The Perpetual Three-Dot Column
The Perpetual Three-Dot Column
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by Jesse Walker

Sunday, June 15, 2003
EMPIRES, AND THEIR OPPOSITE: Everyone should spend time in a country where they don't speak the language, if only to learn what it feels like to be retarded.

We've been in Italy for nearly a week now, dividing our time thus far between Rome and Florence. Rome, famously, is imperial. Florence is the reverse. One city is filled with the beautiful remnants of a not especially beautiful past: enormous, imposing monuments to the bloody empire Caesar started. The other has a history no less bloody, but it was bloodshed on a much more human scale: a tiny republic whose constant feuds and revolutions produced a cultural legacy arguably as notable as Ancient Rome's.

Do I sound like a guidebook? Maybe a little on the pompous side? Sorry -- I don't know the last time I went this long without writing anything. Leads to bad habits. To ridiculous overgeneralizations, owing less to my actual experiences here than to my distaste for empires and my memories of Kropotkin's perhaps overly generous analysis of the medieval free cities. But there is a real difference between those Roman ruins, so giant and awe-inspiring and unlovable, and these narrow Florentine streets. This is a place for localism, for craft, for loving or killing your neighbor, but not for empire. I quote Mary McCarthy's excellent The Stones of Florence: "The popolo minuto or working class of Florence, excluded from representation in the big middle-class guilds, was nevertheless highly developed politically. The people of Florence were, in fact, too articulate, politically, for government to be possible at all; the threat of direct democracy or piazza rule was always present, and no matter how short the period of elective office (sometimes six months), it generally seemed too long. Nearly every form of government was tried out in Florence." The spirit of ancient Rome, minus the talent for conquest, was present under Mussolini. Italy's more recent history -- regional and political splinters, constantly falling governments, lively and sometimes violent anti-authoritarian revolts -- owes more to Florence.

Not that Rome is all that imperial these days either. All cities include de facto autonomous zones, but only Rome recognizes two of them as sovereign nations. There is the Vatican and -- less famously, and even smaller -- there are the
Knights of Malta, whose two noncontiguous Rome buildings are a full-fledged independent country with stamps, a flag, and diplomatic relations. R. and I stopped at one of their properties a few days ago, persuaded one of the Knights to open the gates, then snapped each other's pictures. I think this was the smaller of the order's two territories, leading me to wonder whether the Knights at the other building regarded this one as the sticks, a poor country cousin to the real heart of their nation, and if young Knights in the smaller structure dream of moving to the bigger some day and making their way in the world.


posted by Jesse 6:06 PM
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Monday, June 09, 2003
HOUSEKEEPING: I take off tomorrow for Italy. Internet access will be scarce for much of the trip, and even when I do have a computer at my disposal I won't necessarily use it. (This is supposed to be a vacation, dammit.) I do plan, somewhat vaguely, to keep a journal, and if any of the results are worth sharing I'll post them here -- if not while I'm actually abroad, then when I return. Maybe.


posted by Jesse 8:07 PM
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Sunday, June 08, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: Today in The Washington Post, I
review Joseph Menn's book All the Rave.

Also: a piece I wrote a few months back has been translated into Japanese.


posted by Jesse 3:23 PM
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NOT-QUITE-POPULIST COMEDIES: Bill Cosby once attacked the reigning style of black-oriented sitcoms, arguing that the characters on those shows are all stereotypes and fools. He had a point, but I'm not sure this is a racial issue: Has Cosby watched any sitcoms about white people lately? Black America, Middle America, bohemia, the professional world -- as Richard Nixon might say, we are all cliches now.

In that spirit,
Christopher Lasch, the Bill Cosby of dead populist historians, once complained that the culture industry always seems to approach Middle American characters with contempt. Sometimes, he said, it deploys the kindly condescension of "compassion." Other times it's more directly contemptuous, depicting the professional elite as noble and cultured and inland Americans as ignorant boobs.

On the surface, Waiting for Guffman, Christopher Guest's mock documentary about a small-town play, fits Lasch's second category. The townsfolk of Blane, Missouri, don't just lack talent, sophistication, and the ability to grasp what stands directly in front of their noses. They are convinced that they do possess these qualities, and, laboring under that delusion, they make public fools of themselves. One might accuse the movie of cruelty as well as contempt. It is, Lasch could declare, a mean-spirited invitation to sneer at Missouri's wretched booboisie.

It is also one of the funniest films of the last 10 years, and along with the brilliant This Is Spinal Tap it set the template for Guest's subsequent comedies. However condescending it may be toward its subjects, Waiting for Guffman treats its audience with nothing but respect. Guest and his collaborators understand that many gags are funnier when they are allowed to lurk in the background, and they trust us to spot them there. There are no insulting efforts here to hammer home what's already obvious -- just constantly witty acting, writing, and direction.

And there is something more to this movie, a quality that defies the Laschian critique. Waiting for Guffman is as venomous as a good satire has to be. Yet there is an affection to it -- a sweetness, even -- that is anything but contemptuous. Blane actually seems like a rather nice place to live. The townsfolk enjoy the play as a pleasant diversion, and they don't mind (or even notice) that their neighbors aren't especially talented. When the players aren't rehearsing, they return to their ordinary professions: dentistry, travel-agentry, labor at the local DQ. At no point does the film suggest that these people are bad at their jobs.

In short: As corrosive as this movie is, it respects its characters' lives. It may lampoon them for being small-minded small-town people, but it only attacks them for pretending they aren't.

As the story progresses, an idea overtakes the troupe: the insane notion -- at first funny, soon almost tragic -- that their show will go to Broadway. A theatrical agent named Guffman has promised to attend their performance. He will "discover" them, the players hope, and turn them into stars. When this doesn't happen, they leave town anyway, all but one joining the lowest rungs of the entertainment industry. We see them in the film's closing scenes, a funny but unpleasant sequence that lacks the sweet affection that preceded it. What was charming in Blane becomes grotesque outside it. Our would-be entertainers have left behind their real livelihoods, not to mention the only appreciative audiences they'll ever find, to pursue the dream of celebrity.

You can argue that the filmmakers, successful entertainers all, are merely directing a calculated sneer at any ordinary American who aspires to join them in the limelight. One can find evidence for this in the slogan that adorned Guffman's posters: "There's a reason why some talent never gets discovered." Like so many movie ad campaigns, this is exactly wrong: The small-town players in Waiting for Guffman cannot act, dance, or sing, but none is less talented than, say, David Spade or Carrot Top.

But consider what the filmmakers have accomplished here. It's hard to launch a credible assault on the culture industry from that same industry's commanding heights. Many movies have tried; most, whatever their other qualities, are sanctimonious and hypocritical. (Witness Quiz Show and Natural Born Killers.) The pictures that pull off the trick are those that actively refuse to idealize the people who stand outside the center of media attention, from the would-be Broadway stars of Waiting for Guffman to the would-be bowling champs of Kingpin. Fulminate all you want that these movies are cruel or crude -- at least they're funny, and at least they aren't cliches. In Hollywood, those are substantial accomplishments.


posted by Jesse 3:01 PM
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Friday, June 06, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: My new Reason
column is about ghosts and jars.


posted by Jesse 3:37 PM
. . .
NEW MEDIA NOTES: Could bloggers compete with The New York Times? Well, Ira Stoll isn't doing a very good job of it.

Think about that. When Stoll ran a little website called
smartertimes.com, he was a sometimes useful corrective to the Gray Lady. Now he runs a daily paper called The New York Sun. I'm sure it pays better, but it has neither readers nor content worth reading. If blogs are part of a media revolution -- and yeah, I think they are -- it's not because the people who write them could beat the Times at reporting, editing, or even opining. Some probably could. But most definitely can't.

In fact, blogger triumphalism aside, I'm not sure most of us could even fact-check better than the Times. I mean, it's not like we caught Jayson Blair. It's nice that the warblogging crowd has pointed out so many errors in the BBC's report on the rescue of Jessica Lynch. Good work, folks. But I get the impression that a lot of you are less interested in setting the record straight than in changing the subject: There were plenty of reports debunking the official story of the Lynch rescue before the British Broadcasting Corporation weighed in, and none of them included the BBC's nonsense about soldiers firing blanks. Yet those blanks are all you seem to be talking about. Why spend so much time taking the BBC to task and almost none probing the folks who might have gotten the first version of the story wrong, too? Could it be because one dubious report challenges your prejudices, while the other one confirms them?

Bloggers are at least as fallible as the Times or the BBC, usually more so. It's just that we dwell in this big electronic soup, where everyone's axes grind up against everyone else's and all those fallibilities cancel each other out. On an individual level, we've all got our heads up our asses, just like the unlamented Howell Raines. It's just that there's so many of us, and our asses come in such different shapes and sizes. It's so much more obvious when we're adjusting the facts to fit our faiths; and somehow, maybe, that makes it more obvious when the Big Media guys do it as well. Screw the emperor -- none of us are wearing any clothes.


posted by Jesse 12:30 PM
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Thursday, June 05, 2003
SANCTIMONY: IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER: The American Film Institute's movie lists get sillier every year.
This time they purport to count down the cinema's greatest heroes and villains. Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird tops the first list, while the biggest bad guy is supposed to be Hannibal Lector.

"Hero" and "villain" are relative terms. Am I the only one who'd like to see Anthony Hopkins kill and eat Gregory Peck?


posted by Jesse 10:55 AM
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Wednesday, June 04, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: My new
column for Reason Online is up: "The Doper's Guide to Europe."


posted by Jesse 4:15 PM
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JANE JACOBS ON PROGRESS AND PLEASURE: "The first successful railroad in the world was an amusement ride in London. Many of us can remember when plastics were used for little except toys and kitchen gadgets, and for piano keys as a lower-cost replacement for ivory. Tennis rackets, golf clubs and fishing rods afforded the first uses of strong, lightweight composites of plastics reinforced with fibers of glass, boron and carbon; now those composites are starting to replace metals in some construction products, some types of springs, pipelines, and aircraft and automobile parts. Computer games preceded personal computers for workaday use. For years before artificial voices were being incorporated into computerized work tools to call out the temperatures of equipment or to sound explanatory warnings, they were being used in computerized toys and gimmickry for children (e.g., 'Speak and Spell') and were being prematurely written off by 'serious' developers and users of computers as cute but useless. In my own city today I notice that solar heating is largely a passion of hobbyists, as is drip irrigation, which conserves labor, fertilizer, water and space in home vegetable gardening.

"'All big things grow from little things,' [Cyril Stanley] Smith comments, 'but new little things are destroyed by their environments unless they are cherished for reasons more like esthetic appreciation than practical utility.'"

(from
Cities and the Wealth of Nations, 1984)


posted by Jesse 3:19 PM
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Monday, June 02, 2003
A SOPHISTICATED POLITICAL CONVERSATION WITH MY BETROTHED:

She: Do you like Howard Dean?

Me: No, of course not. I don't like any of them.

She: Well, which one do you dislike the least?

Me: I dunno. Maybe Al Sharpton.

She: You don't really think that.

Me: I guess I don't. But he pisses off the right people. And he makes me laugh.

She: Well, who do you think is the worst?

Me: Christ, I don't know. They're all pretty bad. Maybe Carol Mosely-Braun?

She: Oh, is she running?

Me: Yeah. She's an idiot and a crook.

She: I didn't know she was a crook.

Me: Well, I'm pretty sure she was in some sort of scandal. (pause) Then again, she was against the war. I suppose I should give her credit for that.

She: What about Joe Lieberman?

Me: Lieberman! Right. He's got to be the worst.

She: What about John Edwards?

Me: Oh, man. I forgot about Edwards. I hate that guy. Yeah, he's the worst.

She: Not Lieberman?

Me: OK, maybe Lieberman.


posted by Jesse 10:59 PM
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Sunday, June 01, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: The July issue of Reason is out. It includes a short article I wrote about video games and censorship, plus two even shorter pieces in the Citings section.


posted by Jesse 6:19 PM
. . .
RETURN OF THE WIRE: I caught the first season of The Wire in reruns, after
Oz left the air earlier this year. What a wonderful TV show, or mini-series, or 13-hour film -- however you like to look at it -- a detailed and far from formulaic police procedural with well-drawn characters, a good ear for dialogue, a strong sense of place, and a skeptical attitude toward the drug war and toward all large, hierarchical institutions. (It wasn't above the occasional in-joke either, like throwing a line from a Steve Earle song into a criminal's mouth in one of the episodes where Earle played a recovering junkie. Or giving Baltimore's real-life police commissioner, Ed Norris, a bit role as a low-level detective.)

The second season/series/story arc starts tonight. I can't wait to see it.


posted by Jesse 6:07 PM
. . .
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
YE OLDE MOVIE REVIEWS: Niagara (Henry Hathaway, 1953): A strange, engrossing nightmare of a movie, starring Jean Peters and Casey Adams as a couple taking a delayed honeymoon at Niagara Falls. The husband is a vapid salesman, and Adams' deliberately grating performance brings to mind a young Don Knotts. Later they encounter another couple who seem to be exactly what you'd expect Peters and Adams to be 20 years down the road: He's jocular and annoying; she's an anchor in common sense; both are all surface, no depth.

But Peters does have depth. She's caught between that potential future and another one, represented by a third couple, played brilliantly by Joseph Cotton and Marilyn Monroe. These two are nothing but depth -- desperate love, seething hatred, rage, despair, madness. They haunt Peters, and not just figuratively: By the end of the picture one of them is, in effect if not in fact, a ghost that only Peters can see.

All this is cast against a Hitchcockian plot and Joe MacDonald's dreamlike photography, fusing the shadows of noir, the bright shades of Technicolor, and the natural beauty of the falls. It's the best Hathaway movie I've seen, probably because it isn't especially meaningful to talk about "Hathaway movies": The most important creative forces behind this film appear to be Monroe, Cotton, Peters, MacDonald, and Charles Brackett, best known as Billy Wilder's writing partner in the '30s and '40s, who here serves as producer and co-screenwriter.

Morocco (Josef von Sternberg, 1930): Marlene Dietrich's first American film. The photography and the soundscape are beautiful. Aside from one late scene in a desert bar and one bit of dialogue in a dining room, the hackneyed script is not. And while Dietrich is fine as a singer caught between two suitors in Arab Africa, Gary Cooper is even stiffer and duller than usual, wrecking any chance that the film will rise very far above its story. There's no particular reason why this should be remembered as a "classic," yet it is; I suspect it's famous mostly for one priceless pre-Code moment, when Marlene gives another woman a sudden Sapphic kiss.

Resisting Enemy Interrogation (First Motion Picture Unit, 1944): A real oddity: a military training film from the Second World War, dramatizing the ways German captors might attempt to extract information from their prisoners. It's not a documentary as the term is usually used today, though it was nominated for an Oscar in the documentary category. Instead, it's a surprisingly well-crafted yarn about a crashed crew tricked into revealing important information.

Here's the odd part. The story delves so deeply into the nitty-gritty of the interrogators' methods, watching as they piece together their puzzle, that it effectively becomes a police procedural shot from the German point of view. Any Law & Order junkie will probably catch herself unwittingly cheering for the Nazis, a problem which presumably didn't afflict the picture's original audience.


posted by Jesse 7:50 PM
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Tuesday, May 27, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: Today I wrote a column about
media ownership rules for Reason Online.


posted by Jesse 7:00 PM
. . .
THE MATRIX RELOCATED: Early in The Matrix Reloaded, a pilot declares that Keanu Reeves' character is "doing his Superman routine." A later scene is an almost direct analog to the conclusion of Superman: The Movie, in which the caped one brings Lois Lane back to life. Another chunk of Reloaded recalls Fritz Lang's Metropolis: Here, as there, we have an underground city whose denizens live in an uneasy relationship with machines and wait in catacombs for "The One." At yet another point, the film incorporates footage lifted directly from the 1960 flick The Brides of Dracula.

The second Matrix movie pulsates with allusions, quotes, parodies, and plagiarisms. The story feels less important than this free-floating set of cultural signifiers, as though the filmmakers decided to throw every pop archetype into a blender and hit "puree." And so we leap quickly from vampires to a car chase to some kung fu; we have religious symbolism, video-game imagery, even dance numbers.

The dance numbers, I should add, are technically called "fight scenes." But when the fighters are uninjurable ghosts and gods, when their steps are carefully choreographed, and when the music is closely timed to their movements, they qualify as dance. This is especially true when Reeves, a.k.a. The One, battles Mr. Smith, who might as well be called The Many. No life or limb is at risk here, and no one expects to see blood. Fighting? Please. This is a Chicago for guys.

I enjoyed the first Matrix but was ideologically uncomfortable with it: While its contemporary releases eXistenz and Being John Malkovich took a more plural and uncertain view of reality, The Matrix seemed to suggest that an ultimate truth is knowable and that those who know it constitute a superhuman elite. Everyone in the audience could project themselves onto Reeves' messianic hero, not least when he casually crushed his subhuman foes. But the second movie yanks the rug from below those certainties, hinting both that control systems run far deeper than the first movie suggested and that there might be more to freedom than "liberating" yourself from this endless series of controls.

At the same time, Reloaded is an enjoyable spectacle itself, probably all the more so for being such a muddle. You could be unkind and compare it to The Empire Strikes Back, another sequel that performed its chores by (a) adding much mystical speechifying and (b) not bothering to include an ending. Or you can praise it for actually attempting to go beyond the first film's simple setup, whether or not it's heading anywhere coherent.

My fantasy for how the trilogy should conclude: After learning that absolutely every level of reality is just another matrix, The One shrugs his shoulders and walks off the film set. A digital camera follows him across the street to a lecture hall, where a professor is denouncing metafiction and declaring postmodernism a literary dead end. Keanu's cell phone rings: It's his agent. We hear them chatting about how much they're making from all that Matrix tie-in merchandising. Then the wall collapses and the cast of Blazing Saddles falls into the lecture room, throwing pies.


posted by Jesse 1:19 PM
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Thursday, May 22, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: My interviews with Ralph Peters, Benjamin Schwarz, and Gene Sharp, originally published in the June Reason, are now
online.


posted by Jesse 4:42 PM
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REFORM CORNER: A recurring debate in Britain: how to
reform the House of Lords. All factions are ready to jettison the old arrangement, in which the scions of England's decrepit aristocracy inherit their parliamentary seats. But what system shall replace it? The Conservatives want a regime that will maintain their hold on the House. The Labourites, naturally, want something different. And the far left, as always, whispers plans to abolish the House of Lords altogether, and perhaps the royal family as well.

I propose that they take their cues from the American experiment in welfare reform and from conservative proposals to privatize PBS:

1. Members of the House of Lords should have two years to find jobs in the private sector; after that, they will be booted from Parliament. The state should, of course, take into account the centuries of dependency that have rendered the British upper class so dysfunctional and indolent, and provide the departing Lords with life-skills training.

2. The crown jewel of the British aristocracy -- that is, the crown itself -- should take advantage of its status as a popular commodity. Just as Sesame Street and Barney could easily survive without public subsidy, the Windsors should capitalize on their franchise. There exists a large and apparently insatiable market for royal-family merchandising, even outside the Empire. Thus far, only outsiders have taken advantage of this, as with Elton John's decision to release a Lady Di tie-in CD.

It is, of course, difficult to release creative energies that have for so long been wasted on ritual ceremony, low-key activism, bulimia, and inbreeding. But with the right incentives, the English aristocracy might finally be transformed from parasites to productive members of society.


posted by Jesse 10:00 AM
. . .
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
SELF-PROMOTION: Wednesday at noon I'll be discussing
media consolidation on The Marc Steiner Show, on Baltimore NPR affiliate WYPR. Locals can tune in at 88.1 FM. Anyone else who's interested will have to listen online.


posted by Jesse 10:03 PM
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EXQUISITE CORPSES: A four-year-old exchange between
Bryan Alexander and myself, uncovered unexpectedly as I searched my old e-mails for a long-lost document:

Bryan: I've been reading theories about schizophrenia and the telephone all day.

Jesse: I thought the phone was ringing, but it was a frontal lobe disorder.

Bryan: I thought my lobes were ringing, but it was only the phone, ordering.

Jesse: I thought I was ordering a pizza, but it was only my shadow laughing.

Bryan: I thought I was mocking the pizza toppings, but it was only the animus orduring.

Jesse: I thought I was topping my anima, but it was only the phone ringing.


posted by Jesse 6:39 PM
. . .
Monday, May 19, 2003
THE WRONG DEBATE: A fellow from Salon called me last week to talk about media consolidation. I rambled, as I often do, and criticized both sides of the debate -- so much so, in fact, that I'm not really sure how I'm going to sound in the finished article. Maybe he'll have me attacking the Clear Channel types, maybe he'll have me attacking their critics, maybe he'll bring in a bit of both -- and then again, maybe he won't quote me at all. Like I said, I rambled.

For those who came in late: On June 2, the Federal Communications Commission will decide whether to loosen the remaining regulations constraining media mergers. (Fearless prediction: It will.) We're talking about a legally enforced cartel here, which means I don't really have a cock in this fight. On one hand, we have purported deregulationists with no interest in removing the regs that have skewed the marketplace toward the current media giants. On the other hand, we have purported defenders of independent voices sticking up for rules that do very little to foster real media diversity, at a time when a much more important fight -- the battle for spectrum reform -- could really, really use their support.

I'll begin with the second group. They're worried about consolidation for a lot of reasons, most of them valid. But because the rules on the table deal specifically with the number of TV and radio stations a single company can own (and, similarly, with limits on the cross-ownership of print and broadcast outlets), they've been thrown into the role of defending the current regulations, none of which are particularly defensible. Consider the most controversial of the proposed changes: the removal of the 35 percent cap. This rule governs the number of TV stations a network can directly own, as opposed to just providing them with programming, restricting them to 35 percent of the national audience. The FCC is likely to replace this with ... a 45 percent cap. Man the barricades!

What, speaking frankly, would such a change do? It would give the networks a chance to make more money. It would give the remaining independently owned stations a little less room to maneuver. But it strains the imagination to believe that it would seriously reduce the number of local voices on the air, if only because so few stations present meaningfully local material during network programming hours anyway. Indeed, when The Washington Post
covered the issue last week, the example it cited of a station-network conflict involved an effort, not to put a local show onto the air, but to take a national one off: "When [an affiliate in North Carolina] received Fox's 'Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?' reality show, station management refused to air it, saying it would offend Raleigh community standards."

There is no magic number -- 35 percent, 45 percent, 25 percent -- that represents the perfect amount of stations a TV network should be allowed to own. Nor should the government be in the business of trying to compute such a figure. If you're satisfied with TV programming now, you will probably continue to be satisfied with it under the new rules. If you're dissatisfied, there's no way to rejigger this reg upwards or downwards that's going to please you.

Perhaps for that reason, the ideological opponents of media consolidation -- as opposed to the miscellaneous industry lobbyists who oppose the changes for reasons of their own -- have also made an issue out of the way the new rules are being passed. It's happening too fast, they say, and with not enough public input. When the FCC reduced the number of public hearings it held on the issue, Democratic commissioners organized independent forums of their own, in theory to get more views on the table and in practice to show how the decision-makers at the agency aren't interested in listening to The People.

On one level, the critics have a point: Federal communication policy is made by unelected bureaucrats with closer ties to the industry they regulate than to the public they nominally represent. On another level, though, the critics are playing make-believe. The commissioners are already aware of all the arguments about these issues, and delaying the decision so more people can be heard isn't likely to change the outcome. If the system is undemocratic, it is because is concentrates so much power into so few hands, not because the rest of us have so little time to make our case. At best, those guerrilla forums are a form of theater, a way to dramatize the cozy relationship between the regulators and the regulated. At worst, they're complaints aimed at the wrong target.

Meanwhile, the defenders of deregulation are being even more disingenuous. The revised rules will (mostly) loosen the government's control of the airwaves, and so the reformers present themselves as the advocates of economic freedom. But when it comes to a much more important libertarian issue -- opening the spectrum to new users and uses -- most of them have been AWOL. Serious changes in the way spectrum is allocated and allowed to be used could radically alter the airwaves, bringing in a world of cheap or free broadband-quality Internet access that is portable, wireless, and therefore capable of competing directly with AM, FM, and TV broadcasters. There is a serious debate over how best to accomplish this technically, but virtually everyone who's a part of that argument recognizes that the most important prerequisite is a matter of regulation, not engineering. The FCC must allow much more flexibility in how licensees may use their spectrum, thus eliminating the allocation bottlenecks that so aggravate the telecom industry; and it must make more room for unlicensed use of the ether, so shared-spectrum technologies such as Wireless Fidelity and UltraWideBand can flourish. FCC chief Michael Powell has, to his credit, given a rhetorical boost to these new technologies. But his agency has offered very little in the way of real reform.

That could change. But if that happens, it will not be because the beneficiaries of the government's entry barriers make spectrum reform part of their "deregulatory" agenda. They care about real economic liberty about as deeply as their opponents care about the precise level of the ownership cap.


posted by Jesse 12:04 AM
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For past entries, click here.


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