It’s possible that I shall make an ass of myself. But in that case one can always get out of it with a little dialectic. I have, of course, so worded my proposition as to be right either way (K.Marx, Letter to F.Engels on the Indian Mutiny)
Thursday, August 05, 2021
PROJECT CYBERSYN
Tuesday, October 03, 2023
Remembering Allende and his Project Cybersyn
Fifty years ago, Augusto Pinochet’s coup destroyed Salvador Allende’s government and the structure of liberal democracy in Chile. Allende died with a machine gun in his hands, defending his attempt to build socialism against the combined power of the US and the forces of reaction in Chile, including the military. For people of my generation, this story is well-known, as along with liberation struggles in Vietnam and Africa, Chile was very much what brought us to the streets in solidarity. What is less known, except in more scholarly or tech circles, is the attempt by Allende and his government to use technology, specifically information from factories which Allende had nationalized, for real-time planning and interventions in the economy. This project —Cybersyn— resonates in the tech community for its vision of marrying technology to social needs, including direct feedback from workers on the factory floor. Cybersyn’s control room is iconic and a precursor to what develops later as an intuitive graphic user interface, differentiating companies such as Apple from the more clunky user interfaces of Microsoft and others.
Eden Medina and Evgeny Morozov are two authors who have explored Project Cybersyn for more than two decades. Medina’s 2011 book, Cybernetic Revolutionaries: Technology and Politics in Allende’s Chile, brings together the context and the constraints of both technology and politics at that time. Morozov, who has been researching Chile and Cybersyn for a long time, recently released a nine-part podcast called The Santiago Boys. This podcast gives us not only an overview of the project but also the unequal struggle between a set of young technocrats, engineers, and economists (The Santiago Boys) along with Stafford Beer, a British information technologist on the one hand, and the might of the US forces—ITT and other US MNCs, the CIA, the Chilean Armed Forces and economists (The Chicago Boys led by Milton Friedman) on the other. He also locates the much larger context within which we must see Cybersyn — not simply as how to manage or control the economy but how to develop knowledge that underlies technology and production for the future.
A 3D render of the Cybersyn Operations Room (or Opsroom), a physical location where economic information was to be received, stored, and made available for speedy decision-making. Photo: By Rama, CC BY-SA 3.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=113829425
Information, in this larger sense, is creating new knowledge and, therefore, the fight over the patent system is a fight over knowledge. The Indian patent system had undergone a huge break from its earlier colonial version of the 1911 Indian Patent Act in the 1971 Patent Act. Evgeny brings out the vision of the Santiago Boys/School, similar to what we in India had regarding self-reliance. It is not enough to do import substitution. Breaking out of dependence means creating new knowledge. That means you have to marry advances in knowledge, both scientific and technological, to industry. Patent systems reform can create conditions with which we can create knowledge, but bringing it into industry means marrying different forms of knowledge in a way that can lead to manufacturing products — from simple products that go into other products to complex ones that need to integrate a very large number of such parts.
I am not going into the details of what Morozov has covered in his podcasts or other writings. I will pick out one example of what might have been if Chile had been able to pursue its path to self-reliance. He describes how the Allende-era Chilean Production Development Corporation (Corfo) launched the National Electronics Company, tasked with building a semiconductor plant in the country’s north. This would have allowed Chile — once a mere exporter of nitrates and copper — to become a technologically sophisticated economy capable of meeting its development needs. Those who have followed these columns will remember how India built a Semiconductor Complex in Mohali, which within a few years had brought Indian chip-building capabilities within one or two generations of what then were cutting-edge chips. And how, after its mysterious burning down in 1989, it was never rebuilt. This led us to go out in the world offering huge “incentives” to set up, not chip manufacturing, but chip packaging plants. In the Chilean case, the US-inspired coup brought down the Allende government and the abandonment of self-reliance—or technological independence —as a goal. In India, a self-goal by the neoliberal forces across a spectrum of political parties — from the Congress to the BJP — led to the abandonment of self-reliance.
Morozov also brings out the eerie similarities in the information network of Project Cybersyn and the information and control infrastructure of Operation Condor, the infamous CIA project to sabotage and assassinate left forces and governments in Latin America. Both were informed and limited by the technology of their times, using telex as the primary means of communicating data and information. It is a cautionary tale for those who believe in techno-utopias and how technological advances will automatically solve all the world’s problems. Advances in technology and science have the potential to create enough for our human needs, now and for the future. But it comes up against the simple question of who owns such advances. Or, more correctly, who owns the knowledge embedded in the artifacts we produce as a society? Who owns the means of production, not simply the physical infrastructure producing these goods but also the infrastructure producing knowledge? This is where we confront the reality of class struggle, both national and international. Allende’s overthrow by the CIA, ITT (read US capital), and its feudal-military elite reminds us of the nature of this class struggle.
The other part of the story is that of information technology, still in its infancy during the Allende era. A number of people had naively believed that new digital technologies could liberate all of us: free software and the internet would by itself introduce socialism, democratising technology and, therefore, society. Norbert Wiener, the father of Cybernetics, had warned us in his books Cybernetics (1948) and Human Use of Human Beings (1950) that information in the typical American world is destined for a special future: it will turn into a commodity to be bought, sold and bargained over. This will inevitably be in conflict with human values of promoting the common good. As he wrote, “Progress imposes not only new possibilities for the future but new restrictions.” Miron Amit writes about Wiener’s vision of this conflict and how transforming information into a commodity enables its private appropriation and harms life itself. Even though the information network has changed enormously with the emergence of the internet, the politics of information and technology remains the conflict between people and capital.
Friday, May 21, 2021
Still from Soviet sci-fi film, A Dream Come True (Mechte Navstrechu) (1963)
When brilliant Soviet cyberneticist Viktor Glushkov designed a blueprint for a computerised planning system, the Soviet Union looked on track to become web pioneers. In the end, however, there was to be no digital network. Justin Reynolds tells the story of how the Soviets nearly created the internet
7 February 2017
Visions of an advanced postcapitalist economy run by digital networks have long haunted the socialist imagination. Alexander Bogdanov’s 1909 Bolshevik sci-fi fantasy novel Red Star imagined the achievement of communist utopia on Mars, an abundance of wealth and leisure made possible by a sophisticated command economy planned and automated by prototype computers. Cerebral Martian engineers, their “delicate brains” connected to the machines through “subtle and invisible” threads, fine-tune economic inputs and outputs from a control room tracking production gluts and shortfalls.
Bogdanov’s thought experiment anticipated contemporary speculations about the possibilities digital networks open for new forms of economic exchange. One current best-seller, Paul Mason’s Postcapitalism, suggests that the ease with which information can be shared online, together with the advent of 3D printing technologies, is seeding a new economy in which goods and services can be exchanged for free. Another, Nick Srnicek and Alex Williams’s Inventing the Future, envisages an automated economy set in motion by the seamless interactions of millions of connected devices.
Cybersyn control room, Chile. Image: Gui Bonsieppe under a CC license
Many of today’s digital utopians draw inspiration from a real world attempt to implement electronic socialism: Salvador Allende’s abortive 1970s programme that sought to rationalise and democratise the planning of the Chilean economy through a nationwide network of telex machines. “Project Cybersyn” was cut short by Pinochet’s coup, but, helped by the surviving images of its iconic retro-futurist central operations room, the episode continues to symbolise radical aspirations to harness technology to break through to an alternative economic system.
Cybersyn was conceived during the same era as a still more ambitious but less well documented project: a well-resourced programme to digitise the planning of the Soviet Union’s vast command economy. The labyrinthine story of the “Soviet internet” is told in detail in a new book by Tulsa University professor Benjamin Peters, who, venturing into Moscow archives “lit by a single flickering light bulb”, pieces together the tale of plans to supercharge the USSR’s stuttering economy through the installation and networking of a constellation of mainframe computers at major production points from Leningrad to Siberia. The project was one of the most spectacular manifestations of the restless Soviet ambition to lever technology to create the material conditions for “full communism”.
The 1970s was an era of harnessing technology to break through to an alternative economic system
From the beginning the USSR was intoxicated by an aesthetic of the machine. Lenin equated the achievement of socialism with the electrification of the nation. Planners sought to apply Fordist production techniques on an unprecedented scale. And avant-garde designers, architects and filmmakers insisted engineering was art, and art was engineering. But those visions far outran the technology available to the impoverished state. Stalin resorted to a forced march industrialisation programme that rammed Russia’s patchwork economy into a rigid pyramid structure, the output of factories and farms coordinated through targets set by regional authorities reporting to a central planning ministry.
This hulking machinery carried the USSR through successive five year plans achieved at the cost of monumental waste of human life and natural resources. Calculation errors caused chronic production shortfalls or overshoots that cascaded up and down the command chain and rolled on from year to year. By 1960, 3 million officials were attempting to track the economy’s unfathomable information flows, and it was forecast that if future growth targets were to be met, a bureaucracy equivalent to the entire working population would be required with 20 years.
Map of OGAS computer centres, 1964
To get things done, planners, managers and workers resorted to informal networks that criss-crossed official hierarchies. Far from being the rigid hierarchy of popular imagination, the Soviet economy relied on a vortex of informal ties and personal favours. But by the Khrushchev era, science seemed to be catching up with those early revolutionary dreams. Inspired by the new field of cybernetics — the study of information systems in nature, machines and human societies — Soviet economists began to reimagine the command economy as a reflexive system capable of recalibrating planning flows in response to new inputs. Emerging mainframe computing technologies would provide the number-crunching firepower to make it possible.
By the late 1950s a comprehensive blueprint for a computerised planning system had emerged: the All-State Automated System — known as the OGAS — designed by the brilliant cyberneticist Viktor Glushkov. Glushkov proposed overlaying a vast digital network on the economy’s pyramid structure: some 20,000 mainframes at major production points would be connected to hundreds of regional administrative centres pushing data to a central processing hub in Moscow.
By the late 1950s a comprehensive blueprint for a computerised planning system had emerged: the All-State Automated System — known as the OGAS
The OGAS anticipated cloud computing, allowing authorised workers, managers and administrators to input information to a central database accessible to all users, and looked ahead to today’s virtual currencies, proposing that physical money would be rendered redundant by the system’s capacity to process transactions using electronic receipts. The proposal was unashamedly utopian. Glushkov’s design aspired to the Marxist ideal of a rational economic system guided by worker inputs, and, like the engineers who led the Soviet space programme, he was captivated by the Russian cosmist desire for a kind of synthetic immortality. Rather like 21st century advocates of a “technological singularity”, Glushkov believed that, one day, ever more advanced networks would make it possible to upload personalities embedded in human neural circuits to a supercomputer.
The scale of the OGAS matched its philosophical grandeur: costing 20 billion rubles (today approximately $333.4 million) and requiring some 300,000 operators it would be rolled out over 30 years. And, in the beginning at least, it was an ambition the Soviet leadership shared. Glushkov was appointed head of a new Institute of Cybernetics, one of several well-funded research centres with a remit for digital innovation.
Viktor Glushkov speaking about management information systems. Image: ResearchGate
The project prospered during the Cold War high point of post-war Soviet technological optimism, the era of Sputnik and Gagarin. When rumours of Russian ambitions for rapid economic expansion reached an American government already concerned that Soviet space exploits signalled an emerging communist supremacy, the US redoubled efforts to build its own network, the ARPANET, the forerunner of today’s internet.
By 1970 Glushkov’s plan was ready to go before the Politburo for approval, which, with the promised backing of General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev and Premier Aleksei Kosygin, it seemed destined to secure. But it was not to be. Entering Stalin’s former office in the Kremlin to formally present his proposal, Glushkov noticed that Brezhnev and Kosygin’s chairs were empty. Their absence — ostensibly to attend state functions elsewhere — emboldened Finance Minister Vasily Garbuzov to force through a counterproposal that ripped the heart out of the plan. Permission was given to install computers at key production centres but not, crucially, for linking them together. The existing planning bureaucracy would be retained: there was to be no digital network. The OGAS, it seemed, whatever its promise, threatened too many vested interests.
In the end, there was to be no digital network as the OGAS, it seemed, threatened too many vested interests
After repeatedly failing over the following years to revive interest in his plan, the rational Glushkov began to succumb to conspiracy theories, suggesting interference by American spies, and that the emergency landing of a flight he had taken shortly after the Politburo meeting had been caused by sabotage. Glushkov died in 1982, by which time the Soviet leadership had pinned its hopes for economic renewal on limited market liberalisation, an approach that rendered the concept of a computerised command economy redundant.
In retrospect, the OGAS seems absurdly ambitious. The development of such a vast network would have necessitated a depth and duration of political commitment even an authoritarian regime could unlikely sustain, and it is doubtful that early mainframe technology would have been capable of processing so much data (quite apart from the vexed question of whether the very concept of a complex planned economy makes sense.) The OGAS could only have been conceived during an era when boundless faith in the possibilities of new technology, and Cold War imperatives, made utopian thinking possible.
And yet their remarkable space programme gave the Soviets some justification for believing that they were capable — quite literally — of aiming for the stars. Why did economic modernisation, a project of similar scope and importance, to which thousands of their best minds had been dedicated, fail so completely?
New Planet, Konstantin Yuon (1921)
Peters’s narrative suggests Glushkov’s plan failed precisely because it promised radical efficiencies, even had it only been partially fulfilled. Its implementation would have required the support of the bureaucracy that benefited from the wasteful processes computerisation sought to eradicate. State ministries enjoying the powers and privileges associated with managing the Soviet economy, and fearing the prospect of looming redundancy, had tried to scupper the OGAS for years prior to Garbuzov’s intervention at that fateful Politburo meeting. The Soviet bureaucracy was more akin to an unregulated market in which self-interested administrators competed for influence than a monolithic structure in which private interests were suppressed.
For Peters the paradox is that the first civilian digital networks were created by “cooperative capitalists, not competitive socialists”. The US succeeded in developing the ARPANET by nurturing a collaborative culture between government, military and civilian institutions that a chaotic Soviet administrative system was unable to cultivate. The moral of the sad story of the Soviet internet is that making new technologies work for the common good depends on mutual obligation and effective regulation: the rule of law, clear governmental structures, and coordination between the public and private sectors.
The moral of the sad story of the Soviet internet is a cautionary tale that haunts our 21st century internet
It’s a cautionary tale that haunts our 21st century internet. Whereas Glushkov’s OGAS was destroyed by competing bureaucrats, today’s “open web”, nurtured in its infancy by collaboration between state, civilian and commercial actors, is being broken apart by private interests, parcelled into closed platforms dominated by giant corporations and exploited by authoritarian governments taking advantage of unprecedented opportunities for monitoring citizens.
Today, Bogdanov’s Red Star is usually remembered for its unabashed utopianism and steampunk contraptions. But Bogdanov was less interested in the technology he dreamt up than the capacity of his Martian engineers to use it wisely. The disciplined Martians had succeeded where fractious humans had so far failed.
Similar thoughts preoccupied Glushkov in his final years. The last book he wrote was intended for young readers: a brief introduction to the possibilities digital networks might offer for — one day — producing Red Plenty. Disillusioned by what his peers had made of his great design, Glushkov invested his hopes in future generations who might yet cultivate the wisdom to make technology work for all.
Friday, September 10, 2021
THE NEXT STEP AFTER CYBERSYN
CYBER-ANARCHO-SOCIALISM
A better way to build a digital future
Book AnnouncementWORLD SCIENTIFIC
We cannot simply assume that unthinkingly applying digital technologies will inevitably bring about a seamless transition to a "better" digital world—a world in which the values of collective action, common knowledge and civic dignity are the norm—rather than ending up in a world of financial or social exploitation through surveillance capitalism, techno-feudalism and diminished humanity.
"The message from world leaders, academics and non-governmental organisations is clear: if we want to address existential threats like climate change, or if we want to achieve the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals for peace, equality, and social justice, then rapid societal transformation is necessary," says Jeremy Pitt, Professor of Intelligent and Self-Organising Systems at Imperial College London, UK, "But we need to ensure that the transformations that digital technologies will help bring about are indeed the societal transformations of the kind that we actually want. As computer scientists and software engineers, we have to think carefully about, and take responsibility for, the impact that our algorithms and systems will have on society. Although difficult and complex, the first principle is quite easy: primum non nocere—first, do no harm. Then, do good."
It is possible to engineer socio-technical systems which point to a "better" digital world, through the direct or indirect codification of algorithms which encapsulate the deep social knowledge of philosophy, political science, and economic science. This includes the Nobel prize winning theory of Elinor Ostrom on institutions for sustainable common pool resource management, Nicholas Rescher's theory of distributive justice for fair resource allocation, and Josiah Ober's theory of basic democracy as a platform for legitimate governance and civic dignity.
Prof Jeremy Pitt’s new book, Self-Organising Multi-Agent Systems: Algorithmic Foundations of Cyber-Anarcho-Socialism approaches the Digital Transformation through a different lens, offering a fresh perspective for educating students and researchers from both the information and social sciences. It shows how ''planned emergence''—the intentional appearance of global properties, such as qualitative values—can be a product of the local self-organisation of conventional rules by autonomous agents.
Self-Organising Multi-Agent Systems is the first volume to bring together ideas from computer science (self-organisation, distributed systems, and artificial intelligence) with ideas from the social sciences (philosophy, economics and politics). The book features an introduction to some concepts and technologies for multi-agent systems and self-organising systems, and then considers the problems of strategic interaction (individual decision-making under uncertainty) and social interaction (collective decision-making under uncertainty). The text covers topics as diverse as game theory, social choice theory and alternative dispute resolution, through to knowledge representation and algorithmic reasoning for electronic institutions, social construction of conceptual resources, and political engagement. Readers will be presented with algorithms for implementing interactional justice, which enable a set of individual subjective assessments on a qualitative matter, such as fairness, can be aggregated into a collective objective assessment, providing a basis for continuous systemic improvement; and will gain insights into the knowledge management processes of basic democracy, providing the basis for both self-determination (whereby those affected by a set of rules participate in their selection, modification and application) and the avoidance of tyranny in all its forms (autocracy, oligarchy and majoritarianism).
Self-Organising Multi-Agent Systems: Algorithmic Foundations of Cyber-Anarcho-Socialism retails for US$128 / £115 (hardcover) and is also available in electronic formats. To order or know more about the book, visit http://www.worldscientific.com/worldscibooks/10.1142/Q0307.
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About the Author
Jeremy Pitt is Professor of Intelligent and Self-Organising Systems in the Department of Electrical and Electronic Engineering at Imperial College London. He received a B.Sc. in Computer Science from the University of Manchester and a Ph.D. in Computing from Imperial College (University of London). He has been teaching and researching Artificial Intelligence and Human-Computer Interaction for over thirty years, where his research programme has used computational logic to specify algorithmic models of social processes, with applications in cyber-physical and socio-technical systems, especially for sustainable, fair and legitimate self-governance. He has collaborated on research projects extensively in Europe, but also in India and New Zealand, and has held visiting professorial positions in Italy, Japan and Poland. He has published more than 200 articles in journals, conferences and workshops, and this work has received several Best Paper awards. He is a trustee of AITT (the Association for Information Technology Trust), a Fellow of the BCS (British Computer Society) and of the IET (Institution of Engineering and Technology), and in 2018 was appointed as Editor-in-Chief of IEEE Technology & Society Magazine, renewed for three years in 2021.
About World Scientific Publishing Co.
World Scientific Publishing is a leading international independent publisher of books and journals for the scholarly, research and professional communities. World Scientific collaborates with prestigious organisations like the Nobel Foundation and US National Academies Press to bring high quality academic and professional content to researchers and academics worldwide. The company publishes about 600 books and over 140 journals in various fields annually. To find out more about World Scientific, please visit www.worldscientific.com.
For more information, contact Amanda at heyun@wspc.com.
DOI
Project Cybersyn - Wikipedia
Project Cybersyn was a Chilean project from 1971 to 1973 during the presidency of Salvador Allende aimed at constructing a distributed decision support system to aid in the management of the national economy. The project consisted of four modules: an economic simulator, custom software to check factory performance, an operations room, and a national network of telex machines that were li…