If there are two general principles that unify my recent work on technology policy and innovation issues, they would be as follows. To the maximum extent possible:

1. We should avoid preemptive and precautionary-based regulatory regimes for new innovation. Instead, our policy default should be innovation allowed (or “permissionless innovation”) and innovators should be considered “innocent until proven guilty” (unless, that is, a thorough benefit-cost analysis has been conducted that documents the clear need for immediate preemptive restraints).
2. We should avoid rigid, “top-down” technology-specific or sector-specific regulatory regimes and/or regulatory agencies and instead opt for a broader array of more flexible, “bottom-up” solutions (education, empowerment, social norms, self-regulation, public pressure, etc.) as well as reliance on existing legal systems and standards (torts, product liability, contracts, property rights, etc.).

I was very interested, therefore, to come across two new essays that make opposing arguments and proposals. The first is this recent Slate oped by John Frank Weaver, “We Need to Pass Legislation on Artificial Intelligence Early and Often.” The second is Ryan Calo’s new Brookings Institution white paper, “The Case for a Federal Robotics Commission.”

Weaver argues that new robot technology “is going to develop fast, almost certainly faster than we can legislate it. That’s why we need to get ahead of it now.” In order to preemptively address concerns about new technologies such as driverless cars or commercial drones, “we need to legislate early and often,” Weaver says. Stated differently, Weaver is proposing “precautionary principle”-based regulation of these technologies. The precautionary principle generally refers to the belief that new innovations should be curtailed or disallowed until their developers can prove that they will not cause any harms to individuals, groups, specific entities, cultural norms, or various existing laws, norms, or traditions.

Calo argues that we need “the establishment of a new federal agency to deal with the novel experiences and harms robotics enables” since there exists “distinct but related challenges that would benefit from being examined and treated together.” These issues, he says, “require special expertise to understand and may require investment and coordination to thrive.

I’ll address both Weaver and Calo’s proposals in turn.

Problems with Precautionary Regulation

Let’s begin with Weaver proposed approach to regulating robotics and autonomous systems.

What Weaver seems to ignore—and which I discuss at greater length in my latest book—is that “precautionary” policy-making typically results in technological stasis and lost opportunities for economic and social progress. As I noted in my book, if we spend all our time living in constant fear of worst-case scenarios—and premising public policy upon such fears—it means that best-case scenarios will never come about. Wisdom and progress are born from experience, including experiences that involve risk and the possibility of occasional mistakes and failures. As the old adage goes, “nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

More concretely, the problem with “permissioning” innovation is that traditional regulatory policies and systems tend to be overly-rigid, bureaucratic, costly, and slow to adapt to new realities. Precautionary-based policies and regulatory systems focus on preemptive remedies that aim to predict the future, and future hypothetical problems that may not ever come about. As a result, preemptive bans or highly restrictive regulatory prescriptions can limit innovations that yield new and better ways of doing things.

Weaver doesn’t bother addressing these issues. He instead advocates regulating “early and often” without stopping to think through the potential costs of doing so. Yet, all regulation has trade-offs and opportunity costs. Before we rush to adopt rules based on knee-jerk negative reactions to new technology, we should conduct comprehensive benefit-cost analysis of the proposals and think carefully about what alternative approaches exist to address whatever problems we have identified.

Incidentally, Weaver also does not acknowledge the contradiction inherent in his thinking when he says robotic technology “is going to develop fast, almost certainly faster than we can legislate it. That’s why we need to get ahead of it now.” Well, if robotic technology is truly developing “faster than we can legislate it,” then “getting out ahead of it” would be seemingly impossible! Unless, that is, he envisions regulating robotic technologies so stringently as to effectively bring new innovation to a grinding halt (or banning altogether).

To be clear, my criticisms should not be read to suggest that zero regulation is the best option. There are plenty of thorny issues that deserve serious policy consideration and perhaps even some preemptive rules. But how potential harms are addressed matters deeply. We should exhaust all other potential nonregulatory remedies first — education, empowerment, transparency, etc. — before resorting to preemptive controls on new forms of innovation. In other words, ex post (or after the fact) solutions should generally trump ex ante (preemptive) controls.

I’ll say more on this point in the conclusion since my response addresses general failings in Ryan Calo’s Federal Robotics Commission proposal, to which we now turn.

Problems with a Federal Robotics Commission

Moving on to Calo, it is important to clarify what he is proposing because he is careful not to overstate his case in favor of a new agency for robotics. He elaborates as follows:

“The institution I have in mind would not “regulate” robotics in the sense of fashioning rules regarding their use, at least not in any initial incarnation. Rather, the agency would advise on issues at all levels—state and federal, domestic and foreign, civil and criminal—that touch upon the unique aspects of robotics and artificial intelligence and the novel human experiences these technologies generate. The alternative, I fear, is that we will continue to address robotics policy questions piecemeal, perhaps indefinitely, with increasingly poor outcomes and slow accrual of knowledge. Meanwhile, other nations that are investing more heavily in robotics and, specifically, in developing a legal and policy infrastructure for emerging technology, will leapfrog the U.S. in innovation for the first time since the creation of steam power.”

Here are some of my concerns with Calo’s proposed Federal Robotics Commission.

Will It Really Just Be an Advisory Body?

First, Calo claims he doesn’t want a formal regulatory agency, but something more akin to a super-advisory body. He does, however, sneak in that disclaimer that he doesn’t envision it to be regulatory “at least not in any initial incarnation.” Perhaps, then, he is suggesting that more formal regulatory controls would be in the cards down the road. It remains unclear.

Regardless, I think it is a bit disingenuous to propose the formation of a new governmental body like this and pretend that it will not someday very soon come to possess sweeping regulatory powers over these technologies. Now, you may well feel that that is a good thing. But I fear that Calo is playing a bit of game here by asking the reader to imagine his new creation would merely stick to an advisory role.

Regulatory creep is real. There just aren’t too many examples of agencies being created solely for their advisory expertise and then not also getting into the business of regulating the technology or topic that is included in that agency’s name. And in light of some of Calo’s past writing and advocacy, I can’t help but think he is actually hoping that the agency comes to take on a greater regulatory role over time. Regardless, I think we can bank on that happening and I that there are reasons to worry about it for reasons noted above and which I will elaborate on below.

Incidentally, if Calo is really more interested in furthering just this expert advisory capacity, there are plenty of other entities (including non-governmental bodies) that could play that role. How about the National Science Foundation, for example? Or how about a multi-stakeholder body consisting of many different experts and institutions? I could go on, but you get the point. A single point of action is also a single point of failure. I don’t want just one big robotics bureaucracy making policy or even advising. I’d prefer a more decentralized approach, and one that doesn’t carry a (potential) big regulatory club in its hand.

Public Choice / Regulatory Capture Problems

Second, Calo underestimates the public choice problems of creating a sector-specific or technology-specific agency just for robotics. To his credit, he does admit that, “agencies have their problems, of course. They can be inefficient and are subject to capture by those they regulate or other special interests.” He also notes he has criticized other agencies for various failings. But he does not say anything more on this point.

Let’s be clear. There exists a long and lamentable history of sector-specific regulators being “captured” by the entities they regulate. To read the ugly reality, see my compendium, “Regulatory Capture: What the Experts Have Found.” That piece documents what leading academics of all political stripes have had to say about this problem over the past century. No one ever summarized the nature and gravity of this problem better than the great Alfred Kahn in his masterpiece, The Economics of Regulation: Principles and Institutions (1971):

“When a commission is responsible for the performance of an industry, it is under never completely escapable pressure to protect the health of the companies it regulates, to assure a desirable performance by relying on those monopolistic chosen instruments and its own controls rather than on the unplanned and unplannable forces of competition. [. . . ] Responsible for the continued provision and improvement of service, [the regulatory commission] comes increasingly and understandably to identify the interest of the public with that of the existing companies on whom it must rely to deliver goods.” (pgs. 12, 46)

The history of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) is highly instructive in this regard and was documented in a 66-page law review article I penned with Brent Skorup entitled, “A History of Cronyism and Capture in the Information Technology Sector,” (Journal of Technology Law & Policy, Vol. 18, 2013). Again, it doesn’t make for pleasant reading. Time and time again, instead of serving the “public interest,” the FCC served private interests. The entire history of video marketplace regulation is one of the most sickening examples to consider since there have almost eight decades worth of case studies of the broadcast industry using regulation as a club to beat back new entry, competition, and innovation. [Skorup and I have another paper discussing that specific history and how to go about reversing it.] This history is important because, in the early days of the Commission, many proponents thought the FCC would be exactly the sort of “expert” independent agency that Calo envisions his Federal Robotics Commission would be. Needless to say, things did not turn out so well.

But the FCC isn’t the only guilty offender in this regard. Go read the history about how airlines so effectively cartelized their industry following World War II with the help of the Civil Aeronautics Board. Thankfully, President Jimmy Carter appointed Alfred Kahn to clean things up in the 1970s. Kahn, a life-long Democrat, came to realize that the problem of capture was so insidious and inescapable that abolition of the agency was the only realistic solution to make sure consumer welfare would improve. As a result, he and various other Democrats in the Carter Administration and in Congress worked together to sunset the agency and its hideously protectionist, anti-consumer policies. (Also, please read this amazing 1973 law review article on “Economic Regulation vs. Competition,” by Mark Green and Ralph Nader if you need even more proof of why this is a such a problem.)

In other words, the problem of regulatory capture is not something one can casually dismiss. The problem is still very real and deserves more consideration before we casually propose creating new agencies, even “advisory” agencies. At a minimum, when proposing new agencies, you need to get serious about what sort of institutional constraints you might consider putting in place to make sure that history does not repeat itself. Because if you don’t, various large, well-heeled, and politically-connected robotics companies could come to capture any new “Federal Robotics Commission” in very short order.

Can We Clean Up Old Messes Before Building More Bureaucracies?

Third, speaking of agencies, if it is the case that the alphabet soup collection of regulatory agencies we already have in place are not capable of handling “robotics policy” right now, can we talk about reforming them (or perhaps even getting rid of a few of them) first? Why must we just pile yet another sector-specific or technology-specific regulator on top of the many that already exist? That’s just a recipe for more red tape and potential regulatory capture. Unless you believe there is value in creating bureaucracy for the sake of creating bureaucracy, there is no excuse for not phasing out agencies that failed in their original mission, or whose mission is now obsolete, for whatever reason. This is a fundamental “good government” issue that politicians and academics of all stripes should agree on.

Calo indirectly addresses this point by noting that “we have agencies devoted to technologies already and it would be odd and anomalous to think we are done creating them.” Curiously, however, he spends no time talking about those agencies or asking whether they have done a good job. Again, the heart of Calo’s argument comes down the assertion that another specialized, technology-specific “expert” agency is needed because there are “novel” issues associated with robotics. Well, if it is true, as Calo suggests, that we have been down this path before (and we have), and if you believe our economy or society has been made better off for it, then you need to prove it. Because the objection to creating another regulatory bureaucracy is not simply based on distaste for Big Government; it comes down to the simple questions: (1) Do these things work; and (2) Is there a better alternative?

This is where Calo’s proposal falls short. There is no effort to prove that technocratic or “scientific” bureaucracies, on net, are worth their expense (to taxpayers) or cost (to society, innovation, etc.) when compared to alternatives. Of course, I suspect this is where Calo and I might part ways regarding what metrics we would use to gauge success. I’ll save that discussion for another day and shift to what I regard as the far more serious deficiency of Calo’s proposal.

Do We Become Global Innovation Leaders Through Bureaucratic Direction?

Fourth, and most importantly, Calo does not offer any evidence to prove his contention that we need a sector-specific or technology-specific agency for robotics in order to develop or maintain America’s competitive edge in this field. Moreover, he does not acknowledge how his proposal might have the exact opposite result. Let me spend some time on this point because this is what I find most problematic about his proposal.

In his latest Brookings essay and his earlier writing about robotics, Calo keeps suggesting that we need a specialized federal agency for robotics to avoid “poor outcomes” due to the lack of “a legal and policy infrastructure for emerging technology.” He even warns us that other countries who are looking into robotics policy and regulation more seriously “will leapfrog the U.S. in innovation for the first time since the creation of steam power.”

Well, on that point, I must ask: Did America need a Federal Steam Agency to become a leader in that field? Because unless I missed something in history class, steam power developed fairly rapidly in this country without any centralized bureaucratic direction. Or how about a more recent example: Did America need a Federal Computer Commission or Federal Internet Commission to obtain or maintain a global edge in computing, the Internet, or the Digital Economy?

To the contrary, we took the EXACT OPPOSITE approach. It’s not just that no new agencies were formed to guide the development of computing or the Internet in this country. It’s that our government made a clear policy choice to break with the past by rejecting top-down, command-and-control regulation by unelected bureaucrats in some shadowy Beltway agency.

Incidentally, it was Democrats who accomplished this. While many Republicans today love to crack wise-ass comments about Al Gore and the Internet while simultaneously imagining themselves to be the great defenders of Internet freedom, the reality is that we have the Clinton Administration and one its most liberal members—Ira Magaziner—to thank for the most blessedly “light-touch,” market-oriented innovation policy that the world has ever seen.

What did Magaziner and the Clinton Administration do? They crafted the amazing 1997 Framework for Global Electronic Commerce, a statement of the Administration’s principles and policy objectives toward the Internet and the emerging digital economy. It recommended reliance upon civil society, contractual negotiations, voluntary agreements, and ongoing marketplace experiments to solve information age problems. First, “the private sector should lead. The Internet should develop as a market driven arena not a regulated industry,” the Framework recommended. “Even where collective action is necessary, governments should encourage industry self-regulation and private sector leadership where possible.” Second, “governments should avoid undue restrictions on electronic commerce” and “parties should be able to enter into legitimate agreements to buy and sell products and services across the Internet with minimal government involvement or intervention.”

I’ve argued elsewhere that the Clinton Administration’s Framework, “remains the most succinct articulation of a pro-freedom, innovation-oriented vision for cyberspace ever penned.” Of course, this followed the Administration’s earlier move to allow the full commercialization of the Internet, which was even more important. The policy disposition they established with these decisions resulted in an unambiguous green light for a rising generation of creative minds who were eager to explore this new frontier for commerce and communications. And to reiterate,they did it without any new bureaucracy.

If You Regulate “Robotics,” You End Up Regulating Computing & Networking

Incidentally, I do not see how we could create a new Federal Robotics Commission without it also becoming a de facto Federal Computing Commission. Robotics and the many technologies and industries it already includes — driverless cars, commercial drones, Internet of Things, etc. — is becoming a hot policy topic, and proposals for regulation are already flying. These robotic technologies are developing on top of the building blocks of the Information Revolution: microprocessors, wireless networks, sensors, “big data,” etc.

Thus, I share Cory Doctorow’s skepticism about how one could logically separate “robotics” from these other technologies and sectors for regulatory purposes:

I am skeptical that “robot law” can be effectively separated from software law in general. … For the life of me, I can’t figure out a legal principle that would apply to the robot that wouldn’t be useful for the computer (and vice versa).

In his Brookings paper, Calo responded to Doctorow’s concern as follows:

the difference between a computer and a robot has largely to do with the latter’s embodiment. Robots do not just sense, process, and relay data. Robots are organized to act upon the world physically, or at least directly. This turns out to have strong repercussions at law, and to pose unique challenges to law and to legal institutions that computers and the Internet did not.

I find this fairly unconvincing. Just because robotic technologies have a physical embodiment does not mean their impact on society is all that more profound than computing, the Internet, and digital technologies. Consider all the hand-wringing going on today in cybersecurity circles about how hacking, malware, or various other types of digital attacks could take down entire systems or economies. I’m not saying I buy all that “technopanic” talk (and here are about three dozens of my essays arguing the contrary), but the theoretical ramifications are nonetheless on par with dystopian scenarios about robotics.

The Alternative Approach

Of course, it certainly may be the case that some worst-case scenarios are worth worrying about in both cases—for robotics and computing, that is. Still, is a Federal Robotics Commission or a Federal Computing Commission really the sensible way to address those issues?

To the contrary, this is why we have a Legislative Branch! So many of the problems of our modern era of dysfunctional government are rooted in an unwise delegation of authority to administrative agencies. Far too often, congressional lawmakers delegate broad, ambiguous authority to agencies instead of facing up to the hard issues themselves. This results in waste, bloat, inefficiencies, and an endless passing of the buck.

There may very well be some serious issues raised by robotics and AI that we cannot ignore, and which may even require a little preemptive, precautionary policy. And the same goes for general computing and the Internet. But that is not a good reason to just create new bureaucracies in the hope that some set of mythical technocratic philosopher kings will ride in to save the day with their supposed greater “expertise” about these matters. Either you believe in democracy or you don’t. Running around calling for agencies and unelected bureaucrats to make all the hard choices means that “the people” have even less of a say in these matters.

Moreover, there are many other methods of dealing with robotics and the potential problems robotics might create than through the creation of new bureaucracy. The common law already handles many of the problems that both Calo and Weaver are worried about. To the extent robotic systems are involved in accidents that harm individuals or their property, product liability law will kick in.

On this point, I strongly recommend another new Brookings publication. John Villasenor’s outstanding April white paper, “Products Liability and Driverless Cars: Issues and Guiding Principles for Legislation,” correctly argues that,

“when confronted with new, often complex, questions involving products liability, courts have generally gotten things right. … Products liability law has been highly adaptive to the many new technologies that have emerged in recent decades, and it will be quite capable of adapting to emerging autonomous vehicle technologies as the need arises.”

Thus, instead of trying to micro-manage the development of robotic technologies in an attempt to plan for every hypothetical risk scenario, policymakers should be patient while the common law evolves and liability norms adjust. Traditionally, the common law has dealt with products liability and accident compensation in an evolutionary way through a variety of mechanisms, including strict liability, negligence, design defects law, failure to warn, breach of warranty, and so on. There is no reason to think the common law will not adapt to new technological realities, including robotic technologies. (I address these and other “bottom-up” solutions in my new book.)

In the meantime, let’s exercise some humility and restraint here and avoid heavy-handed precautionary regulatory regimes or the creation of new technocratic bureaucracies. And let’s not forget that many solutions to the problems created by new robotic technologies will develop spontaneously and organically over time as individuals and institutions learn to cope and “muddle through,” as they have many times before.

Additional Reading

• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2014)
• Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change, June 30, 2014
• New Paper: “Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars,” September 17, 2014
• Slide Presentation: Policy Issues Surrounding the Internet of Things & Wearable Technology, September 12, 2014
• [Video] Cap Hill Briefing on Emerging Tech Policy Issues (June 2014)
• The Growing Conflict of Visions over the Internet of Things & Privacy, January 14, 2012
• Can We Adapt to the Internet of Things? IAPP Privacy Perspectives, June 19, 2013
• My Filing to the FTC in its ‘Internet of Things’ Proceeding, May 31, 2013

The Mercatus Center at George Mason University has just released a new paper by Brent Skorup and me entitled, “A History of Cronyism and Capture in the Information Technology Sector.” In this 73-page working paper, which we hope to place in a law review or political science journal shortly, we document the evolution of government-granted privileges, or “cronyism,” in the information and communications technology marketplace and in the media-producing sectors. Specifically, we offer detailed histories of rent-seeking and regulatory capture in: the early history of the telephony and spectrum licensing in the United States; local cable TV franchising; the universal service system; the digital TV transition in the 1990s; and modern video marketplace regulation (i.e., must-carry and retransmission consent rules, among others.

Our paper also shows how cronyism is slowly creeping into new high-technology sectors.We document how Internet companies and other high-tech giants are among the fastest-growing lobbying shops in Washington these days. According to the Center for Responsive Politics, lobbying spending by information technology sectors has almost doubled since the turn of the century, from roughly $200 million in 2000 to $390 million in 2012.  The computing and Internet sector has been responsible for most of that growth in recent years. Worse yet, we document how many of these high-tech firms are increasingly seeking and receiving government favors, mostly in the form of targeted tax breaks or incentives.

We argue that the creeping cronyism could have two major negative ramifications. First, it could dull entrepreneurialism and competition in this highly innovative sector since time and resources spent on influencing politicians and capturing regulators cannot be spent competing and innovating in the marketplace. Cronyism will also negatively impact consumer welfare by denying consumers more and better products and services. Additionally, consumers might end up paying higher prices or higher taxes due to government privileges for industry.

Second, cronyism also raises the specter of greater government control of the Internet and of the digital economy. When policymakers dispense favors, they usually expect something in return. They also become accustomed to having greater informal powers over the sector receiving favors, and contribute to DC’s infamous “revolving door” problem.

High-tech America’s recent embrace of Washington could take it down the familiar path followed by the agriculture, telecommunications, and automotive sectors (among many others), with government becoming both protector and punisher of industry. Today’s dynamic tech industries will increasingly come under the “Mother, may I?” permission-based regulatory regime that encumbered the older information technology sectors.

Finally, this paper offers strategies for stalling and diminishing the cronyism already taking root in the high-tech sector. We suggest several targeted reforms to limit or undo cronyism. Generally speaking, however, we note that, as economist David R. Henderson argued in an earlier Mercatus Center report, “There is only one way to end, or at least to reduce, the amount of cronyism, and that is to reduce government power.”

The paper can be downloaded from the Mercatus website, SSRN, or Scribd. The Scribd version is embedded down below. (Also, here’s some coverage of the paper over at the Washington Post’s “Wonkblog” from our old colleague Tim Lee. Here’s more coverage from Bloomberg Businessweek and the San Francisco Chronicle. And here’s a U.S. News oped that Brent and I wrote condensing our paper into just 600 words. Finally, a short 3-minute video of me discussing the problem of tech cronyism is also embedded below.)

A History of Cronyism and Capture in the Information Technology Sector [Thierer and Skorup – July 2013] by Adam Thierer

I just finished reading through The Economist’s new 14-page special report on cloud computing, “Let It Rise” in which Ludwig Siegele provides an outstanding overview of cloud computing and why it is so important:

The rise of the cloud is more than just another platform shift that gets geeks excited. It will undoubtedly transform the information technology (IT) industry, but it will also profoundly change the way people work and companies operate. It will allow digital technology to penetrate every nook and cranny of the economy and of society, creating some tricky political problems along the way.

Even if you are very familiar with cloud computing, I recommend you take a look at the article. Anyway, while I was reading it, I was unsurprised to come across some comments from Nicholas Carr, whose new book The Big Switch: Rewiring the World, from Edison to Google, is essentially an early history of cloud computing and an investigation into its effects on our economy, culture, and society. And that also reminded me that, even though I have mentioned Carr’s book here several times since it was released earlier this year, I have failed to give it a dedicated review. And it certain deserves one because “The Big Switch” is easily one of the most important technology policy books of 2008.

One of the reasons Carr’s book will be high up on my end of the year list of best tech books has nothing to do with substance. It’s his style. Carr is one of most gifted writers in the tech policy field today. His eloquence and brilliant story-telling skills remind me of George Gilder in his prime. Carr nicely places modern developments in a historical context and relates the changes we are witnessing today to previous technological innovations and eras.

At the same time, however, Carr has also become one of the America’s leading Internet skeptics and vocal critics of techno-utopianism, as I noted in an essay a few months ago about Internet optimists and pessimists. He is, by far, the most reasonable and respected of those Net skeptics, using a measured tone when attacking those who have adopted a more pollyanna-ish, rose-colored view of the world. [For similar reasons, Carr’s “Rough Type” blog is must-reading for anyone who monitors technology policy.]

Electric Parallels

But on to the substance of the book. Carr’s thesis is that we are in the midst of “another epochal [technological] transformation” that parallels what happened with the “democratization of electricity” a century ago:

What happened to the generation of power a century ago is now happening to the processing of information. Private computer systems, built and operated by individual companies, are being supplanted by services provided by a common grid — the Internet — by centralized data-processing plants. Computing is turning into a utility, and once again the economic equations that determine the way we work and live are being rewritten. (p. 12)

“That shift,” Carr continues, “promises not only to change the nature of corporate IT departments but to shake up the entire computer industry.” (p. 13) Indeed, the “revolutionary potential of the information utility” promises to have profound implications:

In the years ahead, more and more of the information processing tasks that we rely on, at home and at work, will be handled by big data centers located out on the Internet. The nature and economics of computing will change as dramatically as the nature and economics of mechanical power changed in the early years of the last century. The consequences for society — for the way we live, work, learn, communicate, entertain ourselves, and even think — promise to be equally profound. (p. 21)

Unsurprisingly, Google is the central player in Carr’s drama because it is “a giant information utility” (p. 13) that has capitalized on the movement of so much knowledge and technology into the cloud and off of our desktops. Carr argues that “once utility services mature, the idea of getting rid of your PC will become much more attractive” (p. 80) and “We may find, twenty or so years from now, that the personal computer has become a museum piece, a reminder of a curious time when all of us where forced to be amateur computer technicians.” (p. 81)

Carr’s Critique of “Techno-Utopianism”

Part One of The Big Switch is primarily concerned with this progression of computing and IT from specialized service to mainstream utility, and I believe that most readers will find it as engrossing and enlightened as I did. But the tone and focus of Carr’s book change dramatically as Part Two opens. Whereas Carr keeps Part One fairly value- or viewpoint-neutral, Part Two is a more spirited critique of the economic and cultural consequences of “The Big Switch.”

In Part Two, he launches into his attack of the “techno-utopianism” that sometimes accompanies discussions about the implications of the Information Age and life in the cloud. “[O]ptimism is a natural response to the arrival of a powerful and mysterious new technology,” but, Carr warns, “it can blind us to more troubling portents.” And “there is reason to believe that our cybernetic meadow may be something less than a new Eden.” (p. 125)

It is here that Carr’s critique becomes familiar to those of us who follow the modern Internet policy debates. As I noted in my “Internet Optimists and Pessimists” essay, Carr is joining the ranks of other Net skeptics like Andrew Keen, Lee Siegel, and others. In my recent review of Lee Siegel’s Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Electronic Mob, I traced this strand of social criticism back to the late Neil Postman, author of the 1992 anti-technology manifesto, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology.

Carr’s concerns about the consequences of cloud computing and the rise of “techno-utopianism” parallel those found in those other “pessimistic” tracts, although Carr is far more level-headed in articulating those fears. As I noted in the Siegel review, those concerns can generally be grouped as follows:

1. The Net is destroying (or at least greatly diminishing) the role of experts, authority, “truth”, and traditional societal norms and institutions. This is having (or eventually will result in) dangerous ramifications for our culture, economy, and democracy.
2. The personalization and customization that the Information Age and the Internet have spawned could have troubling ramifications for our society and culture.

Dangers of Disintermediation and the Problem with “Free”

Regarding the first of these concerns, Carr argues that “while it’s true that the reduction in production and distribution costs is bringing us many more options, it would be a mistake to leap to the conclusion that nothing will be sacrificed in the process. More choices don’t necessarily mean better choices,” he says. (p. 151) He continues:

Many cultural goods remain expensive to create or require the painstaking work of talented professionals, and it’s worth considering how the changing economics of media will affect them. Will these goods be able to find a large enough paying audience to underwrite their existence, or will they end up being crowded out of the marketplace by the proliferation of free, or easily accessible products? Even though the Internet can in theory accommodate a nearly infinite variety of information goods, that doesn’t mean that the market will be able to support all of them. Some of the most cherished creative works may not survive the transition to the Web’s teeming bazaar. (p. 151)

More specifically, Carr is worried about what “The Great Unbundling” — i.e., the radically disruptive disintermediation associated with the Internet Age — will mean for the future of “hard news,” investigative journalism, and prized forms of culture. The cross-subsidies that have supported the creation of such content are at risk, Carr fears, as the Net’s relentless drive for increased efficiency rolls like a digital wrecking ball through the old media and cultural landscape. “[T]he largest threat posed by social production won’t be to big corporations but to individual professionals — to the journalists, editors, photographers, researchers, analysts, librarians, and other information workers who can be replaced,” Carr says, by “crowdsourcing.” (p. 142)

In this way, Carr’s concerns are quite similar to those raised by Andrew Keen and others about how the Internet is potentially “killing our culture” (or at least the best of it as they would define it). But Carr extends this social critique in an important way by claiming that the problem with the emerging model of social production and “free” business models that dominate the online marketplace today is that they are built on a “sharecropper model.” The Net’s dominant giants, he argues, are reaping their riches on the back of free labor. These new sites and services “are essentially agglomerations of the creative, unpaid contributions of their members. In a twist on the old agricultural practice of sharecropping, the site owners provide the digital real estate and tools, let the members do all the work, and then harvest the economic riches.” (p. 137-8)

I have some sympathy for these arguments, especially as they have been articulated by Carr here in The Big Switch. Compared to the way other critics like Keen and Siegel have used over-the-top apocalyptic, neo-Luddite rhetoric when discussing their related concerns, Carr generally avoids such hysteria and does a better job of laying out his concerns about the Net and cloud computing in a more reasonable fashion. And there is little doubt that the Internet and social production models are placing enormous strain on many traditional professions and professionals.

I have problems with his “sharecropper” argument, however. This logic ignores the non-monetary benefits that many of us feel we extract from today’s online business models and social production processes. Most of us feel we get a lot back as part of this new value exchange. Carr is certainly correct that Google, Facebook, MySpace, and a lot of other Net middlemen are getting big and rich based on all the user-generated content flowing over their sites and systems. On the other hand, most cyber-citizens extract enormous benefits from the existence of those (mostly free and constantly improving) platforms and services. It’s a very different sort of value exchange and business model than most of us have been accustomed to in the past, but we are adjusting to it. We humans are resilient, adaptable creatures and we can usually learn to cope with such changes and find a way to use them to our advantage. It’s not all about companies getting rich; we are getting richer too, but in a different way. We have an abundance of information, culture, and communications opportunities at our disposal today that were simply unthinkable even a generation ago.

Carr and other Net skeptics certainly raise some very legitimate questions about the limitations of the “free culture” mindset, however. There are times when the net optimists really do sound like the pollyannish “utopians” that Carr claims they are. When I am reading the work of Benkler and other optimists, it sometimes comes across as techno-Rousseauian gibberish (or what Carr labels “the Internet’s liberation mythology.”) The Internet isn’t remaking man or changing human nature in any fundamental way, which is what some optimists seem to imply. Moreover, when it comes to economics, all this talk about the Long Tail being “the future of business” (Chris Anderson) and of “Wikinomics… changing everything through mass collaboration,” (Don Tapscott & Anthony Williams) goes much too far in my opinion. It’s irrational (techno-) exuberance.

On the other hand, Carr and the other pessimists occasionally go to the opposite extreme in critiquing new models of social production, open source, and other collaborative creative endeavors. Their obsession with Wikipedia is particularly curious. If one views Wikipedia and Wiki- models as supplements or compliments to traditional media and communications models and activities, then where is the harm? Most of us understand they are not perfect, but we can appreciate the benefits they bring society despite their limitations.

When it comes to the true impact of the Internet on our economy and culture, the truth is somewhere in between the two extremes staked out by optimists and pessimists. My own position in this regard might best be labeled “pragmatic optimism”: One can appreciate how much better off the Internet has made society while also recognizing that it has created new challenges that we need to think through.

Downsides of Hyper-Personalization

The other important theme developed by Carr in the second half of The Big Switch, which also runs throughout the work of other techno-pessimist tracts, is that the increased personalization and customization facilitated by the Internet is breeding dangerous anti-social attitudes and tendencies. Building on an argument first put forth by Cass Sunstein in his 2001 book Republic.com , Carr worries about the impact of the “Daily Me.” The “Daily Me” was the term Nicholas Negroponte coined in his prescient 1995 book Being Digital, to describe the new digital world he hoped would develop, filled with hyper-personalized, instantaneously-delivered content. And that’s largely the Web 2.0 world we live in today.

But Carr, Sunstein, and many other Net skeptics, refer to Negroponte’s “Daily Me” in contemptuous terms, arguing that the hyper-customization of websites and online technologies is causing extreme social “fragmentation,” “polarization,” “balkanization,” and “single-mindedness.” Carr warns:

Every time we subscribe to a blog, add a friend to our social network, categorize an email message as spam, or even choose a site from a list of search results, we are making a decision that defines, in some small way, whom we associate with and what information we pay attention to. (p. 160)

Thus, he fears, we could be “click[ing] our way to a fractured society” (p. 160) because of the “ideological amplification” (p. 164) bred by the Daily Me. There’s even the risk of increased fanaticism, radicalization, and extremism, he warns.

I have addressed this argument at length in my 2005 book, Media Myths (p. 39) but, to summarize, the fundamental problem with this logic is that it ignores the fact that, thanks to the rise of the Net, most of us are experiencing far more diverse voices and viewpoints than we ever did in the past. Sure, it is true that we also can now find our little niche groups and bunk-up with them online for extended periods, but I find it absurd to claim that we humans are less exposed to diverse viewpoints today than in the past.

Regardless, even if Carr and the other Net skeptics are correct and the Net is breeding such isolation and balkanization, what are we suppose to do about it? Should we roll back the clock to the good ol’ days? Carr doesn’t give us a straight answer. But, again, there are good reasons to question whether society was really better off in the pre-Internet days. The Analog / Scarcity Era had it’s own share of problems, beginning with the fact that it was extremely difficult for niche interests in our society to be served when media was catering to a mass audience through newspapers and broadcast stations. Certainly, the old model of media delivery had its advantages, but the drawbacks were enormous, and not just as it pertained to entertainment. Consider news: If we all weren’t home sitting in front of our TV sets at exactly 6:30 each night, then we missed our chance to hear the same three old white guys in bad suits tells us what the important news of the day was. Look, I liked Cronkite, Brinkley & Co., but I will take today’s 24/7 news cycle of instantaneous news over that old system any day of the week.

Again, there are trade-offs at work here. Things are not all roses like Net optimists would claim. The downside of an endless news cycle is that people can just find a niche news channel or program that feeds them news more closely in line with their own ideological tendencies. Moreover, there very well may be — to use Glenn Reynolds’s phrase — “An Army of Davids” out there in the blogosphere today taking on traditional media and expressing themselves however they wish, but that doesn’t automatically mean they all have something interesting to say! Even when they do, there is still a useful role played by mass media providers or “professional” media in steering news and culture. Indeed, they provide an essential editing function in terms of helping us decide what types of news or culture may be more important. I personally rely on the Wall Street Journal to help guide my investigation of what financial market news is worth exploring each week. I wouldn’t want to just set up my Google Alerts to feed me “financial news” and then trust that everything that came into my RSS reader was worth reading. In this sense, the WSJ is what I call a “trusted information intermediary” (or “old school filter” if you will) that many of us could not live without.

But that traditional intermediary editing and filtering function, which used to be total in its applicability to news and culture, is now shrinking rapdily. “Mass media” just isn’t quite as MASS-ive as it once was, and the rise of personalized “Daily Me” media and culture certainly has had something to do with that since it has allow us to filter news and culture ourselves.  But why can’t we have the best of both worlds — some old school filtering by trusted information intermediaries along with plenty of personalized filtering? In many ways, I think we have that balance today — and it is a wonderful thing. Pessimists like Carr seem to only focus on the downsides of customized media, and that’s unfortunate. Nonetheless, they are right to ask the tough questions about how long those old school filters (traditional media intermediaries) will survive if all of us flock to an extreme “Daily Me” mindset. My contention, however, is that we won’t. Most of us appreciate the balanced approach and are willing to support some — but not all — of those old intermediaries and filters.

I have far less sympathy for Carr’s argument that increased specialization and customization are breeding “fanaticism” and “radicalization.” Last time I checked, mobs weren’t rioting in the streets or rushing out to join the Nazi or Communist parties! Those knuckleheads still exist, of course, but they have always existed. And let’s not forget, it was during the age of scarcity and mass media that those movements gained traction and took control in some countries. In the Internet Age, by contrast, such extremist loonies usually get exposed and widely ridiculed. As the old saying goes, the answer to bad speech is more speech. The Internet has given it to us and helped us counter such societal extremism, even if it has simultaneously given such extremists a new soapbox to stand on and spew their hatred and stupidity. Let them spew it and we will respond! And we will marginalize them in the process. There’s just no chance some sort of mini-Hitler is going to use the Net to revive fascism and build a mass audience today.

Finally, I believe Carr makes a similar mistake when he argues that computers and the Internet are really more “technologies of control” than “technologies of emancipation.” (p. 191)  “While the Net offers people a new medium for discovering information and voicing opinions, it also provides bureaucrats with a powerful new tool for monitoring speech, identifying dissidents, and disseminating propaganda.” (p. 200)  In this sense, Carr is adopting the same pessimistic tone set forth by Jack Goldsmith and Tim Wu in their book Who Controls the Internet? While I agree that computers and the Net give the big bad statist bureaucrats new tools of control, I persist in my belief that these digital tools offer the masses more methods of evading and minimizing the power of government over their lives and liberties.  Again, I think it is important to put things in some historical context. In the past, governments could completely control the media and disseminate incessant propaganda. It is far more difficult for them to get away with that today, and citizens have many tools and outlets at their disposal to respond.  Digital technologies really are technologies of emancipation, but we can’t expect them to break the backs of the statist thugs overnight.

Conclusion

Carr’s pessimism on the two issues discussed above is succinctly captured on pg. 167 of his book when he argues that:

it’s clear that two of the hopes most dear to the Internet optimists — that the Web will create a more bountiful culture and that it will promote greater harmony and understanding — should be treated with skepticism. Cultural impoverishment and social fragmentation seem equally likely outcomes.

That almost perfectly delineates the battle lines in the great debate taking place today between Internet optimists and pessimists. The Big Switch probably makes the best case for the pessimists that has been penned thus far, and for that reason alone it deserves your attention. However, I continue to remain cautiously optimistic that the Net is moving our economy, culture, and society in a better direction — at least compared to a past, which had its own share of drawbacks and problems.

P.S. If you are interested in the ongoing debate about cloud computing — and specifically the question of how much competition we can expect going forward — you’ll definitely want to check out this very interesting discussion taking place between Hugh Macleod, Tim O’Reilly, and Nick Carr.

• “The Cloud’s Best-Kept Secret” — Hugh Macleod
• “Web 2.0 and Cloud Computing” — Tim O’Reilly
• “What Tim O’Reilly gets wrong about the cloud” — Nick Carr
• “Further musings on the network effect and the cloud” — Nick Carr

Also, here’s a video of Nick Carr’s recent appearance on “The Colbert Report”: