The Hidden Infrastructure
This is a reading response for Nicole Starosielski, The Undersea Network
What moved me the most was not a set of data or a piece of academic analysis, but a single image: the author, standing on a beach on the west coast of Oahu, Hawaii, bending over to photograph a rusted manhole cover, beneath which lay the fiber-optic network connecting the entire Pacific. That beach was hardly beautiful—it was near a power plant, marred by poor security, and a makeshift campsite for drifters. Yet it was precisely here that the information superhighway reached the U.S. mainland—a gateway for the flows of global finance, social communication, and media. They exist in a completely counterintuitive way: unseen, unheard, yet always “present.” And it is precisely this physical “presence” that made me realize that the digital world is, in fact, rather superficial—the so-called “cloud” isn’t floating high above, but clinging close to the earth. When the network and a manhole cover were linked in my mind, I suddenly felt the internet was closer to me than ever before.
The core argument of the article is actually very straightforward: the reason we perceive the “network” as intangible is because it has been deliberately rendered so. In academic terms, this state is known as “security through obscurity”: cable companies, for reasons of national security and commercial competition, are unwilling to reveal details such as cable routes or landing points; and the public, accustomed to “caring only about content,” rarely asks how the internet actually “comes to be.”
Yet this “invisibility” creates a misconception: people tend to believe that the network is decentralized, fluid, and free of geographical constraints. In reality, 99% of transoceanic data worldwide (including, as you read my reading response right now) is transmitted through roughly 400 cables, and these cables make landfall at only a few dozen geographic points.
Cables have “nodes” and “edges.” On maps, they appear as mere lines connecting cities. But in reality, these “lines” must traverse tropical ocean floors, volcanic archipelagos, coral reefs, and fishing zones, while evading typhoons, military exercises, and even divers who pilfer metal. These “lines” are not abstract pathways; they are highly political physical routes. Cable landing points are not just geographical gateways—they are intersections where culture, capital, and sovereignty converge.
We are used to talking about “going online,” yet cables have never “ascended” to the sky. They lie beneath our feet, unassuming and silent, yet steadfastly connecting the world.
Q: Since these cables are so important, why do we know nothing about them?
A: Because to “see” them would mean that they could be interfered with. And once interference occurs, the power dynamics of the network would be exposed.
For instance, in Hawaii, cable landings are often linked with forced land seizures, military deployments, and the displacement of local residents. Some cables even run directly beneath the tents of the homeless. The author uses a powerful metaphor: this cable that connects the Pacific passes through a community devoid of an “exit” onto the information superhighway. In contrast, on Tahiti, cable landing points are commemorated with monuments, accompanied by schoolchildren and multilingual inscriptions. Here, the cables cease to be symbols of colonialism and instead become a continuation of cultural connectivity—a preservation of the “memory of human movement in the waves.”
The same cables can evoke completely opposite reactions in different geographical and cultural contexts. This shows that connection is never neutral; it always carries inherent direction, power, and exclusivity.
What I found most enlightening about the book was its introduction of two engineering terms—insulation and interconnection—which it employs as metaphors to analyze the interaction between cables and their environment.
Insulation: In order to keep the network undisturbed, cable companies often adopt strategies to “hide” the cables: burying them underground, routing them away from people, and circumventing legal scrutiny. It is a means of “preventing disturbance.”
Interconnection: Yet, to ensure the stable operation of the system, the cables must also “leverage” local resources—seawater’s conductivity, local labor, transportation networks, and legal frameworks. It is a means of “supporting oneself through others.”
The seamless flow of all information is built upon this delicate interplay between insulation and interconnection.
These two terms prompted further reflection: in digital technology, have we inadvertently “insulated” too many things—such as emotions, uncertainty, and the complexity of politics? And do we still retain the ability to be “grounded,” to face a world that is real and substantial?
In a sense, as the author concludes at the end of the book:
“This is not a global network map, but an archaeological record—an excavation of that which has been buried.”
In an era where information grows ever lighter and flows ever faster, we must remind ourselves that what truly upholds digital civilization is a foundation built on physical, political, and social elements. And these very foundations may well be lying silently beneath our feet, waiting for the next tide to wash them ashore.