Cornucopia
Limited: Design and Dissent on the Internet
by Richard Coyne
The MIT Press, Cambridge, MA, 2005
272 pp. Trade, $39.95
ISBN: 0-262-03336-4.
Reviewed by Michael R. Mosher
Saginaw Valley State University
mosher@svsu.edu
Cornucopia Limited grants us pipeful-of-burley
ruminations on the networked economy.
Yet the title misleads, for the book is
negligible on dissent, whether online
political organization or its potential
for disruption (think of the Yes Men's
fake 2003 announcement, purportedly from
Dow Chemical, that apologized for the
disaster in Bhopal). Coynes armchair
outrageousness is in metaphors like "design
as theft", the necessary appropriation
of ideas. While celebrating the designer's
unusual perspective at the gaps and interstices,
the hybrid juncture of brand names, edginess,
and creativity, he acknowledges his or
her role in economic service. This designer
finds too little tangibly about design.
The book is light on design theory or
examples, whether drawn from graphics,
architecture (Coyne's field), and softwareor
their uneasy symbiosis, Web and interface
design. Coyne acknowledges the marketing
primacy of good functionality and interface
of good software design yet doesn't provide
illustrative examples.
The book is organized into several overarching
design metaphors. The first is the household,
a private world that shuts out the public
market. The foundation of the home is
the economics of self-interest as elucidated
by Adam Smith, an attitude later lambasted
by John Ruskin as only worthy of "rats
or swine". Platonic ideas of order are
contrasted with the messy marketplace.
These poles were negotiated in the ancient
world by the Stoics and then the Epicureans,
who saw a sound household as the means
to the good life in a private garden.
The second metaphor is the machine, an
obvious one for the network and its manifested
nodes. He reminds us of computers
origin and centrality as machines in Turing's
cryptography. The design of machines is
a play of opposites, and a site of machine-like
bureaucracies found in organization theory
from Weber to Derrida. Coyne ponders the
applicability of Smith's criteria for
the economic machine, Marx's capitalist
machine critique, and the lubricant of
Deleuze and Guattari's trope of irony,
yet Coyne's own misgivings as a designer
gleams through here. Machines have promoted
metonymic overuse of an isolated part
of the human to represent a whole body
("All hands on deck!"), while another
problematic posits work as a machine.
Machines can be monstrous, useless, or
a cheap conceptual solution, like the
Heaven-sent deus ex machina of
drama (of which my favorite example is
National Lampoon humorist Michael
O' Donoghue's advice to end short stories:
"Suddenly everybody was hit by a truck").
For Coyne, machines as a category are
like those art-devices of Jean Tinguely
that huff and puff and ultimately collapse
under the weight of their exhibitionistic
exertions.
The author's third metaphor is the game,
exemplified in three decades of computer
gaming. The first game we encounter, said
Freud, is the mother and child playing
peek-a-boo. Like all good games, it employs
Cartesian location and locatedness, socially
shared experience and advancing skill
levels. Games require demarcations of
inside or outside the game, whether in
chess, Herman Hesse's fictional Glass
Bead Game or a jaunt with Lara Croft
the Tomb Raider. The global capitalist
system might then be seen as a game, its
arenas fitting Roger Callois' game categories:
competition, chance, simulation, and vertigo
(which, when debased, lead to trickery,
superstition, alienation, and alcoholism
respectively). Coyne cites Zizek's comment
that the citizen's greatest dread is that
no oneno TV crew, web cam
or state agency's surveillanceis
watching us at all.
The fourth metaphor employed is the gift,
which brings up issues of creativity and
commerce (one recalls the 1970s motto
inside the ad agency Leo Burnett USA "It's
not creative unless it sells"). This chapter
acknowledges and explores political contradictions
of the public and private space of the
Internet more than any other. There remains
the persistent trope of information as
a gift, promulgated by the Open Software
Initiative, the Free Software Foundation
and the Ruskinesque Romantic sensibilities
of LINUX originator Linus Torvalds; Bill
Gates (called by one biographer the man
who first thought of selling software)
has fulminated against this ethic since
1976. Coyne cites Marcel Maus on the gift's
requirements of surprise, excess, and
difference from daily life's exchanges.
Baudelaire's story of a counterfeit coin
given to beggar, which gets him in all
sorts of legal troubles, was example Derrida
used of the gift's unpredictable simulation.
The gift may be an impossibility, risky,
and ill fitting to the rationalism of
complex modern society, impossible as
event in our over-determined society for
its lack of surprise, excess, and difference.
Coyne's memorable line here is "[a]dvertising
renders products counterfeit."
The final metaphor is the threshold, a
gateway of in-betweenness and liminality,
with its sense of permeable borders and
passage, a negotiation between inside
and outside, like Walter Benjamin's One-Way
Street. Commerce itself is interaction
upon the threshold, allowing Coyne to
finally designate design as theft, "something
accomplished by breaking and entering".
This chapter may be his most architectural,
and Richard Coyne is Professor and Chair
of Architectural Computing at the University
of Edinburgh. Architecture has been a
field that has offered up insightful thinkers
on cyberspace, whether Nicholas Negroponte
and his "architecture machines" or mid-Michigan's
Peter Anders, theorist of "cybridity".
Coyne often finds examples in a refreshingly
comfortable familiarity with classical
mythology, from the horn of plenty in
the title on down. In his final chapter
on the threshold and the trickster quality
of its liminality, attention to cynicism
(and Diogenes the Cynic) leads to a declarative
natural history passage on dogs worthy
of Edward Dahlberg's Sorrows of Priapus.
Perhaps Coyne could best produce a memorable
illustrated book where each of the large
points was illuminated with photography,
diagrams, and pictures, for his arguments
are diffuse and fugitive in text form.
Sadly, this book lacks design examples,
processes, steps, and anecdotes from experience
that so often make books by seasoned designers
choice reading. Instead, we are given
generalities (and don't bother looking
for the "dissent" promised in the title).
Coyne's previous books for The MIT Press,
Technoromanticism: Digital Narrative,
Holism and the Romance of the Real
(2001) or Designing Information Technology
in the Postmodern Age: From Method to
Metaphor (1995), might provide more
nourishment for hungry designers.