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Tim Berners-Lee

From the thousands of interconnected threads of the Internet, he
wove the World Wide Web and created a mass medium for the 21st
century
By JOSHUA QUITTNER for Time Magazine
Want to
see how much the world has changed in the past decade? Log on to
the Internet, launch a search engine and type in the word
enquire (British spelling, please). You'll get about 30,000
hits. It turns out you can "enquire" about nearly anything
online these days, from used Harley Davidsons for sale in
Sydney, Australia ("Enquire about touring bikes. Click here!"),
to computer-training-by-e-mail courses in India ("Where
excellence is not an act but a habit"). Click once to go to a
site in Nairobi and enquire about booking shuttle reservations
there. Click again, and zip off to Singapore, to a company that
specializes in "pet moving." Enquire about buying industrial-age
nuts and bolts from "the Bolt Boys" in South Africa, or teddy
bears in upstate New York. Exotic cigar labels! Tantric sex
guides! Four-poster beds for dogs!
So what, you say? Everybody knows that with a mouse, a modem and
access to the Internet, these days you can point-and-click
anywhere on the planet, unencumbered by time or space or
long-distance phone tariffs.
Ah, but scroll down the list far enough, hundreds of entries
deep, and you'll find this hidden Rosebud of cyberspace:
"Enquire Within Upon Everything" — a nifty little computer
program written nearly 20 years ago by a lowly software
consultant named Tim Berners-Lee. Who knew then that from this
modest hack would flow the civilization-altering,
millionaire-spawning, information suckhole known as the World
Wide Web?
Unlike so many of the inventions that have moved the world, this
one truly was the work of one man. Thomas Edison got credit for
the light bulb, but he had dozens of people in his lab working
on it. William Shockley may have fathered the transistor, but
two of his research scientists actually built it. And if there
ever was a thing that was made by committee, the Internet — with
its protocols and packet switching — is it. But the World Wide
Web is Berners-Lee's alone. He designed it. He loosed it on the
world. And he more than anyone else has fought to keep it open,
nonproprietary and free.
It started, of all places, in the Swiss Alps. The year was 1980.
Berners-Lee, doing a six-month stint as a software engineer at
CERN, the European Laboratory for Particle Physics, in Geneva,
was noodling around with a way to organize his far-flung notes.
He had always been interested in programs that dealt with
information in a "brain-like way" but that could improve upon
that occasionally memory-constrained organ. So he devised a
piece of software that could, as he put it, keep "track of all
the random associations one comes across in real life and brains
are supposed to be so good at remembering but sometimes mine
wouldn't." He called it Enquire, short for Enquire Within Upon
Everything, a Victorian-era encyclopedia he remembered from
childhood.
Building on ideas that were current in software design at the
time, Berners-Lee fashioned a kind of "hypertext" notebook.
Words in a document could be "linked" to other files on
Berners-Lee's computer; he could follow a link by number (there
was no mouse to click back then) and automatically pull up its
related document. It worked splendidly in its solipsistic,
Only-On-My-Computer way.
But what if he wanted to add stuff that resided on someone
else's computer? First he would need that person's permission,
and then he would have to do the dreary work of adding the new
material to a central database. An even better solution would be
to open up his document — and his computer — to everyone and
allow them to link their stuff to his. He could limit access to
his colleagues at CERN, but why stop there? Open it up to
scientists everywhere! Let it span the networks! In
Berners-Lee's scheme there would be no central manager, no
central database and no scaling problems. The thing could grow
like the Internet itself, open-ended and infinite. "One had to
be able to jump," he later wrote, "from software documentation
to a list of people to a phone book to an organizational chart
to whatever."
So he cobbled together a relatively easy-to-learn coding system
— HTML (HyperText Mark-up Language) — that has come to be the
lingua franca of the Web; it's the way Web-content creators put
those little colored, underlined links in their text, add images
and so on. He designed an addressing scheme that gave each Web
page a unique location, or url (universal resource locator). And
he hacked a set of rules that permitted these documents to be
linked together on computers across the Internet. He called that
set of rules HTTP (HyperText Transfer Protocol).
And on the seventh day, Berners-Lee cobbled together the World
Wide Web's first (but not the last) browser, which allowed users
anywhere to view his creation on their computer screen. In 1991
the World Wide Web debuted, instantly bringing order and clarity
to the chaos that was cyberspace. From that moment on, the Web
and the Internet grew as one, often at exponential rates. Within
five years, the number of Internet users jumped from 600,000 to
40 million. At one point, it was doubling every 53 days.
Raised in London in the 1960s, Berners-Lee was the
quintessential child of the computer age. His parents met while
working on the Ferranti Mark I, the first computer sold
commercially. They taught him to think unconventionally; he'd
play games over the breakfast table with imaginary numbers
(what's the square root of minus 4?). He made pretend computers
out of cardboard boxes and five-hole paper tape and fell in love
with electronics. Later, at Oxford, he built his own working
electronic computer out of spare parts and a TV set. He also
studied physics, which he thought would be a lovely compromise
between math and electronics. "Physics was fun," he recalls.
"And in fact a good preparation for creating a global system."
It's hard to overstate the impact of the global system he
created. It's almost Gutenbergian. He took a powerful
communications system that only the elite could use and turned
it into a mass medium. "If this were a traditional science,
Berners-Lee would win a Nobel Prize," Eric Schmidt, CEO of
Novell, once told the New York Times. "What he's done is that
significant."
You'd think he would have at least got rich; he had plenty of
opportunities. But at every juncture, Berners-Lee chose the
nonprofit road, both for himself and his creation. Marc
Andreessen, who helped write the first popular Web browser,
Mosaic — which, unlike the master's browser, put images and text
in the same place, like pages in a magazine — went on to
co-found Netscape and become one of the Web's first
millionaires. Berners-Lee, by contrast, headed off in 1994 to an
administrative and academic life at the Massachusetts Institute
of Technology. From a sparse office at M.I.T., he directs the W3
Consortium, the standard-setting body that helps Netscape,
Microsoft and anyone else agree on openly published protocols
rather than hold one another back with proprietary technology.
The rest of the world may be trying to cash in on the Web's
phenomenal growth, but Berners-Lee is content to labor quietly
in the background, ensuring that all of us can continue, well
into the next century, to Enquire Within Upon Anything.
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This web page was last updated on:
09 December, 2008
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