Director of technology for the Shenendehowa Public Library in Clifton Park, New York.
kgs@bluehighways.com
Column for June/July 2000
In April I got a chance to be Alice in Digital Wonderland when I was invited to the 10th Annual Computers, Freedom, and Privacy Conference, held this year in Toronto, to accept an award from the Electronic Frontier Foundation on behalf of “librarians everywhere”—a well-earned salute for the many librarians who have walked the very tough walk to support free expression online (AL, May, p. 27). CFP, as it is known, gathers together about 500 of the world’s geekiest folks to discuss intellectual freedom and privacy issues—increasingly Internet-related—from a distinctly technical perspective.
When I walked into the hotel, the first thing I noticed was that I was dressed inappropriately. ALA-style, I had donned a nice new suit and sensible heels, plus a little makeup. Wrong! The pret-a-porter for CFP is a pair of worn jeans, Birkenstocks, and a T-shirt with an obscure reference to Internet privacy or software; the coiffures are long ponytails and beards for the men and luxurious, untamed manes for the women.
Needless to say, I was stopped and closely questioned at the gate and had to flag down my conference escort, Karen Coyle, from the day’s luncheon. She vouched that despite my bizarre attire, I am not a CIA agent and was, in fact, an invited guest. Karen, a digital-library type who is active in ALA’s Library and Information Technology Association as well as Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility, kept a firm grip on my elbow for most of the conference from then on.
I scooped up whatever conference freebies I could find. There were no canvas bags, sadly, but someone did give me a CD filled with encryption software and guaranteed to run under most versions of Unix. I started to ask if there was a Windows NT version, but thought better of it. Imagine my delight at snagging bumper stickers reading “MP3 Is Not a Crime!” and “Free Jansson!” The first, if you’re wondering, refers to legislative efforts to stop the distribution of software capable of digitizing and redistributing music files on the Web. The second refers to Edward Jansson, who, with his colleague Matthew Skala, developed a tool to crack CyberPatrol filtering software and then published the results on the Web. (Mattel scared them into selling this software code to the company, but not before the point was made that filtering companies really do not want people to know what they choose to block.)
Despite attending the conference for just a half day, I was able to catch a wonderful program on “circumvention,” which does not refer to preventing patrons from stealing books but instead was a discussion of the ethics and legality of cracking proprietary codes (such as CyberPatrol’s encrypted list of sites that they block).
I say the program was wonderful, but in truth, I understood about 10% of it—I only know how good it was because of the applause every time someone on the panel or in the audience spoke. The panelists would make a reference to a legal decision, and everyone would nod knowingly; then a guy in Birkenstocks would step up to an audience microphone and make a comment in computer code. Everyone in the room would laugh, and the program would move to the next topic. Still, I felt I soaked up a few important concepts, including the idea that we are not the only profession concerned about the impact of limiting access to free speech.
I also got a chance to shake the hand of Declan McCullagh, an online journalist for Wired and the moderator of the politech discussion list, an invaluable news source for intellectual freedom and privacy issues; if you follow ALAWON, you should be on this list as well.
Our afternoon keynote speaker was Tim O’Reilly from O’Reilly Publishing. Not only was he very hip and funny, but he demonstrated that when you are very wealthy, you can give a talk in a golf shirt. I actually watched his speech from a comfortable armchair in the lobby, where it was simulcast; when are we going to start doing the same at ALA?
Then came the evening’s events. I began talking with the other award recipients. The first fellow I spoke to told me that he had designed a software program that after running for 111 days had generated the world’s longest prime number. I asked him who else would be accepting awards tonight. Tim Berners-Lee, he informed me. So let’s get this straight: I, an unknown librarian from the burbs of upstate New York, was going up on stage after this amazing math-computer whiz kid and the inventor of the World Wide Web. I stepped up to the podium; I looked them in the eye; I said, “I bet you’re wondering who the hell is Karen Schneider,” and told them a few nice things about libraries and librarians.
They loved it! At the reception afterwards, I lost count of how many Birkenstock-shod geeks confided that they had gotten their start in computers in a public library, where a librarian had taken an interest in them and helped them learn about this new and challenging topic. I was also intrigued by all the very basic questions they asked about Internet filtering. It’s easy to forget that technical acumen does not always mean you understand the philosophical or social implications of using a particular software tool. We have to carry our education outside of the library profession and be particularly eager to share what we know with computer-intensive communities. They will listen!
I’m making plans for next year’s CFP; I wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if the conference reminded me of a Will Rogers anecdote where he said he went to a fancy banquet and the only thing he recognized was the olive. I’d like to see a lot more of us at the 11th CFP; even if they look very different from your typical librarian, the folks at this conference are our natural allies—and they love us very much.