In the second act of Steven Levy’s book, we switch coasts to the emergence of the original Silicon Valley: following the stories of hackers cut from a different cloth such as Lee Felsenstein, and their involvement in the rise and fall of the Homebrew Computer Club – with the looming might of multimillion corporations on the horizon, leading to a twisted sort of future. After all, as the True Hackers themselves found out, playtime can only last so long.
One of the key differences between the MIT academic purists and the Hardware Hackers lied in the awareness of that fact. Though they both independently mostly abided by the Hacker Ethic – free flow of information, collaborative pursuit of innovation, et al – the Hardware Hackers were much more conscious of the power that hid dormant within the machines. They comprehended that computation would not remain as purely an abstract toy for the scholars, but given enough time and resources had the capacity to change the life of the common man. Not only that, but recognizing the early stages they were in, they felt they had a duty to ensure the proper advancement of these influential forces of technology. The world was about to change. Machines were not simply silly, flashing gadgets: they were the means to ensure the progress of humanity.
The United States found itself in a charged geopolitical environment in the 1970s, where discussions on how to address gnawing social issues permeated every facet of higher education. The heightened sensitivity to these societal ills allowed well-read, politically-left university students to lead the activist charge in an attempt to create the world they wish to live in – the utopia humanity deserves. Idealistic, growing with stories of rebellion and technological futurism, they sought out to dominate the machine not merely for its own interesting sake, but as the key to enable tangible social flourishing, equity of the people and the dismantling of the elite. After all, what better vehicle for it? The machine turned the lay man a god, following their every command.
With decentralized power, unlimited access to information, and a sense of always being ahead of the slow, kafkaesque Big Brother, computers could be created and expanded upon by anyone smart enough. There was simply no ceiling in sight to what could be possible with enough effort nor any exclusivity prerequisites, and as the equipment became increasingly affordable, the approaching dream of the Home Computer rocked the hobbyist world. The Hardware Hackers wanted to place these tools in everyone’s hands, to let them craft not merely with physical parts, but with their communities in harmony. The creation of clubs and specialization of growing groups opened the floodgates: suddenly everyone knew everything. And in such an environment, there is where progress can be born and pushed to its limits.
But, something was different this time around. Not simply in their political ambitions, as ultimately these were philosophically interlinked with the authentic Hacker Ethic. No, there were simply more eyes on the ball. Where there is potential for power, there is potential for money. Inevitably, as the ideas began to crystalize into motion, some of the hackers began to slide away from their original intentions. Others with diverging interests manifested themselves into the scene, gathering what they wished without giving anything back. They were not all committing a single and violent evil, greedy move. It was a subtle, underlying change of priorities. After all, if we’re doing all this work, why not get paid for it, anyway?
Why, they were no longer kids in the playground. There were lives at stake. Yes, there were pensions, investment capital, and obligations to the board of trustees and shareholders alongside the innate desire for personal economic affluence. Yet, for many, commercialization was perceived as a possible avenue for constructing their utopia. What easier way to get technology in everyone’s hands than making it sustainable, enduring? Take it out of the garage, and into everyone’s home?
Some believe that the capitalistic environment of 1970s America paved the way for natural market competition, for the emergence of the better product at the benefit of the consumer. Nevertheless, as evidenced by the decay of computer clubs, the rising tensions in dying cooperative spaces, and the ever increasing pile of secrets, there was a thick shame in the air. The era of sharing was gone: it was not affordable.
Corporations serve the sole function of generating profits. They are not ethical nor principled entities, they do not make decisions with a moral compass at hand. Such is the infrastructure of incentives: they will follow the economical stimulus that best benefit them, regardless of the path. And if one company does not, another one will and the latter will crush the former, independent of justice qualms. On a systemic level, the only occasion they will select the upstanding route is when it coincides with the profiting one. There will be small pockets of exceptions, but with the passage of time power will aggregate within the business-savvy, not the good ones. There is no Hacker Ethic to a thing that does not comprehend ethics.
Felsenstein and Lipkin are both correct in their assessments, as all tools can be used both for the betterment of society or for its destruction. However, their proliferation will always lead to their abuse. That’s how power has always worked. Does that make their very creation or spread wrong? That’s a complicated question, and even more so by the fact that their invention also feels inevitable. Lipkin may renounce his corporate position, but someone else will replace him. After all, there’s money to be made.
Fred Moore was somewhat correct in his assessment: money leads to evil. It is a tool after all.