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A vast history of information

James Gleick's The Information: A history, a theory, a flood is a biography of information that puts today's revolution in some much-needed context

James Gleick’s The Information: A history, a theory, a flood is a biography of information that puts today’s revolution in some much-needed context

FOR most of history, messages were things: clay tablets, scrolls, scraps of paper, even glyphs tattooed on to the head of a slave, which were revealed only when he visited the message receiver’s barber. But over time, and especially during the 20th century, mathematicians, engineers and inventors slowly began to divorce the content of a message from its physical vehicle, and in doing so changed how humans used and understood information.

Most importantly, these thinkers refined the very definition of information, purifying the concept just as earlier generations of scientists had purified the meaning of ā€œmassā€ and ā€œenergyā€. But whereas the crisp new definitions of mass and energy restricted the words’ use to technical contexts, information’s new definition, one based on bits and entropy (I = -āˆ‘pi log2 pi, to be precise) widened its applicability. Information theory soon colonised economics, genetics, thermodynamics and other fields. Today some physicists even argue that information is more fundamental than both mass and energy – that it may be the very bedrock of reality.

The long emergence and eventual triumph of information and information theory is the subject of James Gleick’s aptly subtitled The Information: A history, a theory, a flood. It is a vast account of information’s history, beginning with long-distance drumming in Africa – a network of drums that could send messages hundreds of miles – and ending with Wikipedia. It notes some dizzying technological jumps. For example, those long-distance drummers switched to using cellphones within one generation.

Gleick really geeks out in places – you don’t often hear a logarithm described, ecstatically, as ā€œan electric flashlight sent into a lightless worldā€. His enthusiasm is contagious, but at times his excitement results in text that is a little dense.

Overall, however, the book concentrates on the personalities in the history of information technology – people like Charles Babbage, who invented the first computer; Ada Lovelace, the first computer programmer, who was Lord Byron’s daughter and Babbage’s colleague; and Claude Shannon, who finally defined information precisely and in doing so ushered in modern communications.

It is fitting that people dominate Gleick’s history, because many early long-distance communication systems were designed to look human, such as the wooden trunks with movable ā€œarmsā€ controlled by ropes that sent primitive semaphore across the mountains and rooftops of Napoleon-era France. This anthropomorphism encouraged people to compare communication systems to human nervous systems. It seems that we need to relate to technologies in a human way, and aren’t wired to view information abstractly. Indeed it is striking how often writers and historians have recycled this clichĆ© with every new advance. Including, of course, the internet.

Entertaining, funny and clever, The Information puts our modern ā€œinformation revolutionā€ in context, helping us appreciate the many information revolutions that preceded and enabled it. The internet certainly has changed things, but Gleick shows that it has changed only what has already changed many times before.

The Information: A history, a theory, a flood

James Gleick

Pantheon / Fourth Estate

Topics: Books and art / women in science

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