Wikipedia is the poster-story of a new iteration of the Internet, known as the read-write Web,
or Web 2.0 in Silicon Valley terms, or the semantic Web in MIT terms. This phenomenon—in
which consumers of information can also easily be creators—threatens to open and to destabilize political environments that were previously controlled tightly by those in power. In a world
where Wikipedia is accessible, citizens not only can read different versions of the story than
the version that the state would have them read, they can help to create them. And not just
in their own language: as automated translation tools come into their own, they can interact
in many languages.
This version of the Internet also continues the process of breaking down geographic barriers between states by allowing information to flow easily from one jurisdiction to another.
The editors of a Wikipedia article are telling the story not just for the benefit of their neighbors
in their own country, but for anyone in any place to see. The destabilization that Wikipedia
makes possible is also a threat to the ability of a given state to control how its own ‘‘brand’’
is perceived internationally.
So why and how would the Chinese state block—and then unblock—Wikipedia repeatedly?
That question lies at the heart of this book. Internet filtering is a complex topic, easy to see
from many vantage points but on which it is hard to get a lasting fix. As a practical matter, it
is easy for a state to carry out technical Internet filtering at a simple level, but very tricky—if not
plain impossible—for a state to accomplish in a thorough manner. As a policy matter, are
states putting in place filtering regimes because they are concerned that their own citizens
will learn something they should not learn? Or that their citizens will say something they should
not say? Or that someone in another state will read something bad about the state that is filtering the Net? Where is filtering merely a ministerial task, taken on because the state bureaucracy feels it must at least look like it is making an effort, and where is it a central instrument of
policy, initiated if not orchestrated at the highest levels of power?
As a normative matter, broad, informal Internet filtering seems like an infringement of the
civil liberties—or, put more forcefully, the human rights—of all of us who use the free, public,
unitary, global network of networks that the Internet constitutes. But states have a strong argument that they have the right to control domestic matters, whether or not they occur in cyberspace, and there is often little that other states can do to influence them. The future of the
Internet, if not all geopolitics, hangs in the balance.
We are still in the early stages of the struggle for control on the Internet. Early theorists, reflecting the libertarian streak that runs deep through the hacker community, suggested that the
Internet would be hard to regulate. Cyberspace might prove to be an alternate jurisdiction
that the long arm of the state could not reach. Online actors, the theory went, need pay little
heed to the claims to sovereignty over their actions by traditional states based in real space.
As it turns out, states have not found it so very hard to assert sovereignty when and where
they have felt the need to do so. The result is the emergence of an increasingly balkanized
30
Jonathan Zittrain and John Palfrey
or Web 2.0 in Silicon Valley terms, or the semantic Web in MIT terms. This phenomenon—in
which consumers of information can also easily be creators—threatens to open and to destabilize political environments that were previously controlled tightly by those in power. In a world
where Wikipedia is accessible, citizens not only can read different versions of the story than
the version that the state would have them read, they can help to create them. And not just
in their own language: as automated translation tools come into their own, they can interact
in many languages.
This version of the Internet also continues the process of breaking down geographic barriers between states by allowing information to flow easily from one jurisdiction to another.
The editors of a Wikipedia article are telling the story not just for the benefit of their neighbors
in their own country, but for anyone in any place to see. The destabilization that Wikipedia
makes possible is also a threat to the ability of a given state to control how its own ‘‘brand’’
is perceived internationally.
So why and how would the Chinese state block—and then unblock—Wikipedia repeatedly?
That question lies at the heart of this book. Internet filtering is a complex topic, easy to see
from many vantage points but on which it is hard to get a lasting fix. As a practical matter, it
is easy for a state to carry out technical Internet filtering at a simple level, but very tricky—if not
plain impossible—for a state to accomplish in a thorough manner. As a policy matter, are
states putting in place filtering regimes because they are concerned that their own citizens
will learn something they should not learn? Or that their citizens will say something they should
not say? Or that someone in another state will read something bad about the state that is filtering the Net? Where is filtering merely a ministerial task, taken on because the state bureaucracy feels it must at least look like it is making an effort, and where is it a central instrument of
policy, initiated if not orchestrated at the highest levels of power?
As a normative matter, broad, informal Internet filtering seems like an infringement of the
civil liberties—or, put more forcefully, the human rights—of all of us who use the free, public,
unitary, global network of networks that the Internet constitutes. But states have a strong argument that they have the right to control domestic matters, whether or not they occur in cyberspace, and there is often little that other states can do to influence them. The future of the
Internet, if not all geopolitics, hangs in the balance.
We are still in the early stages of the struggle for control on the Internet. Early theorists, reflecting the libertarian streak that runs deep through the hacker community, suggested that the
Internet would be hard to regulate. Cyberspace might prove to be an alternate jurisdiction
that the long arm of the state could not reach. Online actors, the theory went, need pay little
heed to the claims to sovereignty over their actions by traditional states based in real space.
As it turns out, states have not found it so very hard to assert sovereignty when and where
they have felt the need to do so. The result is the emergence of an increasingly balkanized
30
Jonathan Zittrain and John Palfrey