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

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

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

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

Where to Draw the Lines?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Radical Steps

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

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

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

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

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

Adversarial Innovation & Evolutionary Interop

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

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

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

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

There is No Such Thing as Optimal Interoperability

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

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

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

Hanno F. Kaiser, a U.S. and EU antitrust lawyer and partner with Latham & Watkins LLP, has just released an important essay on a topic I have devoted much time to here over the years: the debate over the relative advantages of “open” vs. “closed” technological systems and the Lessig-Zittrain-Wu school of thinking about these issues.

Kaiser’s essay is entitled, ” Are Closed Systems an Antitrust Problem?” and it appears in the latest edition of Competition Policy International.  This essay is not to be missed. Kaiser’s terrific paper helps us better understand and debunk many of the myths and misperceptions that continue to riddle this debate. Here’s Kaiser’s key insight:

At bottom, the bad reputation of closed systems or walled gardens in the “open versus closed” debate is quite undeserved. Walled gardens generally benefit their environments—both in the real world and the digital realm. The primary purpose of a garden wall, after all, is to shelter plants from wind and frost, not to keep intruders out. In the protected space of the garden, flowers can grow that would not otherwise survive in the wild. Walled gardens thus deliberately create a microcosm that is different from the surrounding ecosystem. Therefore, as long as the garden does not take over the entire ecosystem, walled gardens increase, not reduce, overall diversity. From a competition policy perspective, enjoying the fruits of a walled garden is generally not a guilty pleasure.

Therefore, “as a policy matter, ‘open’ is not necessarily better than ‘closed’,” Kaiser argues, and elaborates as follows:

Our initial question whether “closed” systems are inherently anticompetitive can be restated as follows: “Is there a reason to believe that intra-platform restraints imposed by the platform sponsor on various contributors are commonly exclusionary?” To that question, the answer is no. Is it possible that such restraints can lead to anticompetitive exclusion? Yes, but not unless the platform has significant market power vis-à-vis rival platforms.

In other words, it is foolish to over-simplify the debate as many scholars do when they imply that “open”=good and “closed=bad. (For a recent example, see my essay here earlier this month about Cory Doctorow’s misguided effort to equate open systems with “techno-optimism.”)

In my work, I’ve tried to focus on the happy balance and healthy competition that exists today between such systems. Shouldn’t that be what counts most? Scholars like Lessig, Zittrain, Wu, and Doctorow sometimes seem to want to force a false ‘open-or-nothing-else’ choice upon us. Such thinking is troubling from a policy perspective since it means law might force many consumers to use systems that may not be to their liking.  Moreover, such thinking reveals an ironic insecurity among these “Openness Evangelicals,” as I have called them: they seem to have very little faith in the open systems and technologies they trumpet. If such systems really are superior, shouldn’t they win out in the end?

Importantly, however, Kaiser also debunks the simplistic notion that “open” and “closed” systems are easily defined:

As an analytical tool the labels “open” and “closed” are of limited utility, because they cannot adequately capture the complexity of selective openness at various layers of a system within their single binary distinction.  Addressing the central antitrust issue requires that we move past the “ready labels” and focus on whether specific vertical restraints at all levels result in anticompetitive exclusion and foreclosure.

Quite right. I also appreciated Kaiser’s thought’s on Tim Wu’s “Separations Principle,” which would rigidly segregate all information services into three buckets–content, conduit, and devices–and keep them there. Kaiser says:

The Separations Principle amounts to a general rule against vertical integration in the information sector irrespective of market power, foreclosure, and efficiencies. Such a sweeping rule requires extraordinarily strong justifications, which Wu fails to provide. In fact, our analysis of the competitive effects of open and closed systems does not suggest that closed systems pose anywhere near the level of concern that would justify such a radical expansion of antitrust market regulation.

Kaiser is actually being too generous. Wu’s radical prescription for the information sectors flies in the face of decades of antitrust scholarship and would have devastating ramifications for the Digital Economy in practice, as I noted in part 6 of my multi-part review of his book The Master Switch.

Anyway, read Hanno Kaiser’s terrific paper. It’s a major contribution to the literature in this arena and a real breath of fresh air compared to what I regard as the hopelessly pessimistic (and usually overly-simplistic) literature on “open” vs. “closed” technological systems.

P.S … I put together a separate page here at the TLF to house my 30 or so essays addressing “Problems with the Lessig-Zittrain-Wu Thesis.”  Also, this chapter from the Next Digital Decade book on the case for Internet optimism ties together all my various critiques into one essay.

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

Doctorow defines “techno-optimism” as follows:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Tim Wu was kind enough to comment on my general overview and critique of his new book, The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires.  That essay will be the first of many I plan to pen about Wu’s important book.  I appreciate Prof. Wu being willing to engage me in a debate over some of these issues since I’m sure he has better things to do with his time. Some of the points he raised in his comment will be addressed in subsequent posts.

In this post, I want to respond briefly to his assertion that I was “missing the point of the book” which is “to describe the world we live in.” He says that his book, “suggests that we tend to go through open and closed cycles in the Information Industries, and that, roughly, both have their strengths and weaknesses, and both become popular at different times for various reasons.”  But he fears there are “greater risks in the closed periods.”

Contrary to what he suggests, I certainly understand that’s the point of his book, it’s just that I don’t fully agree with his analysis or conclusions. Let me be clear about a crucial point, however: I accept that almost every industry goes through “cycles” of some sort and that, typically, after a “Wild West” period of greater “openness” and more atomistic competition, some degree of “consolidation” or more “closed” (or proprietary) models often sets in.  (A somewhat different and far more descriptive interpretation of such cycles can be found in Deborah Spar’s 2001 book, Ruling the Waves: Cycles of Discovery, Chaos, and Wealth from Compass to the Internet. She outlines a more refined 4-part cycle of: Innovation, Commercialization, Creative Anarchy, and Rules.)

My primary beef with Prof. Wu is that, contrary to his assertion yesterday in commenting on my post, his book seems to regard the progression of “the Cycle” as mostly linear and one-directional: straight down toward a perfectly closed, corporate-controlled, anti-consumer Hell.  By my reading of his book – much like Lessig and Zittrain’s work – Wu is painting an overly pessimistic portrait of technologies being subjected to the “perfect control” of largely unfettered markets.

I believe history – especially recent history — teaches us something very different.  While information technology markets certainly go through cycles, they tend to oscillate between open and closed more fluidly than Wu suggests – and that dynamic is accelerating today.  Moreover, during periods which Wu regards as more “closed,” things aren’t always as closed as he suggests.  Or, more importantly, the “closed” models typically spawn more innovation than Wu and others bother acknowledging. It’s during what some regard as a market’s darkest hour when some of the most exciting forms of disruptive technologies and innovation are developing.  Finally, to the extent some markets are completely locked-down for a time, it’s more often than not due to public policies that facilitate that lockdown or the “closing” of systems.

I spent a great deal of time making these points in the second essay I submitted to the recent Concurring Opinions symposium about Jonathan Zittrain’s The Future of the Internet. In my essay, “On Defining Generativity, Openness, and Code Failure,” I argued that what separates our worldviews primarily comes down to the more static (or “stasis”) mindset that Lessig, Zittrain, and Wu adopt in their work.  They take static snapshots of markets at what seems to be their darkest hour and then suggest there’s little chance of escaping that Hell.

Of course, how one defines Hell is important. What Wu does in his book, following the lead set by Lessig and Zittrain, is to “define-down” market failure.  If you regard proprietary business models, property rights, or the success of a small handful of companies as the enemy of “openness” and innovation, then it’s easy to see why you might buy into the notion that market failure is ubiquitous and that “steps must be taken” to correct it.   If, on the other hand, you understand that markets are in a constant state of flux, and that those other variables listed above are not necessarily at odds with openness and innovation, then, like me, you’re more cautious about calling in the Code Cops to steer markets and outcomes in other directions.

But the really important point here is that markets evolve. Moreover, that evolution takes place at a much faster clip in the digital arena than it does in other markets. Innovators don’t sit still. People innovate around “failure.” Indeed, “market failure” is really just the glass-is-half-empty view of a golden opportunity for innovation. Markets evolve. New ideas, innovations, and companies are born.  And things generally change for the better—and do so rapidly.

Consider my two favorite case studies from recent times: the AOL-Time Warner merger and the supposed Microsoft monopoly.

The AOL Case Study

When Lessig penned Code a decade ago, it was AOL that was set to become the corporate enslaver of cyberspace. For a time, it was easy to see why Lessig and others might have been worried.  25 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 Time Warner announced a historic mega-merger that had some predicting the rise of “new totalitarianisms” and corporate “Big Brother.”

But the deal quickly went off the rails. By April 2002, just two years after the deal was struck, AOL-Time Warner had already reported a staggering $54 billion loss. By January 2003, losses had grown to $99 billion. By September 2003, Time Warner decided to drop AOL from its name altogether and the deal continued to slowly unravel from there.  In a 2006 interview with the Wall Street Journal, Time Warner President Jeffrey Bewkes famously declared the death of “synergy” and went so far as to call synergy “bullsh*t”!  In early 2008, Time Warner decided to shed AOL’s dial-up service and then to spin off AOL entirely.  Looking back at the deal, Fortune magazine senior editor at large Allan Sloan called it the “turkey of the decade.” The formal divorce between the two firms took place in 2008. Further deconsolidation followed for Time Warner, which spun off its cable TV unit and various other properties.

(The hysteria about AOL’s looming monopolization of instant messaging—and with it, the rest of the web—seems particularly silly: Today, anyone can download a free chat client like Digsby or Adium to manage multiple IM services from AOL, Yahoo!, Google, Facebook and just about anyone else, all within a single interface, essentially making it irrelevant which chat service your friends use.)

In the larger scheme of things, AOL’s story has already become an afterthought in our chaotic cyber-history. But we shouldn’t let those old critics forget about their lugubrious lamentations.  To recap: the big, bad corporate villain of Lessig’s Code attempted to construct the largest walled garden ever, and partner with a titan of the media sector in doing so—and this dastardly plot failed miserably.

To Wu’s credit, he acknowledges that AOL-Time Warner was “a surprising wreck” and that “AOL was [a] dinosaur limping into the new age” before the mass Internet. (p. 262-3) [Of course, there’s no mention in the book of the dire prognostications some of his academic compatriots made a decade ago about AOL or its deal with Time Warner.]  Surprisingly, however, Wu suggests that what ultimately undermined the deal was Net neutrality! He argues that, in order for the merger to achieve the perfect Hell of a giant corporate walled garden, AOL Time Warner would have needed to “subdue Google, Yahoo! and their many cousins. In short, to be viable, the firm would have needed to overturn the net neutrality principles at the core of the Internet’s design.” (p. 267)

Now, isn’t that interesting since, quite obviously, there have been no Net neutrality laws on the books despite the fact that critics like Wu have been hollering for their supposed need!  In a similar vein, Wu recently told Forbes magazine “If there were no net neutrality, Skype would have already been suppressed.”  Again, there is no formal Net neutrality law in place today, so what Wu is essentially saying is that market norms, not regulatory edicts, ensured that new applications came online and that market power was checked.

Even more interesting is the fact that Wu continues on to essentially make the libertarian case against formal Net neutrality regulation when he argues:

The only entity that has so far really succeeded in such a mission [of overturning the net neutrality principles at the core of the Internet’s design] is the government of mainland China, as we saw in 2010, when it drove an exasperated Google out of its sovereign territory by demanding extensive control over what Google let users find.  Indeed, the feat requires such power and resources as belong uniquely to the state: access to the very choke points of a nation’s communications infrastructure, its Master Switch. AOL Time Warner, however vast, did not have police power—it could not imprison Google’s executives for failing to block Wikipedia or Disney content. (p. 267)

Exactly right; it really does come down to that profound difference between who has coercive police power (the State) and who does not (corporations).  It’s not just a difference of degree but a difference of kind.   So, welcome to libertarian movement, Tim Wu!  I plan on citing that block quote in every paper I write from now on regarding why we don’t need preemptive Net neutrality regulation!

The Microsoft Case Study

I want to also briefly mention the Microsoft case study since it is quite instructive in this regard.

It’s suddenly quite easy to forget just how much hand-wringing took place in the late 1990s and early 2000s over Microsoft’s dominance of the web browser market.  Dour predictions of perpetual Internet Explorer lock-in followed.  For a short time, there was some truth to this.  But, yet again, innovators weren’t just sitting still; exciting things were happening.  In particular, the seeds were being planted for the rise of Firefox and Chrome as robust challengers to IE’s dominance—not to mention mobile browsers.

Of course, it’s true that roughly half of all websurfers still use a version of IE today.  But IE’s share of the market is falling rapidly as viable, impressive alternatives now exist and innovation among these competitors is more vibrant than ever.  That’s all that counts. The world changed, and for the better, despite all the doomsday predictions we heard less than a decade ago about Microsoft’s potential dominance of cyberspace.  Moreover, all the innovation taking place at the browser layer today certainly undercuts the gloomy “death of the Net” or “death of openness” thesis set forth by Zittrain and Wu.

Indeed, as Tim O’Reilly argues, this case study illustrates the power of markets to evolve and “route around” market failure or excessively closed systems even during what appears to be a certain sector’s darkest hour:

Just as Microsoft appeared to have everything locked down in the PC industry, the open Internet restarted the game, away from what everyone thought was the main action. I guarantee that if anyone gets a lock on the mobile Internet, the same thing will happen. We’ll be surprised by the innovation that starts happening somewhere else, out on the free edges. And that free edge will eventually become the new center, because open is where innovation happens. […] it’s far too early to call the open web dead, just because some big media companies are excited about the app ecosystem. I predict that those same big media companies are going to get their clocks cleaned by small innovators, just as they did on the web.

Lessons Learned – Or Ignored?

From these case studies, one would hope that the Openness Evangelicals would have gained a newfound appreciation for the evolutionary and dynamic nature of markets and come to understand that, especially in markets built upon information and digital code, the pace and nature of change is unrelenting and utterly unpredictable.  Indeed, contra Lessig’s lament in Code that “Left to itself, cyberspace will become a perfect tool of control,” cyberspace has proven far more difficult to “control” or regulate than any of us ever imagined.  The volume and pace of technological innovation we have witnessed in information sectors over the past decade has been nothing short of stunning.

Critics like Zittrain and Wu, however, wants to keep beating the cyber-sourpuss drum.  So, the face of corporate evil has to change. Today, Steve Jobs has become the supposed apotheosis of all this closed-system evil instead of AOL.  Jobs serves as a prime villain in the books of Zittrain and Wu and in many of the essays they and other Openness Evangelicals pen. But their enemies list is growing longer.  Today, according to the narratives in Zittrain and Wu’s books, it’s not just one of two corporate titans we need to worry about, but just about every major player in the high-tech ecosystem—telcos, cable companies, wireless operators, entertainment providers, Facebook, and others.

Even Google — Silicon Valley’s supposed savior of Internet openness — is not spared their scorn.  “Google is the Internet’s switch,” Wu argues. “In fact, it’s the world’s most popular Internet switch, and as such, it might even be described as the current custodian of the Master Switch.” More ominously, he warns, “it is the switch that transformed mere communications into networking—that ultimately decides who reached what or whom.” (p. 280)

It seems, then, that the face of “closed” evil is constantly morphing.  But shouldn’t that tell us something about how dynamic these markets are?!  I look forward to reading the next edition of Tim’s book to see who the new villains are and whether he’s drawn any lessons from the constantly changing cast of characters.

Conclusion

In sum, history counsels patience and humility instead of Chicken Little-ism and incessant calls for preemptive regulation to serve some amorphous, politically-defined “public interest.”  More generally, history counsels what we might call “technological agnosticism.” In particular, we should avoid declaring “openness” – especially of the mandated variety — a sacrosanct principle and making everything else subservient to it without regard to cost or consumer desires.  As Wired’s Chris Anderson notes, “there are many Web triumphalists who still believe that there is only One True Way, and will fight to the death to preserve the open, searchable common platform that the Web represented for most of its first two decades (before Apple and Facebook, to name two, decided that there were Other Ways).”  The better position is one based on a general agnosticism regarding the nature of technological platforms and change.  In this view, the spontaneous evolution of markets has value in its own right, and continued experimentation with new models—be they “open” or “closed,” “generative” or “tethered”—should be permitted.

Importantly, one need not believe that the markets are “perfectly competitive” to accept that they are “competitive enough” compared to the alternatives—especially those re-shaped by the sort of regulation Wu and others advocate.  “Market failures” or “code failures” are ultimately better addressed by voluntary, spontaneous, bottom-up, marketplace responses than by coerced, top-down, governmental solutions.  Moreover, the decisive advantage of the market-driven, evolutionary approach lies in the rapidity and nimbleness of those responses compared to regulatory alternatives.

Thus, in closing, Tim Wu’s assertion yesterday that I was “missing the point of the book… [which is] to describe the world we live in,” is based on his belief that he has accurately described our world, its history, and the forces that move it.  As I’ve suggested here, there’s a very different way of looking at things.  In my opinion, Wu’s Master Switch is just too hung up on the static snapshot mindset and a bit too obsessed with the supposed One True Way of doing things.

[ Note: In the next installment, I will address Wu’s mistaken claim that purely free markets have guided America’s communications and media sectors over the past century and his assertion that “the purely economic laissez-faire approach… is no longer feasible.”]

Tim Wu’s new book, The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires, will be released next week and it promises to make quite a splash in cyberlaw circles.  It will almost certainly go down as one of the most important info-tech policy books of 2010 and will probably win the top slot in my next end-of-year list.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I agree with everything in it.  In fact, I disagree vehemently with Wu’s general worldview and recommendations, and even much of his retelling of the history of information sectors and policy.  Nonetheless, for reasons I will discuss in this first of many critiques, the book’s impact will be significant because Wu is a rock star in this academic arena as well as a committed activist in his role as chair of the radical regulatory activist group, Free Press. Through his work at Free Press as well as the New America Foundation, Professor Wu is attempting to craft a plan of action to reshape the Internet and cyberspace.

I stand in opposition to almost everything that Wu and those groups stand for, thus, I will be spending quite a bit of time addressing his perspectives and proposals here in coming months, just as I did when Jonathan Zittrain’s hugely important The Future of the Internet & How to Stop It was released two years ago (my first review is here and my latest critique is here).  In today’s essay, I’ll provide a general overview and foreshadow my critiques to come.  (Note: Tim was kind enough to have his publisher send me an advance uncorrected proof of the book a few months ago, so I’ll be using that version to construct these critiques. Please consult the final version for cited material and page numbers.)

The Master Switch & the Cyber-Collectivist Trilogy of Terror

As I noted in my essay on “Two Schools of Internet Pessimism,” what I find most lamentable about the state of cyberlaw and high-tech policy debates today is the foreboding sense of gloom and doom that haunts so many narratives.  To crack open most Net policy books these days is to step into a world of corporate conspiracies, nefarious industry schemers, closed systems, “kill switches,” squashed consumer rights, and so on.  Let’s face it, Chicken Little doesn’t need an agent; pessimism sells. The world loves a good tale of villainy and misery, and that’s exactly what Columbia Law School professor Tim Wu delivers in his new book, The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires.

Wu’s book is important if for no other reason than he is considered one of the intellectual godfathers of modern cyberlaw and The Master Switch is best understood as the final installment in an important trilogy that began with the publication of Lawrence Lessig’s seminal 1999 book, Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace and then was continued on in Jonathan Zittrain’s much-discussed 2008 book, The Future of the Internet & How to Stop It.

To better understand where Wu wants to take us in The Master Switch, we must first return to the central tenant of Lessig’s Code:  “Left to itself,” Lessig predicted, “cyberspace will become a perfect tool of control.” (pg 5-6)  Code quickly became a sort of cyber-collectivist Bible and today Lessig’s many disciples in academia and a wide variety of public policy regulatory advocacy organizations continue to preach this gloomy gospel of impending digital doom and “perfect control.”  Zittrain and Wu are Lessig’s most notable intellectual descendants; the Peter and Paul of the Church of Cyber-Doom that he founded.  And despite their insistence that they really aren’t all that pessimistic—or, more humorously, that they are actually libertarians in disguise—this crew persists with frightful tales and lugubrious warnings that unless someone or something—quite often, the State—intervenes to set us on a better course or protect those things that they regard as sacred.

Zittrain’s Future of the Internet, for example, brought Lessig’s Code up date by giving us a fresh set of villains.  Gone was Lessig’s old foil AOL and its worrisome walled gardens. Instead, the new face of evil became Apple, Facebook, and TiVo.  Zittrain worries about “sterile and tethered” digital “appliances” that foreclose digital generativity and the rise of “a handful of gated cloud communities whose proprietors control the availability of new code.”

Wu simply extends this narrative in The Master Switch when he ominously warns that there are “forces threatening the Internet as we know it” (p. 7) and then goes on to craft an enemies list that reads like a “Who’s Who” of high-tech corporate America. No one, it seems, can be trusted—at least not if that someone has a “.com” behind their name.  Wu hopes to convince us that history proves that concentrations of private power in information industries are inevitably follow a period of openness and competition.  He refers to this as “The Cycle.” Thus, he trots out the old collectivist saw that freedom is really slavery — slavery to The Man:

If the stories in this book tell us anything… it is that the free market can also lead to situations of reduced freedom. Markets are born free, yet no sooner are they born than some would-be emperor is forging chains.  Paradoxically, it sometimes happens that the only way to preserve freedom is through judicious controls on the exercise of private power.  If we believe in liberty, it must be freedom from both private and public coercion. (p. 310)

This is the heart of Wu’s critique in The Master Switch: The real threat is not Big Brother but Big Corporate Brother. It’s certainly not a new critique. Wu is simply steering the Lessig-ite, cyber-collectivism school of cyberlaw in line with traditional “progressive” perspectives and recommendations.  Indeed, although he and other so-called progressives don’t always come right out and say it, they often suggest that private power – however defined – is so insidious and threatening that greatly amplified State power to counter it becomes essential, even a good.

The cyber-collectivist movement that Lessig began with Code and Zittrain and Wu continue in their books, is fueled by that dour, depressing “the-Net-is-about-to-die” fear. Again and again their message comes down to this: “Enjoy the good old days of the open Internet while you can, because any minute now it will be crushed and closed-off by corporate marauders!”  This crowd want us to believe that the corporate big boys are — someday very soon — going to toss the proverbial “master switch,” suffocating Internet innovation and digital freedom, and making us all cyber-slaves within their commercialized walled gardens.

We might think of this fear as “The Great Closing,” or the notion that, unless radical interventions are pursued — usually of a regulatory nature – a veritable Digital Dark Age of Closed Systems will soon unfold, complete with myriad AOL-like walled gardens, “sterile and tethered devices,” corporate censorship, and consumer gouging. Again, it’s really just a restatement of the old Lessig vision of an unfettered cyberspace leading to “perfect (corporate) control.”  In other words, most information systems, networks and devices will be bottled up by corporate “gatekeepers” if markets aren’t steered in a better direction by wise philosopher-regulators.  And these “Openness Evangelicals,” as I will call them, believe they are the sagacious chosen few who will serve as the self-appointed janissary of the supposed dying order of openness.

My critique of this cyber-collectivist thinking and “Great Closing” thesis was more fully developed in these two essays [1, 2] and will be more robustly developed in a chapter for an upcoming book that will be published shortly.  Much of what I’ll have to say in response to Wu’s new book will be drawn from those essays as well as my two-part exchange [1, 2] with Lessig upon the 10^th anniversary of the publication of Code. Basically, I do not buy – not for one minute – the notion that “the Internet is dying” or that “openness” is evaporating.  The Internet has never been more vibrant or open.  Again, please read those previous essays for my completely response.  I’ll be teasing out some of those themes in future essays here.

More specifically, my response to Wu’s new book comes down to this:

1. Rarely is there any discussion of the nature of the respective forms of “power” or the coercive nature of State power, in particular.  The fact that the State has a monopoly on force in society and, thus, can penalize or even imprison, is either ignored or treated as irrelevant compared to the supposed “power” of private actors.
2. Rarely in their analysis — and never in Wu’s book — is there a serious cost-benefit analysis of the trade-off associated with an aggrandizement of State power in the name of countering the supposed evils of private power.  The solutions offered – to the extent they rise above amorphous calls to “do something” – are presented as cost-free options.
3. There isn’t enough focus on the dangers of “regulatory capture” or the massive inefficiencies associated with the sort of regulatory regimes that progressives and modern cyber-collectivists like Wu would substitute for market mechanisms.

In my next installment, I’ll take on Wu’s critique of the fictional “purely economic laissez-faire approach” he derides – an approach that has never existed in American communications or media markets.  In a forthcoming installment, I’ll also be challenging Tim to a Simon-Ehrlich wager on this front and ask him to put his money where his mouth is to see just how serious he is about his dour worldview and extreme technological pessimism!  So, stay tuned.

[Jump to Part 2 in the series.]

So, do I need to remind everyone of my ongoing rants about Jonathan Zittrain’s misguided theory about the death of digital generativity because of the supposed rise of “sterile, tethered” devices? I hope not, because even I am getting sick of hearing myself talk about it. But here again anyway is the obligatory listing of all my tirades: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + video and my 2-part debate with Lessig and him last year.

You will recall that the central villain in Zittrain’s drama The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It is big bad Steve Jobs and his wicked little iPhone. And then, more recently, Jonathan has fretted over those supposed fiends at Facebook. Zittrain’s worries that “we can get locked into these platforms” and that “markets [will] coalesce [around] these tamer gated communities,” making it easier for both corporations and governments to control us.  More generally, Zittrain just doesn’t seem to like that some people don’t always opt for the same wide open general purpose PC experience that he exalts as the ideal. As I noted in my original review of his book, Jonathan doesn’t seem to appreciate that it may be perfectly rational for some people to seek stability and security in digital devices and their networking experiences—even if they find those solutions in the form of “tethered appliances” or “sterile” networks, to use his parlance.

Every once and awhile I find a sharp piece by someone out there who is willing to admit that they see nothing wrong with such “closed” platforms or devices, or they even argue that those approaches can be superior to the more “open” devices and platforms out there. That’s the case with this Harry McCracken rant over at Technologizer today with the entertaining title, “The Verizon Droid is a Loaf of Day-Old Bread.” McCracken goes really hard on the Droid — which hurts because I own one! — and I’m not sure I entirely agree with his complaint about it, but what’s striking is how it represents the antithesis of Zittrainianism: 

Yesterday, Google announced Google Earth for Android. It looks neat–and it requires Android 2.1, so it won’t run on the less-than-four-months-old Droid. That’ll get fixed when Verizon rolls out an update for the Droid, which may happen soon. But it points out frustrating, potentially crippling issues with Android: The platform is splintering, and it’s changing so rapidly that the majority of Android handsets feel stale. Even the Droid–I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence that Amazon is selling it for fifty bucks, or one-quarter of Verizon’s original after-rebate price. Over at InfoWorld, Galen Gruman has a good post with more evidence of Android’s fractured nature. There are multiple, incompatible versions of the OS out there, and I don’t know of any good reason to think the situation’s going to get better rather than worse. Google surely isn’t setting a good example by releasing an Android version of Google Earth which won’t run on most Android phones.

But wait… doesn’t Android represent an example of near Nirvana in terms of Zittrainian generativity? Isn’t this the model we should all be hungry to have dominate all devices? McCracken sure doesn’t think so. He’s all aboard the Steve Jobs “Screw Openness” Express:

Do I need to recap the situation with Apple’s iPhone OS? It gets only one major upgrade a year, instantly available to all owners of existing devices, and all software works on any iPhone OS gizmo that has the proper hardware. Android will never be like that, of course: It’s an open-source product that runs on an array of gadgets with varying hardware specs and capabilities. But how big a bummer is it going to be if it takes a nerdish interest in version numbers to determine if a given app works on your phone? Isn’t it a problem if the hot Android phone of the 2009 holiday season feels stale by February, even if the situation is somewhat temporary? In short, wouldn’t it be healthy for Android if it evolved a little more slowly, and everyone responsible for its fate agreed that compatibility is a key goal?

Now isn’t that interesting! Here, in essence, we have an argument that generativity and openness are bad for us.  McCracken is praising Apple’s “you’ll get your OS upgrades when we let you” model versus the wild west approach of rolling upgrades for Android devices. Are you OK with that? Personally, I’m not. But more on that in a moment.

Part of what McCracken is actually getting at here is something I talked about in an old essay here wondering what constitutes “Too Much Platform Competition.” That is, how many platforms or operating systems are too many? Do we really need dozens of video game consoles? I don’t know about you, but I personally wouldn’t want to buy more than the 3 consoles I have already spent way too much money on. And game developers absolutely hate having to code for multiple platforms. The same is now true for mobile application developers. They are not particularly fond of the sudden proliferation of mobile operating systems and apps stores using competing standards. It’s just more development expense from their perspective.

What the iPhone brings, by contrast, is stability, security, and certainty.  People value that even if Zittrain fears it.

But now for the not so dirty little secret I have whispered here before — I hate Apple for all this!!  I am more of Zittrainian than Zittrain!  Jonathan actually carries an iPhone around in his pocket when I wouldn’t consider owning one in a million years.  I want to hack away at my stuff and tweak it to my heart’s content. And when McCracken talks about that “nerdish interest in version numbers to determine if a given app works on your phone,” well, that’s me, baby!  I am the kind of uber-dork that sits around constantly hitting the refresh button on the Droid’s “About Phone” menu to see if new OS upgrades are ready to roll.  (Yes, sad, I know. Do you believe someone actually married a dork like me?) And as far as security and stability go… well I say screw that. I have bricked several phones trying to hack away at them. It doesn’t help that I almost never know what I am doing, but I do have an healthy spirit of digital adventurism!

Anyway, here’s the really important point: We can have the best of both worlds — a world full of plenty of “tethered” appliances and semi-walled gardens, but also plenty of generativity and openness at the same time. And we can have plenty of hybrid solutions, too.  On the “generative-vs.-sterile appliance” spectrum, the range of devices and platforms just continues to grow and grow in both directions.

Moreover, these “open” vs. “closed” notions are always hopelessly over-simplified in digital technology policy debates. It’s rare to find any device or platform that is perfectly open or closed. Indeed, the very notion that Apple is a “closed’ platform is somewhat misleading. As I mentioned just last night, Apple’s App Store alone has over 100,000 apps in 20 different categories (available in 77 countries) to choose from. So, even though Steve Jobs & Co. keep a tight grip on operating system upgrades and Apps Store policies, the reality is that there’s a whole lot of generativity taking place on top of that OS and within that app store. It’s somewhat reminiscent of what happened when supposedly Big Bad Bill Gates pissed off the whole world in the 90s by building a code empire around a proprietary operating system that he tightly controlled:  Countless exciting innovations developed for that platform even if Bill & Microsoft didn’t hand over the keys to OS to the rest of the world so they could tinker away with it.

Again, I am not saying that generativity and openness are overrated; only that they other side of the story rarely gets told.  And the ideal world, of course, is one in which we have options on both sides of the “open” vs. “closed” spectrum from which to choose. Luckily, that is increasingly the world we live in today.

Harvard Berkman Center professor Jonathan Zittrain has published another pessimistic, Steve-Jobs-is-Taking-Us-Straight-To-Cyber-Hell editorial building on the gloomy thesis he set forth in his 2008 book, The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It. His latest piece appears in the Financial Times and it’s entitled, “A Fight over Freedom at Apple’s Core. Concerning the recent Apple iPad announcement, Zittrain warns: “Mr Jobs ushered in the personal computer era and now he is trying to usher it out.”

I’m not going to go into yet another lengthy dissertation about what it so misguided about his thesis that cyberspace is becoming more “regulable” and that digital “generativity” is dying because of the rise of devices like the iPhone & iPad, or sites like Facebook.  Instead, I will just point you to the many things I’ve written before explaining just how far off the mark Prof. Zittrain is on this point. [See the complete list down below + video of our debate.]

But let me just say this… Ignoring that fact that he is an iPhone user himself — which makes no sense considering that he thinks of Apple as the font of all cyber-evil — he can’t muster any substantive empirical evidence proving that the Net and digital devices are being more “closed, sterile, and tethered,” as he repeatedly claims in his book and editorials.  And that’s not surprising because the reality is that the digital world is more open and generative than ever, and even if there are some “closed” devices and systems out there, they are actually quite innovative and not perfectly closed as Zittrain suggests. The spectrum of “open vs. closed” systems and devices is incredible diverse and nothing is perfectly “open” or “closed.”  We can have the best of both worlds: many open systems with some partial “walled gardens” here and there (or hybrid systems combining both). Regardless, we are witnessing greater digital “generativity” and innovation with each passing year. Until Zittrain can prove the opposite, his thesis must be considered a failure.

Finally, I want to associate myself with this excellent critique of the Zittrain thesis by Prof. Ed Felten, who points out that Zittrain’s argument doesn’t even work for the iPad, which I would agree is a fairly “closed appliance” in the Zittrainian scheme of the things:

For the iPad to become a Zittrain-type appliance, two things must happen. First, Apple must remain picky about which apps are available in the App Store. Second, Apple must limit the device’s browser so that it lacks the features that make today’s browsers viable application platforms. Will Apple be able to limit their product in this way, despite competition from other, more general-purpose tablets? I doubt it. But even this — even an appliance-style iPad — would not be enough to prove Zittrain’s thesis. Zittrain argued not just that appliances would exist, but that they would replace general purpose computers. Amazon’s kindle is an appliance, but it doesn’t prove Zittrain’s thesis because nobody is ditching their laptop in favor of a Kindle. Instead, the Kindle is an extra device which is used for its purpose, while the general-purpose device is used for everything else. If the iPad ends up like the Kindle — a complement to the laptop or netbook, rather than a replacement for it — this will not prove Zittrain’s thesis. It seems unlikely, then, that the iPad, even if it succeeds, will provide strong support for Zittrain’s thesis. General-purpose computers are so useful that we’re not likely to abandon them.

Exactly right. And here’s a few more things you might want to read to see why Zittrain’s thesis doesn’t add up (the first and the last one probably provide the best overview):

• Review of Zittrain’s “Future of the Internet” (3/23/08)
• Apple, Openness, and the Zittrain Thesis (3/30/08)
• Another Problem for the Zittrain Thesis — Old People! (4/12/08)
• [AUDIO] NPR “On Point” Debate over The Future of the Internet (5/13/08)
• iPhone 2.0 Cracked in Hours… What Was that Zittrain Thesis Again? (7/10/08)
• Enough anti-iPhone rants… just get another phone! (8/11/08)
• Another Review of Zittrain’s “Future of the Internet” (9/20/08)
• [VIDEO] My Debate with Jonathan Zittrain at New America Foundation (11/6/08)
• Zittrain’s Pessimistic Predictions and Problematic Prescriptions for the Net (7/20/09)
• Code, Pessimism, and the Illusion of “Perfect Control” (5/8/09)[1st part of Cato Unbound Debate “Ten Years of Code“ (featuring Lessig, Zittrain, Declan McCullagh, and me]
• Our Conflict of Cyber-Visions (5/14/09) [part 2 of the Cato Unbound debate]
• Cyber-Libertarianism: The Case for Real Internet Freedom (8/12/09)
• You’d Have to Be Smoking Dope to Believe the Zittrain-Lessig Thesis (9/15/09)
• Oh Farts! The Droid, the iPhone & the Lessig-Zittrain Thesis (11/12/09)

Despite my frequent disagreements with his policy conclusions, Farhad Manjooo of Slate is one of the most gifted tech policy pundits around today and everything he writes is worth reading (and I whole-heartedly agreed with his recent article on the high-tech and antitrust).  Alas, I find myself again disagreeing with him again today.

In his latest column, “The Great iPhone Lockdown: Should the FCC force Apple to sell Google’s apps?” Manjoo responds to a recent essay by TLF contributor Ryan Radia (“Newsflash to FCC: The iPhone is a Closed Platform, and Consumers Love It“). In that essay, Ryan generally argued that: (a) a lot of people own and love the iPhone despite some silly restrictions on certain apps; and (b) if they don’t like that, there are plenty of other options from which they can choose. Consequently, regulation seems unwarranted and likely highly misguided in light of the potential unitended consequences in might yield.  It’s an argument I very much agree with, of course.  Anyway, Manjoo responds:

Radia’s argument isn’t crazy. Just the other day, I argued that the government shouldn’t go after Google for antitrust violations because the tech industry is fluid; companies that are on top today can fall tomorrow. So what if Apple rejects apps capriciously? If its actions are so terrible, consumers will eventually abandon it.

But then Manjoo counters that argument and goes completely off-the-rails with several assertions that I find quite perplexing:

Yet [Radia’s] analysis misses a key point: The iPhone runs on public networks and therefore falls under government jurisdiction. At the very least, the regulators have a duty to ensure fair competition on wireless networks—and by arbitrarily blocking rivals from its device, the iPhone’s software platform simply isn’t fair. We would never accept its rules in other contexts: Imagine if Apple were building cars instead of phones and one day decided that everyone who’d bought an iCar would be banned from listening to any music not purchased from iTunes. Or say that Apple banned all Mac users from downloading Firefox because the browser duplicated the functionality of Safari. Such restrictions sound ridiculous; they wouldn’t pass the barest scrutiny of regulators or consumers. So why should we allow Apple to do the same thing with the iPhone?

Well, let’s begin with a few things he gets wrong here.  First, ” The iPhone runs on public networks and therefore falls under government jurisdiction.”  Uh, no. Last time I checked, AT&T was not running a “public network” owned by the government.  It’s true that AT&T is subjected to some FCC and state rules governing the provision of service, but it isn’t a “public network” like our highway system or inter-coastal waterways.  Thus, AT&T has the right to set terms of service (along with partners like Apple) to achieve both profitability and continue to invest in innovative new networks and services.

Manjoo then asserts that: ” At the very least, the regulators have a duty to ensure fair competition on wireless networks—and by arbitrarily blocking rivals from its device, the iPhone’s software platform simply isn’t fair.” It’s true that there are consumer protection laws on the books, but it’s unclear to me how the FCC has any jurisdictional authority to be regulating Apple or the iPhone.  There simply is none as I noted here in my essay, “Where is FCC Authority to Regulate in Apple-Google Spat?”

Manjoo’s next argument that “We would never accept its rules in other contexts,” uses some very rather strange examples. He asks us to consider what we (or the government, I suppose) might do “if Apple were building cars instead of phones and one day decided that everyone who’d bought an iCar would be banned from listening to any music not purchased from iTunes. Or say that Apple banned all Mac users from downloading Firefox because the browser duplicated the functionality of Safari.”

Well, I think it’s quite clear what we would do: WE WOULD STOP USING APPLE PRODUCTS!  Or at least we could if we didn’t like the terms of the deals they offered.  So, even if it is true that many of us would find such restrictions “ridiculous,” as Manjoo suggests, it certainly does not follow that ” they wouldn’t pass the barest scrutiny of regulators...”  Rubbish. I’m not even sure which agency it is that Manjoo think would be in the business of regulating “iCars” or, for that matter, Firefox and Safari web browsers. (A “Federal Computer Commission?”)

Regardless, it’s a bad idea.  These are activities that are better settled by consumer responses and market backlashes. If you want more innovation and competition in response to bone-headed moves by Apple (or anyone else for that matter), the solution is most definitely NOT the sort of common carriage regulatory regime that Manjoo seems to be suggesting.  That will just lock us into plain vanilla technologies, networks, and services.  Real tech innovation happens when people and competitors get pissed and get off their duffs to do something about it, not when government attempts to micro-manage results by tinkering with yesterday’s platforms.

Again, I want to make it very clear that I am not saying there is no such thing as “market failure” or “code failure.” To the contrary, as I argued in my recent exchange with Lawrence Lessig, I see mini-market failures happening all the time in the technology world.  But:

here’s the amazing thing: I usually wake up the next day, fire up my RSS reader again, and find a world almost literally transformed overnight. I see the power of public pressure, press scrutiny, social norms, and innovation by competitors combining to correct the “bad code” or “code failures” of the previous day. OK, so sometimes it takes longer that a day, a week, or a month. And occasionally legal sanctions must enter the picture if the companies or coders did something particularly egregious. But, more often than not, markets evolve and bad code eventually gives way to better code; short-term “market failures” give rise to a world of innovative alternatives.

Thus, I went on to argue that:

“code failures” are ultimately better addressed by voluntary, spontaneous, bottom-up, marketplace responses than by coerced, top-down, governmental solutions. Moreover, the decisive advantage of the market-driven approach to correcting code failure comes down to the rapidity and nimbleness of those response(s). Of course, this assumes we can agree on a definition of “bad code” and “code failures.” What concerns me about the way Prof. Lessig approaches these issues in Code and in his subsequent work is that he is far too quick to declare the debate over by labeling short-term code hiccups as sky-is-falling market failures. The end result of such myopic techno-pessimism is the inevitable call for governments to intervene and “do something” to correct supposed code failures. The cyber-libertarian instead counsels patience. Let’s give those other forces — alternative platforms, new innovators, social norms, public pressure, etc. — a chance to work some magic. Evolution happens, if you let it.

But, again, such evolution and innovation will most decidedly not happen if you people are always running around crying “market failure!” and calling in the code cops at every juncture, as Manjoo seems to be doing in the Apple-Google spat.  The problem with that think, as I noted in my debate with Lessig, is that it:

creates perverse marketplace incentives by discouraging efforts to innovate or “route around” bad code or code failure. We don’t want the whole world sitting around waiting for government to regulate the mousetrap to improve it or even give everyone better access to it; we should want the world to be innovating to create better mousetraps!

No one is going to build a better mousetrap to compete with Apple if regulators make it too easy for Apple to become the one preferred platform for all mobile apps developers. If Google is pissed about Apple screwing them over on their Google Voice app, that is a great thing: It will give them all the better reason to plow even more resources into Android and other platforms to compete against Apple!  And that’s exactly the sort of serious competition and innovation we should all be rooting for.

How is it that smart people like Manjoo fail to grasp this crucial point?

Over at the Verizon Policy Blog, Link Hoewing has a sharp piece up entitled, “Of Business Models and Innovation.” He makes a point that I have often stressed in my debates with Zittrain and Lessig, namely, that the whole “open vs. closed” debate is typically greatly overstated or misunderstood.   Hoewing correctly argues that:

The point is not that open or managed models are always better or worse.  The point is that there is no one “right” model for promoting innovation.  There are examples of managed and open business models that have been both good for innovation and bad for it. There are also examples of managed and open models that have both succeeded and failed.  The point is in a competitive market to let companies develop business models they believe will serve consumers best and see how things play out.

Exactly right.  Moreover, the really important point here is that there exists a diverse spectrum of innovative digital alternatives from which to choose. Along the “open vs. closed” spectrum, the range of digital technologies and business models continues to grow and grow in both directions.  Do you want wide-open, tinker-friendly devices, sites, or software? You got it. Do you want a more closed, simple, and safe online experience?  You can have that, too.  And there are plenty of choices in between.

This is called progress!

What would it take to create a more secure Internet?  That’s what John Markoff explores in his latest New York Times article, “Do We Need a New Internet?”  Echoing some of the same fears Jonathan Zittrain articulates in his new book The Future of the Internet, Markoff wonders if online viruses and other forms of malware have gotten so out-of-control that extreme measures may be necessary to save the Net.  Compared to when cyber-security attacks first started growing over 20 years ago, Markoff argues that:

[T]hings have gotten much, much worse. Bad enough that there is a growing belief among engineers and security experts that Internet security and privacy have become so maddeningly elusive that the only way to fix the problem is to start over.

Like many others, Markoff fingers anonymity as one potential culprit:

The Internet’s current design virtually guarantees anonymity to its users. (As a New Yorker cartoon noted some years ago, “On the Internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog.”) But that anonymity is now the most vexing challenge for law enforcement. An Internet attacker can route a connection through many countries to hide his location, which may be from an account in an Internet cafe purchased with a stolen credit card. “As soon as you start dealing with the public Internet, the whole notion of trust becomes a quagmire,” said Stefan Savage, an expert on computer security at the University of California, San Diego.

Consequently, Markoff suggests that:

A more secure network is one that would almost certainly offer less anonymity and privacy. That is likely to be the great tradeoff for the designers of the next Internet. One idea, for example, would be to require the equivalent of drivers’ licenses to permit someone to connect to a public computer network. But that runs against the deeply held libertarian ethos of the Internet.

Indeed, not only does it run counter to the ethos of the Net, but as Markoff rightly notes, “Proving identity is likely to remain remarkably difficult in a world where it is trivial to take over someone’s computer from half a world away and operate it as your own. As long as that remains true, building a completely trustable system will remain virtually impossible.”  I’ve spent a lot of time writing about that fact here and won’t belabor the point other than to say that efforts to eliminate anonymity for the entire Internet would prove extraordinarily intrusive and destructive — of both the Internet’s current architecture and the rights of its users.  There’s just something about a “show-us-you-papers,” national ID card-esque system of online identification that creeps most of us out. That’s why I spend so much time fighting age verification mandates for social networking sites and other websites; it’s the first step down a very dangerous road.

But what if we could apply such solutions in a narrower sense?  That is, could we create more secure communities within the overarching Internet superstructure that might provide greater security?  Markoff starts thinking along those lines when he suggests…

What a new Internet might look like is still widely debated, but one alternative would, in effect, create a “gated community” where users would give up their anonymity and certain freedoms in return for safety.

… but he is still thinking in terms of a replacement model for the entire Internet, which would be misguided for the reasons I stated above.  We don’t want to force a single, intrusive, anonymity-killing replacement model on the entire online universe.  Starting over isn’t even possible in a practical sense.

It’s a shame that Markoff didn’t interview my old colleague Wayne Crews for his story because Wayne has outlined an alternative framework worth considering. For many years, Wayne has been preaching about “spinternets,” or the notion that we need to start thinking about how develop not just one better Internet, but many better Internets. In a visionary piece for Forbes back in early 2001, Wayne argued that the solution to the growth of various online concerns “is more Internets, not more regulations”:

The Internet needs borders beyond which users can escape damaging political resolutions of these battles, which are rooted in the Internet’s nonowned, common-property status. Conflicting legislative visions in a cyberspace populated by exhibitionists at one extreme and would-be inhabitants of gated communities on the other, reveal the basic truth that not everybody wants or needs to be connected to everybody else.

Again, there’s that notion of “gated communities” that Markoff brought up. It’s not for everybody, but those seeking greater security could perhaps find it inside such online communities. Of course, others who wanted a different experience could start a completely different gated community under Wayne’s model.

But the problem with this notion, quite obviously, is that very few people want to stay inside their gated communities all the time. In the physical world of gated communities, for example, members of it still like to get out of there once and awhile to visit shops, events, parks, friends and family, etc.  The same goes for the Internet.  Just ask all those former denizens of AOL’s gated community.  For awhile, many of them — over 25 million strong at the zenith of its popularity — were content to spend most of their digital day inside the walls of Case’s Castle.  Gradually, however, they felt the need to explore outside those walls.  And so they did.  A mass exodus ensued and the walls came crumbling down around AOL’s gated community.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean the idea of online gated communities is entirely dead. There are certainly many closed, tightly-controlled networks out there already — mostly in corporate or government environments — that offer a glimpse of how such a model might work in practice.  Also, smaller social networking sites aimed at kids provide another example since they are usually tightly-controlled walled gardens that offer much greater security.

But Wayne was always thinking of something bigger — much bigger — than just closed corporate / government networks. He was thinking about a world of many different Internet s that didn’t necessarily have a back door to the broader Internet. Think of it as many parallel, but unconnected digital systems and networks, each serving a different set of values and cultures with unique rules.

Wayne envisioned the primary critique of this model in his original piece, noting that “it will be criticized as Balkanization.”  Indeed, Sonia Arrison called it “techno-isolationism, which goes against the very spirit that makes the Internet great.”  Indeed, it certainly would destroy something very precious about the current Internet — universal connectivity and openness.  But that’s sort of the point, isn’t it!  Universal connectivity and openness have given us many wonderful things, but some troubling things, too.  That’s what Markoff was getting at in his NYT piece, and it’s part of what Wayne was aiming to address with his splinternets idea.

But do we really want to encourage a world of multiple Internets where, presumably, they are split right down to the root? In other words, there wouldn’t be a common language for networks to communicate or a way to access many sites and services outside the particular Net you are on at any given time. It would be the equivalent of living on different digital planets that never linked or communicated.

I think it’s unlikely we’ll ever get there, and if we did it would likely be driven by global governments challenging ICANN and existing Internet governance structures. In other words, the DNS root would be completely split by some countries (China?) who didn’t want to play by the same rules as the rest of the interconnected world, or who wanted to try to impose a different vision upon a new, competing global network.

But might there be a way to find a happy middle ground between the Wild West commons of the current Net and the “techno-isolationism” of Wayne’s splinternet model?  Perhaps “Splinternet-lite” is the solution.  Within the confines of the existing Internet superstructure, there are ways to create walled gardens today and limit the number of back doors to the broader Net.  Again, the smaller social networking sites and virtual worlds aimed at kids already do that. Once you’re in there, you’re in a very different world. You have to be fully verified before you’re even let in the door, and once you’re inside their are tight limits on what you say, do, and explore. And you’ll get booted out pretty quickly if you break the rules.  The result is greater safety and peace-of-mind for kids and parents alike. It’s a less clear, however, how that model would “scale up” and apply to the entire universe of online networks.  I think we’ll have to be content with small patches of security within a world of insecurity. That’s the cost of the openness and interconnectivity that the Net current gives us.

In sum, there is no clear answer to John Markoff’s question, “Do we need a new Internet?”  We certainly could do more to address the problems with the current Net, but upending it and starting over isn’t likely an option.  More micro-splinternets within the overarching Net superstructure, however, might help those who are particularly risk-conscious find safe haven from various cyber-security fears. But it won’t shelter them from those problems completely.

I’ve been hammering Jonathan Zittrain pretty hard here over the past year for the thesis he sets forth in The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It that digital “generativity” is at risk today. The reason I have been doing so is because all signs point in the exact opposite direction, and more so with each passing day. Contrary to Jonathan’s fear that the Internet and digital technologies are growing more closed, tethered, and sterile, I have argued that the facts on the ground show us how the world is actually becoming far more open, untethered, and innovative.  And that’s true even for the technology that Jonathan singles out in the book for special scorn — the iPhone.

Consider David Pogue’s post today on the New York Times‘ technology blog today entitled “So Many iPhone Apps, So Little Time.” Pogue reports that:

there are now 15,000 programs available on the App Store, and so many more are flooding in that Apple’s army of screeners can’t even keep up. I keep meaning to write a thoughtful, thorough roundup of the very best of these amazing programs, but every day that I don’t do it, the job becomes more daunting. […] Apple, which runs the store, keeps 30 percent of each sale. Even so, Ocarina [an application Pogue discusses in his essay] demonstrates that a programmer can make a staggering amount of money from the iPhone store. It’s a crazy new software model that I don’t remember seeing anywhere else. It’s not a boxed software program for $600, or even a shareware program you download for $25. It’s a buck a copy. The beauty here is that at these prices, there’s very little risk in trying something out. How many software programs have you bought for your Mac or PC? Two? Four? Well, the average iPhone owner may wind up installing 10, 20 or 30 programs. In all, according to Apple, iPhone owners have downloaded 500 million copies of these programs. Half a billion–since last July. There’s a lot of gloom in the tech industry (and every industry, for that matter). But even when the economy is crashing down around us, there’s still amazing power in a single good idea. And the one on display here–pricing software so low that millions of people buy it without batting an eye–is turning a few clever programmers into millionaires.

I ask you: Does this sound like a world that is growing less generative, as Zittrain argues? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it to me.  Moreover, if you still don’t think the iPhone is open enough, then there’s always a simple solution to that: just buy another phone!

“Hasn’t Steve Jobs learned anything in the last 30 years?” asks Farhad Manjoo of Slate in an interesting piece about “The Cell Phone Wars” currently raging between Apple’s iPhone and the Google’s new G1, Android-based phone. Manjoo wonders if whether Steve Jobs remembers what happen the last time he closed up a platform: “because Apple closed its platform, it was IBM, Dell, HP, and especially Microsoft that reaped the benefits of Apple’s innovations.” Thus, if Jobs didn’t learn his lesson, will he now with the iPhone? Manjoo continues:

Well, maybe he has—and maybe he’s betting that these days, “openness” is overrated. For one thing, an open platform is much more technically complex than a closed one. Your Windows computer crashes more often than your Mac computer because—among many other reasons—Windows has to accommodate a wider variety of hardware. Dell’s machines use different hard drives and graphics cards and memory chips than Gateway’s, and they’re both different from Lenovo’s. The Mac OS, meanwhile, has to work on just a small range of Apple’s rigorously tested internal components—which is part of the reason it can run so smoothly. And why is your PC glutted with viruses and spyware? The same openness that makes a platform attractive to legitimate developers makes it a target for illegitimate ones.

I discussed these issues in greater detail in my essay on”Apple, Openness, and the Zittrain Thesis” and in a follow-up essay about how the Apple iPhone 2.0 was cracked in mere hours. My point in these and other essays is that the whole “open vs. closed” dichotomy is greatly overplayed. Each has its benefits and drawbacks, but there is no reason we need to make a false choice between the two for the sake of “the future of the Net” or anything like that.

In fact, the hybrid world we live in — full of a wide variety of open and proprietary platforms, networks, and solutions — presents us with the best of all worlds. As I argued in my original review of Jonathan Zittrain’s book, “Hybrid solutions often make a great deal of sense. They offer creative opportunities within certain confines in an attempt to balance openness and stability.”  It’s a sign of great progress that we now have different open vs. closed models that appeal to different types of users.  It’s a false choice to imagine that we need to choose between these various models.

Which raises a second point I always stress: There are an infinite number of points along the “open vs. closed” spectrum.  In reality, there are very few products that are perfectly “open” or “closed” out there. These are terms of art, not science.  The iPhone is becoming more “open” with each passing day.  Granted, it’s not as open as the Windows Mobile and certainly not as open as Android, but many people feel those platforms aren’t perfectly open either, or have that they have their own sets of problems.  Bottom line is, you can shop around and find the phone (and level of “openness”) that is right for you. No one is forcing you to buy an iPhone.

Third, efforts to tightly bottle up any technology or business model these days are usually doomed to fail. It’s not just the iPhone that is cracked in mere hours these days; seemingly every new gadget and service has a small army of hackers waiting to pounce when the product doesn’t do everything that consumers want it to. It’s getting harder and harder for product developers to “cripple” or limit functionality out of the gate.  They either offer it immediately or someone else we make sure it is offered for them.

Fourth and final point: The proper policy position with regards to the “open vs. closed” debate should be one of techno-agnosticism.  Lawmakers and courts should not be tilting the balance in one direction or the other.  Let the great experiment (and debate) continue.

Sorry if it seems like I am beating a dead horse here, but the folks at the City Journal asked me a pen a review of Jonathan Zittrain’s new book, The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It.  Faithful readers here will no doubt remember that I have already penned a review of the book and several follow-up essays. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4). I swear I am not picking on Jonathan, but his book is probably the most important technology policy book of the year–Nick Carr’s Big Switch would be a close second–and deserves attention.  Specifically, I think it deserves attention because I believe that Jonathan’s provocative thesis is wildly out of touch with reality.  As I state in the City Journal review of his book:

[C]ontrary to what Zittrain would have us believe, reports of the Internet’s death have been greatly exaggerated. […] Not only is the Net not dying, but there are signs that digital generativity and online openness are thriving as never before. […] Essentially, Zittrain creates a false choice regarding the digital future we face. He doesn’t seem to believe that a hybrid future is possible or desirable. In reality, however, we can have a world full of some tethered appliances or even semi-closed networks that also includes generative gadgets and open networks. After all, millions of us love our iPhones and TiVos, but we also take full advantage of the countless other open networks and devices at our disposal. […]

Further, while it’s true that the creators of iPhone and TiVo maintain a high degree of control over the guts of the devices or their operating systems, the technologies themselves are hardly sterile or non-generative. In fact, these devices have amazing uses, and they have both recently become more open to third-party add-ons and applications. Geeks who demand still more are also hacking away at these and other digital devices to get them to do everything but wash their dishes.Most of us want networks and digital devices that work.

Zittrain, by contrast, seems to long for the era when we all had to load floppy disks into our PCs each morning to get our operating systems running. But those were hardly the good old days. Device makers realized that only techno-geeks would tolerate such hassles, and so our PCs and phones now come with more software and services built in to make our lives easier. Nothing stands in the way of those who still prefer the rugged individualist approach to conquering cyber-frontiers and digital devices. But what Zittrain does in The Future of the Internet is generalize his personal preferences to the whole of cyber-society. What’s good for the ivory-tower digerati may not be what the rest of us want or need.

If you are interested you can read the entire review here.  Again, I encourage you to read Zittrain’s entire book and decide for yourself if my critique is unfair.  Despite my criticisms, it’s a very well-written and interesting book.  As with everything Jonathan does, he has a special gift for making nerdy tech policy issues both interesting and entertaining.