Dr. Dobb's Journal April, 2005
The Age of Communication has become the Age of Noise. The precise date of the shift is not clear, but this much is known: Fifty years ago, more than half of all noise on planet Earth was natural; today, more than half is man-made.
We have good data on the level at which sound becomes damaging to our hearing. Laws against noise pollution exist, but they are hard to enforce. The noise level in the Russian space station module a few years back was known to be damaging to astronauts' ears, but what law applies in space? Noise walls next to freeways are built for the benefit of residents, but it is often those residents who campaign to have them torn down as eyesores. Five years ago, a San Francisco gardening columnist recommended that gardeners build garden berms to block the sound of their neighbors' power tools, ignoring the fact that their own power tools are much more likely to damage their ears. But that doesn't mean that their own noise is more annoying, does it?
Defining noise is harder than just reading a dB level. Hearing-destroying rock concerts are not regarded as noise by those attending. Car alarms and the confirming beep of hands-off car locks and audible don't-walk signals are among recent additions to the ambient sounds of the street, but which of these count as noise? Okay, the car alarm is definitely noise. Especially to the car thief.
In this Age of Noise, we spend an increasing amount of time trying to block what we consider noise. The Age of Noise is also the Age of Noise Blocking.
These efforts date back at least to the advent of that highly intrusive device—the telephone. Soon after Bell invented the thing, people took exception to being summoned by a device, having strangers' voices invading their homes, being awakened in the night by its obnoxious ringing. They disconnected it or turned off the ringer, requested unlisted numbers; later, they bought answering machines or contracted with answering services or signed up for Do Not Call lists.
Then the phone went portable and acquired the ability to annoy others. Lawmakers, policy makers, and advice columnists condemned those who talked on cell phones while driving, riding in airplanes, dining out, going to the movies or the bathroom, or attending concerts or meetings. A new Turn Off Electronic Devices announcement became obligatory at the start of any speech or event. Someone even invented a wallboard that blocks cell-phone signals.
By the time television arrived, we were used to having strange voices invading our homes, but as soon as there was a remote, someone invented the game of Hide the Remote. Now there are zappers that let you turn off someone else's TV when it annoys you. Noise and noise abatement have become a battle.
But not all noise is auditory. The Internet and e-mail brought entirely new kinds of communications intrusions, and these moved beyond noise to vandalism and theft. So we learned to slam spam, filter e-mail, guard against identity theft, and fend off DoS attacks. Sort of.
Sometimes the battle is you against the forces of authority: When the police got radar, drivers got radar zappers. Now it seems that for every communication device, there is a zapper. With wireless communication, the current fear is more about theft of information or access than about noise, but wireless noise pollution will come to Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. (And a nostalgia bonus to any reader ancient enough to remember Wi-Fi and Bluetooth from the old Soupy Sales show.)
Cameras can be an intrusive technology, but the camera zapping technology discussed in "Programming Paradigms" this month is really a form of noise pollution intended to be inflicted on photographers.
What kind of noise pollution and noise blocking can we expect in the future? I'd keep an eye on the spread of RFID tags. I suspect that we'll start looking for ways to block the communication coming out of our clothes and cats as they increasingly get tagged. Maybe someone will come up with some sort of antiRFID blanket cloaking device, pardon the pun.
And I suppose that eventually brain scanning will get good enough that those folks who wear tinfoil in their hats will have to find a new way to be crazy, because reality will have overtaken their paranoia.
Okay, I'm going to shut up now.