies to remove infringing materials when copyright owners notify them of the presence of these materials on their sites.

The universities obliged, and required the students to remove the materials from their sites.

The students, however, did not disappear quietly into the night.

On October 21, 2003, they launched a multipronged campaign of what they described as "electronic civil disobedience."

First, they kept moving the files from one student to another's machine, encouraging students around the country to resist the efforts to eliminate the material.

Second, they injected the materials into FreeNet, the anticensorship peer-to-peer publication network, and into other peer-to-peer file-sharing systems, like eDonkey and BitTorrent.

Third, supported by the Electronic Frontier Foundation, one of the primary civil-rights organizations concerned with Internet freedom, the students brought suit against Diebold, seeking a judicial declaration that their posting of the materials was privileged.

They won both the insurgent campaign and the formal one.

As a practical matter, the materials remained publicly available throughout this period.

As a matter of law, the litigation went badly enough for Diebold that the company issued a letter promising not to sue the students.

The court nonetheless awarded the students damages and attorneys' fees because it found that Diebold had "knowingly and materially misrepresented" that the publication of the e-mail archive was a copyright violation in its letters to the Internet service providers./9

Central from the perspective of understanding the dynamics of the networked public sphere is not, however, the court case - it was resolved almost a year later, after most of the important events had already unfolded - but the efficacy of the students' continued persistent publication in the teeth of the cease-and-desist letters and the willingness of the universities to comply.

And the public eye, in turn, scrutinized.

Among the things that began to surface as users read the files were internal e-mails recognizing problems with the voting system, with the security of the FTP site from which Harris had originally obtained the specifications of the voting systems, and e-mail that indicated that the machines implemented in California had been "patched" or updated after their certification.

That is, the machines actually being deployed in California were at least somewhat different from the machines that had been tested and certified by the state.

This turned out to have been a critical find.

California had a Voting Systems Panel within the office of the secretary of state that reviewed and certified voting machines.

Instead of discussing the agenda item, however, one of the panel members made a motion to table the item until the secretary of state had an opportunity to investigate, because "It has come to our attention that some very disconcerting information regarding this item [sic] and we are informed that this company, Diebold, may have installed uncertified software in at least one county before it was certified."/10

The source of the information is left unclear in the minutes.

A later report in Wired cited an unnamed source in the secretary of state's office as saying that somebody within the company had provided this information.

The timing and context, however, suggest that it was the revelation and discussion of the e-mail memoranda online that played that role.

Two of the members of the public who spoke on the record mention information from within the company.

One specifically mentions the information gleaned from company e-mails.

In the next committee meeting, on December 16, 2003, one member of the public who was in attendance specifically referred to the e-mails on the Internet, referencing in particular a January e-mail about upgrades and changes to the certified systems.

By that December meeting, the independent investigation by the secretary of state had found systematic discrepancies between the systems actually installed and those tested and certified by the state.

The following few months saw more studies, answers, debates, and the eventual decertification of many of the Diebold machines installed in California (see figures 7.3a and 7.3b).

Figure 7.3a: Diebold Internal E-mails Discovery and Distribution

Figure 7.3b: Internal E-mails Translated to Political and Judicial Action

The structure of public inquiry, debate, and collective action exemplified by this story is fundamentally different from the structure of public inquiry and debate in the mass-media-dominated public sphere of the twentieth century.

The output of this initial inquiry was not a respectable analysis by a major player in the public debate.

It was access to raw materials and initial observations about them, available to start a conversation.

Analysis then emerged from a widely distributed process undertaken by Internet users of many different types and abilities.

In this case, it included academics studying electronic voting systems, activists, computer systems practitioners, and mobilized students.

When the pressure from a well-financed corporation mounted, it was not the prestige and money of a Washington Post or a New York Times that protected the integrity of the information and its availability for public scrutiny.

It was the radically distributed cooperative efforts of students and peer-to-peer network users around the Internet.

These efforts were, in turn, nested in other communities of cooperative production - like the free software community that developed some of the applications used to disseminate the e-mails after Swarthmore removed them from the students' own site.

There was no single orchestrating power - neither party nor professional commercial media outlet.

There was instead a series of uncoordinated but mutually reinforcing actions by individuals in different settings and contexts, operating under diverse organizational restrictions and affordances, to expose, analyze, and distribute criticism and evidence for it.

The networked public sphere here does not rely on advertising or capturing large audiences to focus its efforts.

What became salient for the public agenda and shaped public discussion was what intensely engaged active participants, rather than what kept the moderate attention of large groups of passive viewers.

Instead of the lowest-common-denominator focus typical of commercial mass media, each individual and group can - and, indeed, most likely will - focus precisely on what is most intensely interesting to its participants.

Instead of iconic representation built on the scarcity of time slots and space on the air or on the page, we see the emergence of a "see for yourself" culture.

Access to underlying documents and statements, and to the direct expression of the opinions of others, becomes a central part of the medium.

* * * [Here we are skipping over many pages on various objections to the claim that the internet is good for democracy. -TCA] * * *

Developments in network topology theory and its relationship to the structure of the empirically mapped real Internet offer a map of the networked information environment that is indeed quite different from the naïve model of "everyone a pamphleteer."

However, that is the wrong baseline.

There never has been a complex, large modern democracy in which everyone could speak and be heard by everyone else.

The correct baseline is the one-way structure of the commercial mass media.

The normatively relevant descriptive questions are whether the networked public sphere provides broader intake, participatory filtering, and relatively incorruptible platforms for creating public salience.

I suggest that it does.

Four characteristics of network topology structure the Web and the blogosphere in an ordered, but nonetheless meaningfully participatory form.

First, at a microlevel, sites cluster - in particular, topically and interest-related sites link much more heavily to each other than to other sites.

Second, at a macrolevel, the Web and the blogosphere have giant, strongly connected cores - "areas" where 20-30 percent of all sites are highly and redundantly interlinked; that is, tens or hundreds of millions of sites, rather than ten, fifty, or even five hundred television stations.

That pattern repeats itself in smaller subclusters as well.

Third, as the clusters get small enough, the obscurity of sites participating in the cluster diminishes, while the visibility of the superstars remains high, forming a filtering and transmission backbone for universal intake and local filtering.

Fourth and finally, the Web exhibits "small-world" phenomena, making most Web sites reachable through shallow paths from most other Web sites.

I will explain each of these below, as well as how they interact to form a reasonably attractive image of the networked public sphere.

* * * [Skip down to the next bold heading if you are pressed for time] * * *

First, links are not smoothly distributed throughout the network.

Computer scientists have looked at clustering from the perspective of what topical or other correlated characteristics describe these relatively high-density interconnected regions of nodes.

What they found was perhaps entirely predictable from an intuitive perspective of the network users, but important as we try to understand the structure of information flow on the Web.

Web sites cluster into topical and social/organizational clusters.

Early work done in the IBM Almaden Research Center on how link structure could be used as a search technique showed that by mapping densely interlinked sites without looking at content, one could find communities of interest that identify very fine-grained topical connections, such as Australian fire brigades or Turkish students in the United States./20

A later study out of the NEC Research Institute more formally defined the interlinking that would identify a "community" as one in which the nodes were more densely connected to each other than they were to nodes outside the cluster by some amount.

The study also showed that topically connected sites meet this definition.

For instance, sites related to molecular biology clustered with each other - in the sense of being more interlinked with each other than with off-topic sites - as did sites about physics and black holes./21

Lada Adamic and Natalie Glance recently showed that liberal political blogs and conservative political blogs densely interlink with each other, mostly pointing within each political leaning but with about 15 percent of links posted by the most visible sites also linking across the political divide./22

Physicists analyze clustering as the property of transitivity in networks: the increased probability that if node A is connected to node B, and node B is connected to node C, that node A also will be connected to node C, forming a triangle.

Newman has shown that the clustering coefficient of a network that exhibits power law distribution of connections or degrees - that is, its tendency to cluster - is related to the exponent of the distribution.

At low exponents, below 2.333, the clustering coefficient becomes high.

This explains analytically the empirically observed high level of clustering on the Web, whose exponent for inlinks has been empirically shown to be 2.1./23

Second, at a macrolevel and in smaller subclusters, the power law distribution does not resolve into everyone being connected in a mass-media model relationship to a small number of major "backbone" sites.

/24

That is, nodes within this core are heavily linked and interlinked, with multiple redundant paths among them.

Empirically, as of 2001, this structure was comprised of about 28 percent of nodes.

At the same time, about 22 percent of nodes had links into the core, but were not linked to from it - these may have been new sites, or relatively lower-interest sites.

The same proportion of sites was linked-to from the core, but did not link back to it - these might have been ultimate depositories of documents, or internal organizational sites.

Finally, roughly the same proportion of sites occupied "tendrils" or "tubes" that cannot reach, or be reached from, the core.

Tendrils can be reached from the group of sites that link into the strongly connected core or can reach into the group that can be connected to from the core.

Tubes connect the inlinking sites to the outlinked sites without going through the core.

About 10 percent of sites are entirely isolated.

This structure has been called a "bow tie" - with a large core and equally sized in- and outflows to and from that core (see figure 7.5).

Figure 7.5: Bow Tie Structure of the Web

One way of interpreting this structure as counterdemocratic is to say: This means that half of all Web sites are not reachable from the other half - the "IN," "tendrils," and disconnected portions cannot be reached from any of the sites in SCC and OUT.

On the other hand, one could say that half of all Web pages, the SCC and OUT components, are reachable from IN and SCC.

That is, hundreds of millions of pages are reachable from hundreds of millions of potential entry points.

This represents a very different intake function and freedom to speak in a way that is potentially accessible to others than a five-hundred-channel, mass-media model.

More significant yet, Dill and others showed that the bow tie structure appears not only at the level of the Web as a whole, but repeats itself within clusters.

That is, the Web appears to show characteristics of self-similarity, up to a point - links within clusters also follow a power law distribution and cluster, and have a bow tie structure of similar proportions to that of the overall Web.

Tying the two points about clustering and the presence of a strongly connected core, Dill and his coauthors showed that what they called "thematically unified clusters," such as geographically or content-related groupings of Web sites, themselves exhibit these strongly connected cores that provided a thematically defined navigational backbone to the Web.

It is not that one or two major sites were connected to by all thematically related sites; rather, as at the network level, on the order of 25-30 percent were highly interlinked, and another 25 percent were reachable from within the strongly connected core./25

Moreover, when the data was pared down to treat only the home page, rather than each Web page within a single site as a distinct "node" (that is, everything that came under www.foo.com was treated as one node, as opposed to the usual method where www.foo.com, www.foo.com/nonsuch, and www.foo.com/somethingelse are each treated as a separate node), fully 82 percent of the nodes were in the strongly connected core, and an additional 13 percent were reachable from the SCC as the OUT group.

Third, another finding of Web topology and critical adjustment to the basic Barabási and Albert model is that when the topically or organizationally related clusters become small enough - on the order of hundreds or even low thousands of Web pages - they no longer follow a pure power law distribution.

Instead of continuing to drop off exponentially, many sites exhibit a moderate degree of connectivity.

Figure 7.6 illustrates how a hypothetical distribution of this sort would differ both from the normal and power law distributions illustrated in figure 7.4.

David Pennock and others, in their paper describing these empirical findings, hypothesized a uniform component added to the purely exponential original Barabási and Albert model.

This uniform component could be random (as they modeled it), but might also stand for quality of materials, or level of interest in the site by participants in the smaller cluster.

At large numbers of nodes, the exponent dominates the uniform component, accounting for the pure power law distribution when looking at the Web as a whole, or even at broadly defined topics.

In smaller clusters of sites, however, the uniform component begins to exert a stronger pull on the distribution.

The exponent keeps the long tail intact, but the uniform component accounts for a much more moderate body.

Many sites will have dozens, or even hundreds of links.

The Pennock paper looked at sites whose number was reduced by looking only at sites of certain organizations - universities or public companies.

Chakrabarti and others later confirmed this finding for topical clusters as well.

That is, when they looked at small clusters of topically related sites, the distribution of links still has a long tail for a small number of highly connected sites in every topic, but the body of the distribution diverges from a power law distribution, and represents a substantial proportion of sites that are moderately linked./26

Even more specifically, Daniel Drezner and Henry Farrell reported that the Pennock modification better describes distribution of links specifically to and among political blogs./27

Figure 7.6: Illustration of a Skew Distribution That Does Not Follow a Power Law

These findings are critical to the interpretation of the distribution of links as it relates to human attention and communication.

The former leaves all but the very few languishing in obscurity, with no one to look at them.

The latter, as explained in more detail below, offers a mechanism for topically related and interest-based clusters to form a peer-reviewed system of filtering, accreditation, and salience generation.

It gives the long tail on the low end of the distribution heft (and quite a bit of wag).

The fourth and last piece of mapping the network as a platform for the public sphere is called the "small-worlds effect."

Based on Stanley Milgram's sociological experiment and on mathematical models later proposed by Duncan Watts and Steven Strogatz, both theoretical and empirical work has shown that the number of links that must be traversed from any point in the network to any other point is relatively small./28

Fairly shallow "walks" - that is, clicking through three or four layers of links - allow a user to cover a large portion of the Web.

What is true of the Web as a whole turns out to be true of the blogosphere as well, and even of the specifically political blogosphere.

In two blog-based studies, Clay Shirky and then Jason Kottke published widely read explanations of how the blogosphere was simply exhibiting the power law characteristics common on the Web./29

The emergence in 2003 of discussions of this sort in the blogosphere is, it turns out, hardly surprising.

In a time-sensitive study also published in 2003, Kumar and others provided an analysis of the network topology of the blogosphere.

They found that it was very similar to that of the Web as a whole - both at the macro- and microlevels.

Interestingly, they found that the strongly connected core only developed after a certain threshold, in terms of total number of nodes, had been reached, and that it began to develop extensively only in 2001, reached about 20 percent of all blogs in 2002, and continued to grow rapidly.

They also showed that what they called the "community" structure - the degree of clustering or mutual pointing within groups - was high, an order of magnitude more than a random graph with a similar power law exponent would have generated.

Moreover, the degree to which a cluster is active or inactive, highly connected or not, changes over time.

In addition to time-insensitive superstars, there are also flare-ups of connectivity for sites depending on the activity and relevance of their community of interest.

This latter observation is consistent with what we saw happen for BoycottSBG.com.

Kumar and his collaborators explained these phenomena by the not-too-surprising claim that bloggers link to each other based on topicality - that is, their judgment of the quality and relevance of the materials - not only on the basis of how well connected they are already./30

* * [Start here for Benkler's summary of the empirical results of his study of 'network topology and the way that enables us to answer the various objections to his claim that the Internet will be good for democracy] * *

This body of literature on network topology suggests a model for how order has emerged on the Internet, the World Wide Web, and the blogosphere.

We now know that the network at all its various layers follows a degree of order, where some sites are vastly more visible than most.

This order is loose enough, however, and exhibits a sufficient number of redundant paths from an enormous number of sites to another enormous number, that the effect is fundamentally different from the small number of commercial professional editors of the mass media.

Individuals and individual organizations cluster around topical, organizational, or other common features.

Because even in small clusters the distribution of links still has a long tail, these smaller clusters still include high-visibility nodes.

These relatively high-visibility nodes can serve as points of transfer to larger clusters, acting as an attention backbone that transmits information among clusters.

Subclusters within a general category - such as liberal and conservative blogs clustering within the broader cluster of political blogs - are also interlinked, though less densely than within-cluster connectivity.

The higher level or larger clusters again exhibit a similar feature, where higher visibility nodes can serve as clearinghouses and connectivity points among clusters and across the Web.

These are all highly connected with redundant links within a giant, strongly connected core - comprising more than a quarter of the nodes in any given level of cluster.

The small-worlds phenomenon means that individual users who travel a small number of different links from similar starting points within a cluster cover large portions of the Web and can find diverse sites.

By then linking to them on their own Web sites, or giving them to others by e-mail or blog post, sites provide multiple redundant paths open to many users to and from most statements on the Web.

High-visibility nodes amplify and focus on given statements, and in this regard, have greater power in the information environment they occupy.

However, there is sufficient redundancy of paths through high-visibility nodes that no single node or small collection of nodes can control the flow of information in the core and around the Web.

This is true both at the level of the cluster and at the level of the Web as a whole.

The result is an ordered system of intake, filtering, and synthesis that can in theory emerge in networks generally, and empirically has been shown to have emerged on the Web.

It avoids the generation of a din through which no voice can be heard, as the fears of fragmentation predicted.

And, while money may be useful in achieving visibility, the structure of the Web means that money is neither necessary nor sufficient to grab attention - because the networked information economy, unlike its industrial predecessor, does not offer simple points of dissemination and control for purchasing assured attention.

What the network topology literature allows us to do, then, is to offer a richer, more detailed, and empirically supported picture of how the network can be a platform for the public sphere that is structured in a fundamentally different way than the mass-media model.

The problem is approached through a self-organizing principle, beginning with communities of interest on smallish scales, practices of mutual pointing, and the fact that, with freedom to choose what to see and who to link to, with some codependence among the choices of individuals as to whom to link, highly connected points emerge even at small scales, and continue to be replicated with ever-larger visibility as the clusters grow.

Without forming or requiring a formal hierarchy, and without creating single points of control, each cluster generates a set of sites that offer points of initial filtering, in ways that are still congruent with the judgments of participants in the highly connected small cluster.

The process is replicated at larger and more general clusters, to the point where positions that have been synthesized "locally" and "regionally" can reach Web-wide visibility and salience.

It turns out that we are not intellectual lemmings.

We do not use the freedom that the network has made possible to plunge into the abyss of incoherent babble.

Instead, through iterative processes of cooperative filtering and "transmission" through the high visibility nodes, the low-end thin tail turns out to be a peer-produced filter and transmission medium for a vastly larger number of speakers than was imaginable in the mass-media model.

The effects of the topology of the network are reinforced by the cultural forms of linking, e-mail lists, and the writable Web.

The emergence of the writable Web, however, allows each node to itself become a cluster of users and posters who, collectively, gain salience as a node.

Slashdot is "a node" in the network as a whole, one that is highly linked and visible.

Slashdot itself, however, is a highly distributed system for peer production of observations and opinions about matters that people who care about information technology and communications ought to care about.

Some of the most visible blogs, like the dailyKos, are cooperative blogs with a number of authors.

More important, the major blogs receive input - through posts or e-mails - from their users.

Recall, for example, that the original discussion of a Sinclair boycott that would focus on local advertisers arrived on TalkingPoints through an e-mail comment from a reader.

Talkingpoints regularly solicits and incorporates input from and research by its users.

The cultural practice of writing to highly visible blogs with far greater ease than writing a letter to the editor and with looser constraints on what gets posted makes these nodes themselves platforms for the expression, filtering, and synthesis of observations and opinions.

Moreover, as Drezner and Farrell have shown, blogs have developed cultural practices of mutual citation - when one blogger finds a source by reading another, the practice is to link to the original blog, not only directly to the underlying source.

Jack Balkin has argued that the culture of linking more generally and the "see for yourself" culture also significantly militate against fragmentation of discourse, because users link to materials they are commenting on, even in disagreement.

Our understanding of the emerging structure of the networked information environment, then, provides the basis for a response to the family of criticisms of the first generation claims that the Internet democratizes.

The first claim was that the Internet would result in a fragmentation of public discourse.

The clustering of topically related sites, such as politically oriented sites, and of communities of interest, the emergence of high-visibility sites that the majority of sites link to, and the practices of mutual linking show quantitatively and qualitatively what Internet users likely experience intuitively.

While there is enormous diversity on the Internet, there are also mechanisms and practices that generate a common set of themes, concerns, and public knowledge around which a public sphere can emerge.

Any given site is likely to be within a very small number of clicks away from a site that is visible from a very large number of other sites, and these form a backbone of common materials, observations, and concerns.

All the findings of power law distribution of linking, clustering, and the presence of a strongly connected core, as well as the linking culture and "see for yourself," oppose the fragmentation prediction.

Users self-organize to filter the universe of information that is generated in the network.

This self-organization includes a number of highly salient sites that provide a core of common social and cultural experiences and knowledge that can provide the basis for a common public sphere, rather than a fragmented one.

The second claim was that fragmentation would cause polarization.

Given that the evidence demonstrates there is no fragmentation, in the sense of a lack of a common discourse, it would be surprising to find higher polarization because of the Internet.

Moreover, as Balkin argued, the fact that the Internet allows widely dispersed people with extreme views to find each other and talk is not a failure for the liberal public sphere, though it may present new challenges for the liberal state in constraining extreme action.

Only polarization of discourse in society as a whole can properly be considered a challenge to the attractiveness of the networked public sphere.

However, the practices of linking, "see for yourself," or quotation of the position one is criticizing, and the widespread practice of examining and criticizing the assumptions and assertions of one's interlocutors actually point the other way, militating against polarization.

A potential counterargument, however, was created by the most extensive recent study of the political blogosphere.

In that study, Adamic and Glance showed that only about 10 percent of the links on any randomly selected political blog linked to a site across the ideological divide.

The number increased for the "A-list" political blogs, which linked across the political divide about 15 percent of the time.

The picture that emerges is one of distinct "liberal" and "conservative" spheres of conversation, with very dense links within, and more sparse links between them.

On one interpretation, then, although there are salient sites that provide a common subject matter for discourse, actual conversations occur in distinct and separate spheres - exactly the kind of setting that Sunstein argued would lead to polarization.

Two of the study's findings, however, suggest a different interpretation.

The first was that there was still a substantial amount of cross-divide linking.

One out of every six or seven links in the top sites on each side of the divide linked to the other side in roughly equal proportions (although conservatives tended to link slightly more overall - both internally and across the divide).

The second was, that in an effort to see whether the more closely interlinked conservative sites therefore showed greater convergence "on message," Adamic and Glance found that greater interlinking did not correlate with less diversity in external (outside of the blogosphere) reference points./31

Together, these findings suggest a different interpretation.

Each cluster of more or less like-minded blogs tended to read each other and quote each other much more than they did the other side.

This operated not so much as an echo chamber as a forum for working out of observations and interpretations internally, among like-minded people.

Many of these initial statements or inquiries die because the community finds them uninteresting or fruitless.

Some reach greater salience, and are distributed through the high-visibility sites throughout the community of interest.

Issues that in this form reached political salience became topics of conversation and commentary across the divide.

This is certainly consistent with both the BoycottSBG and Diebold stories, where we saw a significant early working out of strategies and observations before the criticism reached genuine political salience.

There would have been no point for opponents to link to and criticize early ideas kicked around within the community, like opposing Sinclair station renewal applications.

Only after a few days, when the boycott was crystallizing, would opponents have reason to point out the boycott effort and discuss it.

This interpretation also well characterizes the way in which the Trent Lott story described later in this chapter began percolating on the liberal side of the blogosphere, but then migrated over to the center-right.

The third claim was that money would reemerge as the primary source of power brokerage because of the difficulty of getting attention on the Net.

It differs in the mechanism of concentration: it will not be the result of an emergent property of large-scale networks, but rather of an old, tried-and-true way of capturing the political arena - money.

But the peer-production model of filtering and discussion suggests that the networked public sphere will be substantially less corruptible by money.

In the interpretation that I propose, filtering for the network as a whole is done as a form of nested peer-review decisions, beginning with the speaker's closest information affinity group.

Consistent with what we have been seeing in more structured peer-production projects like Wikipedia, Slashdot, or free software, communities of interest use clustering and mutual pointing to peer produce the basic filtering mechanism necessary for the public sphere to be effective and avoid being drowned in the din of the crowd.

The nested structure of the Web, whereby subclusters form relatively dense higher-level clusters, which then again combine into even higher-level clusters, and in each case, have a number of high-end salient sites, allows for the statements that pass these filters to become globally salient in the relevant public sphere.

This structure, which describes the analytic and empirical work on the Web as a whole, fits remarkably well as a description of the dynamics we saw in looking more closely at the success of the boycott on Sinclair, as well as the successful campaign to investigate and challenge Diebold's voting machines.

The peer-produced structure of the attention backbone suggests that money is neither necessary nor sufficient to attract attention in the networked public sphere (although nothing suggests that money has become irrelevant to political attention given the continued importance of mass media).

These suggest that attention on the network has more to do with mobilizing the judgments, links, and cooperation of large bodies of small-scale contributors than with applying large sums of money.

There is no obvious broadcast station that one can buy in order to assure salience.

There are, of course, the highly visible sites, and they do offer a mechanism of getting your message to large numbers of people.

However, the degree of engaged readership, interlinking, and clustering suggests that, in fact, being exposed to a certain message in one or a small number of highly visible places accounts for only a small part of the range of "reading" that gets done.

More significantly, it suggests that reading, as opposed to having a conversation, is only part of what people do in the networked environment.

In the networked public sphere, receiving information or getting out a finished message are only parts, and not necessarily the most important parts, of democratic discourse.

The central desideratum of a political campaign that is rooted in the Internet is the capacity to engage users to the point that they become effective participants in a conversation and an effort; one that they have a genuine stake in and that is linked to a larger, society-wide debate.

This engagement is not easily purchased, nor is it captured by the concept of a well-educated public that receives all the information it needs to be an informed citizenry.

Instead, it is precisely the varied modes of participation in small-, medium-, and large-scale conversations, with varied but sustained degrees of efficacy, that make the public sphere of the networked environment different, and more attractive, than was the mass-media-based public sphere.

The networked public sphere is not only more resistant to control by money, but it is also less susceptible to the lowest-common-denominator orientation that the pursuit of money often leads mass media to adopt.

It begins with what irks you, the contributing peer, individually, the most.

This is, in the political world, analogous to Eric Raymond's claim that every free or open-source software project begins with programmers with an itch to scratch - something directly relevant to their lives and needs that they want to fix.

The networked information economy, which makes it possible for individuals alone and in cooperation with others to scour the universe of politically relevant events, to point to them, and to comment and argue about them, follows a similar logic.

This is why one freelance writer with lefty leanings, Russ Kick, is able to maintain a Web site, The Memory Hole, with documents that he gets by filing Freedom of Information Act requests.

In April 2004, Kick was the first to obtain the U.S. military's photographs of the coffins of personnel killed in Iraq being flown home.

No mainstream news organization had done so, but many published the photographs almost immediately after Kick had obtained them.

Like free software, like Davis and the bloggers who participated in the debates over the Sinclair boycott, or the students who published the Diebold e-mails, the decision of what to publish does not start from a manager's or editor's judgment of what would be relevant and interesting to many people without being overly upsetting to too many others.

It starts with the question: What do I care about most now?

To conclude, we need to consider the attractiveness of the networked public sphere not from the perspective of the mid-1990s utopianism, but from the perspective of how it compares to the actual media that have dominated the public sphere in all modern democracies.

This nonmarket alternative can attenuate the influence over the public sphere that can be achieved through control over, or purchase of control over, the mass media.

It offers a substantially broader capture basin for intake of observations and opinions generated by anyone with a stake in the polity, anywhere.

It appears to have developed a structure that allows for this enormous capture basin to be filtered, synthesized, and made part of a polity-wide discourse.

This nested structure of clusters of communities of interest, typified by steadily increasing visibility of superstar nodes, allows for both the filtering and salience to climb up the hierarchy of clusters, but offers sufficient redundant paths and interlinking to avoid the creation of a small set of points of control where power can be either directly exercised or bought.

There is, in this story, an enormous degree of contingency and factual specificity.

They are instead based on, and depend on the continued accuracy of, a description of the economics of fabrication of computers and network connections, and a description of the dynamics of linking in a network of connected nodes.

As such, my claim is not that the Internet inherently liberates.

I do not claim that commons-based production of information, knowledge, and culture will win out by some irresistible progressive force.

That is what makes the study of the political economy of information, knowledge, and culture in the networked environment directly relevant to policy.

The literature on network topology suggests that, as long as there are widely distributed capabilities to publish, link, and advise others about what to read and link to, networks enable intrinsic processes that allow substantial ordering of the information.

The pattern of information flow in such a network is more resistant to the application of control or influence than was the mass-media model.

But things can change.

Google could become so powerful on the desktop, in the e-mail utility, and on the Web, that it will effectively become a supernode that will indeed raise the prospect of a reemergence of a mass-media model.

Then the politics of search engines, as Lucas Introna and Helen Nissenbaum called it, become central.

The zeal to curb peer-to-peer file sharing of movies and music could lead to a substantial redesign of computing equipment and networks, to a degree that would make it harder for end users to exchange information of their own making.

Understanding what we will lose if such changes indeed warp the topology of the network, and through it the basic structure of the networked public sphere, is precisely the object of this book as a whole.

For now, though, let us say that the networked information economy as it has developed to this date has a capacity to take in, filter, and synthesize observations and opinions from a population that is orders of magnitude larger than the population that was capable of being captured by the mass media.

It has done so without re-creating identifiable and reliable points of control and manipulation that would replicate the core limitation of the mass-media model of the public sphere - its susceptibility to the exertion of control by its regulators, owners, or those who pay them.

Notes

1. Reno v. ACLU, 521 U.S. 844, 852-853, and 896-897 (1997).

2. Elizabeth Jensen, "Sinclair Fires Journalist After Critical Comments," Los Angeles Times, October 19, 2004.

3. Jensen, "Sinclair Fires Journalist"; Sheridan Lyons, "Fired Reporter Tells Why He Spoke Out," Baltimore Sun, October 29, 2004.

4. The various posts are archived and can be read, chronologically, at http://www.talkingpointsmemo.com/archives/week_2004_10_10.php.

5. Duane D. Stanford, Atlanta Journal-Constitution, October 31, 2002, 1A.

6. Katherine Q. Seelye, "The 2002 Campaign: The States; Georgia About to Plunge into Touch-Screen Voting," New York Times, October 30, 2002, A22.

7. Edward Walsh, "Election Day to Be Test of Voting Process," Washington Post, November 4, 2002, A1.

8. Washington Post, December 12, 2002.

9. Online Policy Group v. Diebold, Inc., 337 F. Supp. 2d 1195 (2004).

10. California Secretary of State Voting Systems Panel, Meeting Minutes, November 3, 2003, http://www.ss.ca.gov/elections/vsp_min_110303.pdf.

11. Eli Noam, "Will the Internet Be Bad for Democracy?" (November 2001), http://www.citi.columbia.edu/elinoam/articles/int_bad_dem.htm.

12. Eli Noam, "The Internet Still Wide, Open, and Competitive?" Paper presented at The Telecommunications Policy Research Conference, September 2003, http://www.tprc.org/papers/2003/200/noam_TPRC2003.pdf.

13. Federal Communications Commission, Report on High Speed Services, December 2003.

14. See Eszter Hargittai, "The Changing Online Landscape: From Free-For-All to Commercial Gatekeeping," http://www.eszter.com/research/pubs/hargittai-onlinelandscape.pdf.

15. Derek de Solla Price, "Networks of Scientific Papers," Science 149 (1965): 510; Herbert Simon, "On a Class of Skew Distribution Function," Biometrica 42 (1955): 425-440, reprinted in Herbert Simon, Models of Man Social and Rational: Mathematical Essays on Rational Human Behavior in a Social Setting (New York: Garland, 1957).

16. Albert-Lászio Barabási and Reka Albert, "Emergence of Scaling in Random Networks," Science 286 (1999): 509.

17. Bernardo Huberman and Lada Adamic, "Growth Dynamics of the World Wide Web," Nature 401 (1999): 131.

18. Albert-Lászio Barabási, Linked, How Everything Is Connected to Everything Else and What It Means for Business, Science, and Everyday Life (New York: Penguin, 2003), 56-57.

A small fraction of the Web sites discussing these issues account for the large majority of links into them.

Matthew Hindman, Kostas Tsioutsiouliklis, and Judy Johnson, " 'Googlearchy': How a Few Heavily Linked Sites Dominate Politics on the Web," July 28, 2003, http://www.princeton.edu/~mhindman/googlearchy--hindman.pdf.

19. Lada Adamic and Bernardo Huberman, "Power Law Distribution of the World Wide Web," Science 287 (2000): 2115.

20. Ravi Kumar et al., "Trawling the Web for Emerging Cyber-Communities," WWW8/Computer Networks 31, nos. 11-16 (1999): 1481-1493.

21. Gary W. Flake et al., "Self-Organization and Identification of Web Communities," IEEE Computer 35, no. 3 (2002): 66-71.

Another paper that showed significant internal citations within topics was Soumen Chakrabati et al., "The Structure of Broad Topics on the Web," WWW2002, Honolulu, HI, May 7-11, 2002.

22. Lada Adamic and Natalie Glance, "The Political Blogosphere and the 2004 Election: Divided They Blog," March 1, 2005, http://www.blogpulse.com/papers/2005/AdamicGlanceBlogWWW.pdf.

23. M.E.J. Newman, "The Structure and Function of Complex Networks," Society for Industrial and Applied Mathematics Review 45, section 4.2.2 (2003): 167-256; S. N. Dorogovstev and J.F.F. Mendes, Evolution of Networks: From Biological Nets to the Internet and WWW (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003).

24. This structure was first described by Andrei Broder et al., "Graph Structure of the Web," paper presented at www9 conference (1999), http://www.almaden.ibm.com/webfountain/resources/GraphStructureintheWeb.pdf.

It has since been further studied, refined, and substantiated in various studies.

25. Dill et al., "Self-Similarity in the Web" (San Jose, CA: IBM Almaden Research Center, 2001); S. N. Dorogovstev and J.F.F. Mendes, Evolution of Networks.

26. Soumen Chakrabarti et al., "The Structure of Broad Topics on the Web," WWW2002, Honolulu, HI, May 7-11, 2002.

27. Daniel W. Drezner and Henry Farrell, "The Power and Politics of Blogs" (July 2004), http://www.danieldrezner.com/research/blogpaperfinal.pdf.

28. D. J. Watts and S. H. Strogatz, "Collective Dynamics of 'Small World' Networks," Nature 393 (1998): 440-442; D. J. Watts, Small Worlds: The Dynamics of Networks Between Order and Randomness (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999).

29. Clay Shirky, "Power Law, Weblogs, and Inequality" (February 8, 2003), http://www.shirky.com/writings/powerlaw_weblog.htm; Jason Kottke, "Weblogs and Power Laws" (February 9, 2003), http://www.kottke.org/03/02/weblogs-and-power-laws.

30. Ravi Kumar et al., "On the Bursty Evolution of Blogspace," Proceedings of WWW2003, May 20-24, 2003, http://www2003.org/cdrom/papers/refereed/p477/p477-kumar/p477-kumar.htm.

31. Both of these findings are consistent with even more recent work by Hargittai, E., J. Gallo and S. Zehnder, "Mapping the Political Blogosphere: An Analysis of Large-Scale Online Political Discussions," 2005. Poster presented at the International Communication Association meetings, New York.

32. Harvard Kennedy School of Government, Case Program: " 'Big Media' Meets 'Bloggers': Coverage of Trent Lott's Remarks at Strom Thurmond's Birthday Party," http://www.ksg.harvard.edu/presspol/Research_Publications/Case_Studies/1731_0.pdf.

33. Howard Rheingold, Smart Mobs, The Next Social Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Perseus Publishing, 2002).

34. Data taken from CIA World Fact Book (Washington, DC: Central Intelligence Agency, 2004).

35. Lawrence Solum and Minn Chung, "The Layers Principle: Internet Architecture and the Law" (working paper no. 55, University of San Diego School of Law, Public Law and Legal Theory, June 2003).

36. Amnesty International, People's Republic of China, State Control of the Internet in China (2002).

37. A synthesis of news-based accounts is Babak Rahimi, "Cyberdissent: The Internet in Revolutionary Iran," Middle East Review of International Affairs 7, no. 3 (2003).

The Wealth of Networks: How Social Production Transforms Markets and Freedom by Yochai Benkler, Yale University Press