Those who advocate regulating Internet service providers as common carriers subject to “open access” mandates (a/k/a “Net Neutrality”) want us to believe that their cause is the “Civil Rights” issue of the digital age, with huge popular support and opposed only by self-interested cable companies and their henchmen. In fact, such regulations would actually harm consumers, increase broadband prices, retard the heretofore-explosive growth of bandwidth, and dramatically increase government control over the Internet. Of course, the degree of public interest in a cause doesn’t actually tell us anything about its justice and, fortunately, we live in a democratic oligarchic republic, not a pure democracy. But it’s worth asking whether Americans are really up in arms about the need for “Net Neutrality” regulations. Google Trends suggests not:

This kind of comparison should dispel once and for all the myth of a popular groundswell for net neutrality regulation—especially since online search volumes heavily over-represent the interests of the digerati, thus over-stating general interest in web-related topics.

In fact, “Net Neutrality” regulation is a niche cause trumpeted incessantly by the blogosphere with about the same level of broad popular interest online as “housing rights”—a topic about which most of us probably don’t often fall into conversation (unless we happen to live in Bakuninist Berkeley or the Bolivarian Caliphate of Cambridge, MA, ground-zero of American Chavismo). “Net neutrality” currently seems to attract about the same level of interest as the term “end the Fed,” the title of Rep. Ron Paul’s call for abolishing America’s central bank—something I’ve been ranting about for years but which, until recently, most people found about as bizarre and irrelevant as my (sincere) insistence that President Jefferson should have obtained a constitutional amendment rather than simply assuming the power to execute the Louisiana Purchase.

So just how much do Americans care about Net Neutrality? About 83% as much as they care about “kibble,” which usually refers to the ground meat used in dog food and other forms of animal feed—but about fifty times less than about “dog food.”

Finally, since we all write a lot about privacy, “online privacy” gets 1% as many searches as “privacy.”  “Internet privacy” and “privacy Internet” each get about 4% as many searches as “privacy,” for a total of about 9% as many searches as “privacy” or about three times as many searches as “net neutrality.”  Americans seem to be far more concerned about “identity theft,” which gets 30% as many searches as “privacy”—or 3.33 times more than the three online-privacy terms mentioned above. This is consistent with Tom Leonard and Paul Rubin’s findings that identity theft, not online data collection for advertising purposes, is the real harm facing consumers, and regulating online data collection and use in the name of “protecting privacy” isn’t likely to benefit consumers, while the costs to consumers from such regulations are likely to be significant, as Adam Thierer and I have noted here, here, here, here and here.

In a past life — that is, from roughly 1994-2004 — I spent an enormous amount of time countering the proponents of “open access” regulation for communications and high-tech networks.  My work in that field culminated in the publication of a 2003 book with my old Cato colleague Wayne Crews entitled, What’s Yours is Mine: Open Access & the Rise of Infrastructure Socialism. We aimed to counter the efforts of bureaucrats and central planners to command technology companies and industry sectors to share networks, facilities, or specific technologies with rivals in the name of “competition.”  Simply stated, sharing is not competing, and competition in the creation of networks is just as important as competition in the goods, services, and information that move across those networks.  Moreover, there are property right considerations that come into play when governments seek to commandeer networks or take over network management decisions.

But let’s just stick to the economic issue here regarding the incentives created by the network-sharing mentality of the “forced access” movement and the fiction associated with the belief that network sharing can create competition.  My old PFF colleague Randy May, who currently serves as President of the Free State Foundation, continues to cover developments in this field far closer than I do, and has always done much better work on the subject than me.  Recently, Randy addressed some new fictions put forth by the radical Leftist activity group, the (Un-)Free Press who are, once again, spinning a revisionist history of telecom and media policy.  Specifically, Free Press has recently suggested that in the late 1990s we lived in a veritable communications nirvana, with thousands of Internet Service Providers and/or “competitive exchange carriers” hotly “competing” for our business.  Here’s how Randy May addresses this:

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that the 6000 figure for the number of independent ISPs is an indisputable fact. Nevertheless, I would not want the FCC’s development of a broadband plan to be “data driven” (in the wrong way) by this particular data point. Rather, I would want commissioners to understand that the 6000 ISPs existed merely at the sufferance of an agency policy of “managed competition” through regulated common carrier resale, and that such a “managed competition” policy does not provide incentives either for the incumbent providers to upgrade their networks or for the so-called “competitors” actually to build out their own network facilities. And I would want them to understand that, in the long run, which is what matters, consumers benefit more from facilities-based competition that supports sustainable competition than from managed resale that does not support sustainable competition.

As usual, Randy gets it exactly right.  Of course, it is certainly true that if you don’t give a damn about facilities-based innovation and the growth of networks at the core, not just the periphery, then forced access regulation may seem preferable.  If you want to treat the provision of broadband as a “plain vanilla” commoditized service, with just a basic level of service available from dozens of “competitors,” then forced access can maintain the illusion of “a market” for a time.  Indeed, this is essential what many foreign governments are still doing today; squeezing as much juice out of the old lemons as possible and hoping for a miracle when infrastructure upgrades are needed.  Some supporters of this regulatory model will say that government can always just pass a big tax increase or use a massive government outlay for new services, or something along those lines.  But even if you think government spending on high-tech infrastructure is the sensible way to go — and it certainly doesn’t seem to be going so well these days — you still have to hope that government bureaucrats will do a better job of directing investments and innovation than private network managers. Again, if you can believe in that fairy tale, then forced access is just your ticket. But don’t be surprised when the bubble bursts and investment dries up. [For the complete story on how all this unfolded here in the U.S. over the past decades, see Jeff Eisenach’s PFF paper, “Broadband Policy: Does the U.S. Have It Right After All?”]

Of course, these battles live on with the Net neutrality wars as the forced access crowd seeks to assert more government control over broadband networks by regulating terms of service or even price (see 1, 2, 3, 4).  I’ve become quite convinced that we’ll always have these forced access fights with us.  The network or service in question might change — broadband networks, operating systems, search engines, whatever — but the battle about control over digital technologies and networks will continue.  Here’s hoping that real Internet freedom prevails.

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.