In the first three parts of this topic, I insisted we can’t take “cyber-war” or “cyber-terrorism” seriously until certain people agree to take on pivotal roles, and until the world’s militaries develop a brevity code for their cyberspace weapon systems.

But we need more than just role models and brevity codes. As bizarre as it may sound, “cyber-war” and “cyber-terror” must also address society’s innate desire for military museums.

Nearly everyone knows what a museum is but few of us can describe it in formal terms. Let’s consult Wikipedia for a formal definition:

A museum is a “permanent institution in the service of society and of its development, open to the public, which acquires, conserves, researches, communicates and exhibits the tangible and intangible heritage of humanity and its environment, for the purposes of education, study, and enjoyment”, as defined by the International Council of Museums.

Mankind is both curious and martial by nature: people will go out of their way to see historic military artifacts, specimens, reproductions, and dioramas. So let’s look at this Air Force museum photo. It augments a press release; the caption itself reads:

USAF photo: Celebration recognizes 100 years of military aviation

Cele­bra­tion recog­nizes 100 years of mili­tary aviation: Visitors inspect a repro­duc­tion of the 1908 Wright air­craft Sept. 6, at Fort Myer, Va., during a Cen­ten­nial of Mili­tary Aviation cele­bra­tion. (U.S. Air Force photo/Senior Master Sgt. Matt Proietti)

Let’s face it, folks. From a military perspective, the Wright Brothers’ powered-flight exploits strike us as antiquated and (dare we say it?) somewhat absurd. “A soldier actually thought he could wage war with this contraption?” Actually, no — military museums only pay tribute to the Wrights for historical context, as U.S. aerial missions first took shape in 1861 during the Civil War.

Yes: the Wrights ushered in a new era of powered flight. Yes: an aircraft first engaged in combat in Libya in 1911. But the world’s militaries needed to experiment for decades to bring aerial warfare up to par with land & naval warfare. Military museums point to WWII as the true tipping point for “aero-war,” a time when men fought in the air for control of the air.

To be honest: no mili­tary museum will high­light General Lord a hun­dred years from now — because there’s no photo of him flying or fighting in cyber­space. But don’t lose hope! A sena­tor from Lou­i­si­ana might spon­sor a bill to name an IPv6 mili­tary subnet in his honor…

One hundred years from now, from a military perspective, General Lord’s PowerPoint exploits will strike museum visitors as antiquated and (dare we say it?) somewhat absurd. “A flag officer actually thought he could wage war with this contraption?” Actually, no — military museums will only pay tribute to Lord’s exploits for historical context, as U.S. cyber missions first took shape in … well, that’s all highly classified if we’re to believe the many hundreds of experts who love to brag about it.

Yes: Al Gore ushered in a new era of cyber flight. Yes: USAF suffered its own Pearl Harbor at the hands of one teenage hacker in 1997. But the world’s militaries will need to write experimental software for decades to bring cyber warfare up to par with land & naval & aerial warfare. Tomorrow’s military museums will point to some horrifying global conflict as the true tipping point for “cyber-war,” a time when men will fight in cyberspace for control of cyberspace.

(And here’s the kicker, folks. That horrifying global conflict will also spark the first real war in outer space. “Moving along, children, you can see a molten piece of the International Space Station that survived re-entry after a hunter-killer satellite blew it up and killed everyone on board at the start of WWIII…”)

Folks, we can’t take “cyber-war” or “cyber-terrorism” seriously until it can address society’s innate desire for military museums. Any museum artifact, specimen, reproduction, or diorama up to now can only describe context, not combat.

Now let’s ask a philosophical question. What will our ancestors see when they visit a military cyberspace museum one hundred years from now? Do you honestly think the caption will read “Visitors inspect a reproduction of Major General William T. Lord’s 2008 Windows XP SP3 ‘Cyber Surfer’ weapon system at Barksdale Cyber Base, Louisiana, during a Centennial of Military Cyber Operations celebration…”

“Every computer IS a weapon system,” insist the hypemeisters. To hear them say it, the military museums of tomorrow will show off antique “qwerty” keyboards and reproductions of cubicles. I can already hear a museum curator speaking to millions of children wandering the exhibits in cyberspace…

Moving along, boys and girls, we come to Major General William T. Lord’s actual desk where he flew combat cyber missions in 2008. Do you see the holes on either side of the front corners? Those holes were for wires. In the old days, all military cyber craft were “tethered” to a cabinet or desk with cables and wires. These wires would connect to a keyboard (that’s what they used to call a hand bud), and a video monitor (that’s what they used to call an eye bud), and a microphone (that’s what they used to call an ear bud), and a headset (another type of ear bud). Even a pointing device called a “mouse” (another type of hand bud) was tethered to the desk by a wire. That’s a lot of wires!

Believe it or not, children, in General Lord’s day, all cyber pilots had two Fones tethered to their desks. Fones were very primitive in those days: you couldn’t even see the person you were talking to. And transfer data? Forget it, those Fones were just for your voice. The military back then believed they needed different Fones for different levels of security. If you were a powerful man like General Lord, you would have a third Fone that made “faxes” on real tree paper. That’s all it would do. In theory you could talk on it, but no one ever did.

And Fones were very expensive back then, children! People couldn’t toss them in the recycle bin like we do. Every time a cyber pilot was assigned to a new base, or even to a new office, all of their Fone noms had to be changed. A nom was tied to a specific desk if you can believe it, not to a specific person. In fact the idea of a nom was completely unheard of back then. And get this, kids. A nom was composed of a bunch of numbers back then. You couldn’t Fone anybody with a picture or a voco.

In General Lord’s day, tens of thousands of sergeants would be deployed to dangerous combat zones where they stretched wires between buildings just so people could use Fones. Wire stretching was such an important job that General Lord insisted that his sergeants should be treated like aircraft mechanics. But as we all know, children, the world doesn’t need to tether a Fone to a desk with wires strung between buildings. The need for combat wire stretchers eventually went away.

And children, did you know General Lord used to view documents on real tree paper? It’s true! He had a second “printer” on his desk just for that purpose. Back then, the world was a lot like the Babylonians who viewed documents on papyrus. Like everything else, both of his printers were tethered to his desk with wires. General Lord’s desk was cluttered with wires and tree paper back then.

Now, boys and girls, do any of you know how powerful your Fone is? General Lord would need 63 billion wire-tethers and 17 billion desks just to equal what your little Fone can do. And even that’s not enough! You see, General Lord couldn’t even tell his Fones what to do: Fones weren’t powerful enough to understand voice commands in his day. He had to enter each command with his fingers and he had to put up with many different types and styles of hand buds.

And get this, kids. The entire military had tens of millions of Fones back then, but they couldn’t even boinc out a solution for any problem they faced…

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