Interoperability is a topic that has long been of interest to me. How networks, platforms, and devices work with each other–or sometimes fail to–is an important engineering, business, and policy issue. Back in 2012, I spilled out over 5,000 words on the topic when reviewing John Palfrey and Urs Gasser’s excellent book, Interop: The Promise and Perils of Highly Interconnected Systems.

I’ve always struggled with the interoperability issues, however, and often avoided them became of the sheer complexity of it all. Some interesting recent essays by sci-fi author and digital activist Cory Doctorow remind me that I need to get back on top of the issue. His latest essay is a call-to-arms in favor of what he calls “adversarial interoperability.” “[T]hat’s when you create a new product or service that plugs into the existing ones without the permission of the companies that make them,” he says. “Think of third-party printer ink, alternative app stores, or independent repair shops that use compatible parts from rival manufacturers to fix your car or your phone or your tractor.”

Doctorow is a vociferous defender of expanded digital access rights of many flavors and his latest essays on interoperability expand upon his previous advocacy for open access and a general freedom to tinker. He does much of this work with the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF), which shares his commitment to expanded digital access and interoperability rights in various contexts.

I’m in league with Doctorow and EFF on some of these things, but also find myself thinking they go much too far in other ways. At root, their work and advocacy raise a profound question: should there be any general right to exclude on digital platforms? Although he doesn’t always come right out and say it, Doctorow’s work often seems like an outright rejection of any sort of property rights in networks or platforms. Generally speaking, he does not want the law to recognize any right for tech platforms to exclude using digital fences of any sort.

Where to Draw the Lines?

As someone who has authored a book about the importance of permissionless innovation, I need to be able to answer questions about where these lines between open versus closed systems are drawn. Definitions and framing matter, however. I use “permissionless innovation” as a descriptor for one possible policy disposition when considering where legal and regulatory defaults should be set. Another conception of permissionless innovation is more of an engineering ideal; a general freedom to connect, tinker, modify, etc. (I speak more about these conceptions in my latest book, Evasive Entrepreneurs.) Of course, someone advocating permissionless innovation as a policy default will sometimes be confronted with the question of what the law should say when someone behaves in an “evasive” fashion in the latter conception of permissionless innovation.

Doctorow would generally answer that question by saying that law should not be rigged to favor exclusion through laws like the DMCA (and specifically the law’s anti- circumvention provisions), Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, patent law, and various other rules and laws. “[T]he current crop of Big Tech companies has secured laws, regulations, and court decisions that have dramatically restricted adversarial interoperability.”

Generally speaking, I agree. I’m not a fan of technocratic laws or regulations that seek to micro-manage interoperability and which stack the deck in favor of exclusionary conduct with steep penalties for evasion. But does that mean adversarial interoperability should be permitted in all cases? Should there exist any sort of common law presumption one way or the other when a user or competitor seeks access to an existing private platform or device?

Specifics matter here and I don’t have time to get into all the case studies that Doctorow goes through. Some are no-brainers, like the infamous Lexmark case involving refillable printer ink cartridges. Other cases are far more complicated, at least for me. Does Epic, creator of Fortnite, have a right of adversarial interoperability that it can exercise against Apple and their AppStore? As Dirk Auer suggests in a new essay, this episode looks more like a straightforward pricing dispute. Epic is making it out to be much more than that, suggesting Apple is guilty of unfair and exclusionary practices that require a legal remedy.

Why not take that logic further and just say Apple’s App Store us tantamount to a natural monopoly or digital essential facility that Epic and everyone else is entitled to on whatever terms they want? For that matter, why not apply the same logic to Epic’s Fortnite platform or even its Unreal Engine? Does every other gaming developer have a right to piggyback on the juggernaut that Epic has built?

This gets to the core question about Doctorow’s concept of adversarial interoperability: Exactly what should common law and the courts say platform owners make access rights a simple pricing matter and say: “You pay or you are out.” Like Doctorow and EFF, I don’t want Apple to benefit from any special favors from laws like DMCA. Where we differ is that I would still leave the door open for Apple to exercise various other common law contractual rights or property rights in court.

I suspect Doctorow would deny any such claims by Apple or anyone else. If so, I would like to see him spell out in more precise terms exactly what Apple’s property rights and contractual rights are in this instance. Or, again, should we just treat the App Store as a digital commons with unfettered open access rights for developers? If so, would Apple be required to still manage the resource once it is a quasi-commons?

I think that would end miserably, but would like to hear Doctorow’s preferred approach before saying more. I suspect a lot rides on the distinction between “open” verses “proprietary” standards, but compared to Doctorow and EFF, I am willing to embrace a world of both open and proprietary systems, and many hybrids in between. I don’t want the law favoring one type over the other, but that means I need to endorse a generalized property right for digital operators such that they can still exclude others (even in the absence of artificial regulatory rights like DMCA creates). Again, I suspect Doctorow would reject that standard, preferring a generalized right of access, even if that means the platforms become de facto commons.

More Radical Steps

Elsewhere, Doctorow has said is that some of these questions would be better addressed through more aggressive antitrust regulation. Mere data portability or mandatory interoperability isn’t enough for him. “Data portability is important,” Doctorow says, “but it is no substitute for the ability to have ongoing access to a service that you’re in the process of migrating away from.”

In his latest online book on “How to Destroy Surveillance Capitalism,” Doctorow suggests that it is time to “make Big Tech small again” through an “anti-monopoly ecology movement.” That “means bans on mergers between large companies, on big companies acquiring nascent competitors, and on platform companies competing directly with the companies that rely on the platforms.” And he desires a host of other remedies.

So, here we have the convergence of interoperability policy and antitrust policy, with a layer of property confiscation layered on top apparently. “Now it’s up to us to seize the means of computation, putting that electronic nervous system under democratic, accountable control,” he insists in his latest manifesto.

What’s funny about this is that Doctorow begins most of his essays by pointing out all the ways that politics is the problem when it comes to access issues, only to end by suggesting that a lot more political meddling is the required solution. He repeatedly laments how large tech players have so often been able to convince lawmakers and regulators to pass special laws or regulations that work to their favor. Yet, in his We-Can-Build-A-Better-Bureaucrat model of things, all those old problems will apparently disappear when we get the right people in power and get rid of those nefarious capitalist schemers.

Thus, what really animates Doctorow’s advocacy for adversarial interoperability is a deep suspicion of free market capitalism and property rights in particular. In this worldview, interoperability really just becomes a Trojan Horse meant to help bring down the entire capitalist order. Am I exaggerating? “As to why things are so screwed up? Capitalism.” Those are his exact words from the conclusion of his latest book.

Adversarial Innovation & Evolutionary Interop

Still, Doctorow raises many legitimate issues about interconnection and digital access rights. But we need a better approach to work though these questions than the one he suggests.

In my lengthy review of the Palfrey and Gasser Interop book, I tried to sketch out an alternative framework for thinking seriously about these issues. I referred to my preferred approach as “experimental interoperability” or “evolutionary interoperability.” I described this as the theory that ongoing marketplace experimentation with technical standards, modes of information production and dissemination, and interoperable information systems, is almost always preferable to the artificial foreclosure of this dynamic process through state action. The former allows for better learning and coping mechanisms to develop while also incentivizing the spontaneous, natural evolution of the market and market responses.

Adversarial interoperability is important, but not nearly as important as adversarial innovation and facilities-based competition. Stated differently, access rights to existing systems is an important value, but the incentives we have in place to encourage entirely new systems is what really matters most. At some point, a generalized right of access to existing systems discourages the sort of platform-building that could help give rise to the sort of creative destruction we have seen at work repeatedly in the past and that we still need today. Taken too far, adversarial interoperability threatens to undermine this goal. Why seek to build a better alternative platform if you can just endlessly free ride off someone else’s by force of law?

Thus, I prefer to work at the margins and think through how to balance these competing claims of access / interoperability rights versus contractual / property rights. My take will be too utilitarian for not only Doctorow but also for some libertarians, who want clear answers to all these questions based upon their preferred natural law-oriented constructions of rights. The problem with that approach is that it leads to all-or-nothing extremes (complete digital property rights, or virtually none) and that approach is fundamentally unworkable and destructive. We need to work harder about how to balance these rights and values in pro-competitive, pro-innovation fashion.

There is No Such Thing as Optimal Interoperability

In sum, there is no such thing as “optimal interoperablity.” Sometimes proprietary or “closed” systems will offer the public features and options that they will find preferable to “open” ones.  “There are many reasons why consumers might prefer ‘closed’ systems – even when they have to pay a premium for them,” argues Dirk Auer in a separate essay. It could be greater convenience, security, or other things. Palfrey and Gasser correctly noted in their book that, “the state is rarely in a position to call a winner among competing technologies” (p. 174). Moreover, they concluded:

“Lawmakers need to keep in view the limits of their own effectiveness when it comes to accomplishing optimal levels of interoperability. Case studies of government intervention, especially where complex information technologies are involved, show that states tend to be ill suited to determine on their own what specific technology will be the best option for the future (p. 175)

A thousand amens to that! The law should not artificially foreclose experimentation with many different types of platforms, standards, devices and the interoperability that exists among them.

The big news out of Europe today is that the European Court of Justice (ECJ) has invalidated the 15-year old EU-US safe harbor agreement, which facilitated data transfers between the EU and US. American tech companies have relied on the safe harbor to do business in the European Union, which has more onerous data handling regulations than the US. [PDF summary of decision here.] Below I offer some quick thoughts about the decision and some of its potential unintended consequences.

#1) Another blow to new entry / competition in the EU: While some pundits are claiming this is a huge blow to big US tech firms, in reality, the irony of the ruling is that it will bolster the market power of the biggest US tech firms, because they are the only ones that will be able to afford the formidable compliance costs associated with the resulting regulatory regime. In fact, with each EU privacy decision, Google, Facebook, and other big US tech firms just get more dominant. Small firms just can’t comply with the EU’s expanding regulatory thicket. “It will involve lots of contracts between lots of parties and it’s going to be a bit of a nightmare administratively,” said Nicola Fulford, head of data protection at the UK law firm Kemp Little when commenting on the ruling to the BBC. “It’s not that we’re going to be negotiating them individually, as the legal terms are mostly fixed, but it does mean a lot more paperwork and they have legal implications.” And by driving up regulatory compliance costs and causing constant delays in how online business is conducted, the ruling will (again, on top of all the others) greatly limits entry and innovation by new, smaller players in the digital world. In essence, EU data regulations have already wiped out much of the digital competition in Europe and now this ruling finishes off any global new entrants who might have hoped of breaking in and offering competitive alternatives. These are the sorts of stories never told in antitrust circles: costly government rulings often solidify and extend the market dominance of existing companies. Dynamic effects matter. That is certainly going to be the case here.

#2) Cross-border digital trade suffers: This conclusion follows from point #1, of course. Writing just before the decision was announced, lawyers as Norton Rose Fulbright’s Data Compliance Report blog noted that if the safe harbor was invalidated, “the impact on the world economy would be immense.” Well, here we are.  Dan Castro of ITIF hopes that EU and US officials can pull back from the brink of this impending disaster and “finish the process of creating a Safe Harbor 2.0 with terms that give comfort to all parties.” I suspect that many tech companies are hoping for the same miracle to occur. But don’t hold your breath. The Europeans have decided that this is the hill that they will die on. They haven’t shown too much interest in preserving an innovative tech market or enhancing global digital trade flows in the past due to heightened concerns about privacy, and there’s no reason to think they will back down now with a more measured approach. Importantly, as I noted in my earlier essay, “How Attitudes about Risk & Failure Affect Innovation on Either Side of the Atlantic,” this trans-Atlantic clash of vision transcends the debate over privacy law. It’s about broader cultural and political attitudes toward risk-taking and disruption. Most leaders in Europe value stability–both economic and cultural stability–more than US officials and citizens. This tension was always bound to reach a breaking point and the Digital Economy and data handling policies is where the you-know-what is finally hitting the fan.

#3) Web Balkanization accelerates: This is just another blow to the idea of a seamless global Internet. But as tech lawyer Tiffany C. Li pointed out on Twitter this morning in response to the decision, while Web pundits decry balkanization in other contexts, many of them seem to be cheering it on in this case because this decision deals with privacy and data regulation, which they favor more regulation of. But you can’t have your cake and eat it to. Indeed, the great irony of so many “Internet freedom” debates today is that pundits absolutely hate the idea of Internet control and Web balkanization… right up until the point where they absolutely love it! Think of this as the tech policy world’s selective morality problem. (I elaborated on these themes in my essays “When It Comes to Information Control, Everybody Has a Pet Issue & Everyone Will Be Disappointed,” and “Copyright, Privacy, Property Rights & Information Control: Common Themes, Common Challenges.”)

Interesting that the same ppl who decried Russia’s data localization law now cheer EU upping extraterritorial data regulation. #SafeHarbor

— Tiffany C. Li (@tiffanycli) October 6, 2015

@AnupamChander @AdamThierer Yes, #Schrems opens up possibility that companies will now have to comply w/28 different DPAs applying 95/46/EC. — Tiffany C. Li (@tiffanycli) October 6, 2015

This is the beginning of the Balkanization of the Internet: http://t.co/mbFxxhN7tQ

— Dino A. Dai Zovi (@dinodaizovi) October 6, 2015

Another step toward the jurisdictional balkanization of the Internet https://t.co/83FIYvU2Sm — Milton Mueller (@miltonmueller) October 6, 2015

#4) But the big dogs won’t bolt out of Europe: But this should also be another reminder that there are no “John Galt moments” in the world of tech, as some tech libertarians hope. The biggest players won’t pack their bags and head home because there’s still too much money sitting on the table in Europe. Big firms will instead scramble to comply, just as they are trying to do with the so-called Right to Be Forgotten ruling. Of course, this just exacerbates problem #1 already discussed above: The big dogs stay and do their best to comply with the costly regulatory regime while smaller players get crushed by the rules and all the other potential new entrants just stay home.

#5) The decision ignores the real problem: widespread government surveillance: I don’t often find myself agreeing with Cory Doctorow on much, but he gets it exactly right when he notes that, “this doesn’t mean that Europeans won’t be subjected to mass surveillance, including mass surveillance by the NSA.” He elaborates:

If the European Court of Justice wants to end mass surveillance of Europeans, it can only do so by banning mass surveillance — by ruling that laws that treat foreigners’ data as fair game are unconstitutional. If US tech giants want to get loose from a farcical, expensive, and pointless exercise that continues to treat them as adjuncts to the world’s spy agencies, they need to lobby the US government to change the laws under which it treats foreigners as fair game.

Thus, it would certainly be nice if, as CDT suggested in response to the ruling, that the “EU Safe Harbour Ruling Should Reinvigorate Surveillance Reform Efforts.” Of course, that requires that tech companies muster the courage to stand up to public officials here in the States who always want them to (literally) hand over the keys to the kingdom. That’s why the current debate over crypto backdoors is so essential. It’s good to see a number of tech companies pushing back on that front and refusing to get rolled by law enforcement and national security agencies the way that far too many telecom and tech companies have been in the past. Following today’s ECJ ruling, tech companies are realizing just how serious this problem really is because now European officials are striking out against the safe harbor agreement as a surrogate for their general frustrations with US surveillance more generally. Indeed, in a press release following today’s ECJ ruling, the Internet Association, which represents major US tech firms, noted that, “The Internet industry has consistently supported surveillance reform” and the Association pushed for swift congressional action to clarify and limit existing surveillance powers. It remains to be seen whether the US tech sector and other related industries will be able to push back effectively against the growing surveillance state leviathan, but it’s more clear today than ever before why that’s a fight worth having.

If there are two general principles that unify my recent work on technology policy and innovation issues, they would be as follows. To the maximum extent possible:

1. We should avoid preemptive and precautionary-based regulatory regimes for new innovation. Instead, our policy default should be innovation allowed (or “permissionless innovation”) and innovators should be considered “innocent until proven guilty” (unless, that is, a thorough benefit-cost analysis has been conducted that documents the clear need for immediate preemptive restraints).
2. We should avoid rigid, “top-down” technology-specific or sector-specific regulatory regimes and/or regulatory agencies and instead opt for a broader array of more flexible, “bottom-up” solutions (education, empowerment, social norms, self-regulation, public pressure, etc.) as well as reliance on existing legal systems and standards (torts, product liability, contracts, property rights, etc.).

I was very interested, therefore, to come across two new essays that make opposing arguments and proposals. The first is this recent Slate oped by John Frank Weaver, “We Need to Pass Legislation on Artificial Intelligence Early and Often.” The second is Ryan Calo’s new Brookings Institution white paper, “The Case for a Federal Robotics Commission.”

Weaver argues that new robot technology “is going to develop fast, almost certainly faster than we can legislate it. That’s why we need to get ahead of it now.” In order to preemptively address concerns about new technologies such as driverless cars or commercial drones, “we need to legislate early and often,” Weaver says. Stated differently, Weaver is proposing “precautionary principle”-based regulation of these technologies. The precautionary principle generally refers to the belief that new innovations should be curtailed or disallowed until their developers can prove that they will not cause any harms to individuals, groups, specific entities, cultural norms, or various existing laws, norms, or traditions.

Calo argues that we need “the establishment of a new federal agency to deal with the novel experiences and harms robotics enables” since there exists “distinct but related challenges that would benefit from being examined and treated together.” These issues, he says, “require special expertise to understand and may require investment and coordination to thrive.

I’ll address both Weaver and Calo’s proposals in turn.

Problems with Precautionary Regulation

Let’s begin with Weaver proposed approach to regulating robotics and autonomous systems.

What Weaver seems to ignore—and which I discuss at greater length in my latest book—is that “precautionary” policy-making typically results in technological stasis and lost opportunities for economic and social progress. As I noted in my book, if we spend all our time living in constant fear of worst-case scenarios—and premising public policy upon such fears—it means that best-case scenarios will never come about. Wisdom and progress are born from experience, including experiences that involve risk and the possibility of occasional mistakes and failures. As the old adage goes, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

More concretely, the problem with “permissioning” innovation is that traditional regulatory policies and systems tend to be overly-rigid, bureaucratic, costly, and slow to adapt to new realities. Precautionary-based policies and regulatory systems focus on preemptive remedies that aim to predict the future, and future hypothetical problems that may not ever come about. As a result, preemptive bans or highly restrictive regulatory prescriptions can limit innovations that yield new and better ways of doing things.

Weaver doesn’t bother addressing these issues. He instead advocates regulating “early and often” without stopping to think through the potential costs of doing so. Yet, all regulation has trade-offs and opportunity costs. Before we rush to adopt rules based on knee-jerk negative reactions to new technology, we should conduct comprehensive benefit-cost analysis of the proposals and think carefully about what alternative approaches exist to address whatever problems we have identified.

Incidentally, Weaver also does not acknowledge the contradiction inherent in his thinking when he says robotic technology “is going to develop fast, almost certainly faster than we can legislate it. That’s why we need to get ahead of it now.” Well, if robotic technology is truly developing “faster than we can legislate it,” then “getting out ahead of it” would be seemingly impossible! Unless, that is, he envisions regulating robotic technologies so stringently as to effectively bring new innovation to a grinding halt (or banning altogether).

To be clear, my criticisms should not be read to suggest that zero regulation is the best option. There are plenty of thorny issues that deserve serious policy consideration and perhaps even some preemptive rules. But how potential harms are addressed matters deeply. We should exhaust all other potential nonregulatory remedies first — education, empowerment, transparency, etc. — before resorting to preemptive controls on new forms of innovation. In other words, ex post (or after the fact) solutions should generally trump ex ante (preemptive) controls.

I’ll say more on this point in the conclusion since my response addresses general failings in Ryan Calo’s Federal Robotics Commission proposal, to which we now turn.

Problems with a Federal Robotics Commission

Moving on to Calo, it is important to clarify what he is proposing because he is careful not to overstate his case in favor of a new agency for robotics. He elaborates as follows:

“The institution I have in mind would not “regulate” robotics in the sense of fashioning rules regarding their use, at least not in any initial incarnation. Rather, the agency would advise on issues at all levels—state and federal, domestic and foreign, civil and criminal—that touch upon the unique aspects of robotics and artificial intelligence and the novel human experiences these technologies generate. The alternative, I fear, is that we will continue to address robotics policy questions piecemeal, perhaps indefinitely, with increasingly poor outcomes and slow accrual of knowledge. Meanwhile, other nations that are investing more heavily in robotics and, specifically, in developing a legal and policy infrastructure for emerging technology, will leapfrog the U.S. in innovation for the first time since the creation of steam power.”

Here are some of my concerns with Calo’s proposed Federal Robotics Commission.

Will It Really Just Be an Advisory Body?

First, Calo claims he doesn’t want a formal regulatory agency, but something more akin to a super-advisory body. He does, however, sneak in that disclaimer that he doesn’t envision it to be regulatory “at least not in any initial incarnation.” Perhaps, then, he is suggesting that more formal regulatory controls would be in the cards down the road. It remains unclear.

Regardless, I think it is a bit disingenuous to propose the formation of a new governmental body like this and pretend that it will not someday very soon come to possess sweeping regulatory powers over these technologies. Now, you may well feel that that is a good thing. But I fear that Calo is playing a bit of game here by asking the reader to imagine his new creation would merely stick to an advisory role.

Regulatory creep is real. There just aren’t too many examples of agencies being created solely for their advisory expertise and then not also getting into the business of regulating the technology or topic that is included in that agency’s name. And in light of some of Calo’s past writing and advocacy, I can’t help but think he is actually hoping that the agency comes to take on a greater regulatory role over time. Regardless, I think we can bank on that happening and I that there are reasons to worry about it for reasons noted above and which I will elaborate on below.

Incidentally, if Calo is really more interested in furthering just this expert advisory capacity, there are plenty of other entities (including non-governmental bodies) that could play that role. How about the National Science Foundation, for example? Or how about a multi-stakeholder body consisting of many different experts and institutions? I could go on, but you get the point. A single point of action is also a single point of failure. I don’t want just one big robotics bureaucracy making policy or even advising. I’d prefer a more decentralized approach, and one that doesn’t carry a (potential) big regulatory club in its hand.

Public Choice / Regulatory Capture Problems

Second, Calo underestimates the public choice problems of creating a sector-specific or technology-specific agency just for robotics. To his credit, he does admit that, “agencies have their problems, of course. They can be inefficient and are subject to capture by those they regulate or other special interests.” He also notes he has criticized other agencies for various failings. But he does not say anything more on this point.

Let’s be clear. There exists a long and lamentable history of sector-specific regulators being “captured” by the entities they regulate. To read the ugly reality, see my compendium, “Regulatory Capture: What the Experts Have Found.” That piece documents what leading academics of all political stripes have had to say about this problem over the past century. No one ever summarized the nature and gravity of this problem better than the great Alfred Kahn in his masterpiece, The Economics of Regulation: Principles and Institutions (1971):

“When a commission is responsible for the performance of an industry, it is under never completely escapable pressure to protect the health of the companies it regulates, to assure a desirable performance by relying on those monopolistic chosen instruments and its own controls rather than on the unplanned and unplannable forces of competition. [. . . ] Responsible for the continued provision and improvement of service, [the regulatory commission] comes increasingly and understandably to identify the interest of the public with that of the existing companies on whom it must rely to deliver goods.” (pgs. 12, 46)

The history of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) is highly instructive in this regard and was documented in a 66-page law review article I penned with Brent Skorup entitled, “A History of Cronyism and Capture in the Information Technology Sector,” (Journal of Technology Law & Policy, Vol. 18, 2013). Again, it doesn’t make for pleasant reading. Time and time again, instead of serving the “public interest,” the FCC served private interests. The entire history of video marketplace regulation is one of the most sickening examples to consider since there have almost eight decades worth of case studies of the broadcast industry using regulation as a club to beat back new entry, competition, and innovation. [Skorup and I have another paper discussing that specific history and how to go about reversing it.] This history is important because, in the early days of the Commission, many proponents thought the FCC would be exactly the sort of “expert” independent agency that Calo envisions his Federal Robotics Commission would be. Needless to say, things did not turn out so well.

But the FCC isn’t the only guilty offender in this regard. Go read the history about how airlines so effectively cartelized their industry following World War II with the help of the Civil Aeronautics Board. Thankfully, President Jimmy Carter appointed Alfred Kahn to clean things up in the 1970s. Kahn, a life-long Democrat, came to realize that the problem of capture was so insidious and inescapable that abolition of the agency was the only realistic solution to make sure consumer welfare would improve. As a result, he and various other Democrats in the Carter Administration and in Congress worked together to sunset the agency and its hideously protectionist, anti-consumer policies. (Also, please read this amazing 1973 law review article on “Economic Regulation vs. Competition,” by Mark Green and Ralph Nader if you need even more proof of why this is a such a problem.)

In other words, the problem of regulatory capture is not something one can casually dismiss. The problem is still very real and deserves more consideration before we casually propose creating new agencies, even “advisory” agencies. At a minimum, when proposing new agencies, you need to get serious about what sort of institutional constraints you might consider putting in place to make sure that history does not repeat itself. Because if you don’t, various large, well-heeled, and politically-connected robotics companies could come to capture any new “Federal Robotics Commission” in very short order.

Can We Clean Up Old Messes Before Building More Bureaucracies?

Third, speaking of agencies, if it is the case that the alphabet soup collection of regulatory agencies we already have in place are not capable of handling “robotics policy” right now, can we talk about reforming them (or perhaps even getting rid of a few of them) first? Why must we just pile yet another sector-specific or technology-specific regulator on top of the many that already exist? That’s just a recipe for more red tape and potential regulatory capture. Unless you believe there is value in creating bureaucracy for the sake of creating bureaucracy, there is no excuse for not phasing out agencies that failed in their original mission, or whose mission is now obsolete, for whatever reason. This is a fundamental “good government” issue that politicians and academics of all stripes should agree on.

Calo indirectly addresses this point by noting that “we have agencies devoted to technologies already and it would be odd and anomalous to think we are done creating them.” Curiously, however, he spends no time talking about those agencies or asking whether they have done a good job. Again, the heart of Calo’s argument comes down the assertion that another specialized, technology-specific “expert” agency is needed because there are “novel” issues associated with robotics. Well, if it is true, as Calo suggests, that we have been down this path before (and we have), and if you believe our economy or society has been made better off for it, then you need to prove it. Because the objection to creating another regulatory bureaucracy is not simply based on distaste for Big Government; it comes down to the simple questions: (1) Do these things work; and (2) Is there a better alternative?

This is where Calo’s proposal falls short. There is no effort to prove that technocratic or “scientific” bureaucracies, on net, are worth their expense (to taxpayers) or cost (to society, innovation, etc.) when compared to alternatives. Of course, I suspect this is where Calo and I might part ways regarding what metrics we would use to gauge success. I’ll save that discussion for another day and shift to what I regard as the far more serious deficiency of Calo’s proposal.

Do We Become Global Innovation Leaders Through Bureaucratic Direction?

Fourth, and most importantly, Calo does not offer any evidence to prove his contention that we need a sector-specific or technology-specific agency for robotics in order to develop or maintain America’s competitive edge in this field. Moreover, he does not acknowledge how his proposal might have the exact opposite result. Let me spend some time on this point because this is what I find most problematic about his proposal.

In his latest Brookings essay and his earlier writing about robotics, Calo keeps suggesting that we need a specialized federal agency for robotics to avoid “poor outcomes” due to the lack of “a legal and policy infrastructure for emerging technology.” He even warns us that other countries who are looking into robotics policy and regulation more seriously “will leapfrog the U.S. in innovation for the first time since the creation of steam power.”

Well, on that point, I must ask: Did America need a Federal Steam Agency to become a leader in that field? Because unless I missed something in history class, steam power developed fairly rapidly in this country without any centralized bureaucratic direction. Or how about a more recent example: Did America need a Federal Computer Commission or Federal Internet Commission to obtain or maintain a global edge in computing, the Internet, or the Digital Economy?

To the contrary, we took the EXACT OPPOSITE approach. It’s not just that no new agencies were formed to guide the development of computing or the Internet in this country. It’s that our government made a clear policy choice to break with the past by rejecting top-down, command-and-control regulation by unelected bureaucrats in some shadowy Beltway agency.

Incidentally, it was Democrats who accomplished this. While many Republicans today love to crack wise-ass comments about Al Gore and the Internet while simultaneously imagining themselves to be the great defenders of Internet freedom, the reality is that we have the Clinton Administration and one its most liberal members—Ira Magaziner—to thank for the most blessedly “light-touch,” market-oriented innovation policy that the world has ever seen.

What did Magaziner and the Clinton Administration do? They crafted the amazing 1997 Framework for Global Electronic Commerce, a statement of the Administration’s principles and policy objectives toward the Internet and the emerging digital economy. It recommended reliance upon civil society, contractual negotiations, voluntary agreements, and ongoing marketplace experiments to solve information age problems. First, “the private sector should lead. The Internet should develop as a market driven arena not a regulated industry,” the Framework recommended. “Even where collective action is necessary, governments should encourage industry self-regulation and private sector leadership where possible.” Second, “governments should avoid undue restrictions on electronic commerce” and “parties should be able to enter into legitimate agreements to buy and sell products and services across the Internet with minimal government involvement or intervention.”

I’ve argued elsewhere that the Clinton Administration’s Framework, “remains the most succinct articulation of a pro-freedom, innovation-oriented vision for cyberspace ever penned.” Of course, this followed the Administration’s earlier move to allow the full commercialization of the Internet, which was even more important. The policy disposition they established with these decisions resulted in an unambiguous green light for a rising generation of creative minds who were eager to explore this new frontier for commerce and communications. And to reiterate,they did it without any new bureaucracy.

If You Regulate “Robotics,” You End Up Regulating Computing & Networking

Incidentally, I do not see how we could create a new Federal Robotics Commission without it also becoming a de facto Federal Computing Commission. Robotics and the many technologies and industries it already includes — driverless cars, commercial drones, Internet of Things, etc. — is becoming a hot policy topic, and proposals for regulation are already flying. These robotic technologies are developing on top of the building blocks of the Information Revolution: microprocessors, wireless networks, sensors, “big data,” etc.

Thus, I share Cory Doctorow’s skepticism about how one could logically separate “robotics” from these other technologies and sectors for regulatory purposes:

I am skeptical that “robot law” can be effectively separated from software law in general. … For the life of me, I can’t figure out a legal principle that would apply to the robot that wouldn’t be useful for the computer (and vice versa).

In his Brookings paper, Calo responded to Doctorow’s concern as follows:

the difference between a computer and a robot has largely to do with the latter’s embodiment. Robots do not just sense, process, and relay data. Robots are organized to act upon the world physically, or at least directly. This turns out to have strong repercussions at law, and to pose unique challenges to law and to legal institutions that computers and the Internet did not.

I find this fairly unconvincing. Just because robotic technologies have a physical embodiment does not mean their impact on society is all that more profound than computing, the Internet, and digital technologies. Consider all the hand-wringing going on today in cybersecurity circles about how hacking, malware, or various other types of digital attacks could take down entire systems or economies. I’m not saying I buy all that “technopanic” talk (and here are about three dozens of my essays arguing the contrary), but the theoretical ramifications are nonetheless on par with dystopian scenarios about robotics.

The Alternative Approach

Of course, it certainly may be the case that some worst-case scenarios are worth worrying about in both cases—for robotics and computing, that is. Still, is a Federal Robotics Commission or a Federal Computing Commission really the sensible way to address those issues?

To the contrary, this is why we have a Legislative Branch! So many of the problems of our modern era of dysfunctional government are rooted in an unwise delegation of authority to administrative agencies. Far too often, congressional lawmakers delegate broad, ambiguous authority to agencies instead of facing up to the hard issues themselves. This results in waste, bloat, inefficiencies, and an endless passing of the buck.

There may very well be some serious issues raised by robotics and AI that we cannot ignore, and which may even require a little preemptive, precautionary policy. And the same goes for general computing and the Internet. But that is not a good reason to just create new bureaucracies in the hope that some set of mythical technocratic philosopher kings will ride in to save the day with their supposed greater “expertise” about these matters. Either you believe in democracy or you don’t. Running around calling for agencies and unelected bureaucrats to make all the hard choices means that “the people” have even less of a say in these matters.

Moreover, there are many other methods of dealing with robotics and the potential problems robotics might create than through the creation of new bureaucracy. The common law already handles many of the problems that both Calo and Weaver are worried about. To the extent robotic systems are involved in accidents that harm individuals or their property, product liability law will kick in.

On this point, I strongly recommend another new Brookings publication. John Villasenor’s outstanding April white paper, “Products Liability and Driverless Cars: Issues and Guiding Principles for Legislation,” correctly argues that,

“when confronted with new, often complex, questions involving products liability, courts have generally gotten things right. … Products liability law has been highly adaptive to the many new technologies that have emerged in recent decades, and it will be quite capable of adapting to emerging autonomous vehicle technologies as the need arises.”

Thus, instead of trying to micro-manage the development of robotic technologies in an attempt to plan for every hypothetical risk scenario, policymakers should be patient while the common law evolves and liability norms adjust. Traditionally, the common law has dealt with products liability and accident compensation in an evolutionary way through a variety of mechanisms, including strict liability, negligence, design defects law, failure to warn, breach of warranty, and so on. There is no reason to think the common law will not adapt to new technological realities, including robotic technologies. (I address these and other “bottom-up” solutions in my new book.)

In the meantime, let’s exercise some humility and restraint here and avoid heavy-handed precautionary regulatory regimes or the creation of new technocratic bureaucracies. And let’s not forget that many solutions to the problems created by new robotic technologies will develop spontaneously and organically over time as individuals and institutions learn to cope and “muddle through,” as they have many times before.

Additional Reading

• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2014)
• Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change, June 30, 2014
• New Paper: “Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars,” September 17, 2014
• Slide Presentation: Policy Issues Surrounding the Internet of Things & Wearable Technology, September 12, 2014
• [Video] Cap Hill Briefing on Emerging Tech Policy Issues (June 2014)
• The Growing Conflict of Visions over the Internet of Things & Privacy, January 14, 2012
• Can We Adapt to the Internet of Things? IAPP Privacy Perspectives, June 19, 2013
• My Filing to the FTC in its ‘Internet of Things’ Proceeding, May 31, 2013

I’ve spent a great deal of time here defending “techno-optimism” or “Internet optimism” against various attacks through the years, so I was interested to see Cory Doctorow, a novelist and Net activist, take on the issue in a new essay at Locus Online.  I summarized my own views on this issue in two recent book chapters. Both chapters appear in The Next Digital Decade and are labeled “The Case for Internet Optimism.” Part 1 is sub-titled “Saving the Net From Its Detractors” and Part 2 is called “Saving the Net From Its Supporters.” More on my own thoughts in a moment. But let’s begin with Doctorow’s conception of the term.

Doctorow defines “techno-optimism” as follows:

In order to be an activist, you have to be… pessimistic enough to believe that things will get worse if left unchecked, optimistic enough to believe that if you take action, the worst can be prevented. […] Techno-optimism is an ideology that embodies the pessimism and the optimism above: the concern that technology could be used to make the world worse, the hope that it can be steered to make the world better.

What this definition suggests is that Doctorow has a very clear vision of what constitutes “good” vs. “bad” technology or technological developments. He turns to that dichotomy next as he seeks to essentially marry “techno-optimism” to a devotion to the free/open software movement and a rejection of “proprietary technology”:

There are many motivations for contributing to free/open software, but the movement’s roots are in this two-sided optimism/pessimism: pessimistic enough to believe that closed, proprietary technology will win the approval of users who don’t appreciate the dangers down the line (such as lock-in, loss of privacy, and losing work when proprietary technologies are orphaned); optimistic enough to believe that a core of programmers and users can both create polished alternatives and win over support for them by demonstrating their superiority and by helping people understand the risks of closed systems.

In other words, recalling his definition of techno-optimism, Doctorow is basically saying that the way we “steer” technology to “make the world better” is by taking steps to foster or favor “open” technologies over “closed” ones:

It falls to techno-optimists to do two things: first, improve the alternatives and; second, to better articulate the risks of using unsuitable tools in hostile environments. … Herein lies the difference between a ‘‘technology activist’’ and ‘‘an activist who uses technology’’ — the former prioritizes tools that are safe for their users; the latter prioritizes tools that accomplish some activist goal. The trick for technology activists is to help activists who use technology to appreciate the hidden risks and help them find or make better tools. That is, to be pessimists and optimists: without expert collaboration, activists might put themselves at risk with poor technology choices; with collaboration, activists can use technology to outmaneuver autocrats, totalitarians, and thugs.

I have no problem with Doctorow issuing a clarion call to programmers to “find or make better tools.” Power to him and the developers who take him up on the request. But I do have a problem with the sort of ‘you’re-either-with-us-or-against-us’ sort of attitude Doctorow adopts here and in much of his past writing, which attempts to force a false choice upon us regarding “open” vs. “closed” digital technologies.

The irony of Doctorow’s definition of “techno-optimism” is that, as he notes, it’s actually rooted in the fairly pessimistic belief that unless we do something to affect the balance between “open vs. closed” technology then “technology could be used to make the world worse,” he says. I think that view is myopic and misguided for several reasons.

First, I think it’s a mistake to tether “techno-optimism” to overly binary conceptions of “good vs. bad” / “open vs. closed” technology. I spent a great deal of time in the second of my two “Case for Internet Optimism” chapters addressing the group of thinkers that I refer to as “Openness Evangelicals,” or those who believe that “Openness” is almost always The Good; anything “closed” (restricted or proprietary) in nature is The Bad. In a sense, it’s tantamount to picking (or at least favoring) technological winners and losers regardless of what others prefer and voluntarily choose to use because it gives them greater satisfaction.

Second, there are no clear definitions of “openness” or “closedness” (if that’s even a word); both are matters of degree. You can call Apple and Facebook “closed” — and they certainly are in many senses of the term — but they are not nearly as “closed” or “proprietary” as the communications devices or platforms of the past. To put it in Zittrainian parlance, “generativity” continues to thrive even in environments or on platforms that are “closed” is some ways. Almost all modern digital devices and networks feature some generative and “non-generative” attributes. “No one has ever created, and no one will ever create, a system that allows any user to create anything he or she wants.  Instead, every system designer makes innumerable tradeoffs and imposes countless constraints,” note James Grimmelmann and Paul Ohm.“Every generative technology faces … tradeoffs.  Good system designers always restrict generativity of some kinds in order to encourage generativity of other kinds.  The trick is in striking the balance,” they argue.

And most companies now have stronger incentives to strike a better balance between “open” vs. “closed.” Attempting to completely lock-down digital innovation or “generativity” on any platform these days would be a kiss of death. Netizens have come to expect a fair degree of freedom to tinker with and to configure digital technologies in unique ways. That’s why the general progression of things is increasingly toward more “openness,” even if it’s not the perfect openness that Doctorow and others seem to demand.

In this regard, I find it interesting that Doctorow never mentions Twitter in his essay. After all, it’s a somewhat closed system, and seems to be growing more closed in some ways as it searches for a sustainable business model. And yet Twitter — which Doctorow uses aggressively himself — allows for an amazingly “open” channel of constant, instantaneous human communication. By most accounts, it has been a true “technology of freedom” and helped advance importance causes of various sorts.

Will Twitter’s proprietary API make it easier for the company to eventuate manipulate users, or for governments to co-opt for their own nefarious ends?  That seems to be the horror story the Openness Evangelicals want us to believe when they protest proprietary code or private systems. But such manipulation is much easier said than done. And when it is attempted, it is usually unearthed and made visible to us in fairly short order, which spawns the search for, and use of, alternative systems. People and platforms don’t sit still long. Evolution continues at a breakneck pace in the digital arena.

Moreover, say what you will about “proprietary” or “closed” devices and platforms like Twitter, Facebook, Apple, Microsoft, and others, but the reality is this: Part of the reason they have been able to “scale up” and become major communications platforms in the first place is because they are focused on developing a sustainable business model.  Yes, I know this will be absolutely heresy to some of the Openness Evangelicals (how dare these companies seek to make money!), but the reality is that the reach of many platforms like these is fundamentally tied up with their success as good old fashion capitalist entrepreneurs. By contrast, the perfectly “free” and “open” technologies and platforms that Doctorow clearly favors have not been able to achieve similar scale.  I suppose he would claim that’s because proprietary technologies have crowded-out his favored systems and platforms, or that consumers have been duped into making bad choices.

But this raises a third issue: Just how far should we go to advance Doctorow’s vision and “steer” technology in a better direction? Again, I wholeheartedly applaud Doctorow’s call to programmers to “find or make better tools” and I should make it clear that my strong preference is for many of the same tools that he tends to favor. I bet I hate Apple and Facebook even more than Doctorow, for example. I don’t own a single Apple device and I only have a Facebook account as a cyber-traffic sign to direct people to find me elsewhere online. Meanwhile, I love hacking and cracking my devices until I have tweaked them to death — usually quite literally since I end up “bricking” a lot of my devices. (My Dad is still pretty angry about the Commodore 128 computer that my brother and I hacked and destroyed in the early 1980s!) So, at heart, I’m with Doctorow and the “openness-is-better” crowd.

But these are my personal choices. I don’t attempt to impress my values upon others or suggest that there is only One True Way when it comes to digital technology. And I would never be so arrogant as to suggest that my preferred technologies were the “good” ones and those chosen by the cyber-hoi polloi were “bad,” even if they were more “closed” or “proprietary.”

Which raises my ultimate concern with the mindset of Openness Evangelicals: If one is so wedded to bringing about the results they desire, ironically, it becomes significantly more likely that the “openness” they advocate will inevitably devolve into expanded government control of cyberspace and digital systems. If you run around all day lamenting that proprietary, unregulated systems will — as the Openness Evangelicals fear — become subject to “perfect control” by the private sector (as Lawrence Lessig claimed) or lead to a diminution of cyber-freedom (as Jonathan Zittrain and Tim Wu claim), then you shouldn’t be at all surprised when the code cops come knocking and insisting that they’re just there to help.

In closing, I remain perplexed that Doctorow and the Openness Evangelicals have so little faith in the “open” systems and technologies they trumpet. If such systems really are superior, shouldn’t they win out in the end? Regardless, what separates them from me is that I’m far more willing to allow things to run their course within digital markets, even if that means some “closed” devices and platforms remain or even thrive at times.

Thus, when it comes to “techno-optimism,” the better disposition is technological agnosticism and a real “openness” to technological evolution. Here’s how I summarized it in my recent book chapter:

History counsels patience and humility in the face of radical uncertainty and unprecedented change. More generally, it counsels what we might call “technological agnosticism.” We should avoid declaring “openness” a sacrosanct principle and making everything else subservient to it without regard to cost or consumer desires. As Chris Anderson has noted, “there are many Web triumphalists who still believe that there is only One True Way, and will fight to the death to preserve the open, searchable common platform that the Web represented for most of its first two decades (before Apple and Facebook, to name two, decided that there were Other Ways).” The better position is one based on a general agnosticism regarding the nature of technological platforms and change.  In this view, the spontaneous evolution of markets has value in its own right, and continued experimentation with new models—be they “open” or “closed,” “generative” or “tethered”—should be permitted.

Moreover, the real “techno-optimist” doesn’t express the sort of fear and loathing we see in Doctorow’s essay or the work of other digital doomsayers like Wu, Lessig, or Zittrain. [See my critiques of all their works here.] Instead, the real “techno-optimist” embraces change, uncertainty, experimentation, evolution, and does not automatic reject alternative conceptions of “good” technologies or platforms as determined by others who may not share our own preferences.

Cory Doctorow has called for a Wikipedia-style effort to build an open source, non-profit search engine. From his column in The Guardian:

What’s more, the way that search engines determine the ranking and relevance of any given website has become more critical than the editorial berth at the New York Times combined with the chief spots at the major TV networks. Good search engine placement is make-or-break advertising. It’s ideological mindshare. It’s relevance… It’s a terrible idea to vest this much power with one company, even one as fun, user-centered and technologically excellent as Google. It’s too much power for a handful of companies to wield. The question of what we can and can’t see when we go hunting for answers demands a transparent, participatory solution. There’s no dictator benevolent enough to entrust with the power to determine our political, commercial, social and ideological agenda. This is one for The People. Put that way, it’s obvious: if search engines set the public agenda, they should be public.

He goes on to claim that “Google’s algorithms are editorial decisions.”   For Doctorow, this is an outrage: “so much editorial power is better vested in big, transparent, public entities than a few giant private concerns.”

I wish Doctorow well in his effort to crowdsource a Google-killer, but I’m more than a little skeptical that anyone would actually want to use his search engine of The People.  My guess is that, like most things produced in the name of “The People” (Soviet toilet paper comes to mind), it will probably won’t be much fun to use, and will likely chafe noticeably. (For the record, I love and regularly use Wikipedia; I just don’t think that model is unlikely to produce a particularly useful search engine.  As Doctorow himself has noted of Google, “they make incredibly awesome search tools.”)

But I’m glad to see that Doctorow has conceded an important point of constitutional law: The First Amendment protects the editorial discretion of search engines, like all private companies, to decide what to content to communicate.  For a newspaper, that means deciding which articles or editorials to run.  For a library or bookstore, it means which books to carry.  For search engines, it means how to write their search algorithims.

Doctorow’s “We’ll build our own darn rocket ship in the backyard!” response  to his deep concerns about Google’s dominance of search does not, of course, impinge on Google’s editorial discretion—and for that, I commend him.  But others, most notably Frank Pasquale, have indeed proposed government action to address such concerns in ways that most surely would impinge on the First Amendment rights of all search engines.

Pasquale’s comlpaint about Google is essentially the same as Doctorow’s, but rather than proposing an innovative (if unrealistic) alternative (like Doctorow), he  has called (PDF) for the “creation of a Federal Search Commission to parallel the Federal Communications Commission” and declared that ” In order to reduce opportunities for clickfraud and unfair treatment of indexed entities, qualified transparency will be needed in order to open up the ‘black box’ of search engine operations to at least some third parties.”   He focuses on search algorithms because:

The heart of a search engine and the key to its success is its search algorithm. Effective algorithms are protected by a veil of secrecy and by various intellectual property rights. As a result, new entrants cannot easily appropriate existing algorithms. Moreover, many algorithms are trade secrets. Unlike patents, which the patent holder must disclose and which eventually expire, these trade secrets may never enter the public domain. Search algorithms may be analogous to the high-cost infrastructure required for entry into the utility or railroad markets.

He diagnoses the problem as follows:

given the emphasis on secrecy in the search engine business model, no one can verify that such rankings have not been manipulated or that subtler biases in favor of search engines’ partners are not being worked into the search algorithm… If search engines are to be accountable at all, if their interest is to be balanced against those of the various other claimants involved in search-related disputes, and if social values are to be given any weight, some governmental agent should be able to peer into the black box of search and determine whether or not illegitimate manipulation has occurred.

But what about editorial discretion?  Why should Google be forced to change its PageRank algorithms any more than The New York Times should be forced to change how it decides which stories to run?  Moreover, why should Google be forced to disclose how this process works?  Assigning a government monitor to sit in on meetings of the Times‘ editorial board “to detect bias” would clearly impinge on their editorial discretion.  Similarly, I don’t see why forcing a Yahoo!, Microsoft or any other search engine to disclose their equivalent processes for ranking search results should pass constitutional muster.

Editorial discretion means getting to make your own decisions, even if they might seem biased to those wise elites who “know better” because, well, it’s your decision and not the government’s!  Saying that speakers can make whatever decisions they want as long as they’re not biased means speakers don’t really have editorial discretion after all.

So, if recognizing that search algorithms are a form of editorial discretion is a problem (as Doctorow implies), it’s only insofar as this might frustrate the desires of those who would regulate search.

None other than Sci-Fi author, civil libertarian, blogger, activist, and TLF commenter Cory Doctorow drops in at the Bureaucrash Podcrash (that’s a podcast for “crashers”) to discuss his new book Little Brother.

Austin Grossman’s review of the book for the New York Times remarks:

An entertaining thriller and a thoughtful polemic on Internet-era civil rights, “Little Brother” is also a practical handbook of digital self-defense. Marcus’s guided tour through RFID cloners, cryptography and Bayesian math is one of the book’s principal delights. He spreads his message through a secure network engineered out of Xbox gaming consoles, to a tech-savvy youth underground (we are now post-nerd, I learned — hipsters and social networking experts have replaced the unwashed coders of yore).

We at TLF may disagree with Mr. Doctorow on a number of policy issues, but I must admit that he’s a talented writer. I bought Cory’s Overclocked: Stories of the Future Present, a collection of short stories, at Capital Books here in DC and read it cover to cover by the end of that weekend. A great read available free in digital form at Cory’s Craphound.