Megan Mullen
How do we know when a communication technology has been fully integrated
into society? Perhaps it is when most people no longer think about,
or even remember, the debates surrounding its adoption. Many adults
today have vivid recollections of the debates and challenges surrounding
the 1996 Telecommunications Act; in fact, some of its key concerns, especially
those related to the Internet, remain unresolved. But we can only
imagine the times when older technologies—those we now take for
granted or those we have discarded—were having their practices and protocols
negotiated. The telephone and telegraph are two such technologies.
A common way of introducing young scholars to these precedent-setting
electrical media networks is through memorable phrases like James Carey's "the effective separation of communication from transportation" or Daniel
Czitrom's "annihilator of time and space." Like Carey and Czitrom, scholars
ranging from Harold Innis and Marshall McLuhan to Carolyn Marvin
and Claude Fischer have recounted fascinating tales of the dramatic
changes to everyday life that accompanied the harnessing of electricity.1 Such stories and metaphors play a critical role in our understanding of
communication and culture broadly, and of the institutional development
of networked communication media specifically. For the reflective global
citizen in an Internet-saturated world, understanding the first moves from
the physical transport of messages to their electronic transmission is vital.
This foundational understanding is necessary, but not sufficient. We need to move to a broader comprehension of the intersecting societal forces that not only launched the U.S. telegraph and telephone industries,
but also set lasting precedents for networked media in this country. In Network
Nation: Inventing American Telecommunications (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 2010. Pp. iv+520. $39.95), Columbia University
journalism professor Richard R. John takes the "annihilation" perspective
as a given, and proceeds to provide a detailed business and policy history
that overturns many a misperception of telecommunications history. Over
a decade ago, John took on a similar project related to the rise of the U.S.
Post Office in Spreading the News: The American Postal System from Franklin
to Morse, giving center stage to an often overlooked yet nonetheless pivotal
and precedent-setting networked media industry. Network Nation begins where Spreading the News left off. Its central premise is that the post
office was the first networked media industry in the United States, and that
the institutional structure and policy framework of the postal system were
the models against which future decisions regarding networked media
would be weighed.
John is uniquely convincing in arguing that the rise of the telegraph
and telephone industries formed the basis for the notion of "telecommunications," as understood from technological, business, and legal perspectives. For example, with the 1910 Mann-Elkins Act, the telephone, telegraph,
and cable (that is, the underwater cable lines that linked continents)
became known as "common carriers," establishing not only key terminology,
but also a way of distinguishing media of interpersonal communication
from those whose primary functions would be providing information
and entertainment on a mass, ideally nondiscriminatory basis (p. 343). The
1934 Communications Act was built upon this framework, as were twentieth-century cultural and policy debates around newer media like cable
television and, eventually, the Internet.
The precedents we take for granted today did not emerge overnight. Scrutiny and theorizing on the part of both government policy makers and
academics (especially within the newer social scientific disciplines) fueled
some important ethical debates. One of the most important of these centered
on the question of whether communications networks were "natural
monopolies." By the mid-1800s it was clear that competition could not
function in networked media industries, as it did in manufacturing, for
example. Should the telegraph, then, follow the precedent set by the postal
service and become a government-controlled monopoly (as was occurring
in other countries where the industry was in a comparable stage of development),
or should it be privately held? In addition, it was generally accepted
that the postal service could only serve the public through direct
government control and the assurance of flat-rate service. It also was a
given that users in high-traffic urban areas would subsidize those in isolated rural areas—a notion that remains largely unquestioned to this day. Like the U.S. Postal Service, the telegraph was considered by some (including
President Ulysses S. Grant) to be "a kind of educational institution" in
that, while it did not create knowledge, it played an essential role in circulating
knowledge created by others (p. 126). Some policymakers and members
of the public had grown concerned in particular about the quality of
newspaper content fed by the new wire services, specifically the NYAP
(New York Associated Press).
Others saw the issue differently, taking it for granted that, because the
postal service already filled the "universal service" role in making information
available to the public, the telegraph and telephone were luxuries necessary
only for businesses and the more affluent classes. John's detailed narrative
of the debates surrounding equal service shows us that the
government-sanctioned privatization of these industries was not taken
lightly; it also shows the variety of reasons why the common-carrier structure
eventually was set in stone—at least through the better part of the
twentieth century. Western Union dominated the telegraph through the
twentieth century, and AT&T held its monopoly in telephone service until
its 1984 government-mandated divestiture.
The policy debates of the nineteenth century resurfaced in even greater
complexity with the advent of broadcast radio and television networks
during the first half of the twentieth. The question of government versus
private ownership again came to the fore, as many debated the responsibilities
of those using a scarce resource of the electromagnetic spectrum. The
arrival of cable television and the Internet served to demonstrate how complex
and controversial the ownership of networked media could be as a
policy issue, particularly as these new media possessed attributes characteristic
of both wired common carriers and broadcast media.
John reminds us how little our modern-day cultural expectations for
networked communication media resemble those of our forebears a century
or more ago. Indeed, both the telegraph and the telephone examples
show that it can take many decades for new media technologies to become
part of the routines of average citizens. When the telephone industry was
growing, the telegraph was still relatively new itself, remaining largely
beyond the reach of most Americans, who considered postal mail the standard
for long-distance communication. And the telephone definitely was
not perceived as an update or replacement for the telegraph; those in business,
journalism, and politics who relied on the new electrical technologies
continued for decades to prefer the telegraph due to the written record it
retained.
Here as elsewhere, John challenges modern-day assumptions. For example, while arguments in favor of network expansion often were
grounded in the notion that each new subscriber added value for existing
users, this was a tenuous notion in the nineteenth century and not the common wisdom it has become in recent years. Users could not be expected to
be aware of (and thus to pay for) such speculative increases in value without
guidance. Making "everyday" people and private households into subscribers
thus involved major publicity campaigns on the part of the telephone
companies, as John demonstrates. Even expanding the telephone
network within a specific municipality was not viewed as the sensible investment
it later was assumed to be (pp. 338–39). Even more surprising to
modern scholars would be the lukewarm response of early telephone users
to long-distance service. As John points out, "it is hard to envision a time
when the long-distance network failed to generate a profit. Early on, however,
no one knew for certain if it would ever cover its cost. It took courage,
[AT&T president Theodore N.] Vail later recalled, to even embark on its
construction" (p. 211).
If I perceive a small flaw in John's writing style, it is in the steady (and
occasionally repetitive) stream of anecdotes intermingled with analytic
insight. Although there clearly is a hierarchy of ideas, this is not always as
apparent as it might be at critical junctures. The much more significant
upside to this style, though, is the extent to which the lives, dispositions,
and morals of the many individuals with a political or economic interest in
the technologies are chronicled. Deeds of the "great men" of networked
media history—figures ranging from Samuel F. B. Morse and Alexander
Graham Bell to Vail and Western Union's Jay Gould—are incorporated
with those of lesser-known or long-forgotten legislators, bureaucrats, and
entrepreneurs to fill out this critical historical trajectory. This results in a
far more developed picture than previously held—in short, a laudable contribution
to scholarship. 1. James W. Carey, Communication as Culture: Essays on Media and Society (New
York, 1992), 203; Daniel J. Czitrom, Media and the American Mind: From Morse to McLuhan (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1982), 3; Harold A. Innis, The Bias of Communication (Toronto,
1951); Carolyn Marvin, When Old Technologies Were New: Thinking About Electric Communication
in the Late Nineteenth Century (New York, 1988); Claude S. Fischer, America
Calling: A Social History of the Telephone to 1940 (Berkeley, Calif., 1992).
Megan Mullen is a professor and chair of the Department of Communication at the University
of Wisconsin–Parkside. She researches early cable television history, and her most
recent book is Television in the Multichannel Age (2008).