In my previous essay, I discussed a new white paper by my colleague Robert Graboyes, Fortress and Frontier in American Health Care, which examines the future of medical innovation. Graboyes uses the “fortress vs frontier” dichotomy to help explain different “visions” about how public policies debates about technological innovation in the health care arena often play out.  It’s a terrific study that I highly recommend for all the reasons I stated in my previous post.

As I was reading Bob’s new report, I realized that his approach shared much in common with a couple of other recent innovation policy paradigms I have discussed here before from Virginia Postrel (“Stasis” vs. “Dynamism”), Robert D. Atkinson (“Preservationists” vs. “Modernizers”), and myself (“Precautionary Principle” vs. “Permissionless Innovation”). In this essay, I will briefly relate Bob’s’ approach to those other three innovation policy paradigms and then note a deficiency with our common approaches. I’ll conclude by briefly discussing another interesting framework from science writer Joel Garreau.

Stasis vs. Dynamism – Virginia Postrel (1998)

In her 1998 book, The Future and Its Enemies, Virginia Postrel contrasted the conflicting worldviews of “dynamism”and “stasis” and showed how the tensions between these two visions would affect the course of future human progress. Postrel made the case for embracing dynamism — “a world of constant creation, discovery, and competition” — over the “regulated, engineered world” of the stasis mentality. She argued that we should “see technology as an expression of human creativity and the future as inviting” and reject the idea “that progress requires a central blueprint.” Dynamism defines progress as “a decentralized, evolutionary process” in which mistakes aren’t viewed as permanent disasters but instead as “the correctable by-products of experimentation.” (p. xiv)

Postrel argued that our dynamic modern world and the amazing technologies that drive it have united diverse “stasis”-minded forces in opposition to its continued, unfettered evolution:

[It] has united two types of stasists who would have once been bitter enemies: reactionaries, whose central value is stability, and technocrats, whose central value is control. Reactionaries seek to reverse change, restoring the literal or imagined past and holding it in place. . . . Technocrats, for their part, promise to manage change, centrally directing “progress” according to a predictable plan. . . . They do not celebrate the primitive or traditional. Rather, they worry about the government’s inability to control dynamism. (p. 7-8)

Preservationists vs. Modernizers – Robert D. Atkinson (2004)

Robert D. Atkinson, President, Information Technology and Innovation Foundation, presented another useful way of looking at innovation policy divides in his 2004 book, The Past and Future of America’s Economy. In Chapter 6 on “The New Economy and Its Discontents,” Atkinson noted how “American history is rife with resistance to change,” as he recounted some of the heated battles over previous industrial / technological revolutions. He argued:

This conflict between stability and progress, security and prosperity, dynamism and stasis, has led to the creation of a major political fault line in American politics. On one side are those who welcome the future and look at the New Economy as largely positive. On the other are those who resist change and see only the risks of new technologies and the New Economy.  As a result, a political divide is emerging between preservationists who want to hold onto the past and modernizers who recognize that new times require new means. (p. 201)

Precautionary Principle vs. Permissionless Innovation – Adam Thierer (2014)

In my latest book, “Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom,” I argued that the central fault line in almost all modern technology policy debates revolves around “the permission question,” which asks: Must the creators of new technologies seek the blessing of public officials before they develop and deploy their innovations? I argued that we are today witnessing a grand clash of visions between two competing mindsets about how that question should be answered for a wide variety of new inventions:

One disposition is known as the “precautionary principle.” Generally speaking, it 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.

The other vision can be labeled “permissionless innovation.” It refers to the notion that experimentation with new technologies and business models should generally be permitted by default. Unless a compelling case can be made that a new invention will bring serious harm to society, innovation should be allowed to continue unabated and problems, if they develop at all, can be addressed later.

Fortress vs. Frontier – Robert Graboyes (2014)

In his new white paper, Fortress and Frontier in American Health Care, Robert Graboyes seeks to reframe the debate over the future of health care innovation in terms of “Fortress versus Frontier” and to highlight what lessons we can learn from the Internet and the Information Revolution that can better inform health care policy. Graboyes defines “Fortress and Frontier” as follows:

The Fortress is an institutional environment that aims to obviate risk and protect established producers (insiders) against competition from newcomers (outsiders). The Frontier, in contrast, tolerates risk and allows outsiders to compete against established insiders. . . .  The Fortress-Frontier divide does not correspond neatly with the more familiar partisan or ideological divides. Framing health care policy issues in this way opens the door for a more productive national health care discussion and for unconventional policy alliances. (p. 4)

He elaborates in more detail later in the paper:

the Frontier encourages creative destruction and disruptive innovation. Undreamed-of products arise and old, revered ones vanish. New production processes sweep away old ones. This is a place where unknown innovators in garages destroy titans of industry. The Frontier celebrates and rewards risk, and there is a brutal egalitarianism to the creative process. In contrast, the Fortress discourages creative destruction and disruptive innovation. Insiders are protected from competition by government or by private organizations (such as insurers and medical societies) acting in quasigovernmental fashion. In the Fortress, insiders preserve the existing order. Innovation comes from well-established, credentialed insiders who, it is presumed, have the wisdom and motives and competence to identify opportunities for innovation. (p. 13)

The Common Themes

There are several themes that unify these four frameworks. Most notably, they all seek to escape the traditional “Left vs. Right,” “Conservative vs. Liberal,” and “Democrat vs. Republican” labels and models. Postrel’s book noted that, although there are differences at the margin, “reactionaries” (who tend to be more politically and socially “conservative”) and “technocrats” (who tend to identify as politically “progressive”) are united by their desire for greater control over the pace and shape of technological innovation. They both hope that sagacious, noble-minded public officials can set us on a “better path,” or return us to an old path from which we have drifted.

Similarly, Atkinson’s “preservationists versus modernizers” dichotomy identified the “small-c” conservatism that animates the preservationist mindset, regardless of which party or political movement they belong to. Graboyes and I identify this same tendency of those with a precautionary, Fortress mindset to be deeply suspicious of change, and sometimes even being quite openly hostile to it–regardless of their political affiliation. Moreover, all four authors note that, at a minimum, Stasis/Preservationist/Fortress/Precautionary vision is unified by a general gloominess about the prospect for technological change to really better our economy or culture.

From a policy perspective, the competing visions outlined in each of these four paradigms are unified by their preferred policy default for new innovation. Generally speaking, those subscribing to the Dynamist/Modernizer/Frontier/Permissionless Innovation vision believe that innovators should have a clear green light to experiment without fear of prior restraint. By contrast, those adhering to the Stasis/Preservationist/Fortress/Precautionary vision are more risk-adverse and tend to opt for “better to be safe than sorry” policy defaults.

Here’s a little table I put together to highlight the “conflict of visions” over innovation policy identified in these works.

A Problem with These Paradigms

An astute reader will notice a potential problem with these four paradigms: They were crafted by people (including myself) who were much more favorably disposed to one vision than the other. In fact, each of the authors listed here (including me) firmly embraced a common “positive” or “optimistic” vision about the potential for innovation and technological change to generally boost human welfare. We were all writing defenses of visions that, generally speaking, encourage the adoption of attitudes and public policies that are generally welcoming toward new innovations. Postrel, for example, was seeking to articulate and defend the superiority of the dynamist vision over the stasis mentality. Atkinson defended modernizers and bashed preservationists. Graboyes embraced the Frontier mentality and warned of the dangers of the Fortress mentality. Finally, in my own work, I have vociferously defended the notion of permissionless innovation while repeatedly criticizing precautionary principle-based thinking.

I will proudly defend my own work as well as the visions sketched out by Postrel, Atkinson, and Graboyes, which are all very much in league with my own. Nonetheless, some readers or critics might claim that we have stacked the deck in our favor by framing innovation policy debates in the ways we have. We each had a polemical purpose in mind when writing these books; we were hoping to convince others to embrace our way of thinking about technological progress and the future. As a result, that influenced our choice of language and labels. Some critics might even claim that the words we chose to describe the alternative vision are too simplistic or unfairly derogatory. After all, who wants to be labeled a “stasis”-minded “preservationist” who is trapped in a “fortress” mentality advocating hopelessly “precautionary” policies?! By contrast, it is relatively easy for many of us to say we are “modernizers” who embrace “dynamism” and the “frontier” spirit in defense of “permissionless innovation.”

Technological critics have penned a wide variety of polemics making their views on these matters clear, but what is interesting is how few of them attempt to describe the opposing positions in clear detail, or even bother trying to label them. Nor do they usually bother labeling their own positions or perspectives. I suspect that many of them would claim their visions or critiques cannot be succinctly summarized in a mere word or phrase, and that trying to craft conflicting “visions” about innovation policy over-simplifies very complex matters. I actually appreciate that point more than you think. When I am writing about these matters, I try not to over-generalize the very nuanced, sensitive issues in play in here, such as the privacy, safety, and security implications associated with various new innovations. These are profound matters and they deserve to be analyzed carefully and respectfully.

That being said, I still believe that there is a role for visions when thinking about the past, the present, and the future of technological change. Labels and classifications can help us unpack the philosophical differences between different people and organizations and then also evaluate their preferred policy solutions. This allows us to better understand what animates the opposing forces that are pushing for specific policy changes.

Nonetheless, I welcome alternative framings of these proposals and the personalities behind them. Moreover, I would very much like to see others — either those who take opposing views, or analysts with no stake in the fight — suggest other ways of looking at the conflict of visions that animates debates over technological innovation and the future of progress.

A Note on Joel Garreau’s Framing

I want to close with a quick postscript related to my point about over-simplifying “visions” about technological change.  In 2010, I penned an essay that got a fair amount of attention entitled, “Are You An Internet Optimist or Pessimist? The Great Debate over Technology’s Impact on Society.” As the title implied, it was an attempt to divide the history of thinking about technological innovation into two camps: “pessimists” and “optimists.” It was a crude and overly-simplistic dichotomy, but it was an attempt to begin sketching out a rough taxonomy of the personalities and perspectives that we often seen pitted against each other in debates about the impact of technology on culture and humanity.

I was never really satisfied with the “optimist vs. pessimist” breakdown, and I got an earful from some people about it. I always thought there must be somebody who had figured out a better way of reviewing the long arc of history and human thinking about technological change and coming up with better labels or “visions.” And there was!

When I wrote that earlier piece, I was unfortunately not aware of a similar (and much better) framing of this divide that was developed by science and technology writer Joel Garreau in his outstanding 2005 book, Radical Evolution: The Promise and Peril of Enhancing Our Minds, Our Bodies — and What It Means to Be Human. In that book, Garreau is thinking in much grander terms about technology and the future than I was in my earlier essay. He was focused on how various emerging technologies might be changing our very humanity and he notes that narratives about these issues are typically framed in “Heaven” versus “Hell” scenarios.

Under the “Heaven” scenario, technology drives history relentlessly, and in almost every way for the better. As Garreau describes the beliefs of the Heaven crowd, they believe that going forward, “almost unimaginably good things are happening, including the conquering of disease and poverty, but also an increase in beauty, wisdom, love, truth, and peace.” (p. 130) By contrast, under the “Hell” scenario, “technology is used for extreme evil, threatening humanity with extinction.” (p. 95) Garreau notes that what unifies the Hell scenario theorists is the sense that in “wresting power from the gods and seeking to transcend the human condition,” we end up instead creating a monster — or maybe many different monsters — that threatens our very existence. Garreau says this “Frankenstein Principle” can be seen in countless works of literature and technological criticism throughout history, and it is still very much with us today. (p. 108)

After discussing the “Heaven” and “Hell” scenarios cast about by countless tech writers throughout history, Garreau outlined a third, and more pragmatic “Prevail” option, which views history “as a remarkably effective paean to the power of humans to muddle through extraordinary circumstances.” As Garreau explains it, under the “Prevail” scenario, “humans shape and adapt [technology] in entirely new directions.” (p. 95) “Just because the problems are increasing doesn’t mean solutions might not also be increasing to match them,” he rightly notes. (p. 154)

That pretty much sums up my own perspective on things, as I noted in this essay earlier this year, “Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change.”  I think the “prevail” or “muddling through” notion offers the best explanation for how we learn to cope with technological disruption and prosper in the process. (I also wrote a lengthy law review article on this and discussed this issue more in my recent book.) In any event, I chose not to include Garreau’s framework in the above discussion because Garreau — a former reporter and editor at The Washington Post — tries to be somewhat more objective in discussing the various “Heaven” vs. “Hell” scenarios and the personalities behind them (even though in the concluding chapter he seems to be aligning himself with the “Prevail” crowd.) So, it doesn’t quite align perfectly with the more polemical visions I described above. But I continue to think it is the single best thing penned in recent years on the nature of these debates. I cannot recommend it strongly enough.

In closing, I want to reiterate that I would very much welcome suggestions from others about alternative framings and paradigms for thinking about the future of technological change and progress. I imagine I will spend the rest of my life researching and writing about these issues, so I’d love to get more input.  As you can tell, I find these debates terrifically interesting!

I want to bring to everyone’s attention an important new white paper by Dr. Robert Graboyes, a colleague of mine at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University who specializes in the economics of health care. His new 67-page study, Fortress and Frontier in American Health Care, seeks to move away from the tired old dichotomies that drive health care policy discussions: Left versus Right, Democrat versus Republican, federal versus state, and public versus private, and so on. Instead, Graboyes seeks to reframe the debate over the future of health care innovation in terms of “Fortress versus Frontier” and to highlight what lessons we can learn from the Internet and the Information Revolution when considering health care policy.

What does Graboyes mean by “Fortress and Frontier”? Here’s how he explains this conflict of visions:

The Fortress is an institutional environment that aims to obviate risk and protect established producers (insiders) against competition from newcomers (outsiders). The Frontier, in contrast, tolerates risk and allows outsiders to compete against established insiders. . . .  The Fortress-Frontier divide does not correspond neatly with the more familiar partisan or ideological divides. Framing health care policy issues in this way opens the door for a more productive national health care discussion and for unconventional policy alliances. (p. 4)

He elaborates in more detail later in the paper:

the Frontier encourages creative destruction and disruptive innovation. Undreamed-of products arise and old, revered ones vanish. New production processes sweep away old ones. This is a place where unknown innovators in garages destroy titans of industry. The Frontier celebrates and rewards risk, and there is a brutal egalitarianism to the creative process. In contrast, the Fortress discourages creative destruction and disruptive innovation. Insiders are protected from competition by government or by private organizations (such as insurers and medical societies) acting in quasigovernmental fashion. In the Fortress, insiders preserve the existing order. Innovation comes from well-established, credentialed insiders who, it is presumed, have the wisdom and motives and competence to identify opportunities for innovation.

In framing the debate in this fashion, Graboyes hopes that we will start paying more attention to the supply side of health care policy debates:

The debate over coverage (and over related issues concerning how health care providers are paid) has focused attention almost exclusively on the demand side of health care markets—who pays how much to whom for which currently offered services. The debate underplays questions of supply—how innovation can alter the very nature of the health care delivery system. (p. 3-4)

This is where Graboyes brings the Internet and information technology into the story to illustrate a powerful point: We could unlock many important life-enriching and potentially life-saving innovations by embracing the same vision we applied to the Internet and IT sectors. Graboyes is kind enough to cite my work on permissionless innovation and the importance of not letting public policy be dictated by excessive fear of worst-case scenarios regarding new technological innovations. As I noted in my book on the topic, “living in constant fear of worst-case scenarios—and premising public policy upon them—means that best-case scenarios will never come about. When public policy is shaped by precautionary principle reasoning, it poses a serious threat to technological progress, economic entrepreneurialism, social adaptation, and long-run prosperity.”

Had fear of potential worst-case outcomes driven policy for the Net, we might have never seen many of the life-enriching innovations that we enjoy today, as Graboyes explains eloquently in this passage:

Knowing what we know today, it would not be hard to persuade a cautious observer in 1989 to radically slow the pace of IT innovation. IT arguably poses personal risks as grave as those that health care poses. Cell phones have been essential components of improvised explosive devices in war zones. The 9/11 atrocities would have been difficult or impossible to carry out without cell phones. Thieves have used the Internet to steal. Stalkers have used the Internet to terrify their prey. Child predators find their victims on the web. People have been murdered by strangers they met in chatrooms. IT has allowed individuals and governments to violate others’ privacy in countless ways. Drug dealers and terrorist networks organize their efforts via cell phone and Internet. The Internet has greatly reduced the cost of destroying another’s reputation, and news accounts tell of suicides following cyberbullying. Our laws demand terribly high standards of safety and efficacy for drugs. We require no such standards for computers, cell phones, and software, but given the nefarious uses to which they are sometimes put, decades ago one could easily have argued for doing so. Had we done so, we would now be living in a much poorer, less interesting world—and perhaps one with even greater risks to life and limb than we have now. No online predators or improvised explosive devices, but also no OnStar to save you after an automobile crash or smartphone to alert police to your life-threatening situation and geographic location. (p. 41)

In other words–and this is another lesson I stress at length in my work–precautionary policies create profound trade-offs that are not always well understood upon enactment of new laws or regulations. As I noted in my book, “When commercial uses of an important resource or technology are arbitrarily prohibited or curtailed, the opportunity costs of such exclusion may not always be immediately evident. Nonetheless, those ‘unseen’ effects are very real and have profound consequences for individuals, the economy, and society.”

What Graboyes does so well in his new paper is prove that these trade-offs are already at work in the American health care system and that we had better get serious about acknowledging them before real damage is done. And what makes Fortress and Frontier such an enjoyable read is that Graboyes is a gifted story-teller who explains in clear terms how expanded health care innovation opportunities could improve the lives of real people. It’s not just abstract, textbook talk. We hear stories of real-world innovators and the patients who need their inventions. For example, Graboyes tells of “an unheralded doctor who pioneered stem-cell therapy in a small-town hospital, a carpenter and puppet-maker who invented functional prosthetic hands costing one-thousandth the price of professionally made devices (aided by an evolutionary biologist who started a worldwide consortium of amateur prosthetists), and college students who devised a low-cost treatment for clubfoot.” (p. 4) And much, much more.

“The most important thing to understand about disruptive innovation is that it often comes (perhaps usually comes) from strange and unexpected places,” Graboyes notes. (p. 20) “[A] shift from Fortress to Frontier would benefit the health and finances of Americans,” he argues, and “the task begins by easing limits on the supply of health care services, thereby clearing the way for innovators to take health care in directions we cannot yet imagine.” (p. 39)

Importantly, Graboyes also offers another reason why America should embrace the “frontier” spirit: Our global competitive advantage in this space is at risk if we don’t:

Moving health care from the Fortress to the Frontier may be more a matter of necessity than of choice. We are entering a period of rapid technological advances that will radically alter health care. Many of these advances require only modest capital and labor inputs that governments cannot easily control or prohibit. If US law obstructs these technologies here, it will be feasible for Americans to obtain them by Internet, by mail, or by travel. (p. 41-2)

He highlights several areas in which this debate will play out going forward including (and notice the intersection with the modern digital technologies and tech policy debates we often discuss here): genomic knowledge and personalized medicine, 3-D printing, artificial intelligence, information sharing via social media, wearable technology, and telemedicine.

To make sure that America can capitalize on the same innovative spirit that gave us the Information Revolution, Graboyes concludes his study with a laundry list of needed policy reforms. These include:

• reform of FDA drug & device approval process to expedite reviews.
• ensure that Americans have a “right to know” about themselves and their health (i.e., that individuals have a right to possess their own genetic information and to receive information about how to interpret the results.)
• abolish state certificate-of-need laws, which unnecessarily “require that hospital developers obtain government permission before building a new facility, or expanding an existing one, or even adding a specific piece of medical equipment.”
• reform state-based licensing laws, which “put barriers in the way of doctors moving from other states” and create physician shortages. Also need to reform state laws to allow nurse practitioners, optometrists, and others to practice independently of physicians.
• reform tort law by capping noneconomic damages, instituting a “loser pays” rule to discourage frivolous lawsuits, establishing safe harbors for vaccine developers, and more.
• revising tax laws to make sure medical devices are not hit with discriminatory tax burdens that discourage innovation, and then also revising other taxes that skew incentives in the health insurance marketplace.

Graboyes itemizes dozens of other potential reforms to give policymakers a smorgasbord of options from which to choose. It is unlikely that all the reforms he lists will be adopted, but even if policymakers would just pick a few of those proposed action items, it could provide a real boost to medical innovation in the short term. Importantly, most of these proposed reforms could be implemented without stirring up contentious debate over the future of the Affordable Care Act (ACA).

Needless to say, I highly recommend Fortress and Frontier and I very much hope that the vision that Graboyes articulates in it comes to influence public thinking and future policymaking in the health care arena. In a follow-up post, I will also discuss how Fortress versus Frontier provides us with another “innovation paradigm” that can help us frame future innovation policy debates in many other contexts.

I used to have a (semi-crazy) uncle who typically began conversations with lame jokes or bad riddles. This sounds like one he might have used had he lived long enough: What do Thomas Jefferson, a moose, and cyberspace have in common?

The answer to that question can be found in a new book, In Search of Jefferson’s Moose: Notes on the State of Cyberspace, by David G. Post, a Professor of Law at Temple University. Post, who teaches IP and cyberspace law at Temple, is widely regarded as one of the intellectual fathers of the “Internet exceptionalist” school of thinking about cyberlaw.  Basically, Post sees this place we call “cyberspace” as something truly new, unique, and potentially worthy of some special consideration, or even somewhat different ground rules than we apply in meatspace. More on that in a bit.

[ Full disclosure: Post’s work was quite influential on my own thinking during the late 1990s, so much so that when I joined the Cato Institute in 2000, one of the first things I did was invite David to become an adjunct scholar with Cato. He graciously accepted and remains a Cato adjunct scholar today. Incidentally, Cato is hosting a book forum for him on February 4th that I encourage you to attend or watch online. Anyway, it’s always difficult to be perfectly objective when you know and admire someone, but I will try to do so here.]

Post’s book is essentially an extended love letter — to both cyberspace and Jefferson. Problem is, as Post even admits at the end, it’s tough to know which subject this book is suppose to teach us more about. The book loses focus at times — especially in the first 100 pages — as Post meanders between historical tidbits of Jefferson’s life and thinking and what it all means for cyberspace. But the early focus is on TJ.  Thus, those who pick up the book expecting to be immediately immersed in cyber-policy discussions may be a bit disappointed at first.  As a fellow Jefferson fanatic, however, I found all this history terrifically entertaining, whether it was the story of Jefferson’s Plow and his other agricultural inventions and insights, TJ’s unique interest in science (including cryptography), or that big moose of his.

OK, so what’s the deal with the moose? When TJ was serving as a minister to France in in the late 1780s, at considerable expense to himself, he had the complete skeleton, skin and horns of a massive American moose shipped to the lobby of his Paris hotel. Basically, Jefferson wanted to make a bold statement to his French hosts about this New World he came from and wake them up to the fact that some very exciting things were happening over there that they should be paying attention to. That’s one hell of way to make a statement!

Questions about Frontiers, Both Old and New

Now you see the connection to Post’s investigation into the state of cyberspace. Like Jefferson, Post is very excited about a new frontier and he wants to alert people to it. Importantly, however, Post isn’t at all ashamed to admit when he doesn’t understand why some things are the way they are in this new world.  And so Post begins asking questions — lots and lots of questions — to guide our investigation.

Thus, in much the same way that Jefferson penned Notes on the State of Virginia as guidebook for newcomers to the strange new world of his time, David Post has penned this slender volume as a guidebook to our modern cyber-frontier. If you’re looking for a book with concrete positions on all of cyberspace’s pressing policy problems, this book is not it. Instead, it is meant to help us frame the issues and questions properly and consider how this new frontier is unfolding in the early years of its existence. As Post puts it:

We are at the very beginning of what will become a centuries-long conversation about these questions, and my goal here was not to put anything to rest but to put everything in play, not to conclude any part of that conversation but to help you get started. We need, more than answers to today’s questions about law and policy on the network, new ways of thinking about the questions themselves, new vocabularies, new visions of the possible, new ways of identifying and organizing what we know and what we don’t know about the new place. (p. 209)

Post does a very nice job of giving us “new ways of thinking about questions” in his book. These questions generally fall into two categories.  First, Post wants to know why cyberspace works the way it does, or more profoundly, why it works at all. How did this little experiment with networking protocols turn into the most revolutionary global communications and information distribution system of modern times?  Second, Post wants to know “Who makes the rules ‘there’… and what should they be? What does the law look like there? How does it get made, and by whom? Who governs? By what means, and by what right?” (p. 4)

What Jefferson (and Hamilton) Can Teach Us

Post brings Jefferson into the story in the hope that TJ’s profound thinking on the issues of his time might help us getter a better handle on the cyber-controversies of our own time. After all, Jefferson was a man who spent much of his life thinking about uncharted subjects and frontiers. And law, of course!

Using this approach to help us explore cyberspace and cyberlaw works quite well in many cases. It works particularly well when Post brings TJ’s leading intellectual nemesis into the drama — Alexander Hamilton.  “Their feud the longest-running in American political history,” Post correctly notes, “for they stood on opposite shores of the great intellectual divide, a divide that encapsulates something fundamental in the way we think about society and government.” (p. 107). Jefferson desired liberty above all else; Hamilton stressed order and authority. Whereas Jefferson trusted decentralization and wanted diffuse communities making political decisions, Hamilton looked to a strong central authority to guide the nation.

Many modern cyberspace disputes, Post suggests, can be viewed through this same Jeffersonian vs. Hamiltonian philosophical dichotomy. Post continues:

Cyberspace is not the American West of 1787, of course. But like the American West of 1787, cyberspace is (or at least it has been) a Jeffersonian kind of place. Jeffersonians always predominate in new places, because new places attract people who find new places attractive and retell people who do not. […] Hamiltonians, though, inevitably make their way to Jeffersonian places (certainly once gold is discovered there!), claims of order and authority and power assert themselves, and struggles over the shape of the place begin in earnest. And like the West of 1787, cyberspace poses some hard questions, and could use some new ideas, about governance, and law, and order, and scale. The engineers have bequeathed to us a remarkable instrument, one that has managed to solve prodigious technical problems associated with communication on a global scale. The problem is the one that Jefferson and his contemporaries faced: How do you build “republican” institutions — institutions that respect the equal worth of all individuals and their right to participate in the formation of the rules under which they live — that scale? (p. 116-117)

Will Jeffersonian or Hamiltonian thinking prevail as this process unfolds? That remains to be seen, and although Post clearly falls in the Jeffersonian camp on these issues, he doesn’t really place odds on the outcome. Moreover, I would have liked to see Post offer a more full-throated defense of cyber-Jeffersonianism and Interent exceptionalism, or at least better explain to the reader how the debate between exceptionalism and unexceptionalism — or Jeffersonianism vs. Hamiltonianism — has progressed since the mid-1990s.

I think it’s clear that the cyber-Hamiltonians (i.e., the Internet unexceptionalists) are in the midst of a major “Empire Strikes Back” moment today as cyberspace is coming under increasing political pressure from many corners, and calls for more centralized authority abound — whether we are talking about domain name regulation, net neutrality mandates, speech controls, or whatever else. I just wish Post would have spent more time developing a “Return of the Jedi” defense of cyber-Jeffersonianism in this book.

Central Planning vs. Self-Governing Communities

Incidentally, Post has put forward such a defense elsewhere. Along with my former Cato colleague Wayne Crews, I co-edited a beefy book on Net governance issues back in 2003 entitled Who Rules the Net? Internet Governance and Jurisdiction. It contained some truly wonderful essays and they are all still quite relevant today. Jonathan Zittrain’s essay on “Reconciling a Global Internet and Local Law” remains one of the best primers on the subject you can find. But the exchange about Internet governance between David Post and Jack Goldsmith in that book is really a classic Jeffersonian-Hamiltonian debate about cyberlaw. [You can read their chapters at the link above.]

In Jefferson’s Moose, Post comes closest to developing a fuller theory of Internet exceptionalism in his excellent chapter “Governing Cyberspace III: Law.” In that chapter, he takes the unexceptionalists to task for their troubling logic, which “leads inexorably to the conclusion that (just about) everything you do on the Web may be subject to (just about) everybody’s law.” (p. 167). Indeed, the unexceptionalist vision is quite a miserable one when you get right down to it; one that treats this new frontier as a plaything in an endless power struggle between competing political bodies. Meanwhile, as Post points out, the rule of law loses its meaning and becomes less about the consent of the governed and more like a game of “Jurisdictional Whack-a-Mole,” with countless “sovereigns” asserting authority and trying to beat cyberspace and digital denizens into submission in one way or another.

Because Post believes that the unexceptionalists are wrong in their assertion that the Internet is merely the “functional equivalent of mail, or telephone, or smoke signals,” he offers — but does not fully develop — an alternative framework based on Jefferson’s vision for how to settle the Western frontier: Give settlers maximum flexibility to create free, independent, self-governing communities. In Jefferson’s words, “an empire of liberty.. built not on conquest, but on principles of compact and equality.” And this empire of liberty would be, in Post’s words, “held together by consensual bonds and adherence to republican principles, not coercive power, an ever-expanding union of self-governing commonwealths joined together as peers.”

Now that is a beautiful vision for cyberspace!  And, in many ways, it partially explains why cyberspace has been such a special place — at least so far in its early history. But as more and more Hamiltonians assert the need for greater “order,” all that could change. Again, I wish Post would have put some more meat on the bones of his beautiful cyber-Jeffersonian framework to counter the increasing calls we hear for more cyber-Hamiltonianism.  Specifically, Post needs to better address the accusation made by the Digital Age Hamiltonians that Internet exceptionalism is little more than cyber-anarchism. In reality, Internet exceptionalism is essentially something akin to decentralized federalism for the Internet; a federalism that the Founders — or at least Jefferson — would have likely strongly supported.  As I wrote here recently, I like to think of Internet exceptionalism as a variation on Robert Nozick’s “utopia of utopias” vision of an ideal society: “a place where people are at liberty to join together voluntarily to pursue and attempt to realize their own vision of the good life in the ideal community but where no one can impose his own utopian vision upon others.” (Nozick, 1974)

Post begins a sketch of that Nozickian vision for cyberspace in Jefferson’s Moose, but he doesn’t really finish painting his masterpiece. To be fair, however, Post did make it clear right from the start of the book that it was going to be about asking the right questions, not necessarily providing all the answers.

Two Big Issues, Both Then and Now

Incidentally, using Jefferson as a guide to understanding modern cyberlaw controversies also works well when it comes to “the two issues [that] have been featured in virtually all of the Internet’s Big Cases” — free speech and intellectual property. As Post reminds us, Jefferson had a bit to say about those issues during his own lifetime.

“Jefferson was America’s first, and probably its greatest, First Amendment absolutist”  Post says, (p. 188), because Jefferson viewed free speech as part of a greater “interconnected whole”:

republican self-government, freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and freedom of speech. You couldn’t have any without the others; they were inextricably bound together into a single system, and they would stand, or fall, together. (p. 189-190)

Consequently:

To a Jeffersonian, then, free speech questions are always simultaneously (a) of supreme importance and (b) pretty easy. The answer to free speech questions is always (or almost always) simple:  The more protection for, and the fewer the restrictions on, speech, the better. (p. 194)

And Jefferson held true to that principle throughout his life, most notably with his strenuous opposition to the horrendous Sedition Act of 1798.

But intellectual property is a far thornier issue — for both Jefferson and modern cyberlaw. Jefferson was a great inventor himself and keenly interested in the topic. But he also saw IP rights in a different light than speech rights.  Post explains Jefferson’s position:

Unlike free speech rights, intellectual property… cannot, in nature, be a subject of property; they do derive from the “social law,” from the laws of England, or Virginia, or whatever; they’re not antecedent to the law, but entirely dependent on it. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have intellectual property rights. It only means that we get to decide (and we have to decide) whether to have them or not, and how much of them to have. (p. 198) […] Intellectual property law in a Jeffersonian world, then, is always a matter of degree, of finding that balance, of drawing the line… Protection for intellectual property shouldn’t be too weak (or it won’t give creators enough of an incentive to create) or too strong (or it will choke off future creativity), but just right. We’ll never get it exactly right, but it is what we are always aiming for — in a Jeffersonian world, at least. (p. 201)

Of course, finding that “balance” is easier said than done and efforts to strike it engender even more controversy today in the digital world than they did during Jefferson’s time.

Conclusion

David Post has given us an enlightening map to help us navigate the new frontier of cyberspace and cyberlaw. I’m confident Jefferson’s Moose will be on my next end-of-year list of important tech policy books. And I hope my handful of small nitpicks here about the lack of details or answers regarding Post’s beautiful Jeffersonian vision for cyberspace will inspire him to pen yet another book on the subject! We need more friends of true cyber-freedom like David Post.

P.S. David Post is also the co-author of an outstanding treatise on cyberlaw with Patricia L. Bellia and Paul Schiff Berman: Cyberlaw: Problems of Policy and Jurisprudence in the Information Age. The text sits on top of my desk at all times, never far from reach when I need to a quick refresher on some arcane aspect of early Internet jurisprudence. A highly recommended resource.