Co-authored with Adam Thierer

Why would progressives abandon the most successful progressive technology policy ever formulated?

In a recent piece in The Washington Spectator , Marc Rotenberg and Larry Irving have some harsh words for progressives’ supposed starry-eyed treatment of Internet firms and the Clinton Administration policies that helped give rise to the modern digital economy. They argue that the Internet has failed to live up to its promise in part because “[p]rogressive leaders moved away from progressive values on tech issues, and now we live with the consequences.”

But if the modern Internet we know today is truly the result of progressive’s self-repudiation, then we owe them and the Clinton Administration a debt of gratitude, not a lecture.

Unfortunately, Rotenberg and Irving take a different perspective. They criticize progressives for standing aside while “a new mantra of ‘multistakeholder engagement’” replaced traditional regulatory governance structures, unleashing a Pandora’s Box of “self-regulatory processes” that failed to keep the private sector accountable to the public.

Rotenberg and Irving are also upset that the First Amendment rights of Internet companies have received stronger support following the implementation of Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which was enacted by Congress in 1996 and signed into law by President Clinton as part of the Telecommunications Act of 1996.

All of this could have been avoided, they argue, if the Clinton Administration had instead embraced the creation of a National Information Infrastructure (NII) to govern the Internet. As part of its 1993 proposed “ Agenda for Action ,” the Clinton White House toyed with the idea that “[d]evelopment of the NII can help unleash an information revolution that will change forever the way people live, work, and interact with each other,” citing specific examples of how it would: empower people to “live almost anywhere they wanted, without foregoing opportunities for useful and fulfilling employment”; make education “available to all students, without regard to geography, distance, resources, or disability”; and permit healthcare and other social needs to be delivered “on-line, without waiting in line, when and where you needed them.” Luckily, all these things came to pass precisely because the Clinton Administration went a different route, ignoring the heavy-handed regulatory approach offered by early tech policy wonks and opting instead to embrace a different governance framework: The Framework for Global Electronic Commerce .

The 1997 Framework outlined a succinct, market-oriented vision for the Internet and the emerging digital economy. It envisioned a model of cyberspace governance that relied on multistakeholder collaboration and ongoing voluntary negotiations and agreements to find consensus on the new challenges of the information age. Policy was to be formulated in an organic, bottom-up, and fluid fashion. This was a stark and welcome break from the failed top-down technocratic regulatory regimes of the analog era, which had long held back innovation and choice in traditional communications and media sectors.

“Where governmental involvement is needed,” The Framework advised, “its aim should be to support and enforce a predictable, minimalist, consistent and simple legal environment for commerce.” The result was one of the most amazing explosions in innovation our nation and, indeed, the entire world had ever witnessed. It was precisely the flexibility of multistakeholder governance—as well as the strong support for the free flow of speech and commerce —that unleashed this tsunami of technological progress.  

It’s strange, then, that Rotenberg and Irving decry the era of “multistakeholder engagement” that the Clinton Administration Framework presaged, especially because they included similar provisions in their own frameworks. For example, in “ A Public-Interest Vision of the National Information Infrastructure ,” the authors specifically called for “democratic policy-making” in the governance of the emerging Internet, arguing that “[t]he public should be fully involved in policy-making for the information infrastructure.” They go even further by citing the value of “participatory design,” which emphasized iterative experimentation and information feedback loops (learning by doing) in the process of designing network standards and systems. These “[n]ew approaches,” Rotenberg and Irving argue, “combine the centralized and decentralized models, obtaining the benefits of each while avoiding their deficiencies.” Embracing “[b]oth participatory design and the experimental approach to standardization,” they concluded, would “achieve the benefits of democratic input to design and policy-making without sacrificing the technical advantages of consistency and elegance of design.”

On this point, Rotenberg and Irving are correct. Unfortunately, it seems their valuation of such processes do not apply to the regulatory structures overseeing these technologies. This is despite the “Agenda for Action” explicitly calling for the NII to “complement … the efforts of the private sector” by “work[ing] in close partnership with business, labor, academia, the public, Congress, and state and local government.” What’s more “multistakeholder” than that?

For all their lamentations of the multistakeholder process, Rotenberg and Irving engaged in that very process in the 1990s. Their proposals had their shot at convincing the Clinton Administration that a national regulatory agency governing the Internet was necessary to usher in the digital age. And in one of those ironic twists of history, they failed to get their agency, but nevertheless bore witness to the emergence of a free and open Internet where innovation and progress still flourish.

We shouldn’t lose sight of this miraculous achievement and the public policies that made it all possible. There’s nothing “progressive” about rolling back the clock in the way Rotenberg and Irving recommend. Instead, America should double-down on the Clinton Administration’s vision for innovation policy by embracing permissionless innovation , collaborative multistakeholderism , and strong support for freedom of speech as the cornerstones of public policy toward other emerging technologies and sectors.

In recent months, I’ve come across a growing pool of young professionals looking to enter the technology policy field. Although I was lucky enough to find a willing and capable mentor to guide me through a lot of the nitty gritty, a lot of these would-be policy entrepreneurs haven’t been as lucky. Most of them are keen on shifting out of their current policy area, or are newcomers to Washington, D.C. looking to break into a technology policy career track. This is a town where there’s no shortage of sage wisdom, and while much of it still remains relevant to new up-and-comers, I figured I would pen these thoughts based on my own experiences as a relative newcomer to the D.C. tech policy community.

I came to D.C. in 2013, originally spurred by the then-recent revelations of mass government surveillance revealed by Edward Snowden’s NSA leaks. That event led me to the realization that the Internet was fragile, and that engaging in the battle of ideas in D.C. might be a career calling. So I packed up and moved to the nation’s capital, intent on joining the technology policy fray. When I arrived, however, I was immediately struck by the almost complete lack of jobs in, and focus on, technology issues in libertarian circles.

Through a series of serendipitous and fortuitous circumstances, I managed to ultimately break into a field that was still a small and relatively under-appreciated group. What we lacked in numbers and support we had to make up for in quality and determined effort. Although the tech policy community has grown precipitously in recent years, this is still a relatively niche policy vocation relative to other policy tracks. That means there’s a lot of potential for rapid professional growth—if you can manage to get your foot in the door.

So if you’re interested in breaking into technology policy, here are some thoughts that might be of help.

Adapting to the Shifting Sands

My own mentor, Mercatus Senior Fellow Adam Thierer, wrote what I consider the defining guide to breaking into the technology policy arena. Before jumping into the depths of policy, I used his insights in that article to help wrap my head around the ins-and-outs of this field. The broad takeaway is that you should learn from those who came before you . Intellectual humility is important in any profession, and tech policy is no different. Even in this still-young and growing field, there’s an exceptionally robust body of work that is worth parsing through. That means, first and foremost, reading. A lot.

Many of these pieces are going to touch on a broad range of disciplines. Law review articles, technical analyses, regulatory comments, and economic research play an important role in informing the many and varied debates in the tech policy field. While a degree in law or economics isn’t a prerequisite for working in this space, you’ll definitely need to do your homework. Having an understanding of the interdisciplinary work being done in tech policy can be the difference between a good analyst and a great analyst.

Distinguishing yourself in the field also requires embracing the inherent dynamism of this issue space. Things can change a lot, and quickly. The rate of technological change in the modern era is rapid and unceasing—changes that are reflected in the policy arena. If you’re going to keep up with the pace, you’ll not only have to consistently read (a lot), you’ll have to be passionate about the learning . For some, that may be daunting; for those who live for perpetual motion in policy, it can be exciting and energizing. If you’re uncomfortable with that level of dynamism and prefer something a bit more certain and steady, then this probably isn’t the career track for you.

If you yearn for the constantly shifting sands, however, then you’re going to have to read, read, read, and then read some more.

Once you’ve done the reading, you’ll have to start thinking about how, or whether, you want to specialize. Adam notes this explicitly in his piece: specialization matters . I tend to agree. However, what you decide to specialize in is less straightforward. Because this field is ever-changing, the opportunities for specialization are also changing, with a lot of issues intermingling with one another and blurring the lines of previously distinct areas.

Telecommunications, for example, is technically an area of specialization for tech policy. However, even that category has become quite broad and now very often overlaps with newer emerging technology issues. As an example, working on spectrum issues—previously the purview of analysts looking at the traditional media marketplace (television, radio, etc.)—now involves a host of other non-telecommunications issues, such as autonomous and connected vehicles, small microcube satellite constellations delivering Internet service, low-altitude commercial drone traffic management, and much more. Specialization just isn’t what it used to be, and as the policy landscape continues to change relative to the emergence of new technologies, would-be tech policy analysts will need to be flexible and adaptive in considering what issues merit engagement.

In short, read with an eye towards specializing, but be prepared to adapt when things change; and when they inevitably do, get ready to read some more and specialize anew.

Understanding the Political Landscape

You may already have strongly-held political opinions. Then again, maybe not. Either way, it’s important to understand the who’s who of this space, where they come down on their philosophical approaches to technology governance, and how each ideological tribe thinks about the issues. Because tech policy doesn’t elicit the same type of partisanship more commonly associated with traditional issues like health policy and labor policy, you may be surprised to discover who your common bedfellows are.

There are some issue-specific exceptions to this. The debate over Net Neutrality comes to mind as a particularly controversial flashpoint, largely divided down partisan lines. In general, however, there’s relatively little hyper-partisanship in technology policy debates. Technological progress and innovation are generally viewed positively across the political spectrum. As a result, the discussions surrounding issues like AI, autonomous vehicles, and other emerging technologies seldom involve disagreement over whether such advances should be permitted—though again, there are exceptions—and instead boil down to issues related to the specific regulations that will govern their deployment. Ultimately, the discourse tends to gravitate towards the political center and disagreements are largely confined to issues over regulatory governance: the variety ( what types of rules), source ( who governs), and magnitude ( how restrictive or permissive) of regulations. To figure out where your sympathies lie, you’ll first need to make sense of the political terrain by identifying the major players in technology policy circles.

To that end, I definitely suggest you take a look at this great landscape analysis from Rob Atkinson, the president of the Information Technology and Innovation Foundation. Rob classifies the tech policy crowd into 8 camps:

• Cyber-Libertarians believe the Internet can get along just fine without the nations, institutions, and other “ weary giants of flesh and steel ” of the pre-Internet world;
• Social Engineers are proponents of the Internet’s promise as an educational and communications tool, but tend to belie its economic benefits;
• Free Marketers believe in the Internet’s power as a liberating force for markets and individuals, and are generally skeptical of government involvement;
• Moderates are “staunchly and unabashedly” in favor of technological developments, but are supportive of government involvement in promoting and accelerating these developments;
• Moral Conservatives tend to view the Internet and emerging technologies as nefarious dens of vice that are accelerating the decline of traditional cultural norms and etiquette, and are supportive of government efforts to reverse that decline; and
• Old Economy Regulators don’t believe there is anything unique about these new technological tools, and believe restrictive pre-Internet regulatory frameworks can work just as well when applied to these new digital technologies.

Rob also ropes in the “Tech Companies and Trade Associations” and “Bricks and Mortars” groups, but I leave these aside as they tend to fall slightly outside the traditional policy analysis space associated with nonprofits, academic institutions, and advocacy groups. Going by Rob’s classification, I used to throw oscillate between associating with the “Cyber-Libertarian” and “Free marketers” tribes. In recent years, however, I’ve come to move quite solidly into the “Moderate” camp.

Wherever you think you fall, be sure not to ignore the work of “non-aligned” organizations and individuals—the best tech policy analysts are those who know both sides of a debate inside and out. Getting to know the major dividing lines between these groups is key to understanding the nuances involved in tech policy debates, and Rob’s piece is an excellent starting point for newcomers to get a sense of where these disagreements rest.

Framing the Issues

As discussed previously, one of the defining characteristics of this policy field is its dynamic nature. An issue you thought you had nailed down on Monday could be completely flipped on its head by Friday. That’s why it’s so important to consider how you think about these issues. A general framework or taxonomy will help, and different analysts think about these issues differently.

For example, some people look at technology issues through the lens of privacy; others, through the lens of cybersecurity. Personally, I think that single-issue lenses tend to miss the fundamentally multi-faceted nature of this issue space. That’s why I look at tech policy through not a lens, but a kaleidoscope, with each emerging technology presenting unique privacy, cybersecurity, safety, regulatory, and economic challenges and benefits.

All emerging technologies present balancing concerns between these equities. Autonomous vehicles will undoubtedly save lives, but may present greater concerns for privacy and cybersecurity. Commercial drones could likely decrease the costs for delivering goods or open up a renaissance in air transportation, but regulatory barriers and safety concerns present formidable obstacles to adoption. In short, I don’t think there’s any one “lens” through which it’s best to see these technologies. How you decide to approach an issue should ultimately be governed by how you balance the many tradeoffs associated with a new technology, and whether you prefer to use a “lens” or a “kaleidoscope.”

At the Niskanen Center, that “kaleidoscope” approach involves employing a framework that  touches on four general issue “buckets”: Regulatory Governance, Emerging Technologies, the Digital Economy, and Cyber Society.

“Regulatory Governance” focuses on an examination of how rules and regulations can manage new emerging technologies. This bucket informs our basic principles and overarching perspective on technology policy (best encapsulated as support for a “soft law” regime ), and directly informs our engagement on specific “Emerging Technologies,” such as genomics, AI, autonomous vehicles, and other emerging technologies.

The other two buckets—”The Digital Economy” and “Cyber Society”—involve areas in which there is a much greater degree of overlap and intermingling (copyright, “Future of Work” issues, online free speech, digital due process, government surveillance, etc.). These are areas where the lines between tech policy and other, more traditional policy work are much “fuzzier.” This leads us to an important point worth addressing if you’re thinking about jumping into this field: what is, and is not, tech policy?

Thinking About What Isn’t Tech Policy

Different analysts and scholars will disagree about the contours here, so I’ll caveat my thoughts on the “not-tech policy” space by noting that these are purely my own biases. What I consider “tech policy” will probably differ from what other individuals and organizations would group under that header. A lot can be said here, so I’ll just focus on one particular area that is often grouped under the tech policy banner, but which I would not consider tech policy proper: the gig economy.

Take Uber. Uber is a smartphone app. In that sense, it’s technology. However, the issues affected by its use are more relevant to labor, tax, welfare, and traditional regulatory policy analysis—the role of contract work in society, tax classification for part-time laborers, portability of benefits, and barriers to market entry, for example. Although the regulatory component is definitely an issue related to tech policy, it’s not clear that the regulatory issues are technology-specific. This makes for reasonable disagreement about whether gig economy issues, which would also include services like Airbnb and TaskRabbit, are appropriately classified as primarily technology policy.

Ultimately, I see the gig economy as an area that is fundamentally about connecting unused or under-utilized capital to higher-value uses (in the case of Uber, connecting vehicles that would otherwise remain idle with passengers looking for transportation services). While the underlying technology that makes much of the gig economy possible (smartphone apps and digital communications technology) gives the appearance that these issues are actually about technology, the real policy implications are less technology-specific than other areas of tech policy, such as AI, the Internet of Things, autonomous vehicles, and commercial drones.

That having been said, there’s plenty of cases to be made for tech policy to include the gig economy. The takeaway here, however, is that technology is literally eating the modern world, and pretty much all traditional policy spaces are now, in some respect, intertwined with tech policy. As such, we have to draw a dividing line somewhere, otherwise “technology policy” loses any sort of substantive meaning as a distinct field of study.

So if you’re thinking about a career in tech policy broadly, but have a particular interest in, e.g., gig economy issues, it’s worth asking what precisely draws you to the issue. If you’re primarily interested in its impact on labor markets, taxes, or regulatory barriers, then tech policy might not be what you had in mind.

Next Steps

So after you’ve read a bit, focused in on an area of interest, developed a sense of the lay of the political landscape, and put some thought into how you think about framing your analytical approach, what next? Eli Dourado, formerly the director of the Technology Policy Program at Mercatus and now the head of global policy and communications at Boom, offered some succinct thoughts on actually getting involved in this field.

“First, get started now.”

Just start doing technology policy.

Write about it every day. Say unexpected things; don’t just take a familiar side in a drawn-out debate. Do something new. What is going to be the big tech policy issue two years from now? Write about that. Let your passion show.

The tech policy world is small enough — and new ideas rare enough — that doing this will get you a following in our community.

“Second, get in touch.”

These are both great pieces of advice. If you’re really interested in jumping into tech policy, then you’re going to want to start writing. Read as much as you can and get up to speed on the issues that interest you. Then start blogging and editorializing your thoughts. These days, the costs of starting your own blog are primarily just your time and effort, and there are plenty of easy-to-use and free services out there that you can take advantage of.

Once you’ve started writing, start connecting with a wider audience via Twitter, Facebook, and other social media platforms. But don’t limit yourself to the venue of cyberspace forums. Reach out to established analysts by email and get their thoughts and feedback. Networking is key, and if you’re not doing it, you’re not doing half the work. You might have the greatest tech policy thoughts since Marc Andreessen wrote Software is Eating the World (which, incidentally, you should also add to your reading list), but if no one is reading your work, it doesn’t really matter. Just as you need to read, read, read, so too should you network, network, network, and then network some more .

Reach out, and get in touch with people in the field—especially those of us in D.C. If you’re serious about your craft and you’re putting in the time and effort to position yourself as a young tech policy professional, there are plenty of us who are more than happy to have a conversation with you. Indeed, like a lot of people in this field, I couldn’t have made it to where I am if not for the willingness of more established professionals like Adam taking the time to chat with me.

So reach out, network, and engage with those scholars and analysts whose work you follow.  A casual conversation could very easily be the beginning of a new career in tech policy.

Concluding Thoughts

So if after reading all that you’re still considering a career in tech policy, here are some final thoughts for consideration.

First, be open to the possibility that you may be wrong.

Tech policy debates involve a lot of nuance, but there’s also a lot of surprising agreement. Given the constant evolution of technology, at some point you’ll undoubtedly be confronted with a scenario in which you need to reassess your priors. (I’ve had to learn this lesson the hard way on the issue of surveillance. Just take a look at some of my writings earlier in my career and compare them with more recent pieces.) You shouldn’t constantly sway with the winds of compromise, but nor should you see every policy battle as a hill worth dying on.

Second, there’s no such thing as too much reading or networking.

This is worth reiterating, over and over, because it’s important, and there’s no shortcut here. There’s always more to read to get up to speed on tech issues, and chances are you’ll never know it all. So read, read, read, and when you’ve had enough of reading, try switching it up with some outreach and networking. There’s a fair number of people working in tech policy, but it’s still a relatively small, close-knit community. Once you meet a handful of people, it’s easy enough to catapult yourself to introductions to the rest of us. Jobs in tech policy, especially in D.C., are still tough to come by, but it’s a growing field, and the more people you know, the more likely you’ll be well-positioned to take advantage of opportunities.

Finally, have something to say.

This point is worth an anthology all its own, and cannot be over-emphasized: don’t be a policy parrot . Have something to say—not just something to say, but something new and unique . That counts doubly for having actual policy solutions. There’s plenty of people who default to the “let’s have a conversation” school of thought —don’t be one of them. Your job as an analyst is to parse the details of a contentious issue and apply your expertise to provide real, actionable recommendations on the appropriate course of action. Have real recommendations and actual solutions and you’ll set yourself apart from the run-of-the-mill tech policy analyst. Always remember: the difference between doing something right and doing nothing at all, is doing something half-assed. Don’t be the half-assed tech policy parrot.

Don’t get discouraged; establishing your brand takes time. But if you’re serious about giving tech policy a go and you put in the effort, there will be opportunities to make a name for yourself. So read, write, reach out, and offer something unique to the discussion. If you can do that, the sky’s the limit.

In a recent Senate Commerce Committee hearing on the Internet of Things, Senators Ed Markey (D-Mass.) and Richard Blumenthal (D-Conn.) “announced legislation that would direct the National highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to establish federal standards to secure our cars and protect drivers’ privacy.” Spurred by a recent report from his office (Tracking and Hacking: Security and Privacy Gaps Put American Drivers at Risk) Markey argued that Americans “need the equivalent of seat belts and airbags to keep drivers and their information safe in the 21^st century.”

Among the many conclusions reached in the report, it says, “nearly 100% of cars on the market include wireless technologies that could pose vulnerabilities to hacking or privacy intrusions.” This comes across as a tad tautological given that everything from smartphones and computers to large-scale power grids are prone to being hacked, yet the Markey-Blumenthal proposal would enforce a separate set of government-approved, and regulated, standards for privacy and security, displayed on every vehicle in the form of a “Cyber Dashboard” decal.

Leaving aside the irony of legislators attempting to dictate privacy standards, especially in the post-Snowden world, it would behoove legislators like Markey and Blumenthal to take a closer look at just what it is they are proposing and ask whether such a law is indeed necessary to protect consumers. For security in particular, there may be concerns that require redress, but if one looks at the report, it becomes apparent that it lacks a very important feature:: no specific examples of real car hacking are mentioned. The only examples illustrated in the report are described in brief detail:

An application was developed by a third party and released for Android devices that could integrate with a vehicle through the Bluetooth connection. A security analysis did not indicate any ability to introduce malicious code or steal data, but the manufacturer had the app removed from the Google Play store as a precautionary measure.

Great! The company solved the problem. What about the other instance cited in the report?

Some individuals have attempted to reprogram the onboard computers of vehicles to increase engine horsepower or torque through the use of “performance chips”. Some of these devices plug into the mandated onboard diagnostic port or directly into the under-the-hood electronics system.

So the only two examples of “car hacking” described in the Markey report are essentially duds. The first is a non-issue, since the company (1) determined there was little security risk involved and (2) removed the item from the market anyways, just to be sure. The second is, in a sense, hacking, but it is individual car owners doing it to their own cars. Neither of these cases appears to be sufficient grounds for imposing a set of arbitrary and, in many cases, capriciously anti-innovation approaches to privacy and data security in cars.

In the wake of the report’s release, this past Tuesday, March 10, General Motors, Toyota, and Ford were all hit with a nationwide class action lawsuit, alleging that the companies concealed “dangers posed by a lack of electronic security in a vast swath of vehicles.” Specifically, the lawsuit is aimed at the presence of controller area network (CAN) buses, which act as data hubs between the various electronic systems in a car. These systems are, indeed, susceptible to hacking, but no more than any personal computer that is connected to the Internet.

The trouble with this lawsuit, brought by the Stanley Law Group, is that it has not cited any specific harms that have occurred as a result of this “defect” (as a side note, saying a computer being susceptible to hacking constitutes a defect in design is the equivalent of saying an airplane that is susceptible to lightning strikes is fundamentally defective). Rather, the plaintiffs argue that “[w]e shouldn’t need to wait for a hacker or terrorist to prove exactly how dangerous this is before requiring car makers to fix the defect.”

As Adam Thierer and I pointed out in our 2014 paper, Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars:

Manufacturers have powerful reputational incentives at stake here, which will encourage them to continuously improve the security of their systems. Companies like Chrysler and Ford are already looking into improving their telematics systems to better compartmentalize the ability of hackers to gain access to a car’s controller-area-network bus. Engineers are also working to solve security vulnerabilities by utilizing two-way data-verification schemes (the same systems at work when purchasing items online with a credit card), routing software installs and updates through remote servers to check and double-check for malware, adopting of routine security protocols like encrypting files with digital signatures, and other experimental treatments. (pg. 40-41)

It’s always easy to see the potential for abuse and harm with any new emerging technology, but optimism and fortitude in the face of the uncertain is what helps society, and individuals, grow and progress. Car hacking, while certainly a viable concern, is not so ubiquitous that it necessitates a heavy-handed regulatory approach. Rather, we should permit various standards to emerge and attempt to deal with possible harms. In this way, we can experiment to properly determine what approaches work and what do not. Federal standards imposed from on high assume that firms and individuals are not capable of working through these murky issues. We should be a bit more optimistic about the human capacity for ingenuity and adaptability.

To end on something of a more optimistic note, Tom Vanderbilt of Wired magazine gives keen insight into the reality of regulating based on hypothetical scenarios:

Every scenario you can spin out of computer error – what if the car drives the wrong way – already exists in analog form, in abundance. Yes, computer-guidance systems and the rest will require advances in technology, not to mention redundancy and higher standards of performance, but at least these are all feasible, and capable of quantifiable improvement. On the other hand, we’ll always have lousy drivers.

Additional Reading 

• Law review article: “Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars,” September 17, 2014.
• “Don’t Hit the (Techno-)Panic Button on Connected Car Hacking & IoT Security,” February 10, 2015.
• “Don’t Slam the Brakes on Smart Cars,” December 1, 2014.
• “Intelligent Vehicles Could Save Lives,” November 25, 2014.
• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2014)