How To Kill The Internet: An Annotated Guide

Russian President Vladimir Putin wants to kill the internet. Well, sort of. Russia is taking steps that would enable the government to unplug the country from the world wide web and fall back on its own, internal Russian network. A Russian agency plans to perform tests on a prototype of the "RosNet" (our coinage) soon.

That would be a boon to Vladimir Putin's ongoing bid to tighten control over the online realm, an obsession rooted in the anti-Putin protests of 2011-2012, and the Snowden revelations about massive US online snooping in 2013. The system is meant to be a temporary emergency measure, according to the Russian press – in case of hostile cyberattacks, or serious internal protests.


But Russia's president has a problem: ordinary Russians are accustomed to relatively unfettered access to the global internet. If Putin really pulled the plug during a bout of unrest, or if he tried to clamp down too hard on the global internet in other ways, he could face a popular backlash.

But Russia's experimentation here got us thinking: what are governments' different strategies for controlling cyberspace? Some do it for national security reasons, others are responding to consumer concerns about privacy. In all cases, what governments can and can't do is a product of the prevailing political, technological, and economic forces in their countries.

Here are a few basic approaches we've noticed:

Build your own: That's China's approach. Around 800 million people in the country surf the web, buy stuff and find love over a sanitized version of the internet that's been engineered to block or stamp out information that could threaten political stability or the legitimacy of the Communist Party. That seems to suit China's millions of internet users just fine. It easier to tolerate being disconnected from the global internet when you've already got domestic internet services and apps that are easily as innovative, and in some cases even more influential, than foreign ones. But that's a model that other governments – even technologically sophisticated ones like Russia's – will struggle to replicate.

Cut it off, and damn the consequences: Governments that lack the resources and knowhow to develop sophisticated censorship systems like China's or a backup domestic internet like the one Russia hopes to build still have options for controlling cyberspace. When governments in Cameroon or regional states in India were worried about protests or other social unrest spreading via social media, they just cut the internet off. There are two big problems with this approach: one, it's expensive – and will only grow more so as a bigger chunk of the global economy relies on online connectivity. Two, it's potentially politically explosive: when Egyptian strongman Hosni Mubarak cut off the internet to try to stamp out protests that were being organized on social media during the Arab Spring, it only solidified popular opposition to his regime.

Tighten up the rules, but don't close the road: No country has benefited more from the global internet than the United States, and you won't see the US talking about cutting off US citizens anytime soon. Still, Washington is increasingly concerned about cybersecurity threats and the national security implications of foreign (read: Chinese) equipment suppliers. The Trump administration is more aggressively confronting foreign hackers and trying to push China's huge tech companies out of next-generation 5G networks around the world. The EU for its part, is also trying to assert more government control over the internet, by tightly regulating hate speech and setting stricter rules to protect users' personal data.

Which of these strategies do you think is most likely to succeed in the long run?

Tomorrow, July 20, will mark the 50-year anniversary of the day a human being first stepped onto another world. A moment born out of Cold War political pressures, it's easy to forget a half century later how much bitter controversy the project provoked at home and the intensity of the worldwide fanfare that followed its success.

The moon mission's primary purpose was to defeat the Soviet Union. By the time John Kennedy became president in 1961, the Soviet Union had advanced far ahead of the United States in the race for achievement in space. In October 1957, the Soviets launched Sputnik, the world's first satellite. A month later, a dog named Laika became the first living creature to travel beyond Earth's atmosphere. In April 1961, Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin orbited the Earth, the first human to do so.

In early May, Alan Shepard became the first American in space, spurring Kennedy to announce a far more ambitious plan. On May 25, Kennedy famously pledged that by the end of the decade Americans would go to the moon and return safely to the Earth.

Kennedy was assassinated in November 1963, but new President Lyndon Johnson quickly signaled his intention to see the promise kept. The Soviets held their space lead through 1965, by landing an unmanned craft on the Moon.

The moon mission stoked controversy in the United States. A review of polls reveals that only in 1969 did a majority of Americans support the project. Many people argued that the billions spent on a moonshot should go toward the war in Vietnam or to fight poverty in America's inner cities. "No hot water, no toilets, no lights. But Whitey's on the moon," sang musician and activist Gil Scott Heron. It didn't help when a fire during the Apollo 1 mission killed three astronauts and destroyed their space module.

But when Neil Armstrong became the first person to step onto the moon on July 20, 1969, the event took on a life of its own. It was a decade framed by two images of respected TV anchorman Walter Cronkite—shaken to the core on air by the 1963 murder of President Kennedy and then speechless with awe as Americans bounded across the surface of the moon.

A decade that included confrontation with the Soviets in Cuba, the assassinations of John Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy, a failing war in Vietnam, race riots in American cities, and violent chaos at the 1968 Democratic Party convention ended with an accomplishment a quarter million miles away, that was watched live by 94 percent of Americans who owned a TV. For perspective: Consider these two images of respected TV anchorman Walter Cronkite—shaken to the core on air by the 1963 murder of President Kennedy and then speechless with awe as Americans bounded across the surface of the moon.

Americans weren't the only ones watching. About 650 million people around the world watched the moon landing live on TV, making the event the first truly global televised event. Nine weeks later, astronauts Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins began a world tour.

Concerns that planting an American flag on the moon's surface would seem an act of obnoxious nationalism faded as the three men were greeted by overflow crowds in 27 cities in 24 countries over 39 days. An estimated one million people greeted them in Dhaka (then Pakistan) and some 1.5 million turned out in Mumbai (then Bombay).

Fifty years later, moon missions are still a mark of national prestige. Russia, China, India, the EU, Japan, and Israel have all sent probes to orbit the Moon or landed vehicles on its surface. But none of them matches that first "giant leap for mankind."

Next up: Mars? For thoughts on the next space race, click here.

Bonus fact: Your iPhone has more than 100,000 times the processing power of the computer that landed Apollo 11 on the moon.

This time the field is more crowded with China's growing ambitions throwing US and Russian space dominance into question.

Europe has selected a new president of the European Commission. Last night, German Defense Minister Ursula von der Leyen won support from a majority of members of European Parliament to lead the executive body that shapes policy for the world's largest economic bloc. The final result was a close shave, however — she won by a margin of just nine votes out of 757 — and there's something in the outcome for everyone to hate.

For many anti-EU populists, von der Leyen's appointment confirms their view that the EU is undemocratic and doesn't respect ordinary citizens. Why? Because she wasn't selected by the voters who went to the polls in the recent EU parliamentary elections — or even indirectly by the lawmakers who won those seats. She was hand-picked by leaders of the 28 EU member states, who side-stepped parliament after better-known candidates chosen by various political factions within the legislature failed to attract enough support from the national governments. Anti-EU politicians like France's Marine Le Pen will spend the next five years reminding us that von der Leyen's presidency reflects everything that's wrong with Brussels.

For Angela Merkel, Emmanuel Macron, and other European leaders who backed von der Leyen, her narrow margin of approval gives her a weak mandate as she confronts huge challenges such as the EU's fraught relations with the US and China, showdowns over Italy's budget, erosion of the rule of law in Hungary and Poland, the economic and political fallout of the UK's exit (or not) from the bloc, and the EU's drive to regulate Big Tech.

Von der Leyen herself, who is from the center-right, made significant concessions to get her nomination through with parties that are deeply suspicious of her. Those included a promise to propose a so-called "green deal" within her first 100 days in office, reform the minimum wage, and launch a push for EU-wide legislation on artificial intelligence. Von der Leyen also pledged to reform the process for selecting future candidates for Commission president and to give the EU Parliament a "stronger role in shaping and designing" the EU's future. Now that von der Leyen has secured the closest thing the EU has to a top job, she'll be spending much of her political capital trying to deliver on those promises.