Stop Talking Dirty To Me Let's hope the media frenzy about sex in cyberspace has almost played its course by Steven Levy For the briefest of moments, I sensed that a turning point had been reached in the seemingly interminable -- and needlessly destructive -- discussion of sex and computers. This scene was a late-September conference in Kassel, Germany, called Millennium Days, an attempt to kickstart local awareness of important cyberspace issues, economic and social. Since any treatment of cyberspace is considered impoverished if sex isn't on center stage, we were treated to Stahl Stenslie, a 30-year-old Norwegian researcher demonstrating something called "InterSkin." As dramatized by two actors outfitted in unwieldy spandex-like garments holding vibrating sensors in place, it played like a parody of a porno flick. But at the event's closing session, an observer finally asserted that enough was enough. While the conference had been generally illuminating, he said, the sex stuff was ill considered and "simply not interesting." Much of the audience burst into applause. That ovation would have been appreciated by millions of people who regularly use the Internet and come in contact with virtually no sexual content whatsoever. Net citizens are increasingly infuriated by the perception that cyberspace is nothing but an electronic Nighttown populated with the digitalized equivalent of porn mags and sex clubs -- as well as history's most fertile feeding ground for real-life child molesters. Their gripe is legitimate. While no sane modem jockey disputes the existence of an active sexual overground on the Net, you would think, from the endless stream of tabloid-level news reports and hotly argued political attempts to censor the Net, that this was the biggest problem in cyberspace. We should be so lucky. There are much more vital issues to be debated as we move into a networked world. Examples: How can we provide access to all, and not just the privileged? How can the privacy of the individual be maintained -- or extended -- without endangering the security of society at large? Who will do the regulating in a system that recognizes no national borders? As those borders dissolve in a blitz of bits, what does citizenship mean? Too abstract for you? That's what, in aggregate, the media seem to think. Very few editors will resist an opportunity to work a chunk of erotica into a broadcast or newspaper, and since there seems to be a general curiosity about computers and the Internet these days, sex seems the ideal vehicle to discuss this new and intimidating subject. The actual "news" in these reports, dealing with cases of sexual solicitation or caches of digitalized porn, almost always hinges on a single novelty: illicit stuff happening all the time in the real world is now occurring in the realm of computers. Generally, these "Horrors! Sex in Cyberspace!" reports are well meaning. But without a careful -- and relatively dull -- explanation of where sex really fits into the wider world of cyberspace, these reports are almost guaranteed to be misunderstood by a public already harboring dire apprehensions about technology. Worse, some people apparently view this hyped-up frenzy as an opportunity to be exploited. It's fine for the FBI to arrest those caught in Operation Innocent Images, its America Online (AOL) kiddie-port sting. But then FBI chief Louis Freeh complained his agents were unable to read the information on some of the computers confiscated from the alleged offenders, because files had been encrypted. This seems an overly convenient means for Freeh to advance his quiet campaign to get access to the keys to all private messages. It was no accident that when an ambitious Carnegie Mellon student wondered how to make his mark in the world, he concocted an overblown study of sex on cyberspace -- and wound up on the cover of Time magazine. And then there's Curtis Sliwa, founder of the Guardian Angels. After the issue of child safety in cyberspace came up on his radio talk show, Sliwa decided to pursue in his usual high-profile fashion. Within weeks he organized the CyberAngels, consisting of 200 volunteers attempting to expose electronic sexual crimes by monitoring AOL. (Those chat rooms must be very crowded by now, what with pedophiles, pickup artists, pornographers, FBI agents, AOL's own monitors and of course those doe-eyed innocent victims whose parents never told them how to switch off the computer when a cyber rapist appears.) Next, says Sliwa, the Angels will patrol the vast Internet. Though the CyberAngels cannot document a single case where one of their numerous reports led directly to an arrest, they @i(have) compiled a fat file of press clippings. Which brings us to the biggest exploiter here, the media. I'm reasonably confident that the relentless coverage of Net sex results not from conspiracy, but from the aforementioned eagerness to push that three-letter hot button. Still, it is interesting to note that many of the TV news magazines and publications that wax most shrill on the allegedly filthy world of cyberspace are owned by media conglomerates. These institutions are seriously threatened by the Internet phenomenon, which if unchecked has the potential to reorder the communications world they now dominate. Media frenzies run in cycles, though, and maybe the Net sex panic has peaked. Or so I hoped at Millennium Days. But that was simply a wishful hallucination. Only hours after the event, I tuned in to a report on CNN concerning computer-generated celebrity nudes. "It's happening on the Internet...now!" exhorted the breathless correspondent. I'm sure it is. But other Internet issues are immeasurably more important. Is our media culture so blinded by a glimpse of digital flesh that we can't discuss them? Steven Levy can be reached at steven@echonyc.com. ###