This essay originally appeared on The Bridge under the title “Confessions of a Vidiot” on July 16, 2019.

I have a confession: I’m 50 years old and still completely in love with video games.

I feel silly saying that, even though I really shouldn’t. Video games are now fully intertwined with the fabric of modern life and, by this point, there have been a couple of generations of adults who, like me, have played them actively over the past few decades. Somehow, despite the seemingly endless moral panics about video games, we came out alright. But that likely will not stop some critics from finding new things to panic over.

As a child of the 1970s, I straddled the divide between the old and new worlds of gaming. I was (and remain) obsessed with board and card games, which my family played avidly. But then Atari’s home version of “Pong” landed in 1976. The console had rudimentary graphics and controls, and just one game to play, but it was a revelation. After my uncle bought Pong for my cousins, our families and neighbors would gather round his tiny 20-inch television to watch two electronic paddles and a little dot move around the screen.

Every kid in the world immediately began lobbying their parents for a Pong game of their own, but then a year later something even more magical hit the market: Atari’s 2600 gaming platform. It was followed by Mattel’s “Intellivision” and Coleco’s “ColecoVision.” The platform wars had begun, and home video games had gone mainstream.

My grandmother, who lived with us at the time, started calling my brother and me “vidiots,” which was short for “video game idiots.” My grandmother raised me and was an absolute treasure to my existence, but when it came to video games (as well as rock music), the generational tensions between us were omnipresent. She was constantly haranguing my brother and me about how we were never going to amount to much in life if we didn’t get away from those damn video games!

I used to ask her why she never gave us as much grief about playing board or card games. She thought those were mostly fine. There was just something about the electronic or more interactive nature of video games that set her and the older generation off.

And, of course, there was the violence. There is no doubt that video games contained violent themes and images that were new to the gaming experience. In the analog gaming era, violent action was left mostly to the imagination. With electronic games, it was right there for us to see in all its (very bloody) glory.

As depictions of violence in video games became more intense, parental anxiety boiled over into political activism. By the early 1990s, complaints by parent groups and politicians escalated and congressional hearings commenced. This was the Nintendo and Sega era, when games like “Mortal Kombat” and “Night Trap” were capturing attention for their violent themes.

By this time, I had moved to Washington, DC and taken a job with a think tank. I was a young researcher covering media and telecommunications policy issues, so I had both a personal and professional interest in covering video game hearings. What ensued was a media spectacle in which an endless parade of politicians and self-anointed “parent advocates” expressed their concerns about various games and the supposed lost generation of kids playing them.

The first major congressional hearing on video game violence that I attended in 1993 included then-Sen. Joe Lieberman and other lawmakers speaking with disgust and furrowed brows as they watched clips from those games. But most of us twenty-somethings in the hearing room were rolling our eyes through the entire spectacle. I distinctly remember hearing a Capitol Hill staffer that I was sitting next to whisper, “This is the greatest ad for getting a Sega Genesis ever!” Following the hearing, several friends and I went to my house and played Mortal Kombat together just for kicks.

As the decade went on and gamers began enjoying a third generation of consoles that included Playstation and XBox, the moral panic surrounding violent video gamesrapidly intensified. This was the era of “Doom,” “Resident Evil” and then “Grand Theft Auto.” The whole world went mad.

Critics were writing books with titles like Stop Teaching Our Kids to Kill and referring to video games as “murder simulators.” Every TV news outlet was running some sort of hair-raising report about how America’s youth were doomed for a life of depravity due to video games. By 2006, Sen. Lieberman and then-Sen. Hillary Clinton were floating the “Family Entertainment Protection Act” to create a federal enforcement regime for video games ratings and sales. Court battles ensued over the constitutionality of restrictions on video game sales.

During this push for video game censorship, I wrote many essays, papers, and even contributed to court filings in which I poured over the evidence—or rather the lack thereof—for what we might think of as the “monkey see-monkey do” theory of human behavior. Put simply, there has never been any conclusive scientific evidence correlating video game exposure and real-world acts of violence. If this theory held any water, at some point it should have shown up in crime statistics either here or abroad. But it hasn’t.

In fact, over the past two decades, the US population has grown from 270 million in 1998 to 325 million today, and video games have grown in popularity over that same period. At the same time, according to FBI data, overall violent crime has fallen by almost 19 percent, and for adolescents ages 12 to 20, every class of crime plummeted over the same period.

To be sure, video games—violent or otherwise—can give rise to some problems worth worrying about. Addiction is a real concern, and not just for juveniles. Again, I’m an old man, but I still play far too many games on my phone when I could be doing other things. That’s not technically addiction, but it sure feels like it sometimes. When our kids, or even some adults, go overboard with game time, they need strategies to find a better balance. That has always been a legitimate issue deserving attention.

But the people and politicians who engaged in panics and proselytizing about the supposed evils of video games went much too far. What they failed to realize—as almost all cultural critics have mistakenly done throughout history—is that humans are more sensible and resilient than they assume. We can muddle through and find a reasonable balance.

Indeed, a great many first and second generation gamers are now raising kids and actively gaming with them. My teenage son and I play multiple games together and are part of many different leagues and teams. On our phones, we play “Boom Beach” and other games together, often with groups of other father and son gamers. At home, we love to play “Star Wars: Battlefront” and we are absolutely infatuated with the alien bug-killing “Earth Defense Force” games.

A few years back, my son and I got so good at the game “Toy Soldiers: Cold War” that we were briefly ranked in the top 15 globally. We also play a lot of board games together. I now include him in monthly poker nights at my house, where he has become quite the card shark, regularly depriving many of my adult friends of their money.

My strategy with my son and gaming activity has been simple: stay involved, be open-minded, and set reasonable limits. Oh sure, there are games he plays that I find silly and worthless. But I try to talk to him about all of them and get a better understanding of what they are about. And I encourage him—not always successfully—to get off the couch and go outside to get plenty of outdoor playtime in, too.

While heavy-handed regulatory efforts have been beaten back, we can expect moral panics to continue as video games become even more interactive and immersive. We aging gamers should be willing to hear out concerns about those new gaming themes and capabilities and consider reasonable responses.

If we have learned anything from the first half century of video game history, it is that over-reaction is never the right response. Whether you are a parent or a politician, try to be patient and willing to talk to kids in an open and understanding fashion about things you might not appreciate at first.

Now please excuse me while my son and I get back to killing some alien bugs and saving the Earth once more!

Additional Reading :

• The Social Science Debate over Violent Video Games Will Never End
• Video Games, Media Violence & the Cathartic Effect Hypothesis
• More on Monkey See-Monkey Do Theories about Media Violence & Real-World Crime
• Video Games, Free Speech & the Lunacy of “Ecogenerism”
• Video Games and “Moral Panic”
• Video Games, Violence, & Social “Science”: Another Day, Another Fight

2014 was quite the year for high-profile hackings and puffed-up politicians trying to out-ham each other on who is tougher on cybercrime. I thought I’d assemble some of the year’s worst hits to ring in 2015.

In no particular order:

Home Depot: The 2013 Target breach that leaked around 40 million customer financial records was unceremoniously topped by Home Depot’s breach of over 56 million payment cards and 53 million email addresses in July. Both companies fell prey to similar infiltration tactics: the hackers obtained passwords from a vendor of each retail giant and exploited a vulnerability in the Windows OS to install malware in the firms’ self-checkout lanes that collected customers’ credit card data. Millions of customers became vulnerable to phishing scams and credit card fraud—with the added headache of changing payment card accounts and updating linked services. (Your intrepid blogger was mysteriously locked out of Uber for a harrowing 2 months before realizing that my linked bank account had changed thanks to the Home Depot hack and I had no way to log back in without a tedious customer service call. Yes, I’m still miffed.)

The Fappening: 2014 was a pretty good year for creeps, too. Without warning, the prime celebrity booties of popular starlets like Scarlett Johansson, Kim Kardashian, Kate Upton, and Ariana Grande mysteriously flooded the Internet in the September event crudely immortalized as “The Fappening.” Apple quickly jumped to investigate its iCloud system that hosted the victims’ stolen photographs, announcing shortly thereafter that the “celebrity accounts were compromised by a very targeted attack on user names, passwords and security questions” rather than any flaw in its system. The sheer volume produced and caliber of icons violated suggests this was not the work of a lone wolf, but a chain reaction of leaks collected over time triggered by one larger dump. For what it’s worth, some dude on 4chan claimed the Fappening was the product of an “underground celeb n00d-trading ring that’s existed for years.” While the event prompted a flurry of discussion about online misogyny, content host ethics, and legalistic tugs-of-war over DMCA takedown requests, it unfortunately did not generate a productive conversation about good privacy and security practices like I had initially hoped.

The Snappening: The celebrity-targeted Fappening was followed by the layperson’s “Snappening” in October, when almost 100,000 photos and 10,000 personal videos sent through the popular Snapchat messaging service, some of them including depictions of underage nudity, were leaked online. The hackers did not target Snapchat itself, but instead exploited a third-party client called SnapSave that allowed users to save images and videos that would normally disappear after a certain amount of time on the Snapchat app. (Although Snapchat doesn’t exactly have the best security record anyways: In 2013, contact information for 4.6 million of its users were leaked online before the service landed in hot water with the FTC earlier this year for “deceiving” users about their privacy practices.) The hackers received access to 13GB library of old Snapchat messages and dumped the images on a searchable online directory. As with the Fappening, discussion surrounding the Snappening tended to prioritize scolding service providers over promoting good personal privacy and security practices to consumers.

Las Vegas Sands Corp.:  Not all of these year’s most infamous hacks sought sordid photos or privateering profit. 2014 also saw the rise of the revenge hack. In February, Iranian hackers infiltrated politically-active billionaire Sheldon Adelson’s Sands Casino not for profit or data, but for pure punishment. Adelson, a staunchly pro-Israel figure and partial owner of many Israeli media companies, drew intense Iranian ire after fantasizing about detonating an American nuclear warhead in the Iranian desert as a threat during his speech at Yeshiva University. Hackers released crippling malware into the Sands IT infrastructure early in the year, which proceeded to shut down email services, wipe hard drives clean, and destroy thousands of company computers, laptops, and expensive servers. The Sands website was also hacked to display “a photograph of Adelson chumming around with [Israeli Prime Minister] Netanyahu,” along with the message “Encouraging the use of Weapons of Mass Destruction, UNDER ANY CONDITION, is a Crime,” and a data dump of Sands employees’ names, titles, email addresses, and Social Security numbers. Interestingly, Sands was able to contain the damage internally so that guests and gamblers had no idea of the chaos that was ravaging casino IT infrastructure. Public knowledge of the hack did not serendipitously surface until early December, around the time of the Sony hack. It is possible that other large corporations have suffered similar cyberattacks this year in silence.

JP Morgan: You might think that one of the world’s largest banks would have security systems that are near impossible to crack. This was not the case at JP Morgan. From June to August, hackers infiltrated JP Morgan’s sophisticated security system and siphoned off massive amounts of sensitive financial data. The New York Times reports that “the hackers appeared to have obtained a list of the applications and programs that run on JPMorgan’s computers — a road map of sorts — which they could crosscheck with known vulnerabilities in each program and web application, in search of an entry point back into the bank’s systems, according to several people with knowledge of the results of the bank’s forensics investigation, all of whom spoke on the condition of anonymity.” Some security experts suspect that a nation-state was ultimately behind the infiltration due to the sophistication of the attack and the fact that the hackers neglected to immediately sell or exploit the data or attempt to steal funds from consumer accounts. The JP Morgan hack set off alarm bells among influential financial and governmental circles since banking systems were largely considered to be safe and impervious to these kinds of attacks.

Sony: What a tangled web this was! On November 24, Sony employees were greeted by the mocking grin of a spooky screen skeleton informed they had been “Hacked by the #GOP” and that there was more to come. It was soon revealed that Sony’s email and computer systems had been infiltrated and shut down while some 100 terabytes of data had been stolen. The hackers proceeded to leak embarrassing company information, including emails in which executives made racial jokes, compensation data revealing a considerable gender wage disparity, and unreleased studio films like Annie and Mr. Turner. We also learned about “Project Goliath,” a conspiracy among the MPAA, Sony, and five other studios (Universal, Sony, Fox, Paramount, Warner Bros., and Disney) to revise the spirit of SOPA and attack piracy on the web “by working with state attorneys general and major ISPs like Comcast to expand court power over the way data is served.” (Goliath was their not-exactly-subtle codeword for Google.) Somewhere along the way, a few folks got wild notions that North Korea was behind this attack because of the nation’s outrage at the latest Rogen romp, The Interview. Most cybersecurity experts doubt that the hermit nation was behind the attack, although the official KCNA statement enthusiastically “supports the righteous deed.” The absurdity of the official narrative did not prevent most of our world-class journalistic and political establishment from running with the story and beating the drums of cyberwar. Even the White House and FBI goofed. The FBI and State Department still maintain North Korean culpability, even as research compiled by independent security analysts points more and more to a collection of disgruntled former Sony employees and independent lulz-seekers. Troublingly, the Obama administration publicly entertained cyberwar countermeasures against the troubled communist nation on such slim evidence. A few days later, the Internet in North Korea was mysteriously shut down. I wonder what might have caused that? Truly a mess all around.

LizardSquad: Speaking of Sony hacks, the spirit of LulzSec is alive in LizardSquad. On Christmas day, the black hat collective knocked out Sony’s Playstation network and Microsoft’s Xbox servers with a massive distributed denial of service (DDoS) attack to the great vengeance and furious anger of gamers avoiding family gatherings across the country. These guys are not your average script-kiddies. NexusGuard chief scientist Terrence Gareu warns the unholy lizards boast an artillery that far exceeds normal DDoS attacks. This seems right, given the apparent difficulty that giants Sony and Microsoft had in responding to the attacks. For their part, LizardSquad claims the strength of their attack exceeded the previous record against Cloudflare this February. Megaupload Internet lord Kim Dotcom swooped to save gamers’ Christmas festivities with a little bit of information age, uh, “justice.” The attacks were allegedly called off after Dotcom offered the hacking collective 3,000 Mega vouchers (normally worth $99 each) for his content hosting empire if they agreed to cease. The FBI is investigating the lizards for the attacks. LizardSquad then turned their attention to the TOR network, creating thousands of new relays and comprising a worrying portion of the network’s roughly 8,000 relays in an effort to unmask users. Perhaps they mean to publicize the networks’ vulnerabilities? The group’s official Twitter bio reads, “I cry when Tor deserves to die.” Could this be related to the recent Pando–Tor drama that reinvigorated skepticism of Tor? As with any online brouhaha involving clashing numbers of privacy-obsessed computer whizzes with strong opinions, this incident has many hard-to-read layers (sorry!). While the Tor campaign is still developing, LizardSquad has been keeping busy with it’s newly-launched Lizard Stresser, a distributed DDoS tool that anyone can use for a small fee. These lizards appear very intent on making life as difficult as possible for the powerful parties they’ve identified as enemies and will provide some nice justifications for why governments need more power to crack down on cybercrime.

What a year! I wonder what the next one will bring.

One sure bet for 2015 is increasing calls for enhanced regulatory powers. Earlier this year, Eli and I wrote a Mercatus Research paper explaining why top-down solutions to cybersecurity problems can backfire and make us less secure. We specifically analyzed President Obama’s developing Cybersecurity Framework, but the issues we discuss apply to other rigid regulatory solutions as well. On December 11, in the midst of North Korea’s red herring debut in the Sony debacle, the Senate passed the Cybersecurity Act of 2014, which contains many of the same principles outlined in the Framework. The Act, which still needs House approval, strengthens the Department of Homeland Security’s role in controlling cybersecurity policy by directing DHS to create industry cybersecurity standards and begin routine information-sharing with private entities.

Ranking Member of the Senate Homeland Security Committee, Tom Coburn, had this to say: “Every day, adversaries are working to penetrate our networks and steal the American people’s information at a great cost to our nation. One of the best ways that we can defend against cyber attacks is to encourage the government and private sector to work together and share information about the threats we face. ”

While the problems of poor cybersecurity and increasing digital attacks are undeniable, the solutions proposed by politicians like Coburn are dubious. The federal government should probably try to get its own house in order before it undertakes to save the cyberproperties of the nation. The Government Accountability Office reports that the federal government suffered from almost 61,000 cyber attacks and data breaches last year. The DHS itself was hacked in 2012,while a 2013 GAO report criticized DHS for poor security practices, finding that “systems are being operated without authority to operate; plans of action and milestones are not being created for all known information security weaknesses or mitigated in a timely manner; and baseline security configuration settings are not being implemented for all systems.” GAO also reports that when federal agencies develop cybersecurity practices like those encouraged in the Cybersecurity Framework or the Cybersecurity Act of 2014, they are inconsistently and insufficiently implemented.

Given the federal government’s poor track record managing its own system security, we shouldn’t expect miracles when they take a leadership role for the nation.

Another trend to watch will be the development of a more robust cybersecurity insurance market. The Wall Street Journal reports that 2014’s rash of hacking attacks stimulated sales of formerly-obscure cyberinsurance packages.

The industry had suffered in the past due to its novelty and lack of previous data to use to accurately price insurance packages. This year, demand has been sufficiently stimulated and actuaries have been familiar enough with the relevant risks that the practice has finally become mainstream. Policies can cover “the costs of [data breach] investigations, customer notifications and credit-monitoring services, as well as legal expenses and damages from consumer lawsuits” and “reimbursement for loss of income and extra expenses resulting from suspension of computer systems, and provide payments to cover recreation of databases, software and other assets that were corrupted or destroyed by a computer attack.” As the market matures, cybersecurity insurers may start more actively assessing firms’ digital vulnerabilities and recommend improvements to their systems in exchange for a lower premium payment, as is common in other insurance markets.

Still, nothing ever beats good old-fashioned personal responsibility. One of the easiest ways to ensure privacy and security for yourself online is to take the time to learn how to best protect yourself or your business by developing good habits, using the right services, and remaining conscientious about your digital activities. That’s my New Year’s resolution. I think it should be yours, too! :)

Happy New Year’s, all!

[UPDATE 4/30/13: This article was subsequently published in Volume 65, Issues 2 of the Federal Communications Law Journal in April 2013. The links below now point to the final FCLJ version.]

The Mercatus Center at George Mason University has just released a new paper by Brent Skorup and me entitled, “Uncreative Destruction: The War on Vertical Integration in the Information Economy.”  Brent, who is the research director for the Information Economy Project at the George Mason University School of Law, and I have been working on this paper since the Spring and we are looking forward to getting it published in a law review shortly. The paper focuses on Tim Wu’s “separations principle” for the digital economy, something I’ve spent some time critiquing here in the past. Here’s the introduction from the 44-page paper that Brent and I just released:

Are information sectors sufficiently different from other sectors of the economy such that more stringent antitrust standards should be applied to them preemptively? Columbia Law School professor Tim Wu responds in the affirmative in his book The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires. Having successfully pushed net-neutrality regulation into the policy spotlight, Wu has turned his attention to what he regards as excessive market concentration and threats to free speech throughout the entire information economy.To support his call for increased antitrust intervention, Wu explains his view of competition in the information economy—a view that deviates substantially from current mainstream antitrust theory. First, Wu contends that “information monopolies” are pervasive in the information economy. Wu’s “monopolists” include Facebook, Apple, Google, and even Twitter. In The Master Switch and essays like “In the Grip of the New Monopolists,” Wu argues that these so-called monopolies are increasing their market power and require more aggressive oversight and regulation.Second, Wu argues that traditional antitrust analysis is not sufficient for information systems because they carry speech. He claims, “Information industries… can never be properly understood as ‘normal’ industries,”and traditional forms of regulation, including antitrust enforcement, “are clearly inadequate for the regulation of information industries.”Wu believes that because information industries “traffic in forms of individual expression” and are “fundamental to democracy,” they should be subject to greater regulatory treatment.Third, in contrast to current competition law’s focus on horizontal relationships, Wu desires a reinvigorated regulatory enforcement that addresses “the corrupting effects of vertically integrated power” in the information sectors.He is particularly concerned about private threats to free speech arising from such vertical integration.The solution, he says, is preventing vertical mergers in the information economy and the mandatory divestiture of vertically integrated companies. To implement this, Wu proposes a Separations Principle for the information economy, which would segregate information providers into three buckets, which we have labeled information creators, information distributors, and hardware makers.This article outlines Wu’s separations proposal, explains why his fears regarding vertical relationships should be rejected by regulatory and antitrust policymakers, and illustrates the legal and practical problems his Separations Principle poses. Wu justifies his Separations Principle by citing monopolies and market power in the information economy. He also advocates using U.S. antitrust authorities to enforce his Principle. We argue that the antitrust harms he fears are not present, and we highlight scholarship on the accepted benefits of vertically integrated firms. We show that Wu’s remedies are policy preferences wrapped in the language of competition law. In fact, the information economy is largely competitive and does not warrant interventionist regulatory enforcement. Since much of American economic vitality flows from the information economy and technology, policymakers should reject a radical antitrust remedy like Wu’s preemptive Separations Principle.

The paper can be downloaded from the Mercatus website, SSRN, or Scribd.

I’m pretty rough on all the Internet and info-tech policy books that I review. There are two reasons for that. First, the vast majority of tech policy books being written today should never have been books in the first place. Most of them would have worked just fine as long-form (magazine-length) essays. Too many authors stretch a promising thesis into a long-winded, highly repetitive narrative just to say they’ve written an entire book about a subject. Second, many info-tech policy books are poorly written or poorly argued. I’m not going to name names, but I am frequently unimpressed by the quality of many books being published today about digital technology and online policy issues.

The books of Harvard University cyberlaw scholars John Palfrey and Urs Gasser offer a welcome break from this mold. Their recent books, Born Digital: Understanding the First Generation of Digital Natives, and Interop: The Promise and Perils of Highly Interconnected Systems, are engaging and extremely well-written books that deserve to be books. There’s no wasted space or mindless filler. It’s all substantive and it’s all interesting. I encourage aspiring tech policy authors to examine their works for a model of how a book should be done.

In a 2008 review, I heaped praise on Born Digital and declared that this “fine early history of this generation serves as a starting point for any conversation about how to mentor the children of the Web.” I still recommend highly to others today. I’m going to be a bit more critical of their new book, Interop, but I assure you that it is a text you absolutely must have on your shelf if you follow digital policy debates. It’s a supremely balanced treatment of a complicated and sometimes quite contentious set of information policy issues.

In the end, however, I am concerned about the open-ended nature of the standard that Palfrey and Gasser develop to determine when government should intervene to manage or mandate interoperability between or among information systems. I’ll push back against their amorphous theory of “optimal interoperability” and offer an alternative framework that suggests patience, humility, and openness to ongoing marketplace experimentation as the primary public policy virtues that lawmakers should instead embrace.

Interop is Important, but Often Difficult & Filled with Trade-Offs

Palfrey and Gasser begin by noting that “there is no single, agreed-upon definition of interoperability” and that “there are even many views about what interop is and how it should be achieved” (p. 5). They set out to change that by developing “a normative theory identifying what we want out of all this interconnectivity” that the information age has brought us (p. 3).

Generally speaking, Palfrey and Gasser believe increased interoperability — especially among information networks and systems — is a good thing because it “provides consumers greater choice and autonomy” (p. 57), “is generally good for competition and innovation” (p. 90), and “can lead to systemic efficiencies” (p. 129).

But they wisely acknowledge that there are trade-offs, too, noting that “this growing level of interconnectedness comes at an increasingly high price” (p. 2). Whether we are talking about privacy, security, consumer choice, the state of competition, or anything else, Palfrey and Gasser argue that “the problems of too much interconnectivity present enormous challenges both for organizations and for society at large” (p. 2). Their chapter and privacy and security offers many examples, but one need only look around at their own digital existence to realize the truth of this paradox. The more interconnected our information systems become, and the more intertwined our social and economic lives become with those systems, the greater the possibility of spam, viruses, data breaches, and various types of privacy or reputational problems. Interoperability giveth and it taketh away.

When Does “the Public Interest” Demand Interoperability Regulation?

So, how do we know when increased interoperability is good for us or society? How do we strike a reasonable balance? And, most controversially, when should government intervene to tip the balance in one direction or another?

Palfrey and Gasser return to these questions repeatedly throughout the book but admit that their answers will be dissatisfying since “there is no single form or optimal amount of interoperability that will suit every circumstance” (p. 76). Thus, “most of the specifics of how to bring interop about [must] be determined on a case-by-case basis (p. 17). They elaborate:

That can feel unsatisfying. But it is an essential truth: the most interesting interop problems relate to society’s most complex and most fundamental systems. Their answers are never simple to come by, nor are they easy to implement. This characteristic of interop theory is a feature, not a bug. … The price to be paid for striving for a universal principle at the level of theory is that such a theory is full of nuances when it comes to application and practice (p. 17-18).

Fair enough. Yet, Palfrey and Gasser also make it clear they want government(s) to play an active role in ensuring optimal interoperability. They say they favor “blended approaches that draw upon the comparative advantages of the private and public sector” (p. 161), but they argue that government should feel free to tip or nudge interoperability determinations in superior directions. “If deployed with skill,” they argue, “the law can play a central role in ensuring that we get as close as possible to optimal levels of interoperability in complex systems” (p. 88).

That phrase — “optimal level of interoperability” — pops up repeatedly throughout the book. So, too, does the phrase “the public interest.” Palfrey and Gasser argue that governments must look out for “the public interest” and “optimal interoperability” since “market forces do not automatically lead to appropriate standards or to the adoption of the best available technology” (p. 167). Here they introduce two additional amorphous values that complicate the debate: “appropriate standards” and “best available technology.”

The fundamental problem this “public interest” approach to interoperability regulation is that it is no better than the “I-know-it-when-I-see-it” standard we sometimes at work in the realm of speech regulation. It’s an empty vessel, and if it is the lodestar by which policymakers make determinations about the optimal level of interoperability, then it leaves markets, innovators, and consumers subject to the arbitrary whims of what a handful of politicians or regulators think constitutes “optimal interoperability,” “appropriate standards,” and “best available technology.”

On the Limits of Knowledge

Palfrey and Gasser’s framework feels more than just “unsatisfying” in this regard; it feels downright insufficient. That’s because it is missing a major variable: the extent to which state actors are able to adequately define those terms or accurately forecast the future needs of markets or citizen-consumers.

Surprisingly, Palfrey and Gasser don’t really spend much time discussing the specific remedies the state might impose to achieve optimal interoperability. I would have liked to have seen them develop a matrix of interop options and then outline the strengths and weaknesses of each. But even absent a more detailed discussion of possible regulatory remedies, I would have settled for more concrete answers to the following questions: Why are we to assume that regulators possess the requisite knowledge needed to know when it makes sense to foreclose ongoing marketplace experimentation? And why should we trust that, by substituting their own will for that of countless other actors in the information technology marketplace, we will be left better off?

The closest Palfrey and Gasser get to defining a firm standard for when and why such state intervention is warranted comes on page 173 when they are discussing the need for the state to establish sound reasons for intervention. They argue:

The objective should not be interoperability per se but, rather, one or more public policy goal to which interoperability can lead. The goals that usually make sense are innovation and competition, but other objectives might include consumer choice, ease of use of a technology or system, diversity, and so forth (p. 173).

This is a bit better, but it still doesn’t fully grapple with the cost side of the cost-benefit calculus for intervention. Palfrey and Gasser are willing to at least acknowledge some of those problems when they remark that “the state is rarely in a position to call a winner among competing technologies” (p. 174). Moreover,

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)

Quite right! Yet, that insight does not seem to influence their calls elsewhere in the book for regulatory activism. That’s a shame since the admonition about policymakers recognizing the “limits of their own effectiveness” should be able to help us devise some limiting principles regarding the state’s role.

Toward an Alternative Theory: Experimental, Evolutionary Interoperability

Allow me to offer a different theory of optimal interoperability that flows from these previous insights. It’s based on a more dynamic view of markets and the central importance of experimentation in the face of uncertainty. Let me just go ahead and articulate the core principles of what I will refer to as  “experimental, evolutionary interoperability theory.” Then I’ll explain it in more detail

• Experimental, evolutionary interoperability : 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. The latter (regulatory foreclosure of experimentation) limits that potential.

Palfrey and Gasser would label this a “laissez-faire” theory of interoperability and oppose it since they believe “a pure laissez-faire approach to interop rarely works out well” (p. 160). But they are wrong, at least to the extent they include the sweeping modifier “rarely” to describe this model’s effectiveness. In reality, the vast majority of interoperability that occurs into today’s information economy happens in a completely natural, evolutionary fashion without any significant state intervention whatsoever. In countless small and big ways alike, interconnection and interoperability happens every day throughout society. Yes, it is true that interoperability often happens against the backdrop of a legal system that allows court action to enforce certain rights or address perceived harms, but I would not classify that as a significant direct state intervention to tip or nudge interconnection decisions in one direction or another. And when interoperability doesn’t happen naturally, there are often good reasons it doesn’t and, even if there aren’t, non-interop spawns beneficial marketplace reactions and innovations.

Experimental, evolutionary interoperability theory flows out of Schumpeterian competition theory and the related field of evolutionary economics, but it is also heavily influenced by public choice theory (which stresses the limitations of romanticized theories of politics, planning, and “public interest” regulation). This alternative theory begins by accepting the simple fact that, as Austrian economist F.A. Hayek taught us, “progress by its very nature cannot be planned.” The wiser man, Hayek noted, “is very much aware that we do not know all the answers and that he is not sure that the answers he has are certainly the right ones or even that we can find all the answers.”

Ongoing experimentation with varying business models and modalities of social and economic production allows us to see what consumer choice and trial and error experimentation yields naturally over time. Ongoing experiments with flexible, voluntary interop standards and negotiations also allows us to determine which technological standards seem to benefit consumers in the short-term while also encouraging innovators to leap-frog existing standards and platforms when they become locked-in for too long or seem sub-optimal.

In the short-term, it is entirely possible that such voluntary, evolutionary interop experiments “fail” in various ways. That is often a good thing. Failures are how individuals and a society learn to cope with change and devise systems and solutions to accommodate technological change. As Samuel Beckett once counseled: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” Progress depends upon an embrace of this uncertainty and acceptance of a world of constant upheaval if we are to learn how to cope, adapt, and move forward.

In this model, technological innovation often springs from the quest for the prize of market power.  Palfrey and Gasser generally reject this Schumpeterian vision of dynamic competition, but they at least do a nice job of describing it:

firms may have a stronger incentive to be innovative when low levels of interoperability promise higher or even monopoly profits. This sort of competition… creates incentives for firms to come up with entirely new generations of technologies or business methods that are proprietary (p. 121).

They reject this approach based on (1) the mistaken notion that the quest of the prize of market power ends in the attainment and preservation of that market power; and (2) the belief that policymakers possess the ability to set us on a better course through wise interventions.

In a moment, I’ll prove why that is misguided by examining a few real-world cases studies. For now, however, let’s return to Palfrey & Gasser’s central operating principle and contrast it with the vision I’ve articulated here. Recall that they argue “it is important to maintain and facilitate diversity in the marketplace. We simply want systems to work together when we want them to and to not work together when we do not.” Again, there is no standard here if one is suggesting this as the principle by which to determine when state intervention is desirable . But if one is looking at that aspirational statement as a description of the natural order of things — namely, that we do indeed “want systems to work together when we want them to and to not work together when we do not” — then that is a perfectly sound principle for understanding why state intervention should be disfavored in all but the most extreme circumstances. To reiterate: We should not allow the state to foreclose interoperability experiments because (a) those experiments have value in and of themselves, and (b) state action is likely to have myriad unintended consequences and unforeseen costs that are not easily remedied or reversed.

There are moments in the book when Palfrey and Gasser appear somewhat sympathetic to the sort of alternative “evolutionary interop” theory I have articulated here. For example, they note that:

The web is a great equalizer for technology firms. As consumers, we have come to expect that everything will work together without incident or interruption. We think it bizarre when something in the digitally networked world does not mesh with something else, perceiving whatever it is to be broken, in need of repair. This high degree of expectation is a powerful driver of interoperability. Market players are increasingly responding to this consumer demand and making these invisible links work for their customers without any government intervention” (p. 28) [italics added]

You won’t be surprised to hear that I agree wholeheartedly! Moreover, what it really proves is that ongoing marketplace experimentation and the evolution of norms and standards generally solve interoperability problems as they develop. That doesn’t mean markets are perfectly competitive or always produce perfect interoperability. But, again, why should we believe state intervention will do a better job? And isn’t it possible that intervention could negatively counter those natural instincts that Palfrey and Gasser describe about how consumers and market actors interact to make those “invisible links” work out as nicely as they do today?

Interop, Competition & Innovation: Some Cases Studies of Evolutionary Interoperability in Action

To better explain experimental, evolutionary interop theory and how it plays out in the real-world, let’s examine the complex relationship between interoperability, competition, and innovation in the information economy through the prism of three case studies: AOL and instant messaging, video game consoles, and smartphones.

AOL

America Online’s (AOL) case study is probably the most profound example of Schumpeterian creative destruction rapidly eroding the market power of a once “dominant” digital giant. Not long ago, AOL was cast as the great villain of online openness and interoperability. In fact, when Lawrence Lessig penned his acclaimed book Code in the late 1990s, AOL was supposedly set to become the corporate enslaver of cyberspace.

For a time, it was easy to see why Lessig and others were worried. Twenty five million subscribers were willing to pay $20 per month to get a guided tour of AOL’s walled garden version of the Internet. Then AOL and media titan Time Warner announced a historic mega-merger that had some predicting the rise of “new totalitarianisms” and corporate “Big Brother.”

Fearing the worst, several conditions were placed on approval of the merger by both the Federal Trade Commission and the Federal Communication Commission. These included “open access” provisions that forced Time Warner to offer the competing ISP service from the second largest ISP at that time (Earthlink) before it made AOL’s service available across its largest cable divisions.  Another provision imposed by the FCC mandated interoperability of instant messaging systems based on the fear that AOL was poised to monopolize that emerging technology.

Palfrey and Gasser suggest this was a necessary and effective intervention. “The AOL IM case is another instance in which the role of government was key in establishing a more interoperable ecosystem” and they credit the FCC’s action with cutting AOL’s share of the IM (p. 68-9). That’s a huge stretch. The reality is that markets and technologies evolved around AOL’s walled garden and decimated whatever advantage the firm had in either the web portal business or instant messaging market.

First, despite all the hand-wringing and regulatory worry, AOL’s merger with Time Warner quickly went off the rails and AOL’s online “dominance” quickly evaporated. Looking back at the deal with TW, Fortune magazine senior editor Allan Sloan called it the “turkey of the decade” since it cost shareholders hundreds of billions. Second, AOL’s attempt to construct the largest walled garden ever also failed miserably as organic search and social networking flourished. Consumers showed they demanded more than the hand-held tour of cyberspace.

Finally, the hysteria about AOL’s threat to monopolize instant messaging and deny interoperability proved particularly unwarranted and also serves as a cautionary tale for those who argue regulation is needed to solve interoperability problems. At the time, well-heeled major competitors like Yahoo and Microsoft already had significant competing IM platforms, and others were rapidly developing. Interoperability among those systems was also spontaneously developing as consumers demanded greater flexibility among and within their communications systems. The development of Trillian, which allowed IM users to see all their various IM feeds at once, was an early precursor of what was to come. Today, anyone can download a free chat client like Digsby or Adium to manage multiple IM and email services from Yahoo!, Google, Facebook and just about anyone else, all within a single interface, essentially making it irrelevant which chat service friends use.

In a truly Schumpetrian sense, innovators came in and disrupted AOL’s plans to dominate instant messaging with innovative offerings that few critics or regulators would have believed possible just a decade ago. Progress happened, and nobody planned it from above. The FCC’s IM interoperability provision was quietly sunset less than three years after its inception since the evolution of technology and markets had rapidly eliminated the perceived problem. That mandate, as it turned out, wasn’t needed at all, and all it probably accomplished during its short life span was to hobble AOL’s ability to find a way to remain relevant in the increasingly competitive Web. 2.0 world.

Video game consoles

At first blush, the video game console wars might seem like the ideal case study for those who favor greater interoperability regulation. After all, in a static sense, why do we really need several competing video game platforms that prevent consumers from playing their games on more than one system? The lack of console interoperability also drives up development costs for game makers. Many of those developers would prefer to just code games for a single, universal gaming platform. Therefore, isn’t this the perfect excuse for state intervention to ensure “optimal interoperability”?

To the contrary, this is another example of why government should generally avoid intervening to try to achieve some sort of artificial optimal interoperability. This market has undergone continuous, turbulent change and witnessed remarkable pro-consumer innovation despite a lack of interoperability.

The video game console wars have raged since the late 1970s. The first generation of consoles was dominated Atari (2600), Mattel (Intellivision), and Coleco (ColecoVision). By the mid-1980s, the industry saw a new cast of characters displace the old players. Nintendo (NES), and Sega (Genesis) took the lead. Atari attempted a rebirth with its “Jaguar” console but failed miserably.

The demise of Atari’s 2600 console was particularly notable. When it debuted in 1977, the system revolutionized the home game market on its way to selling more than 30 million units.  For a few years, it utterly dominated the console market and the company “rushed out games, assuming that its customers would play whatever it released,” notes New York Times reporters Sam Grobart and Ian Austen. But demand rapidly dried up as other consoles and personal computers took the lead with more powerful, flexible platforms and games. In the end, “millions of unsold games and consoles were buried in a New Mexico landfill in 1983. Warner Communications, which bought Atari in 1976 for $28 million, sold it in 1984 for no cash.”

The next generation of machines was dominated by Nintendo and Sega. But by the turn of the century, more new faces appeared and disrupted the second generation of market leaders. Sony (PlayStation) and Microsoft (Xbox) introduced powerful new consoles that continue to evolve to this day. Both consoles have already cycled through three iterations, each increasingly powerful and more functional. Sega dropped out of the console business and refocused on game development. Nintendo managed to survive with its innovative “Wii” system, but has fallen from its perch as king of the console market. Many also forget Apple’s failed run at the console business with its “Pippin” system in the late 1990s. Steve Jobs killed off the console when he returned to once again lead Apple in 1997. Ironically, just a decade later, with the rise of the iPhone and the Apple App Store, the company would emerge as a major player in the gaming market as smartphone gaming exploded.

Of course, PC gaming existed across these generations and handheld gaming devices and now smartphones are also providing competition to traditional consoles. Arcade games also existed both then and now. Thus, the video game market has always been broader than just home gaming consoles.

Nonetheless, at no time during the turbulent history of this sector have major consoles interoperated. The result has been a constant effort by major console developers to leap-frog the competition with increasingly innovative and powerful consoles and peripherals. Would Microsoft have developed the Kinect motion-sensing device if Nintendo had not previously developed their game-changing Wii motion controllers? It’s impossible to know but it would seem that non-interoperability had something to do with that beneficial development. Microsoft needed a game-changing peripheral of its own to meet the Nintendo challenge since Nintendo was not about to share its innovations with the competition. Meanwhile, Sony has developed its own motion-based “Move” system to compete Microsoft and Nintendo.

This is a highly dynamic marketplace at work. Could policymakers have determined that 3 major non-interoperable home consoles would have produced so much innovation? Would they have judged that to be too much or too little competition?  Would they have been able to foresee or help bring about the disruptive competition from portable gaming devices or smartphones? What sort of interop regulation would have made that happen?

As Palfrey and Gasser suggest in their book, there really “is no single form or optimal amount of interoperability that will suit every circumstance.” The video game case study seems to prove that. Yet, their framework leaves the door open a bit wider for state meddling to determine “optimal interop.” I have little faith that state planners could have given us a more innovative video game marketplace through interop nudging. And I also worry that if the door had been open for regulators at the FCC or elsewhere to influence interoperability decisions, it might have also opened to the door to content regulation since many lawmakers have long had an appetite for video game censorship.

Smartphones

The mobile phone handset and operating system marketplace has undergone continuous change over the past 15 years and is still evolving rapidly. There are some interoperable elements, such as the ability to make connecting calls and send texts and IMs. But other parts of the smartphone ecosystem are not interoperable, such as underlying operating systems or apps and app stores.

In the midst of this mixed system of interoperable and non-interoperable elements, innovation and cut-throat competition have flourished.

When cellular telephone service first started taking off in the mid-1990s, handsets and mobile operating systems were essentially one in the same, and Nokia and Motorola dominated the sector with fairly rudimentary devices. The era of personal digital assistants (PDAs) dawned during this period, but mostly saw a series of overhyped devices, including Apple’s “Newton,” that failed to catch on. In the early 2000s, however, a host of new players and devices entered the market, many of which are still on the scene today, including LG, Sony, Samsung, Siemens, and HTC. Importantly, the sector began splitting into handsets versus operating systems (OS). Leading mobile OS makers have included: Microsoft, Palm, Symbian, BlackBerry (RIM), Apple, and Android (Google).

The sector continues to undergo rapid change and interoperability norms have evolved at the same time. Looking back, it’s hard to know whether increased interoperability would have helped or hurt the state of competition and innovation.

Consider Palm, Blackberry, and Microsoft which all limited interoperability with other systems in various ways. Palm smartphones were wildly popular for a brief time and brought many innovations to the marketplace, for example. Palm underwent many ownership and management changes, however, and rapidly faded from the scene.  After buying Palm in 2010, HP announced it would use its webOS platform in a variety of new products.  That effort failed, however, and HP instead announced it would transition webOS to an open source software development mode.

Similarly, RIM’s BlackBerry was thought to be the dominant smartphone device for a time, but it has recently been decimated. BlackBerry’s rollercoaster ride has left it “trying to avoid the hall of fallen giants” in the words of an early 2012 New York Times headline.  The company once commanded more than half of the American smartphone market but now has under 10 percent, and that number continues to fall.

Microsoft also had a huge lead in licensing its Windows Mobile OS to high-end smartphone handset makers until Apple and Android disrupted its business. It’s hard to believe now, but just a few years ago the idea of Apple or Google being serious contenders in the smartphone business was greeted with suspicion, even scorn by popular handset makers such as Nokia and Motorola. This serves as another classic example of those with a static snapshot mentality disregarding the potential for new entry and technological disruption. Just a few years later, Nokia’s profits and market share have plummeted and a struggling Motorola was purchased by Google. Meanwhile, again, Palm seems dead, BlackBerry is dying, and Microsoft is struggling to win back market share it has lost to Apple and Google in this arena.

It would seem logical to conclude that the ebbs and flows of interoperable and non-interoperable elements of the smartphone world have created a turbulent but vibrantly innovative sector. Has the lack of interoperable operating systems or apps and apps stores hurt smartphone consumers? It’s hard to see how. Mandating interoperability at either level could lead to an OS or app store monopoly, most likely for Apple if such a policy were pursued today.

While Apple has had great success and earned endless kudos for their slick, user-friendly innovations from consumers and tech wonks alike, some critics decry their proprietary business model and more “controlled” user experience. Apple tightly controls almost every level of production of its iPhone smartphone and iPad tablet. Interoperability with competing systems, standards, or technologies is limited in many ways. Is that bad? Some critics think so, suggesting that greater “openness” — presumably in the form of greater device or program interoperability — is needed. But so what? Consumers seem extremely happy with Apple devices. Moreover, well-heeled rivals like Google (Android) and Microsoft continue to innovate at a healthy clip and offer consumers a decidedly different user experience. As with video games consoles, non-interop has had some important dynamic effects and advantages for consumers. It’s hard to know what “optimal interoperability” would even look like in the modern smartphone marketplace and how it would be achieved, but it’s equally hard to believe that consumers would be significantly better off if regulators were trying to achieve it through top-down mandates on such a dynamic, fast-moving market.  [For more on this topic, see my 2011 book chapter, “The Case for Internet Optimism, Part 2 – Saving the Net From Its Supporters,” from the book, The Next Digital Decade.]

Case Study Summary & Analysis

These case studies suggest that defining “optimal interoperability” is a pipe dream. In some cases, consumers demanded a certain amount interoperability and they got it. But it seems equally obvious that they did not demand perfect interoperability in every case. Few consumers are tripping over their own feet in a mad rush to toss out their XBoxs or iPhones just because they are not perfectly interoperable. On the other hand, since the days of the old “walled garden” hell of AOL, CompuServe, Prodigy, and so on, it would seem that information technology markets are growing more “open” in other ways. You can’t completely lock-down a user’s online experience and expect to win their business over the long haul.

Palfrey and Gasser make that point quite nicely in the book:

Increasingly, though, businesses are seeing the merits of strategies based on openness. A growing number of businesses are pursuing models that incorporate interoperability as a core principle. More and more firms, especially in the information business, are shedding their proprietary approaches in favor of interoperability at multiple levels. The goal is not to be charitable to competitors or customers, of course, but to maximize returns over time by building an ecosystem with others that holds greater promise than the go-it-alone approach (p. 149).

Quite right, but let’s not pretend that any mass market information platforms or systems will ever be perfectly “open” or interoperable. There will always be some limitations on how such systems are used or shared. And that’s just fine once you embrace a more flexible theory of evolutionary interoperability.  Ongoing experiments will get us to a better place.

Conclusion: Let Interop Experiments Continue!

So, let me wrap up by restating my alternative theory of optimal interoperability as succinctly as possible: When in doubt, ongoing, bottom-up, dynamic experimentation will almost always yield better answers than arbitrary intervention and top-down planning. Again, that is not to say that all interoperability experiments will leave society better off in the short-term. Some interoperability experiments and resulting market norms or outcomes can create challenging dilemmas for individuals and institutions. There may be short-term spells of “market power,” for example, and some standards may get locked in longer than some of us think makes sense. If, however, we have faith in humans to solve problems with information and technology, then still more experimentation — not state intervention — is the answer. And that is especially true once you accept the fact that those seeking to intervene have very limited knowledge of all the relevant facts needed to even make wise decisions about the future course of technology markets or information systems.

Some will find my alternative theory of optimal interoperability no more satisfying than Palfrey and Gasser’s since they may find the experimental interop framework too inflexible when it comes to state action. Whereas the frustration with Palfrey and Gasser’s theory will likely flow from their failure to define a coherent standard for when intervention is warranted, my approach solves that problem by suggesting we should largely abandon the endeavor and instead let ongoing market experiments solve interop problems over time. For me, we would need to find ourselves in a veritable whole-world-is-about-to-go-to-hell sort of moment before I could go along with state intervention to tip the interop scales in one direction or another. And, generally speaking, this is exactly the sort of thing that antitrust laws are supposed to address after a clear showing of harm to consumer welfare. Stated differently, to the extent any state intervention to address interoperability can be justified, ex post antitrust remedies should almost always trump ex ante regulatory meddling.

This alternative vision of evolutionary, experimental interoperability will be rejected by those who believe the state has the ability to wisely intervene and nudge markets to achieve “optimal interoperability” through some sort of Goldilocks principle that can supposedly get it just right. For those of us who have doubts about the likelihood of such sagacious state action — especially for fast-paced information sectors — the benefits of ongoing marketplace experimentation far outweigh the costs of letting those experiments run their course.

Regardless, we should be thankful that John Palfrey and Urs Gasser have provided us with a book that so perfectly frames what should be a very interesting ongoing debate over these issues. I encourage everyone to pick up a copy of Interop so you can join us in this important discussion.

Additional Reading:

• the official book site
• buy the book on Amazon or Barnes & Noble
• Follow the authors on Twitter: @JPalfrey & @UGasser
• a video of their Harvard book launch follows:

The New York Times reports that, “Facebook is hoping to do something better and faster than any other technology start-up-turned-Internet superpower. Befriend Washington. Facebook has layered its executive, legal, policy and communications ranks with high-powered politicos from both parties, beefing up its firepower for future battles in Washington and beyond.”  The article goes on to cite a variety of recent hires by Facebook, its new DC office, and its increased political giving.

This isn’t at all surprising and, in one sense, it’s almost impossible to argue with the logic of Facebook deciding to beef up its lobbying presence inside the Beltway. In fact, later in the Times story we hear the same two traditional arguments trotted out for why Facebook must do so: (1) Because everyone’s doing it! and (2) You don’t want be Microsoft, do you?   But I’m not so sure whether “normalizing relations” with Washington is such a good idea for Facebook or other major tech companies, and I’m certainly not persuaded by the logic of those two common refrains regarding why every tech company must rush to Washington.

In an essay I penned for the Cato Institute last November entitled “The Sad State of Cyber-Politics,” I reiterated arguments made a decade earlier by two brilliant men: Cypress Semiconductor CEO T. J. Rodgers and the late great Milton Friedman. Rodgers penned a prescient manifesto for Cato in 2000 with the provocative title: “Why Silicon Valley Should Not Normalize Relations with Washington, D.C.” in which he argued that, “The political scene in Washington is antithetical to the core values that drive our success in the international marketplace and risks converting entrepreneurs into statist businessmen.” A year earlier, Friedman penned another Cato essay called “The Business Community’s Suicidal Impulse” in which he lamented the persistent propensity of companies to persecute one’s competitors using regulation or the threat thereof. What both men stressed was that coming to Washington has a tendency to change a company’s focus and disposition, and not for the better — if you believe in real capitalism, that is, and not the abominable crony capitalism fostered by Washington.

But few in the high-tech world have listened to this logic, especially when the whole rest of the world was falling all over themselves to open a Washington, DC office first in an effort to cover their butts from regulatory encroachments and then later to figure out how the wield the hammer of Big Government to their corporate advantage. I documented numerous examples of the latter in my Cato essay.

I’m not saying that the folks at Facebook are going to be looking to screw over their competitors right away. In fact, I can’t currently think of any examples of how they might.  The company is still firmly in that “cover your butt” period that is common when a hot new digital innovator first comes to DC.  And I certainly can’t blame them for wanting to push back against many misguided forms of Internet regulation, such as free speech controls or heavy-handed privacy regulation.  But I fear there will come a day when they fall in line with many other high-tech companies and trade associations and seek to turn the regulatory state to their advantage.  Only time will tell. And I certainly hope I am wrong.

Regardless, as the folks at Facebook and other high-tech firms ponder their future inside the Beltway, let me ask them to return to the two premises for “normalizing relations” that I cited above and explain why they are not exactly true:

Premise #1: Everyone’s doing it!  Most are, but not all. How active are Apple and Sony to name just two companies without a major DC presence?  Most days of the week, Steve Jobs seems to be giving DC a big middle finger. I’m the last guy in the world you’ll ever hear giving Apple much credit since I hate their products, but Jobs is about the closest thing you’ll find to an Ayn Rand character in Silicon Valley these days.  He seems to do exactly what he wants to build innovative products for consumers and, in the process, ignore all his critics, especially those in Washington. Of course, not everybody can be Steve Jobs in this regard, but I can’t help but wonder: Why don’t more of them try? What if high-tech entrepreneurs just told Washington to buzz off?

Premise #2: You don’t want be Microsoft, do you? The Times article says, “legal analysts say Facebook is hoping to avoid mistakes made by predecessors like Microsoft. And they say the company is becoming politically savvy earlier in its life than Google, whose connections were firmly established once Eric E. Schmidt, the chief executive, advised the Obama presidential campaign and the administration.”

I’ve never really bought into this argument. I think it’s pretty far-fetched to claim, as so many people in this field do, that if Microsoft would have just had a small army of lobbyists here on the ground back in the early 1990s that none of their antitrust problems would have popped up. And regarding Google coming to Washington in the hope of winning friends, well, how’s that working out for them?!  As I noted in my Cato essay:

Everybody — and I do mean everybody — wants Google dead, right now. Google currently serves as the Great Satan in this drama — taking over the role Microsoft filled a decade ago — as just about everyone views it with a combination of envy and enmity.

Indeed, no one could be happier about Facebook coming to town at this moment than Google!  They get to hand the “Great Satan” baton off to Facebook and wish them the best!  Of course, Google’s problems with Washington aren’t done by a long-shot, but I’m quite sure they’re relieved to see Facebook getting grilled more at hearings and events around town these days.

Anyway, in all seriousness, I’ll say the same thing to the fine folks in the Facebook DC office — several of whom I know well — that I’ve said to countless other tech companies here in the Beltway through the years: Stay true to the same principles that made your company so great to begin with.  It wasn’t Washington that built Facebook, or Google, or Microsoft, or any other high-tech innovators; it was entrepreneurial capitalism that did.  Free minds and free markets made the high-tech sector what it is today, not handouts and special favors from Washington. Stick to real capitalism; avoid the crony variety.

I’m going to close out my series of essays about Tim Wu’s new book, The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires, by discussing his proposed solutions.  In the first five essays in the series, [1, 2, 3, 4, 5] I’ve critiqued Wu’s look at information history as well as his use of terms like “market failure,” “laissez-faire” and “open” vs. “closed.”  I argued there’s a great deal of over-simplification, even outright distortion, in his use of those terms throughout the book.

Anyway, let’s run through the basics of the book once more before getting to Wu’s proposed solutions.  By my reading of The Master Switch, Wu’s argument essentially goes something like this:

• Information industries go through cycles. After a period of “openness” and competition, they tend to drift toward “closed,” corporate-controlled, anti-consumer models and outcomes.
• The resulting “monopolists” then block much innovation, competition, and free speech.
• Consequently, “the purely economic laissez-faire approach… is no longer feasible.”
• Moreover, information industries are more important than all others (“information industries… can never be properly understood as ‘normal’ industries”) and even traditional forms of regulation, including antitrust, “are clearly inadequate for the regulation of information industries.” (p. 303).
• Thus, special rules should apply to information-related sectors of our economy.

Again, I’ve challenged some of these assertions in my previous essays, specifically, Wu’s incomplete history of cycles and the fact that he greatly underplays the role of governments in “locking-in” sub-optimal market structures or, worse yet, creating those structures through misguided public policies or regulatory capture.  Wu discusses some of those factors in his book, but he tends to regard them as secondary to the inquiry, whereas I believe they are crucial to understanding how most “closed” or anti-competitive scenarios develop or endure. Instead, Wu simplistically suggests that “the purely economic laissez-faire approach… is no longer feasible,” even though no such state of affairs has ever existed within communications or media industries. They have been subjected to varying levels of indirect influence or direct control almost since their inception.

Regardless, what does Tim Wu want done about the problems he has (mis-)diagnosed?

What Wu Wants: A “Constitutional” Approach to Private Regulation

Broadly speaking, Wu wants to counter what he regards as “the danger of private power,” “the Lockean sanctification of private property,” and the fact that “American economic life [has] been built mostly on freewheeling capitalism.” (p. 300)  More specifically, he wants to end the “cycle” he describes of markets moving from supposedly open to closed.

To do so, he proposes what he calls a “constitutional” approach to private marketplace regulation.  In reality, it would be a massive, unprecedented, and highly destructive information sector industrial policy that would substitute the Rule of Man for the Rule of Law.  But let’s hear how Wu describes it:

What I propose is not a regulatory approach but rather a constitutional approach to the information economy. By that I mean a regime whose goal is to constrain and divide all power that derives from the control of information. Specifically, what we need is something I would call a Separations Principle for the information economy. A Separations Principle would mean the creation of a salutary distance between each of the major functions or layers in the information economy. It would mean that those who develop information, those who control the network infrastructure on which it travels, and those who control the tools or venues of access must be kept apart from one another. At the same time, Separations Principle stipulates one other necessity: that the government also keep its distance and not intervene in the market to favor any technology, network monopoly, or integration of the major functions of an information industry.”  (p. 302, emphasis in original)

Wu calls this a “constitutional approach” because he models it on the separations of power found in the U.S. Constitution, such as the separation of church and State, as well as the separation of powers between branches of government.  Wu makes a few additional assertions:

• “[T]he Separations Principle accepts in advance that some of the benefits of concentration and unified action will be sacrificed, even in ways that may seem painful or costly.” (p. 305)
• But Wu believes that pain or cost is worth it because of the “corrupting effect of vertically integrated power.” (p. 305)
• “You cannot serve two masters, and the objectives of creating information are often at odds with those of disseminating it,” he says. (p. 305)
• Specifically, he claims the Separations Principle would better protect free speech and entrepreneurial freedom. On the former: “It is a recognition that the disposition of firms and industries is, if anything, more critical than the actions of the state in controlling who gets heard.” On the latter: “The Separations Principle protects entrepreneurial freedom by preventing stagnation and repression of business innovation, especially with the help of the state.” (p. 306)

There’s a lot to unpack here including Wu’s stunning claim that his Separations Principle doesn’t represent a regulatory regime, as well as his rather incredible belief that government meddling and machinations could be kept in check under this regime.

First, however, Wu deserves credit for coming clean about just how radical his proposal is.

Constitutional Limits on Governments vs. Private Actors

Wu admits that “It would be quite radical today even to contemplate imposing on the economy the kind of safeguards that the Constitution places on the political system.” (p. 301)  A few pages later he notes that “The Separations Principle… requires a certain breadth and ambition in its application.” (p. 308)

I’m glad Wu was willing to at least acknowledge the radicalness of his proposal.  But, as he is prone to do throughout the book, he raises an important potential objection only to quickly walk away from it.  In this case, however, it’s completely understandable why Wu wouldn’t want to continue this inquiry: His proposal really is “quite radical” since it is completely at odds with America’s constitutional heritage of individual liberty and limited government.

Let’s go back to Civics 101.  We require that governments live under certain constraints and the Rule of Law because we recognize that governments possess the unique ability to fine, punish, and imprison citizens.  Moreover, escape from government’s tentacles is difficult, if not impossible. A constitutional system is required, therefore, to limit government’s role over our lives and the economy.

By contrast, we do not impose similar constraints on individuals — or on individuals when they work collaboratively in organizations or corporations — primarily because we believe there should be a presumption of liberty in most human affairs.  Freedom is the default position.  We value freedom because it allows humans to exercise their free will and live a life of their own choosing — and that includes the freedom to pursue happiness by making money in a business venture.  Our nation’s founders saw the wisdom in this even before we had a grand historical clash between communism and capitalist systems.  From that experience, however, we now have undisputed proof that social and economic freedoms are closely linked, and that when humans are free, they prosper.  The other reason we default to freedom for private individuals and organizations is because the possibility of “escape” exists from undesirable social or economic situations.

Wu doesn’t bother slowing down to appreciate these distinctions. He gives occasional lip service to the dangers of excessive government power:

Again and again in the histories I have recounted, the state has shown itself an inferior arbiter of what is good for the information industries. The federal government’s role in radio and television from the 1920s through the 1960s, for instance, was nothing short of a disgrace…. Government’s tendency to protect large market players amounts to an illegitimate complicity … [particularly its] sense of obligation to protect big industries irrespective of their having become uncompetitive. (p. 308)

Quite right. Yet, as I pointed out in this earlier essay, there’s seemingly never any serious lesson to be drawn from that conclusion.  Wu just marches right along in his narrative and ignores that “disgrace” and its relationship to “the cycle.”

The crucial point here is that Wu doesn’t fully appreciate the qualitative difference between State power and corporate power.  Instead — consistent with many “media access” theorists who came before him — he largely equates those forms of power or even makes private power out to be the more significant threat to personal liberties and freedom of speech.  Again, we hear statements like “the disposition of firms and industries is, if anything, more critical than the actions of the state in controlling who gets heard.”

The problem with this is that (a) history shows it’s simply not true and (b) the corrective remedies such a theory counsels would require a massive enhancement of State power to counter the supposed threats of private power, which (c) would create an even bigger threat to human liberty since only the State can fine, imprison, and truly foreclose speech.

So, I’ll stick with traditional “constitutionalism,” thank you very much!  Tim Wu’s “constitutionalism,” by contrast, is the Rule of Man, not the Rule of Law.  Specifically, it would be the rule of a handful of unelected men (and women) down at the Federal Communications Commission, the Federal Trade Commission, or whatever other regulatory bureaucracies Wu would empower under this approach.   And, as we’ll see next, that approach is truly audacious in its scope.

Practical Considerations: An Unprecedented Information Control Regime

OK, let’s forget about all that philosophical and legalistic mumbo-jumbo.  After all, most people these days don’t really give a hoot about constitutional limitations or the first principles associated with our nation’s founding. Let us instead explore the Bold New World of information regulation that Wu wants imposed on the high-tech economy and consider its complexity and costs.  Wu is a bit short on details about how policymakers should go about constructing a “Separations” regime, or how it will work in practice, but he does suggest that Net neutrality regulation and expanded antitrust oversight are at least two of the core elements. But he says that will not be enough.

Despite the fact that Wu admits the FCC “has on occasion let itself become the enemy of the good, effectively a tool of repression,” Wu seems to suggest the agency will continue to have “day-to-day authority over the information industries.” (p. 309) Of course, the FCC’s role is currently limited mostly to older sectors of the information economy, but Wu seems to suggest that role should be expanded considerably.  Yet, FCC oversight isn’t enough either, Wu says.  He argues that “what is needed is not only an FCC institutionally committed to a Separations Principle but also a structural arrangement to guard against such deviations, including congressional oversight as well as attention and corrections from other branches of government.”

Here the “breadth and ambition in its application” associated with Wu’s Separations Principal becomes more apparent. We are talking about layers upon layers of regulation. More importantly, the key attribute of Wu’s Separations Principle is that it is preemptive and prophylactic in character.  He explicitly rejects the idea that marketplace experimentation should be allowed and that ex post administrative proceedings or antitrust enforcement will be good enough. “[T]here is the problem of taking an after-the-fact approach to a commodity so vital to our basic liberties,” he argues. (p. 204) Thus, Wu’s approach represent a return to the sort of anticipatory, “Mother, May I” regulatory regime America was supposed to be turning away from following the passage of the Telecommunications Act of 1996.

What’s most bizarre about Wu’s call for such a preemptive “Separations” approach is his insistence that it is not a regulatory approach.  It’s hard to know whether this is an astonishing bit of hubris or just plain naiveté.  I hate to suggest it, but I think Wu is perfectly aware of just how regulatory his system would be in practice; he just doesn’t want to admit it.  After all, for there to be “separations” of various segments of the information sector, someone would need to determine who and what belongs in which bucket.  Wu suggests we’ll need at least three buckets. To repeat, he says his Separations Principle “would mean that those who develop information, those who control the network infrastructure on which it travels, and those who control the tools or venues of access must be kept apart from one another.”  Let’s put some labels on these buckets:

• Bucket #1: Information Creators
• Bucket #2: Information Distributors
• Bucket #3: Information Hardware Makers

These would essentially become three of the new “titles” (or regulatory sections) of a forthcoming “Information Economy Separations Act.” (I’m assuming Wu understands it would take an act of Congress to implement this sweeping regime, although he never makes that clear.  Or perhaps he would just prefer the FCC “reclassify” the entire information economy by regulatory fiat? Who knows.  Again, he never really sweats the details on this important point.)

Regardless, the problem with these conceptually neat classifications is that don’t conform to our fast-paced, highly dynamic Information Age economy.  There is a fluidity of innovation and market activity that Wu utterly fails to appreciate.  I suppose it’d be easy to throw a couple of players into these buckets and tell them to stay put.  We could tell T-Mobile, for example, that they could be a wireless information distributor and absolutely nothing else; we could tell Discovery Networks, they could be a content creator and absolutely nothing else; and we could tell Intel, you can be a chip maker and absolutely nothing else.

But not every existing information sector actor or technology is so neatly compartmentalized. Moreover, Wu’s framework also begs the question: Would firms that currently have integrated operations and investments in multiple fields be forced to divest control of various operations to come in line with Wu’s Separations Principle?   Here are a few scenarios to consider (and with each example, ask yourself the question: What’s the harm here to would justify the sort of “separations” regime Wu proposes?):

• Cox Enterprises has a wide variety of content and distribution properties including: broadband services, cable TV channels and distribution systems, newspapers, radio stations, advertising and direct mail divisions, and AutoTrader.com.  How many pieces does the firm need to be split into to comply with Wu’s new “Separations” regime?
• Should an ISP be allowed to develop or offer (or directly integrate into their service) free anti-virus software and parental control technologies since that’s not part of the underlying distribution service? Nearly every major ISP does so already today.
• Even though the experiment was ultimately a failure, should Google have been allowed to break out of the search market and give the handheld device business a shot with the Nexus One?  Likewise, should Google be allowed to continue its experiment with local fiber or wi-fi networks even though it is so clearly outside their traditional line of business?  Finally, should the FCC have disallowed Google’s bid in the 700 MHz spectrum auction back in 2008 since it would have meant the firm was formally entering the information distribution business?
• Which bucket is Microsoft in as a traditional OS and software provider?  Regardless, was it a mistake to allow them to jump into the video game console marketplace with the Xbox many years ago?   Should MS have been forbidden from creating the Zune since it too was a digital device outside of Microsoft’s core field?  Should MS be allowed to have a content division that develops games or other content for its operating systems even though they might be considered two separate information markets?
• Sony produces movie and video game content but also develops hardware (video game consoles, televisions, music players, phones, etc.) on which that content can be played. Should that be illegal? Would they have to divest some of these divisions once Wu’s system went into effect?
• Apple is the ultimate example of an information hardware manufacturer that has not only diversified its hardware offerings from PCs to iPods, iPhones and iPads, but also become a (if not the) leading information distributor for digital music, movies, television shows, podcasts, books and audiobooks through iTunes.  The company’s Apps store also makes it a key distributor of software.  What bucket is it in?
• Should Amazon be allowed to be both the biggest online marketplace as well as the manufacturer of a device (the Kindle) that offers access to that store?

I could go on and on, but here’s the crucial point: Creating firewalls between the buckets Wu proposes would be a nightmare and would entail incessant regulatory interventions to make sure the walls weren’t breached.  As suggested above, the very act of regulatory line-drawing would be mind-bogglingly complex.  More importantly, each new information sector innovation would suddenly be subjected to a regulatory classification proceeding.

Wu is essentially saying there are few integrative efficiencies or other economic benefits associated with cross-sector deals or cross-platform technological developments.  Again, he dismisses the notion with one line: “[T]he Separations Principle accepts in advance that some of the benefits of concentration and unified action will be sacrificed, even in ways that may seem painful or costly.” (p. 305)  Well, that’s nice… except that this regulatory system would upend the U.S. information economy as we know it!  His Separations Principle is an unprecedented regulatory wrecking ball that would do untold destruction to the American economy in the name of creating a system of information apartheid. Wu also completely ignores the litigation nightmare that would ensue once the government started forcing the divestiture of various lines of business.  After all, many companies would likely have valid “takings” claims here under the Fifth Amendment.

But even if we could get beyond all that, we’d have to consider how this regime would work going forward.  Let’s consider a hypothetical example.  Virtual reality is an emerging field of our information economy that promises to experience rapid growth in coming years.  A number of companies are currently developing content and devices that will help bring a veritable Star Trek holodeck experience to our living rooms sometime very soon.  The market is still in a great deal of flux and it remains unclear which technologies will prevail or which developers and device makers will prosper.  One thing we know for certain, however: it’s a hugely complex and expensive undertaking.  VR technologies aren’t like creating a YouTube video of your cat playing a piano. There are significant costs associated with developing VR content and devices. Distributing VR bits over networks will, no doubt, be quite complicated as well.  Now, imagine two scenarios (which, for all I know, may already be playing out in the marketplace today):

• Scenario 1: A partnership is announced between some cutting-edge VR companies that have different core competencies in this field.  One of the companies is developing holographic imaging devices to project immersive environments directly into your living room or workspace.  Another of the partners is developing games that would take advantage of those new holographic imaging innovations.  And a third partner in the deal is developing software that will help manage the real-time, high-bandwidth flow of VR bits across broadband lines.  Under Wu’s Separations Principle, would this deal be illegal?
• Scenario 2: All of the activities discussed above are being handled by a single, integrated firm.  Is that illegal under Wu’s Separations Principle?

Now, it would be easy to dismiss this scenario with a casual wave of the hand and a ‘we’ll-figure-it-out-later’ attitude.  But consider the fact that deals and developments like this are happening every single minute of the day our modern information economy.  One wonders how regulators would even be expected to keep track of it all.  And they would have to keep track of it all because, again, Wu’s Separations Principle is preemptive and prophylactic in character.  His regulatory regime is going to have to come to grips with that fact that innovation happens. Markets evolve. People want to experiment and do bold new things. They tinker. They develop. They pitch. They deal. And so on.  As that dynamic process unfolds every day across the high-tech economy, Wu’s Separations Principle will be put to the test and necessitate a regulatory proceeding of some sort to determine what is permitted and what is verboten.  Meanwhile, the very uncertainty associated with Wu’s regime would delay and discourage investment in the field and formation of the partnership/venture necessary to successfully bring VR to market

Astonishingly, however, Wu argues that “a Separations regime would take much of the guesswork and impressionism, and indeed the influence trafficking, out of the oversight of information industries.” (p. 307) That’s a doozy of a claim.  To the extent his Separations Principle eliminates “guesswork” and creates more regulatory certainty, it would only do so by creating rigid artificial barriers to market entry and innovation across the information economy.  That’s “certainty” that we can live without.

Conclusion

Over on Amazon.com, I was interested to see Tim Wu post a glowing review of Kevin Kelly’s important new book, What Technology Wants (which I will be reviewing here next).  Kelly’s book argues that we should think of technology, or what he calls “the Technium,” as a “force” or even a living “organism” that has a “vital spirit” and which “has its own wants” and “a noticeable measure of autonomy.”  I think Kelly goes a bit far, but to the extent one buys into the notion that technology is like an organism, Tim Wu’s Information Industrial Policy would kill that organism.  Or, it would at least severely stunt its continued growth and evolution.

Because his information industry policy is every bit as “radical” as he suggests and would require, as he also admits, “a certain breadth and ambition in its application,” it is essential we reject this innovation-killing regulatory regime.  The health of the high-tech economy, the global competitiveness of the U.S. technology sector, and the long-term welfare of consumers depends upon it.

by Berin Szoka & Adam Thierer, Progress Snapshot 5.11 (PDF)

Ten years ago, Nobel Prize-winning economist Milton Friedman lamented the “Business Community’s Suicidal Impulse:” the persistent propensity to persecute one’s competitors through regulation or the threat thereof. Friedman asked: “Is it really in the self-interest of Silicon Valley to set the government on Microsoft?” After yesterday’s FCC vote’s to open a formal “Net Neutrality” rule-making, we must ask whether the high-tech industry—or consumers—will benefit from inviting government regulation of the Internet under the mantra of “neutrality.”

The hatred directed at Microsoft in the 1990s has more recently been focused on the industry that has brought broadband to Americans’ homes (Internet Service Providers) and the company that has done more than any other to make the web useful (Google). Both have been attacked for exercising supposed “gatekeeper” control over the Internet in one fashion or another. They are now turning their guns on each other—the first strikes in what threatens to become an all-out, thermonuclear war in the tech industry over increasingly broad neutrality mandates. Unless we find a way to achieve “Digital Détente,” the consequences of this increasing regulatory brinkmanship will be “mutually assured destruction” (MAD) for industry and consumers.

New Fronts in the Neutrality Wars

The FCC’s proposed rules would apply to all broadband providers, including wireless, but not to Google or many other players operating in other layers of the Net who favor such broadband-specific rules. With this rulemaking looming, AT&T came after Google with letters to the FCC in late September and then another last week accusing the company of violating neutrality principles in their business practices and arguing that any neutrality rules that apply to ISPs should apply equally to Google’s panoply of popular services. In particular, AT&T accused Google of “search engine bias,” suggesting that only government-enforced neutrality mandates could protect consumers from Google’s supposed “monopolist” control.

The promise made yesterday by the FCC—to only apply neutrality principles to the infrastructure layer of the Net—is hollow and will ultimately prove unenforceable. The reality is that regulation always spreads. The march of regulation can sometimes be glacial, but it is, sadly, almost inevitable: Regulatory regimes grow but almost never contract. Indeed, in some ways, the prediction we made just three weeks ago is already coming true: The basic premise of neutrality regulation is already being proposed for other layers of the Internet—and not just by AT&T in retaliation. One need not agree with all of AT&T’s accusations to recognize that, whatever the FCC might say today, any large online intermediary with a popular platform potentially faces the threat of “network neutrality” mandates—because every platform is essentially a “network,” too. We’re not just talking about “search neutrality” (Google as well as Microsoft) but also about “device neutrality” (mobile handsets), “app neutrality” (Apple’s iTunes store, Facebook’s developers and Google’s Android mobile OS) and so on for social networking, email, instant messaging, online advertising, etc.

An open letter sent to FCC Chairman Julius Genachowski this week by 28 founders and CEOs of leading application providers—including Amazon, Google, Facebook, Netflix, Craigslist, Sony and Twitter—speaks generally about the need for the FCC to enforce a “guarantee of neutral, nondiscriminatory access by users.” While many of these signatories may have in mind ISPs as the network “gatekeepers” that need to be reined in by the FCC, the more successful among them are likely to find this letter used against them in the future—perhaps even by co-signatories—to advance a broad conception of what the government must do to ensure “openness” and “access” for platforms at all layers of the Internet.

Dumb Networks, Dumb Devices

The intellectual foundations for this regulatory creep have already been laid by groups like Free Press and Public Knowledge and law professors like Columbia’s Tim Wu, Harvard’s Jonathan Zittrain and Seton Hall’s Frank Pasquale. As originally conceived by Tim Wu in 2003, “network neutrality” is not unique to broadband networks: “the basic economic problem found in the network neutrality debate (a form of ‘platform exclusion’ or ‘vertical foreclosure’) can be found in many other markets.” Indeed, Wu’s popular Net Neutrality FAQ declares:

The promotion of network neutrality is no different than the challenge of promoting fair evolutionary competition in any privately owned environment, whether a telephone network, operating system, or even a retail store. Government regulation in such contexts invariably tries to help ensure that the short-term interests of the owner do not prevent the best products or applications becoming available to end-users.

Zittrain picked up where Wu left off in The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It—attacking, as the enemies of innovation, not ISPs but the supposedly “closed” platforms of Apple, TiVo and Microsoft’s Xbox. Zittrain warns that:

If there is a present worldwide threat to neutrality in the movement of bits, it comes not from restrictions on traditional Internet access that can be evaded using generative PCs, but from enhancements to traditional and emerging appliancized services that are not open to third-party tinkering.

Zittrain’s general solution is “API [Applications Programming Interface] neutrality:” If you create a platform (whether hardware or software) and begin allowing third-party contributions (“generativity”), you will lose all control over devices or applications that can run on that platform.

Those who offer open APIs on the Net in an attempt to harness the generative cycle ought to remain application-neutral after their efforts have succeeded, so all those who built on top of their interface can continue to do so on equal terms…. [N]etwork neutrality ought to be applied to the new platforms of Web services that, in turn, depend on Internet connectivity to function.

Clearly, if Zittrain and his allies have their way, the sort of neutrality mandates envisioned by the FCC or some Congressmen for ISPs will eventually cover companies such as Apple, Google, Facebook, Myspace, Twitter and Amazon—all singled out by Zittrain in a New York Times op-ed in July:

If the market settles into a handful of gated cloud communities whose proprietors control the availability of new code, the time may come to ensure that their platforms do not discriminate. Such a demand could take many forms, from an outright regulatory requirement to a more subtle set of incentives — tax breaks or liability relief — that nudge companies to maintain the kind of openness that earlier allowed them a level playing field on which they could lure users from competing, mighty incumbents.

Frank Pasquale agrees on the need to restrain all “the dominant players at all layers of online life,” but focuses on his demand for a Federal Search Commission to control supposedly “biased” search results. While the FCC wrings its hands over “managed services” offered by ISPs, search engines are increasingly offering their own value-added services by “blending” algorithmically-derived results with special features like maps, videos, books or music depending on what the search term suggests the user is interested in. “Artificially” ensuring that these features appear on the first page of search results is clearly non-neutral, and necessarily involves search engines making ”managed” decisions as to whose features to include. Yet such features also clearly benefit users—dramatically improving the usefulness of search engines and helping to sustain struggling business models like music retailing.

But one need not resort to the works of “ivory tower” academics to see the slippery slope we’re already tumbling down with the infinitely elastic principle of “neutrality.” The prospect of the FCC gradually transforming into a “Federal Information Commission” becomes more apparent when one reads the Wireless Innovation and Investment Notice of Inquiry recently released by the FCC:

As other approaches, such as cloud computing, evolve, will established standards or de facto standards become more important to the applications development process? For example, can a dominant cloud computing position raise the same competitive issues that are now being discussed in the context of network neutrality? Will it be necessary to modify the existing balance between regulatory and market forces to promote further innovation in the development and deployment of new applications and services?

One can imagine how some might use such language to accuse Google of being in “a dominant cloud computing position” such that “the context of network neutrality” will be applied to cloud service (like Google Voice) to “modify the existing balance between regulatory and market forces” through regulation. Indeed, that’s precisely what AT&T has suggested in recent letters (September 25 ^th and October 14 ^th) to the FCC.

AT&T’s partner Apple has already been the subject of such attacks for its decision to block the Google Voice app earlier this summer. The incident marked the beginning of open warfare between Google and AT&T/Apple. The FCC quickly jumped into the mix, first questioning how Apple manages its iTunes apps store for the iPhone, then questioning how Google runs its free Voice application. What legal authority the FCC has over either service is far from clear, but Apple seems to have gotten the message: It recently approved the Spotify music streaming app for the iPhone, which could be a serious competitive threat to the iTunes music store. This small incident highlights how easily regulators can impose their will through informal mechanisms like open-ended investigations even without clear authority to issue rules or bring enforcement actions. Yet none dare call it what it is: regulatory blackmail.

The Inevitability of Regulatory Capture

No doubt, other industry players will cheer on such regulatory harassment of the titans of tech—and maybe even demand more of it. Regulatory creep is driven by more than the self-interests of every bureaucracy to expand its own mission, budget and staff. As the Electronic Frontier Foundation has noted, “Experience shows that the FCC is particularly vulnerable to regulatory capture.” While lobbyists play an important role in defending business from government, all too many businesses naively look at government as a beast that can be tamed, trained, and turned to one’s own advantage, and often try to use the expanding regulatory apparatus to their own advantage or simply throw their competitors under the bus to save themselves. The result is a Hobbesian regulatory “war of all against all” within industry.

As Professor Alfred E. Kahn explained in his 2-volume opus, The Economics of Regulation, all regulation—however high-minded—is inevitably captured by special interests because:

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.

If Internet regulation follows the same course as other industries, the FCC and/or lawmakers will eventually indulge calls by all sides to bring more providers and technologies “into the regulatory fold.” Clearly, this process has already begun. Even before rules are on the books, the companies that have made America the leader in the Digital Revolution are turning on each other in a dangerous game of brinksmanship, escalating demands for regulation and playing right into the hands of those who want to bring the entire high-tech sector under the thumb of government—under an Orwellian conception of “Internet Freedom” that makes corporations the real Big Brother, and government, our savior.

Toward a Less MAD World: Digital Détente

Sincere defenders of real Internet Freedom—that is, freedom from government techno-meddling—recognize that there will always be disputes over how companies deal with each other online across all layers of the Internet. The question is not whether we need a technical coordinating mechanism for handling such disputes. Someone should mediate conflicts over alleged deviations from abstract neutrality principles. But should that arbitrator be an inherently political body like FCC? Or should we instead look to truly independent, apolitical arbitrators like the Internet Engineering Task Force or collaborative efforts like the Network Neutrality Squad? Such alternative dispute resolution mechanisms and fora need not have the power of law to be effective: The weight of their expert opinion, based on careful investigation of the facts, would likely resolve most disputes, because companies have strong reputational incentives to comply with reasoned rulings by truly neutral experts. And the white hot spotlight of public attention has a way of disciplining marketplace behavior as well.

Government would still have a role to play, of course, in enforcing antitrust laws where anticompetitive harm to consumers can be proven, and in enforcing the promises companies make to consumers. Ultimately, however, certain business models and technologies require non-neutral treatment, and the best remedy for concerns about non-neutrality is competition itself: In the high-tech sector more than any other, disruptive innovation makes it difficult for even the most successful companies to stay on top forever. Competitive entry—or even the threat of new entry—provides a powerful check on the power of so-called “gatekeepers,” but even more important is the prospect that today’s leaders will be tomorrow’s laggards: There’s little reason to think Google (search and advertising), Apple (smart phones and music) and Facebook (social networking) won’t someday find themselves playing catch-up, just as IBM (computers), Microsoft (desktop software and search), Friendster and MySpace (social networking), and Yahoo! and AOL (web portals) have had to do.

“Digital Détente” would require that all parties concede something and work constructively toward a more “peaceful” ( i.e., less regulatory) resolution. And yet, no Internet company wants to disarm unilaterally, foreswearing politics as a continuation of competition by other means. Only through multilateral disarmament could they break out of the current cycle of regulatory one-upmanship: If the companies in the Internet ecosystem could form a united front against increased government regulation and in favor of removing existing regulatory obstacles to competition, they could all return to their core competencies of creativity and innovation.

The alternative is a regulatory “nuclear winter”: high-tech titans turning their political fire on each other, catching innocent third parties in the cross-fire and bringing a dark cloud of government regulation over the entire Internet. Such increased regulation would stifle investment and innovation throughout the Internet ecosystem. Thus, it is consumers who will ultimately suffer most from the tech industry’s suicidal impulse, as their choices and digital lives are impoverished. For their sake, we hope all industry players will step back from the brink to avoid such high-tech mutually assured destruction.

NSFDelicateEars, but it’s sheer brilliance, after the break.

How much platform competition is too much competition? For example, what is the optimal number of mobile operating systems or video game consoles that will spur competition and innovation in those respective sectors?

It is an interesting business question, but it also has some policy implications since some might propose laws or regulations to remedy a perceived lack of platform competition in various sectors. After all, many people would answer the above question by saying that there is never such a thing as too much competition. The more platforms the better. But there can be costs associated with too much competition. Let’s consider those two case studies mentioned above: mobile operating systems or video game consoles.

Mobile Operating Systems As my colleague Berin Szoka has pointed out, we are witnessing the rapid proliferation of mobile operating systems, especially on the open source front. So, we’ve got Apple’s iPhone platform, Microsoft’s Windows Mobile, Symbian, Google’s Android, the LiMo platform, and OpenMoko.

One one hand, all this platform competition sounds great. But as Ben Worthen of the Wall Street Journal’s “Business Tech Blog” points out in a piece today:

there’s a new platform war being waged, but this time the battleground is mobile devices. The bad news for businesses looking to standardize on a winner: The most likely outcome is multiple survivors. […] In fact, rather than consolidating, the number of platforms for which developers can write mobile-device software keeps growing, says Benjamin Gray, an analyst at Forrester Research. That’s a challenge for businesses, in part because workers increasingly want to be able to choose the device that they think is the best fit for their life. In the PC world, the answer would be simple: Write software that people access over the Internet through a Web browser, which isn’t dependent on an operating system. But most devices can’t connect to the Internet at the speed necessary to run such software, Mr. Gray says. And besides, screen size varies from device to device, meaning that software that looks good on one might not on another. Add it all together and it means that businesses need to pick and choose their battles. It’s probably wise to let workers who only need to access email or software that runs on multiple mobile platforms use whatever device they choose. But it probably won’t be cost-effective to give the same choice to workers who have to access custom-developed software through their devices — not unless a business wants to spend the time and money developing a version of the software for every platform out there.

This is the other side of the platform competition coin that many people never consider, especially in the policy arena. At some point, increased mobile OS competition is going to impose serious costs on application developers looking to push their innovations our far and wide, and as quickly as possible.

Consider a really exciting new mobile application like Loopt, which I have written about here before. Loopt is a great little mobile app that allows users to instantly geo-locate each other and network in ways unimaginable just a few years ago. Loopt has been working hard to make its service available on as many platforms as possible, but the company has to deal with dozens of handsets and a growing number of OS platforms used by multiple carriers. A friend of mine who works with Loopt was telling me this week how this is really making it difficult for Loopt to push its technology out as far and wide as they would like. With each new handset, carrier, and OS standard, the company faces formidable development costs. Essentially, Loopt needs an in-house development team for each standard.

Thus, it is possible to reach a point of diminishing returns in terms of platform competition. While few would call for an mobile operating system monopoly, a world of dozens of competing standards could hurt product development and diffusion.

Video Game Consoles The same principle applies to video game console competition and its effect on innovation. Some would say that there is already far too much platform competition in this field. Consider the platforms or consoles that game developers must code for just here in the United States: Microsoft Xbox 360 and the older Xbox, Sony PS3 and the old PS2, Sony PlayStation Portable, Nintendo Wii, Nintendo DS, sometimes the Mac, and finally the good old PC platform. Large developers have the scale and resources to develop new games for most of those platforms. (For example, EA’s latest “Madden 08” football game is being developed for all of those platforms. But most developers don’t have the resources to match Electronic Arts and can’t develop for all those platforms.

It is ironic, therefore, that EA has actually been making waves lately by calling for a single gaming platform or standard. Gerhard Florin, a senior executive at EA, told BBC News last year that proliferating platform competition has made life harder for developers and consumers. “We want an open, standard platform which is much easier than having five which are not compatible,” he argued.

So, when even Electronic Arts is saying there’s too much competition in this regard, you know something is up. After all, it would be in their competitive advantage to absorb the costs associated with multi-platform development since smaller competitors can’t match that sort of multi-platform capital outlay.

How steep are those development costs? And what does it mean for both developers and consumers of games? I think Matt Peckman over at PC World has done a pretty good job summarizing the costs:

Just remember, having too many choices can be just as onerous as having none. I don’t know about you, but I play games, not hardware. An open-standard approach to the engine under the hood sounds like it’d give me more choices in terms of software and peripherals long term, not fewer. […] A unified game hardware architecture would make life for software studios dramatically easier. It levels the playing field and simultaneously increases competition by pitting more developers against each other. It says “Everyone has access to the same toolset, so you can stop complaining about how hard X is to code for or worrying about allocating resources to different teams for different platforms, and instead simply focus on making really, really, really mind-bending stuff for one system.”

Of course, there is another side to the story. Video game platform competition has yielded remarkable innovations at the console level. I can think of at least three ways this is true:

(1) The race to constantly increase processing power: Just look at the competition between Microsoft and Sony to produce state of the art graphical capabilities by packing massive processing power into their the new machines. (2) Unique innovations in console peripheral devices: If we only had one gaming console or standard, would we have ever seen Nintendo’s amazing motion sensitive controller for the Wii? (3) The race to develop consoles that are not just gaming devices, but are full-blown integrated entertainment hubs. I use my XBox 360 and Sony PS3 to download all sorts of movie and TV content — especially high-def movies and new movie trailers. I can also use those consoles to ship my media around my house from computer to computer.

But do such benefits outweigh the costs? Would it be the case, as Matt Peckman suggest above, that reallocating resources to single platform development would result in “really, really, really mind-bending stuff for one system”? The problem with that logic is that we already have some really mind-bending stuff being developed for the multiple platforms these days. Think “Gears of War” (exclusive to XBox), “Metal Gear Solid” (exclusive to PS3), and “World of Warcraft” (exclusive to PC). Then again, why should we need to own 3 different platforms to play these 3 wonderfully innovative games?

In sum, there are profound trade-offs at work when we think about platform competition, whether we are talking about video games or mobile operating systems. There is no right answer to the question of how many platforms is too many. Markets decide these things in an evolutionary way over time. I think it is exciting that we are lucky enough to live in a world where intense platform competition is possible and new entrants are free to jump in the game at any time. That being said, I am equally comfortable with the fact that markets might eventually settle for fewer platforms — perhaps even a single standard — at other times. So long as that process is the result of natural market evolution, and not artificial government choices, I am fine with it.

To: Hon. David Patterson, Governor, State of New York From: Adam Thierer, life-long gamer and Senior Fellow at the Progress & Freedom Foundation Date: July 17, 2008 Re: That video game bill (A. 11717/ S. 6401) you have been asked to sign

Dear Gov. Patterson:

I write today to ask a few questions about a measure that is currently sitting on your desk awaiting your signature. The measure (A. 11717/ S. 6401), which recently passed through the New York legislature, proposes a new regulatory regime for video games. It would include greater state-based oversight of video game labels and console controls as well as an advisory board to monitor the industry.

As a life-long gamer—and now the parent of two young gamers—this is a subject I care deeply about. I also come at this topic from an academic perspective as someone who analyzes the intersection of child safety concerns and free speech issues surrounding various types of media and communications technologies. I am the author of a frequently-updated book, Parental Controls & Online Child Safety: A Survey of Tools & Methods, which provides a comprehensive look at the many tools and methods on the market today that can help parents deal with concerns about objectionable media content.

But mostly I write you today from the perspective of someone who just enjoys games. Actually, let me clarify that: I am utterly infatuated with video games. Gaming has been a life-long passion of mine and something I have enjoyed with friends and family since I owned my very first PONG and Atari 2600 systems in the 1970s. Since then, I have owned virtually every major video game console sold in the United States. Even today, as I approach 40 years of age, I find myself sitting down many nights to enjoy games with my son and daughter on the Xbox 360 and Sony PS3 consoles that we have in our home.

Like millions of other Americans, gaming is now fully integrated into the fabric of my life and the lives of my children. It has become one of the most enjoyable media experiences for my generation and the generation of kids that we are raising. And, although I am certain that the New York legislature had the best of intentions in mind when passing this bill, I believe I speak for a great number of those other American gamers when I say that the measure on your desk is somewhat of an insult to our intelligence. Let me explain by raising a few questions about this bill, which I will argue is unnecessary, unworkable, and unconstitutional: •
Why does this bill impose mandatory labeling requirements when all video games sold at retail are already clearly rated and labeled? The bill demands that every game bear labels describing its content, but such a labeling scheme already exists. As any parent or game buyer can tell you, every video game container has detailed content descriptors on the cover that clearly tell you what you can expect to see or hear in the game. These ratings and labels, which are created and enforced by the Entertainment Software Rating Board (ESRB), are highly specialized. The ESRB applies seven different rating symbols and over 30 different content descriptors to every game it rates. Since the New York bill is particularly concerned about the labeling of violent content, you should be aware that the ESRB has over a dozen descriptors just for violent forms of content. That makes it perfectly clear to the parent if the game contains merely “mild violence” or “cartoon violence” or, at the other extreme, “intense violence” or “sexual violence.”

Does the New York legislature imagine that parents are unaware of these ratings or labels? Frankly, I don’t see how anyone could miss them. Again, they are on every game box and can be found online via the ESRB’s website or other gaming sites and media watchdog sites. And survey data shows that parents are aware of these labels. Surveys by Peter D. Hart Research Associates reveal that 89% of American parents of children who play video games are aware of the ESRB ratings and that 85% consult the ratings regularly when buying games for their families. And those numbers have risen every year for the past decade. The Federal Trade Commission has also praised the industry for those ratings and descriptors and for the industry’s efforts to make the public more aware of them.

In light of these facts, why does the New York legislature believe any additional labeling requirements are necessary?

•
Why does this bill require mandatory parental controls when every gaming console already includes them? The bill also requires that every new video game console be equipped with technology that can allow parents to block access to certain video game content. Well, Governor, I have good news to report… those tools already exist! Every new console (Microsoft Xbox 360, Sony PS3, and Nintendo Wii) recognizes the ESRB’s digitally embedded ratings in games and offers blocking tools that allow parents to prevent games rated above a certain designation from being played on the system. These tools are quite sophisticated, and parents can even employ additional controls to block online purchases and interactive chat while their kids are gaming.

Again, does the New York legislature imagine that parents are unaware of these controls? That’s equally hard to fathom in light of how easy it is to find and set up these controls. Moreover, the industry has spent a great deal of time and money promoting these controls and making the public aware of them.

•
Isn’t the New York legislature aware of the fact that parents spend good money on consoles and games? In my book on Parental Controls & Online Child Safety, I note that the ultimate parental control tool is the “power of the purse” that parents can exercise when their kids come to them asking for money for new media titles or technologies. Although this isn’t a fact that the video game likes to advertise about itself, one of the reasons that its ratings and parental controls have been so much more effective than the systems that preceded them is because the price tag is so much higher than other media! New consoles cost hundreds of dollars, and most new game titles retail for $40 to $60.

Few parents would blindly hand their children that sort of money and leave their kids free to purchase whatever they desire. Thus, when kids ask for gaming consoles or game titles that cost that much, it creates a heightened sense of interest or concern by parents about what it is that their child is consuming. Again, in light of this fact, why does the New York legislature feel it must act in loco parentis?

•
Why an “advisory council” just for video games? The bill also calls for a 16-member “Advisory Council on Interactive Media and Youth Violence” that would study whether there is a relationship between gaming and youth violence. It’s tough to be against anyone “studying” anything, but one wonders if the body would become a politicized mess with endless in-fighting about a topic that has already been exhaustively researched and debated in other venues. Moreover, if we are simply hoping for still more “study” of this issue, let’s not forget that some of the nation’s finest universities reside in the State of New York! Why not just let one of them convene events or task forces to study this issue?

More importantly, why is it that video games are being singled-out for oversight by a state-run commission when other media providers have no similar overseers? Why not an advisory council for books, for example? After all, they can be checked out of any library free-of-charge, and there are plenty of titles in most libraries that include violent themes.

Finally, what sort of authority does this advisory council possess? Will it become a taxpayer-supported platform for anti-gaming activism that is masqueraded as social science? Will it seek to compel game developers to self-censor content that many in the gaming public demand? Will the focus and powers of this advisory entity grow over time? What is to prevent that from happening?

•
Isn’t the New York legislature aware that federal oversight already takes place? For over a decade, the Federal Trade Commission has been monitoring the video game industry’s practices. The FTC has also issued a reoccurring report, Marketing Violent Entertainment to Children, which surveys the marketing and advertising practices of major media sectors. As mentioned, the video game industry has been praised by the FTC for its improved efforts to curb underage access to objectionable materials. Why, then, is state-level regulation necessary? And will New York’s effort spawn additional state-based “oversight” efforts leading to a patchwork of conflicting state standards or expectations about game content or game industry behavior?

•
Do we really need another constitutional catfight? This measure will almost certainly be litigated. A dozen federal courts have ruled that video game content represents constitutionally protected speech and that efforts to regulate that speech will be subjected to strict scrutiny. The concerns I have raised above each present an issue or angle that could be challenged in court. So, get ready for another lengthy, unnecessary legal battle. The state will likely lose and then also be on the hook for the industry’s attorney’s fees. Which begs a final question…

•
Aren’t there better ways to spend the money? Every dollar spent by both industry and government litigating these issues is a dollar that could have been spent on something else. Similarly, every dollar spent by the advisory council is a dollar that could have been spent elsewhere. Here’s an idea: Instead of wasting the money on litigation and advisory councils that will accomplish nothing, how about a commitment by both industry and government to redouble their efforts to make consumers more aware of the excellent parental controls and labeling system already at their disposal?

In recent years, the game industry has been partnering with federal and state lawmakers to run public service announcements of that variety. And the industry has also stepped up the production and dissemination of promotional materials to build awareness of parental control tools. The more of that the better. That is the constructive, constitutional solution. Education—not regulation—is the path forward.

Gov. Patterson, I do hope you will take these facts under consideration as you sit down to contemplate signing this measure. Countless gamers, and even gaming parents, are growing tired of the seemingly endless witch hunt surrounding video games. The moral panic and rush to regulate on this front is all too reminiscent of past battles over comic books, rock-and-roll music, cinema, and so on. If we learned anything from those episodes it is this: Moral panics and regulatory responses are never the best way to respond to concerns about objectionable content or child safety.

Instead, we must be willing to talk to our kids in an open, understanding and loving fashion about the realities of this world, including the distasteful bits. And, to the extent curbs on underage consumption of potentially objectionable media are necessary, that process should be driven by voluntary, not compulsory, efforts. That includes industry self-regulation, voluntary content labeling efforts, a variety of parental control tools, and education and awareness-building initiatives. Most importantly, we should trust parents to do the job of rearing their children and not expect the State of New York to serve as our national nanny.

Don’t judge a book by its cover (or its title, for that matter). I’m usually faithful to that maxim, but I must admit that when I first saw the title and cover of “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grand-Theft-Childhood-Surprising-Violent/dp/0743299515/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1208179493&sr=8-1″>Grand Theft Childhood: The Surprising Truth About Violent Video Games and What Parents Can Do,” I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, “here we go again.” I figured that I was in for another tedious anti-gaming screed full of myths and hysteria about games and gamers. Boy, was I wrong. Massively wrong.