The nice folks at the New York Times “Room for Debate” feature asked me and a group of bright lights to discuss the Verizon-Google agreement on network neutrality regulation, as it stood at various points in the day.

Read the comments of Tim Wu, Lawrence Lessig, David Gelernter, Ed Felten, Jonathan Zittrain, and myself. Much of my comment owes credit to Tim Lee’s excellent paper “The Durable Internet.”

We’re all over the place, folks . . .

Update: Late addition: Gigi Sohn.

Last week, Harvard professor Lawrence Lessig visited the Cato Institute for a lunchtime talk he had sought through Julian Sanchez. Fellow TLFer Julian discussed the substance of the visit on the Cato@Liberty blog.

I discussed the real purpose of the visit as I interpreted it, and Professor Richard Epstein had a comment, too. He finds that Lessig is now, in fairness, a libertarian—if by “fairness” we mean “tit-for-tat.”

2009 was not as big of a year for Internet and information technology (“info-tech”) policy books as 2008 was, but there were still some notable titles released that offered interesting perspectives about the future of the Net and the impact the Digital Revolution is having on our lives, culture, and economy.  So, like last year, I figured I would throw together my list of the 10 most important info-tech policy books of the year.

First, let me repeat a few of the same caveats and disclaimers that I set forth last year.  What qualifies as an “important” info-tech policy book? Simply put, it’s a title that many people are currently discussing and that we will likely be referencing for many years to come.  However, I want to be clear that merely because a book appears on my list it does not necessarily mean I agree with everything said in it. In fact, as was the case in previous years, I found much with which to disagree in my picks for the most important books of 2009 and I find that the cyber-libertarianism I subscribe to has very few fans out there.

Another caveat: Narrowly-focused titles lose a few points on my list. For example, if a book deals mostly with privacy issues, copyright law, or antitrust policy, it does not exactly qualify as the same sort of “tech policy book” as other titles found on this list since it is a narrow exploration of just one set of issues with a bearing on technology policy.

With those caveats in mind, here are my choices for the Most Important Info-Tech Policy Books of 2009.

(1) Chris Anderson – Free: The Future of a Radical Price

Chris Anderson’s 2006 book The Long Tail will be remembered as one of the most influential tech policy books of the decade.  It changed the way we talk about the digital marketplace and it instantly garnered a huge audience outside of the nerdy world of Internet policy.  While Free: The Future of a Radical Price will forever live in the shadow of The Long Tail, it too is an important book and in many ways it is a much better one.

In The Long Tail, Anderson tried too hard to invent the latest business theory du jour, and in doing so he went much too far in proclaiming that, as the subtitle of the book argued, “the future of the business is selling less of more.”  That’s just not true. While there’s certainly a lot more action in the long tail than ever before since it is so much more accessible, that does not mean the entire future of business lies in “selling less of more.”  To the contrary, the fat head of the tail is just as profitable as ever.

Free certainly contains some of the flamboyance on display in The Long Tail, but Anderson has matured as a writer and is now far more willing to point out the limitations of his theories in a business sense.  He does a splendid job in Free of creating a taxonomy of free-oriented business models to guide discussions about these issues.  And he explains how “free” can be part of many different business models and strategies. His historical treatment of the issues is outstanding and includes many entertaining examples of how these “free” strategies have been used over time to offer innovative new goods and services.

The reason his book is important for Internet policy discussions is obvious: “free” is increasingly viewed as a threat to many existing companies, industry sectors, and traditional media business models.  For example, battles about the future of journalism and search engine indexing of news sites are obviously tied up with battles over “free.”  And, it goes without saying that the traditional entertainment industry business models are increasingly challenged by “free” as many struggle to adapt to the new realities of the online world, in which “free” (primarily advertising-supported  and “freemium” models) seems to be the only model with any legs.

Much like my top pick for 2008 book of the year, Jonathan Zittrain’s The Future of the Net and How to Stop It, Chris Anderson’s Free is the most important information technology book of the year because it is the one we will still be talking about the most a decade from now.  However, unlike Zittrain’s book and thesis, which I think will be largely discredited in another ten years, Anderson’s book will likely be viewed as an important and lasting contribution to the field.

(2) Larry Downes – The Laws of Disruption: Chaos and Control in Your Virtual Future

The Laws of Disruption is the closest thing you will find to a genuine cyber-libertarian manifesto these days.  But Downes isn’t a rigid ideologue; his skepticism of government regulation of the high-tech economy is based more on practical considerations and the fundamental “law of disruption”: “technology changes exponentially, but social, economic, and legal systems change incrementally.” Downes says this law is “a simple but unavoidable principle of modern life” and that it will have profound implications for the way businesses, government, and culture evolve going forward. “As the gap between the old world and the new gets wider,” he argues, “conflicts between social, economic, political, and legal systems” will intensify and “nothing can stop the chaos that will follow.” In this sense, The Laws of Disruption reads like an addendum to one of Alvin Toffler’s old books on technology and futurism in that Downes is essentially walking us through the practical consequences of life in a “post-industrial society.”

In terms of what it all means for public policy, Downes doesn’t so much fear legal and regulatory over-reach the way many cyber-libertarians do. Rather, he thinks most regulatory schemes just won’t work. In essence, he is a technological fatalist or consequentialist: Progress happens whether we like it or not, so get used to it!  Thus, the “laws of disruption” he articulates serve primarily as “Just-Don’t-Bother” warnings to over-eager government meddlers. “The best way to regulate innovation is to leave it alone,” he counsels.

In terms of structure, The Laws of Disruption resembles Blown to Bits: Your Life, Liberty, and Happiness After the Digital Explosion by Abelson, Ledeen, and Lewis, (which I reviewed here last year and named to my 2008 list). Both books survey a vast swath of territory — privacy, copyright, security, etc — and each chapter offers unique perspectives on each debate. In that sense, the book is useful to readers if for no other reason than you get a taste for how a wide variety of issues are playing out. Downes also owes much to Clayton M. Christensen and his seminal 1997 book The Innovator’s Dilemma: When New Technologies Cause Great Firms to Fail. Like that book, The Laws of Disruption is a business book with a strong policy hook.  That is, both books focus on advice-dishing for companies and innovators looking to “stay ahead of the curve” in the midst of relentless, gut-wrenching technological change, but the books also include important lessons regarding the public policies that should govern high-tech sectors.

I highly recommended The Laws of Disruption and found it to be the most enjoyable of all the books I read this year.

(3) Dawn C. Nunziato – Virtual Freedom: Net Neutrality and Free Speech in the Internet Age

Dawn Nunziato is the perfect foil for Larry Downes. Her book is a manifesto for cyber-collectivism and “media access theory.”  (For those unfamiliar with media access theory, see my old essay: “Your Soapbox is My Soapbox! Thoughts on the Media Access Movement in General and the Media & Democracy Coalition’s ‘Bill of Media Rights’ in Particular.”)  She attempts to bring media access theory up to date by taking the ideas made famous by Jerome Barron, Owen Fiss, Cass Sunstein, and others, and applying them to the Internet and digital technologies.  Like those earlier legal thinkers, she argues for “an affirmative conception” of the First Amendment that would allow government to use the First Amendment to “facilitate the conditions necessary for democratic self-government” (whatever that means). Net neutrality regulation becomes one of many ways she would put this theory into action. Importantly, she would not stop with ISPs. She makes the case for extending the entire regulatory regime to Google and search platforms. Welcome to the Brave New World of the the FCC as the Federal Search Commission or Federal Cloud Commission!

Her attempt to cast Net neutrality as the Internet’s First Amendment is a grotesque contortion of the real First Amendment, and a complete betrayal of the Founder’s original intentions.  As I made clear in my recent essay on “Net Neutrality Regulation & the First Amendment,” the Internet’s First Amendment is the First Amendment, not some new, top-down, heavy-handed regulatory regime that puts the Federal Communications Commission in control of the Digital Economy. Her conception of the First Amendment would convert it from a shield against government control into a sword that the government could use as it wished. It would mean that “Congress shall make no law…” would suddenly be replaced by “Congress shall make whatever law it wants” so long as it serves some amorphous “public interest.” Can you say “tyranny of the majority”?

Regardless, event though I find her views to be morally repugnant and the antithesis of true digital freedom, Nunziato’s book is a concise articulation of that vision and it deserves everyone’s attention. It serves as a blueprint for where the Net neutrality wars are taking us.

(4) David Bollier – Viral Spiral: How the Commoners Built a Digital Republic of Their Own

David Bollier’s Viral Spiral is the first major history of the “digital commons” / “free culture” movement, and despite my many person disagreements with him and this movement, it is an excellent treatment of the topic. Bollier surveys this growing intellectual movement from its early open source days to the rise of the Creative Commons and on into the present.  The cast of characters in this drama will be well-known to anyone involved in modern tech policy debates: Richard Stallman, Lawrence Lessig, Jonathan Zittrain, Yochai Benkler, et al.

There is absolutely no doubt that this intellectual movement is winning the war of ideas in cyberlaw front today, as I noted in a recent debate with Lessig and Zittrain over at Cato Unbound.  As a cyber-libertarian, I find myself occasionally at odds with these guys and this movement on a variety of policy issues, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying David Bollier’s treatment of this movement and these issues.

(5) David Post – In Search of Jefferson’s Moose: Notes on the State of Cyberspace

David Post is one of the early intellectual giants in the field of cyberlaw. Back in the days when most of us were still just trying to get our 14.4 modems to work properly to get on Al Gore’s “Information Highway,” David Post was writing essays and law review articles that were a decade ahead of their time.  In particular, his work on Internet governance and jurisdictional matters was path-breaking, and much of it is updated and extended in Jefferson’s Moose.

I must admit, however, that I was hoping for a bit more from David in this book.  Beyond just being a first-rate intellectual in this space, he is also one of the few remaining defenders of “Internet exceptionalism,” and he has genuine cyber-libertarian leanings.  After waiting almost 10 years for David to wrap this thing up after he first told me about it back around 2000, I was thinking he might come up with the sort of cyber-libertarian manifesto I’ve always hoped he would write.  Although he fell a bit short in that regard, it doesn’t mean it’s not a good book. It is. You will enjoy it no matter what cyber-philosophy you subscribe to.

Read my entire review of Jefferson’s Moose here.

(6) Dennis Baron – A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution

Baron’s A Better Pencil is a splendid history of techno-pessimism and the endless battles about the impact of new technologies on life and learning, something I have written about here before in my essays on “Internet optimists vs. pessimists” (See: 1, 2, 3).   Baron notes that almost as soon as people learned to put chisel to stone and then quill to paper, a great debate began about the impact of new communications technology on culture and education. And that debate rages on today with a new generation of optimists and skeptics battling over the impact that computing, the Internet, and digital technologies have on our lives and on how we learn about the world.

Baron walks us through a litany of historical examples—the printing press, the telegraph, telephones, typewriters, pocket calculators, personal computers, word processors, webpages, blogs, social-networking sites, and more—and identifies the usual pattern: we greet each new technology with deep distrust and dire warnings, but in time we adapt to the new realities. Indeed, as a species, we have an unparalleled ability to learn new ways of doing things. We don’t always like technological change, and often we deeply resent or fear it, but in the end, we learn to live with it and eventually to embrace it.  With the rise of the Internet and digital technologies, we see this pattern unfolding once again. But Baron counsels patience and understanding instead of the sort f hysteria and backlash we see from the likes of Andrew Keen, Lee Siegel and others.  It’s a refreshing and uplifting perspective.

Highly recommended. See my complete review of Baron’s A Better Pencil over at the City Journal website.

(7) Mark Helprin – Digital Barbarism: A Writer’s Manifesto

No book has been more disappointing to me in recent memory than Mark Helprin’s Digital Barbarism. As someone who still finds a lot to defend in copyright law, I was excited when I learned that one of America’s most gifted authors–and the author of my favorite literary work of the late 20th century (A Soldier of the Great War)–was taking a crack defending copyright in a short manifesto.

Alas, as I argued in my review of the book for National Review, while Helprin occasionally rises to great heights in his defense of copyright, he too often sinks to lamentable lows–by resorting to the same unbecoming rhetorical tactics used by the “cyber-mob” he seeks to condemn. Indeed, his book is filled with gratuitous vitriol and neo-Luddite ramblings about the Internet and Information Age that severely detract from his defense of copyright. Channeling the ghost of the late social critic Neil Postman, Helprin’s critique of copyright skeptics quickly turns into an all-out assault on modern digital culture and cyberspace. He argues that we are witnessing “the decline of culture,” the “mechanization of the soul,” our “intellectual and spiritual destruction,” and the rise of a movement of “wacked-out muppets led by little professors in glasses” that “threatens in a decade or two to dissolve the accomplishments of millennia, reordering the ways in which we think, write, and communicate.” And it just gets worse from there. Much like recent rants by Andrew Keen and Lee Siegel, Helprin speaks repeatedly about the “surrender of human nature” to “the machine revolution” and the corresponding need to “control the machine.”

How a man who has penned some of the most beautiful prose in modern times could craft an off-the-rails screed of this magnitude remains incomprehensible  to me.  What’s worse is that he set back the cause of defending what’s best about copyright in the process. Luckily for Helprin, there’s plenty of hysteria on the other side, as the next book on my list makes clear.

(8) William Patry – Moral Panics and the Copyright Wars

Bill Patry is an angry man. He is the anti-Helprin. The vitriol that Helprin directs against the copyright-haters is reversed in this screed and turned against not just copyright holders and content creators, but against the entire capitalist system. Patry, who is the author of a multi-volume treatise on copyright law, has done the intellectual equivalent of “going postal” within his own intellectual community. He has turned his intellectual guns on anyone and everyone who has ever had a kind word to say about copyright. He cannot find one nice thing to say about copyright or anyone who defends copyright in this book. Not one.

What’s most ironic about the book is that Patry seems utterly oblivious to the fact that in the process of critiquing the inflammatory rhetoric and “misuse of language” occasionally emanating from some copyright defenders, he goes completely over the top himself and engages in even more egregious rhetorical flourishes. Choice gems from the book include: “digital guillotines,” copyright as “cancer,” “copyright dwarves,” Maoism, the “sins” of copyright, “socialism for the wealthy,” and a comparison of the DMCA to “Mussolini’s Fascist Italy.”  Apparently when it comes to the “misuse of language,” Patry believes that two wrongs make a right.

And then there is his mind-boggling conclusion that: “I cannot think of a single significant innovation in either the creation or distribution of works of authorship that owes its origins to the copyright industries.”  Apparently, every great book, every great movie, every great video game, and ever great musical composition of the past century was done solely for the love of it all. Copyright had apparently had absolutely nothing to do with it according to Patry’s logic. That is just an astonishingly naive notion, in my opinion. Apparently this man’s hatred for copyright-related industries is so intense that it has blinded him to any potentially positive effects of copyright law. If nothing else, it would have been nice to see Mr. Patry address how it is that America is the world’s leading creator and exporter of creative arts.  Certainly copyright law must have had something to do with that!

Chapter 5 of his book makes it clear that Patry’s critique of copyright is actually rooted in a much deeper suspicion about capitalism itself.  He speaks of “the myth of economic freedom” and claims that “free market fundamentalism… destroyed much of the world’s economies.”  He then launches into a neo-Marxist critique of property rights more generally, treating property as a zero-sum game of winners and losers.  At times it all begins to sound like a rant from an old Herbert Marcuse book with questions like: “why are the interests of one social group favored over another?” and “What social objective is being furthered by the decision to privilege one group over another?”  And there’s all sorts of talk about “regulation in the public interest,” which I have critique as a meaningless non-standard here many times before.

In the end, Patry’s book will–along with Helprin’s–long be remember as marking the nadir in the “copyright wars;” a moment when grown men of great intelligence decided to trade in their integrity for the opportunity to engage in below-the-belt rhetorical cheap shots that would typically be reserved for college student debating politics over beers and shots at two in the morning.  They should both be ashamed of themselves.

(9) Gary Reback – Free the Market!  Why Only Government Can Keep the Marketplace Competitive

Gary Reback’s over-the-top ode to antitrust as the great savior of capitalism reads like an extended love letter. As I noted in my lengthy critique of his book, his fairy tale narrative of antitrust as the savior of capitalism is hopelessly one-sided, and his recommendations to expand antitrust enforcement wouldn’t “Free the Market” as he argues in his book’s shameful title, but would instead wrap it in regulatory chains.

He repeatedly insults the intelligence of the reader by claiming antitrust is supposedly not a form of economic regulation and that is can only have beneficial effects. He wants antitrust officials to intervene early and often in high-tech markets to guide markets to a supposedly better place. Reback considers just about everything “the Chicago School” taught us to be antitrust apostasy and he would like to erase four decades worth of economic literature and evidence that suggests antitrust law is a form of economic regulation and does have unintended consequences that often hurt consumer welfare.  Even if you are not an inherent antitrust skeptic like me, I think most people would hope for a better treatment of the other side of this story.

Read my lengthy review of Reback’s Strangle Free the Market here.

(10) tie – Tyler Cowen – Create Your Own Economy: The Path to Prosperity in a Disordered World and John Freeman – The Tyranny of E-Mail: The Four-Thousand-Year Journey to Your Inbox

OK, so I just couldn’t figure out which of these two to cut from the list so I took the easy way out by having them tie for the last slot!  In this case, however, there’s another reason it makes sense for both of them to round out the list: Both Freeman and Cowen explore how humans are coping with information overload–albeit from two very different perspectives.

As I noted in my lengthy essay on the topic earlier this year, Cowen is an unrepentant optimist. He believes humans have the ability to adapt to new technological realities and a world of information abundance. In fact, Cowen argues, new tools and information gathering and processing technologies actually “lengthens our attention spans in another way, namely by allowing greater specialization of knowledge.”

John Freeman, by contrast, wants us all to take a high-tech time out. Like other Internet skeptics, he is worried that cyberspace and digital technologies are reshaping humanity–and not for the better. “If we are to step off this hurtling machine, we must reassert principles that have been lost in the blur,” he argues. “It is time to launch a manifesto for a slow communication movement, a push back against the machines and the forces that encourage us to remain connected to them.”

Unlike most other Internet pessimists, however, Freeman’s tone is more measured and his recommendations more reasonable.  Of course, it helps that he is magical wordsmith. Even if you find yourself disagreeing with many of his ultimate conclusions–as I did–you should read The Tyranny of E-Mail for a lesson in how to construct an argument and to appreciate the gift of fine writing. It’s easily the best tract by any Net skeptic since Nick Carr’s The Big Switch, and a much better one in many ways. It will force you to ask tough questions about the impact of the Information Age on you and the world around you.  Nonetheless, I remain an unrepentant techno-optimist (albeit a pragmatic one)!

Honorable Mentions: Here are a couple of other books that I couldn’t fit on my list but that you might want to also consider adding to your bookshelf:

• Manuel Castells – Communication Power
• James Boyle – The Public Domain: Enclosing the Commons of the Mind
• Randall Stross – Planet Google: One Company’s Audacious Plan to Organize Everything We Know [my review]
• Ken Auletta – Googled: The End of the World As We Know It [my review]
• Scott Rosenberg- Say Everything: How Blogging Began, What It’s Becoming, and Why It Matters
• John W. Dozier Jr. and Sue Scheff – Google Bomb

Please let me know what titles might be missing from this list and which books you think are the best of the year.

And speaking of bookshelves, here’s my Shelfari digital bookshelf in case anyone is interested. If you hadn’t figured it out yet, I am a bit of book nerd!  My life is spent swimming through oceans of paper.  My friends often ask me, “How can you spend so much time reading?” My question back to them is: “How can you not?”

Seems like everywhere I turn someone is gushing about their new Droid phone, including my TLF colleagues Berin Szoka, Braden Cox, and Ryan Radia, who all had great fun rubbing their new toys in my nose over the past couple of days. And why not, it’s a very cool little device.  It makes my HTC Touch seems positively archaic in some ways, and it’s only a year old.  Apparently, 100,000 people already picked up a Droid in just its first weekend on the market.

But here’s the first thing that pops in my mind every time I see someone showing off their new Droid: How can a device like this even exist when America’s leading cyberlaw experts have been telling us that the whole digital world is increasingly going to hell because of “closed” devices, proprietary code, and managed networks?  I’m speaking, of course, about the lamentations of Harvard professors Lawrence Lessig, Jonathan Zittrain, and their many disciples.  As faithful readers will recall, I have relentlessly hammered this crew for their unwarranted cyber-Chicken Little-ism and hyper techno-pessimism. (See my many battles with Zittrain [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 + video] and my 2-part debate with Lessig earlier this year).

“Left to itself,” Lessig warned in Code, “cyberspace will become a perfect tool of control.”  He went on to forecast a dystopian future in which nefarious corporate schemers would quash our digital liberties unless benevolent public philosopher kings stepped in to save our poor souls. Code was the Old Testament of cyber-collectivism. The New Testament arrived last year with Zittrain’s The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It. In it, we hear the grim prediction that “sterile and tethered” digital technologies and networks will triumph over the more “open and generative” devices and systems of the past.  The iPhone and TiVo are cast as villains in Zittrain’s drama since they apparently represent the latest manifestations of Lessig’s “perfect control” paranoia.

Apple’s “Angel of Death”

How completely out-of-control has this thinking gotten?  Well, here’s David Weinberger — another Harvard Berkman Center worrywart — talking about that supposed satanic font of all evil, the Apple AppStore:

The AppStore is the seductive angel of death for computing. It enables Apple to keep quality up and, more important, to keep support costs down. But a computer that can’t be programmed except by its manufacturer (or with the permission of its manufacturer) isn’t a real computer. The success of the AppStore is a gloomy, scary harbinger. From controlling the apps that can go on its mobile phone, it’s a short step for Apple to decide to control the apps that can go on its rumored slate/netbook device. And since so much of the future of computing will occur on mobiles and netbooks, this portends a serious de-generation of computing, as predicted by Jonathan Zittrain in The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It.

The “angel of death”? A “gloomy, scary harbinger”? Wow, who knew!  In Weinberger’s world, Apple is guilty of the heinous crime of “keep[ing] quality up and, more important, [keeping] support costs down.”  OH MY GOD, how dare they.  Somebody make them stop!  No, seriously, how silly is all this? It’s like those Republicans who, in their zeal to do anything to defeat health care nationalization, decide it’s OK to make up spooky stories about “death panels” hidden deep inside congressional bills.

I find Weinberger’s claim that “a serious de-generation of computing” is looming because of the iPhone to be especially ridiculous. It’s the same sort of rubbish Lessig was spewing in Code when he predicted that AOL’s walled garden model was going to take over the entire cyber-world and ensure “perfect control,” just one of the many things Lessig got wrong in the book.  And it’s the same silliness we see at work in Zittrain’s work when he claims that we’re doomed to live in a world of closed “sterile and tethered” digital technologies and networks. Similarly, last year, Public Knowledge analyst Alex Curtis managed to reach the zenith of this rhetorical insanity when he likened the Apple App Store to an Orwellian Big Brother that was bringing us a “1984 kind of total control.”  You know, because Apple is forcing us all to own iPhones and locking us into re-education camps.  Right.

I Fart, Therefore I Am (Generative)

Which brings me back to the Droid.  If all these dour predictions about the death of digital generativity and the rise of closed networks and walled gardens were true, how in the world does a phone with an open source operating system and a completely open applications process for developers even exist? (Android devices like the Droid don’t require users to rely exclusively on the Android Marketplace for apps; you can run other apps if you like).

Moreover, it’s not just that a remarkably innovative and generative device like the Droid gets widespread release and praise, it’s the fact that there are countless other mobile devices and applications on the market today much like it. On the Zittrainian “generative-vs.-sterile appliance” spectrum, the range of mobile devices just continues to grow and grow in both directions. You can decide exactly what type of device you want.  But here’s the more important point: How much of a difference does it even make how “open” these phones and app stores are?  You’ve got more “closed” systems like Apple’s iPhone and Palm’s Pre on one end of the spectrum and then more “open” systems like the Droid and even many Windows Mobile devices on the other end, but do these competing models really result in many difference in terms of functionality and innovation?  The reality is this: tons of innovation is occurring across all of these devices and platforms regardless of how “open” or “closed” they may be.

For example, when I go to Handango, a terrific mobile application marketplace, and search for “all apps” available for my HTC Touch (which runs a Windows Mobile OS), my senses are assaulted with 6,677 choices.  It’s all a bit overwhelming.  Luckily, a quick search can get me right to the important applications I really need — like the “Pocket Fart” app.  Folks, let me tell you, no “generative” device is worth its salt without a good farting application.  I don’t care how bad of a mood my kids are in, when I fire up a fart app, it puts an instant smile on their faces!

But hey, guess what… that “angel of death,” the iPhone Store, offers fart apps, too!  Dozens and dozens of fart apps, in fact.  In terms of Zittrainian generativity, the iPhone is positively fart-tastic. Just check out that video below. And in addition to those dozens of flatulence apps, the Apple AppStore has another 100,000 apps available for downloading, making it the largest applications store in the world. And back in September, Apple announced that more than two billion apps had been downloaded from the App Store in its short existence. That’s Billion with a “B”.  Does this sound like it “portends a serious de-generation of computing” as Weinberger suggests?  Incidentally, if he’s so frightened that Steve Jobs is the Grim Reaper incarnate he can always go find another phone. Seriously, Steve Jobs doesn’t force anybody to buy one of these expensive toys.

If the iPhone is Good Enough for Zittrain, Why Isn’t It Fine for the Rest of Us?

Incidentally, despite all the fear and loathing about Steve Jobs and the iPhone that one finds in Future of the Internet, I was very entertained to discover that Jonathan Zittrain is an iPhone user himself!  I used some shameless McCarthyite tactics during our debate at New America Foundation last year — “Are you now, or have you ever been, an iPhone user!” — to publicly out him. [Go to the 55:00 minute mark of the video to see.]  But my point to him that day was a serious one: If you so fear the death of generativity because of that little demonic device, than why carry one in your coat pocket?  Why not use a device that lets you break all the rules because it essentially has no rules?  There are multiple open source mobile operating systems and a thriving community of “homebrew” developers. Go spend a few minutes at PCC Geeks or Howard’s Forums and see what I mean.

But the Berkman boys don’t seem content with all that.  And I wouldn’t usually give a damn about the lunacy of these hyper-pessimistic prognostications from the Harvard crew if it was all just harmless cyber-sourpuss ramblings from the ivory tower geeks with too much time on their hands.  But the problem is that these people want regulators to take steps to correct these supposed “code failures,” as Lessig calls them.  Zittrain calls for “API neutrality” in his book, which would force net neutrality-like mandates on digital devices. And in a New York Times editorial this summer entitled “Lost in the Cloud,” he made it clear that cloud neutrality regulation was next on the list. [Others are joining that call.] I’ve got a serious problem with that, as I detailed extensively in earlier essays (here and here), and Berin Szoka and I have discussed how these escalating neutrality wars are bound to lead to the digital equivalent of “mutually assured destruction” within the tech community before it’s all over.

Finally, when the Berkman gang, which is the most respected cyberlaw shop in the land, go around casting these debates with terms like “evil” applications and “angels of death,” then I have a serious problem because the game you are playing becomes hazardous to the health of the digital economy.  This poisons the public policy debate by using absurd moralistic rhetoric about something as fundamentally agnostic as digital platforms and protocols.  These things are neither good nor evil; they are just choices.  They represent different ways of promoting innovation.  And we should be happy that our current digital marketplace is offering us a rich mosaic of business models and options that can fill almost any need and fit almost any picky user’s desires.  If that ain’t progress, I don’t what is.

Update: The article is now online. Citizen Tools has collected some responses to it at the end of this post.

Lawrence Lessig has a provocatively titled article in the October 21 issue of The New Republic: “Against Transparency: The Perils of Openness in Government.” (Couldn’t find a link.) As a reader, I found it alternately mysterious, boring, and LOL funny.

I’m a person who notices premises, and Lessig sets up an interesting premise indeed: What he calls the “naked transparency movement”—unvarnished access to government data—“is not going to inspire change. It will simply push any faith in our political system off the cliff.”

Yes, Lessig has “change” and “pushing faith in our political system off the cliff” in opposition. So, the only thing that qualifies as “change” is improving faith in our political system? This pegged my bs detector.

Given the pains Lessig had taken to define the “naked transparency movement” and preemptively critique its effects, I was prepared for a straightforward criticism of public access to raw data.

Perhaps Lessig, who launched Change-Congress.org to much fanfare a year and a half ago, would pitch for expert-moderated access to data so that the national conversation wouldn’t undermine faith in government.

I was sensing that I had anticipated correctly when he started discussing “targeted transparency,” in which better minds guide the public’s access to information, leading us away from misunderstanding. (I have two recent posts on Cato@Liberty discussing privacy notices. Take a look to see what I think of managed access to market information.)

Then came the boredom. Lessig writes turgidly, at length, about the vagaries of drawing conclusions from campaign finance data. Between the time she was first lady and a senator from New York, Hillary Clinton changed her vote on bankruptcy legislation, Lessig tells us. I don’t know what point this makes.

Boredom gave way to mystery, though, when Lessig turned to Internet-inspired changes in the newspaper and recording industries. They are threatened by Internet-based business models and practices. Elaborate fixes are in the works to save them, or at least to ameliorate the damage. (Why these industries deserve protection is not the question.) Collective licensing of some kind might help record companies; maybe newspapers will survive if they can take non-profit status.

But what does this have to do with the “naked transparency movement”?

Ultimately, Lessig draws a broad analogy between saving these dying industries and saving confidence in government, a reach so startling that it caught my funny bone.

“A system of publicly funded elections would make it impossible to suggest that the reason some member of Congress voted the way he voted because of money.”

I literally laughed out loud. Such a turn from the thesis Lessig had set up, so little to do with the new era of transparency, and such a ham-handed pitch for a policy dinosaur: taxpayer-funded electioneering. The Internet thing has crushed the barriers politicians face when trying to reach the public.

Lessig would “establish[] a system in which no one could believe that money was buying results.” Do you catch that? Money would just be gone! No one could believe it!

I risk being cruel, which is not my intention. It seems so obvious to so many of us that money follows power. There is so much money in politics because there is so much power in politics. Transparency—manifested hundreds of different ways across government—would disperse power and reduce the influence of money, which Lessig’s article doesn’t deny.

Lessig’s desire to have people believe in government is genuine. In my mind as a reader, the intellectual arguments in this piece just fell away. It was funny, and sad: Earnestly sweet Lawrence Lessig, hoping for some clever coercion that will make everyone believe in government with him.

Last month, National Review magazine published a review that I penned of Mark Helprin’s new book, Digital Barbarism: A Writer’s Manifesto.  Helprin’s book is both a passionate defense of copyright law as well as a mini-autobiography.  Helprin is one of the great novelists and essayists of the past half-century, and his book A Soldier of a Great War is one of my all-time favorite novels.  I cannot in strong enough words encourage you to read that book; it is profoundly moving. (I almost named my son after the lead character in the book!)

Thus, I was quite excited when I learned that Helprin had penned a defense of copyright and I jumped at the chance to review it when the folks at National Review asked me to do so.  Alas, as you will see in my review, I was terribly disappointed.  I wish Helprin would have stuck with the very reasonable tone he adopted in this excellent podcast interview he did recently with John J. Miller of National Review Online. Unfortunately, he went a different direction in the book, as I make clear in my review:

National Review July 20, 2009

“Man, Machine, and Copyright” a review of Digital Barbarism: A Writer’s Manifesto, by Mark Helprin by Adam Thierer

It would be difficult to think of anyone more ideally suited to pen a passionate defense of copyright law than novelist Mark Helprin.  Helprin has written several of the finest works of modern literature, including his masterpiece, A Soldier of the Great War, a narrative of transcendent beauty. In Digital Barbarism, Helprin sets out to use his formidable gift for the written word to repel the “cyber mob” that has attacked copyright law and called for its curtailment, or even abolition.

Unfortunately, while Helprin occasionally rises to great heights in his defense of copyright, he too often sinks to lamentable lows — by resorting to the same unbecoming rhetorical tactics used by the mob he seeks to condemn. Indeed, his book is filled with gratuitous vitriol and neo-Luddite ramblings about the Internet and Information Age that severely detract from his defense of copyright. This is a shame, because, in places, Digital Barbarism makes a fine case against those critics who wrongly view copyright as an impediment to the creation and diffusion of content. “The availability of information is not and will not be restrained by the copyright system any more than it is or will be restrained by the delivery systems that make it possible,” Helprin argues. Why, he asks, “must ‘content’ be free” when everything else — access to the Internet, digital devices, etc. — costs good money? He notes that the movement that advocates “free,” universal access to all copyrighted material in the name of “openness” and “the public good” would, ironically, “destroy the dream it advocates”:

By insistence upon unhindered access without regard for rights and incentives that have been carefully balanced over centuries, the hurried new order will diminish the substance over which it demands sovereignty. It will have its access, but, as time passes, to less and less, and eventually perhaps to almost nothing, the means having grossly overpowered the ends. The past may be brilliantly cataloged and made accessible as never before, but at the cost of making the culture of the present relatively barren. Though it may never be entirely extinguished, it can be made as eerily quiet as if without the beat of a single heart.

The power of Helprin’s defense of copyright is that it is grounded in both this sort of utilitarian rationale and a Lockean, natural-rights-based conception of man’s moral right to the fruit of his mental labor. But there are many thorny issues Helprin fails to address in setting forth his dual defense of copyright.

To begin with, things just aren’t as black-and-white as he makes them out to be. There’s a certain inherent messiness to “intellectual property,” at least when compared with tangible property. As an abstract concept, it’s easy enough to defend. In practice, however, it often proves exceedingly challenging to delimit and enforce, since intangible creations cannot be enclosed the same way our back yards can.

This does not mean, however, that the opposite approach — a collectivized “commons” for intellectual creations — is more sensible. That intangible property is harder to enclose and protect doesn’t mean the law shouldn’t seek to do so. “Copyright is important because it is one of the guarantors of the rights of authorship,” Helprin argues, “and the rights of authorship are important because without them the individual voice would be subsumed in an indistinguishable and instantly malleable mass.”

American copyright law has generally cast this right in utilitarian terms, ever since the Founders gave Congress the power under Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution “to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” But how much “limited time” is enough time to incentivize creativity and invention? Under the first Copyright Act, enacted by Congress in 1790, the term of protection was just 14 years plus a right to renew for an additional 14 if the author was still alive.

There are many legitimately difficult questions about the enforceability of copyright in an age of ubiquitous digital connectivity and instantaneous information flows. I came to appreciate these challenges several years ago after transferring my entire 30-year CD collection to a portable music player that was smaller than a box of cards. How can copyright coexist with the giant copying machine represented by the combination of personal computers, digital devices, and the Internet? What sorts of restrictions on devices and networks are required to ensure that we continue to reward intellectual creativity without destroying the forms of technological innovation? How should copyright law define “fair use” in a culture that increasingly enables collaboration and encourages “remixing”? Will we need to create new “compulsory licensing” schemes — already in place for radio and television — to ensure that creators are compensated through mandatory fees embedded in digital devices or our monthly broadband bills?

These are challenging questions that deserve a fair hearing. But Helprin rarely bothers with these details because he’s too busy trading jabs with “the mob.” Unfortunately, his manifesto goes off the rails as his defense of copyright quickly morphs into an indictment of the Internet and all things digital.

At times, Helprin seems to be channeling the ghost of the late social critic Neil Postman, who, in his 1992 anti-technology screed, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, heaped contempt upon the unfolding Information Age. Recently, Internet critics such as Lee Siegel (Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Electronic Mob) and Andrew Keen (The Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet Is Killing Our Culture) have continued this tradition of deep techno-skepticism. With Digital Barbarism, Helprin joins this cause, arguing that we are witnessing “the decline of culture,” the “mechanization of the soul,” our “intellectual and spiritual destruction,” and the rise of a movement of “wacked-out muppets led by little professors in glasses” that “threatens in a decade or two to dissolve the accomplishments of millennia, reordering the ways in which we think, write, and communicate.”

And Helprin is just getting started. While he claims that he is “not decrying the digital revolution per se,” it often sounds that way. He speaks repeatedly about the “surrender” of human nature to “the machine revolution” and the corresponding need to “control the machine.”

Much of Helprin’s Internet ire seems to originate with the anonymous “blogging-ants” who have attacked his earlier essays in defense of copyright-term extension. Digital Barbarism becomes his chance for payback. “It would be one thing if [the digital] revolution produced Mozarts, Einsteins, or Raphaels,” Helprin says, “but it doesn’t. . . . It produces mouth-breathing morons in backward baseball caps and pants that fall down; Slurpee-sucking geeks who seldom seek daylight; pretentious and earnest hipsters who want you to wear bamboo socks so the world won’t end . . . beer-drinking dufuses who pay to watch noisy cars driving around in a circle for eight hours at a stretch,” and so on.

Unfortunately for Helprin, would-be rappers, basement-dwelling geeks, enviro-hippies, and NASCAR fans all predate the rise of the Internet, so one wonders if he has fingered the right culprit for civilization’s supposed decline. The fundamental problem with Digital Barbarism is that the cultural decay Helprin laments cannot be so easily tied to the battle over copyright. Indeed, most of what Helprin condemns in modern culture has come about during a time when copyright’s protections — at least as defined by law — have been expanded considerably in both length of term and breadth of coverage.

Moreover, he is simply too quick to proclaim the decline of modern civilization by looking only to the baser elements of the blogosphere. The Internet is a cultural and intellectual bazaar where one can find both the best and the worst of humanity on display at any given moment. True, “brutishness and barbarism” can be found on many cyber-corners, but not all of its corners. And, contrary to Helprin’s assertion that blogging “begins the mad race to the bottom,” one could just as easily cite countless instances of the healthy, unprecedented conversations that blogs have enabled about a diverse array of topics. Finally, even if one concedes, for the sake of argument, that blogging produces more cultural trash than treasure, would greatly enhanced copyright protection really turn things around?

There are strong moral and utilitarian arguments for protecting copyright and, during his calmer moments, Helprin articulates some of them quite effectively. He is surely right that “theft is ugly,” and that far too many people (especially in academia) are turning a blind eye to the injustices of the widespread copyright infringement taking place online today. There’s a lot of good sense buried underneath the angry rhetoric of this book; it’s regrettable — and surprising — that someone of Mark Helprin’s literary prowess didn’t make a better effort to persuade his readers.

Additional Reading about Digital Barbarism: A Writer’s Manifesto:

• Mark Helprin’s home page, his Claremont Institute page, and his Wikipedia entry
• Helprin’s New York Times editorial that prompted a backlash and led him to write the book
• Helprin podcast interview with National Review Online
• Russ Roberts interviews Helprin for the Econ Talk podcast
• Lawrence Lessig’s written response at the Huffington Post and an NPR interview with Lessig about the book
• Helprin’s recent Wall Street Journal editorial, “Copyright Critics Rationalize Theft,” which is condensed from the book
• the Amazon page and HarperCollins page for the Digital Barbarism
• a review by Jeremy Philips, and executive with News Corp, which appeared in the Wall Street Journal
• a review by Gordon Crovitz of the Wall Street Journal (+ lots of good comments)
• a review by Patrick Ross of the Copyright Alliance (Part 1, Part 2)
• a review by Jonathan Bailey that appeared on the Plagiarism Today blog
• a review by Nate Anderson of Ars Technica

Well, here we go again. Harvard’s Jonathan Zittrain has penned another gloomy essay about how “freedom is at risk in the cloud” and the future of the Internet is in peril because nefarious digital schemers like Apple, Facebook, and Google are supposedly out to lock you into their services and take away your digital rights.  And so, as I have done here many times before (see 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 + video!), I will offer a response arguing that Jonathan’s cyber-Chicken Little-ism is largely unwarranted.

Zittrain’s latest piece is entitled “Lost in the Cloud” and it appears in today’s New York Times.  It closely tracks the arguments he has set forth in his book The Future of the Internet–And How to Stop It, which I named the most important technology policy book of 2008, but not because I agreed with its central thesis.  Zittrain’s book and his new NYT essay are the ultimate exposition of Lessigite technological pessimism.  I don’t know what they put in the water up at the Berkman Center to make these guys so remarkably cranky and despondent about the future of of the Internet, but starting with Lawrence Lessig’s Code in 1999 and running through to Zittrain’s Future of the Internet we have been forced to endure endless Tales of the Coming Techno-Apocalypse from these guys.  Back in the late 90s, Prof. Lessig warned us that AOL and some other companies would soon take over the new digital frontier since “Left to itself, cyberspace will become a perfect tool of control.”  Ah yes, how was it that we threw off the chains of our techno-oppressors and freed ourselves from that wicked walled garden hell?  Oh yeah, we clicked our mouses and left! And that was pretty much the end of AOL’s “perfect control” fantasies. [See my recent debate with Prof. Lessig over at Cato Unbound for more about this “illusion of perfect control,” as I have labeled it.]

But Zittrain is the equivalent of the St. Peter upon which the Church of Lessigism has been built and, like any good disciple, he’s still vociferously preaching to the unconverted and using fire and brimstone sermons to warn of our impending digital damnation. In fact, he’s taken it to all new extremes. In Future of the Internet, Jonathan argues that we run the risk of seeing the glorious days of the generative, open Net and digital devices give way to more “sterile, tethered devices” and closed networks. The future that he hopes to “stop” is one in which Apple, TiVo, Facebook, and Google — the central villains in his drama — are supposedly ceded too much authority over our daily lives because of a combination of (a) their wicked ways and (b) our ignorant ones.

First, let’s talk about those corporate wicked ways. Jonathan waxes nostalgic about a mythical time not long ago when technologies were supposedly far more “open and generative” than they are now. In Jonathan’s revisionist history of the digital olden times, we are told that the early PC era was somehow the model for openness and generativity.  That’s damn peculiar to an old-timer like me because all I remember from those days is the tall stacks of proprietary programs sitting on my desk + a keyboard and other peripherals that were all hard-wired to the monitor + a guy named Bill Gates who was typically likened to the Darth Vader of openness.  In Zittrain’s retelling of things, however, those Digital Dark Ages have suddenly become the good ol’ days!  The real threat to openness and digital freedom, however, is now right before us.. or just over our head it seems. It’s up there in the cloud, he tells us. The freedom that “tinkerers and hackers” once enjoyed in those glorious good ‘ol days “is at risk in the cloud, where the vendor of a platform has much more control over whether and how to let others write new software,” Zittrain says.

Excuse me? Why would it be the case that generativity is now somehow more at risk today than it was in the era where we had to wake up every morning and wait for a C:\ prompt before loading an operating system or $50 spreadsheet software via three different 5.25 floppy disks?  [Seriously, does anybody else besides me remember how much those days sucked?]  Well, it turns out that the answer to that question goes back to the ignorant ways of the digital hoi polloi that I mentioned above.  You see, we are all sheep who just don’t know what’s good for us. Or here’s how Jonathan puts it, albeit spinning it in such a way to make his elitist pronouncements somewhat easier to swallow:

The market is churning through these issues. […] But the dynamics here are complicated. When we vest our activities and identities in one place in the cloud, it takes a lot of dissatisfaction for us to move. And many software developers who once would have been writing whatever they wanted for PCs are simply developing less adventurous, less subversive, less game-changing code under the watchful eyes of Facebook and Apple.

Ooooo.. spooky!  Beware ye naive Netizens, for “the watchful eyes of Facebook and Apple” are upon you!

No, seriously, what the hell does all that mean and what the heck is the problem here? By no conceivable stretch of the imagination can one paint a portrait of the Digital Dark Ages for me that makes that era look better than the Digital Renaissance we are now living through. There’s never been a better time to be tinkerers, hackers, or just regular citizen-consumers in cyberspace.

So, what gives?  Why is it that two smart guys like Lessig and Zittrain always seem to fear to worst even in the midst of a cornucopia of cyber-choices?  It comes back to the hyper-pessimism and remarkable short-sightedness of the Lessig-Zittrain worldview. In terms of their myopia, here’s how I put it in that recent debate with Lessig:

Lessig failed to appreciate that markets are evolutionary and dynamic, and when those markets are built upon code, the pace and nature of change becomes unrelenting and utterly unpredictable. …  a largely unfettered cyberspace has left digital denizens better off in terms of the information they can access as well as the goods and services from which they can choose. Oh, and did I mention it’s all pretty much free-of-charge? Say what you want about our cyber-existence, but you can’t argue with the price!

But there’s something else which drives their reasoning, and for lack of a softer term I will just label it what I think it really is: Elitism. At the end of the day, if we are to believe the scary tales that Zittrain and Lessig try to weave in their work we have to accept the notion that neither companies not consumers can really be trusted to make sensible decisions.  Basically, cyber-companies are only out to screw us and we’re just too stupid to realize it. Luckily for us, however, the fine folks up at Berkman know what’s best for us and, guess what, it’s not Facebook, Apple, TiVo, or Google!  These companies are apparently guilty of the heinous crime of giving consumers too much of what they want, and we can’t allow that because “it takes a lot of dissatisfaction for us to move.”  Or as Jonathan noted in an earlier essay:

I think we can get locked into these platforms as we (rightly, unfortunately) fear the wildness of the open Internet and general purpose PC, and as we shift and accumulate more and more of our data and relationships there. After the markets coalesce to these tamer gated communities, governments can later come along and insist that these platforms be tuned towards surveillance and control far more successfully than the wilder Internet that preceded them.

In other words, we’re lazy fools. Or perhaps maybe — just maybe — we’re reasonably happy with the choices we have been given and don’t have a good reason to flee some of our current favorite providers. My God, could it be that markets work!  No, no, no, Zittrain tells us, for these “tamer gated communities” (tamer than what?) have lulled us into a sleep as they concoct a plan to “tame” the Net, quash software innovation, and then invite the government in to take all our info or property.

So, we’re right back at Lessig’s AOL horror story from 1999, except now it’s Facebook, Apple, and Google staring in the role of our corporate captors — again, even though they offer us constantly improving services and constantly falling prices (and are completely free of charge in the case of Facebook and Google).  Regardless, the fear of lock-in and what Lessig and Zittrain refer to as the “regulability” of some of these services and platforms, leads them to argue that something ominous lurks around every cyber-corner.  Consequently, just as Lessig counseled a fair degree of government oversight and intervention back in ’99 to deal with the AOL era (non-)problem of walled gardens, a decade later, Zittrain is ready to call in the code cops to correct for our foolish allegiances to the latest crop of popular software providers or media platforms:

If the market settles into a handful of gated cloud communities whose proprietors control the availability of new code, the time may come to ensure that their platforms do not discriminate. Such a demand could take many forms, from an outright regulatory requirement to a more subtle set of incentives — tax breaks or liability relief — that nudge companies to maintain the kind of openness that earlier allowed them a level playing field on which they could lure users from competing, mighty incumbents. We’ve only just begun to measure this problem, even as we fly directly into the cloud. That’s not a reason to turn around. But we must make sure the cloud does not hinder the creation of revolutionary software that, like the Web itself, can seem esoteric at first but utterly necessary later.

Sorry, but where is the evidence warranting this sort of techno-pessimism?  I just can’t buy into the story that Zittrain spins: That some folks in the cloud are currently “hinder[ing] the creation of revolutionary software” or that one day soon we’ll all wake up and find our digital lives and property completely controlled by cloud-based companies and we will be utterly without recourse.  Honestly, is Google locking you down? Did someone make you sign up for all their free services? Any reason you can’t use a second e-mail service or a different search provider?  Likewise, did Steve Jobs force you to buy an iPod or an iPhone?  I would think we should be celebrating the fact that in just one year’s time there has been 1.5 Billion downloads of over 65,000 free and paid apps by consumers in 77 countries.  I call that progress — and I don’t even own an iPhone!  Again, nothing is stopping consumers from exercising their right to choose from many other products besides Apple, Google, and Facebook, just as I have.

Now, do companies make mistakes? Of course they do. All the time, in fact. Amazon’s bone-headed book deletion this week is the latest exhibit. But people learn from these things. And companies do as well. Things evolve. Companies correct their mistakes or people bolt. AOL lost 20 million paying customers and billions in market share in the span of just a few years. Time Warner is still cursing the day they made that deal and has now spun it off entirely. Last time I checked, the old AOL model wasn’t a favorite among most web vendors. Moreover, does anyone really think there’s a future for Amazon if they make it a habit of deleting digital books on people’s Kindles?  Frankly, if you want more competition in the digital book market, you should be inviting Amazon to play such silly reindeer games. It would be the best incentive ever for people to switch! But the fact remains, that’s the exception to the rule. Locking down customers or playing games with their digital goodies isn’t a viable long-term business model that I see many firms adopting these days. And if they do, they are screwing themselves.

This same principle applies to Facebook and the fear that they will hold onto customers or their data.  When they get too heavy-handed, people respond. Does anyone remember the Beacon incident or the flare-up of Facebook’s changing Terms of Service?  People got pissed, and the company listened. That’s a healthy sign that consumers have real power in the social networking market.  Moreover, how hard is it to escape from Facebook Land? It’s not a maximum security data prison. I went there for all of about a day, found it wasn’t for me, and then deleted everything and set up camp over at LinkedIn instead.  (Yes, that’s right, I do NOT have a Facebook account.  Somehow the sky hasn’t fallen on me.  People still find me just fine.)

So what about those solutions that Zittrain recommends for these new non-problems? In Future of the Net, he was surprisingly short on specific solutions. But in today’s NYT editorial he gets a bit more concrete with that suggestion “the time may come to ensure that their platforms do not discriminate,” possibly through regulation or other Sunstein-ian “nudges.” Here we have the truly frightening prospect of a handful of faceless bureaucrats becoming Facebook’s overlords.  I’m not even sure what it means to have the government “ensure they do not discriminate,” but I really don’t want to find out.  For Google it’s a lot easier to figure out what Zittrain’s medicine will taste like: Can you say “Right of Reply Mandates & a Fairness Doctrine for the Internet?”  Frank Pasquale and Oren Bracha can and they’ve already sketched the blueprint for what a new Federal Search Commission might look like to address “search bias.” [See Berin’s critique here. ]  And for Apple, non-discrimination at the device level would take the form of forced commoditization of the iPhone.  They’d be required to give it to any carrier that wanted it on government-approved terms and the iPhone Store would be regulated like grain elevator and subjected to common carrier rules.  You know, because that model worked soooo well in other contexts.  And then, just for good measure, we would layer on a bunch of restrictions on all these companies in the form of online advertising regulations.  We can’t have the mindless sheep of the Internet being subjected to more targeted ads, after all!   To be clear, Zittrain hasn’t recommended these specific regulatory remedies yet, but this is where his logic is taking us. The old regulatory playbook will become the new regulatory playbook.

OK, now that I have been so snarky and dismissive of most of what Jonathan says in his editorial today and in his book, let me close by noting where I (partially) agree with him and Lessig. Are some digital technologies “regulable” such that our government could coerce them to divulge data or personal information?  Yes, this is true.  But here’s how I addressed that concern in my recent Cato Unbound debate with Lessig:

[cyber-libertarians] are in league with Lessig [and Zittrain] when it comes to the forcible surrender of personal information or technological capabilities to government officials. When the Department of Justice comes knocking on Google’s door asking for records of our search histories to see who’s looking for online porn (or anything else), that’s a problem. The “deputization of the middleman” has long been a legitimate fear because, with the threat of liability hanging over their necks, online intermediaries could be coerced into giving the state information that leads to fines, imprisonment, censorship, or some other type of government harassment. However, this is a problem we should handle by putting more constraints on our government(s), not by imposing more regulations on code or coders. While, as a general principle, I think it wise for companies to minimize the amount of data they collect about consumers or websurfers, we need not force that by law. And we should certainly hold companies to high standards when it comes to data security and breach. But, again, the way to deal with the “regulability” threat that Lessig and Zittrain raise is to tightly limit the powers of government to access private information through intermediaries in the first place. Most obviously, we could start by tightening up the Electronic Communications Privacy Act and other laws that limit government data access. More subtly, we must continue to defend Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which shields intermediaries from liability for information posted or published by users of their systems, because (among many things) such liability would make online intermediaries more susceptible to the kind of back-room coercion that concerns Lessig. If we’re going to be legislating about the Internet, we need more laws like that, not those of the “middleman deputization” model.

But that is the extent of my agreement with Lessig and Zittrain. All this techno-pessimism emanating out of Berkman and their books is largely unwarranted.  I suppose one could argue that they are just sounding alarms in the hope of preemptively checking bone-headed corporate moves, but the problem is that they increasingly back up their pessimism with large doses of heavy-handed political prescriptions to keep the Net “healthy.”  Instead, they’ll just poison the wonderfully free waters of cyberspace with the same regulatory nonsense that has strangled traditional media markets for decades. And unless your idea of cyber-nirvana resembles the broadcast marketplace, you have to think that won’t benefit consumers one bit.

Signed,

An Unrepentant Techno-Optimist

I’ve posted another response in the Cato Unbound online debate over the impact of Lawrence Lessig’s Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace upon the book’s 10th anniversary.  You will recall that I went fairly hard on Prof. Lessig in my essay, “Code, Pessimism, and the Illusion of ‘Perfect Control,’” and Lessig responded with a counter-punch that went after me for it.  I respond in a new essay about “Our Conflict of Cyber-Visions.” In the piece, I address Lessig’s assertion that I just didn’t understand the central teachings of Code, as well as his reluctance to accept the “cyber-collectivism” label that I affixed to his book and life’s work.  Again, please hop over to Cato Unbound for my complete response.

But one thing from the essay that I thought worth reproducing here is my effort to better define the key principles that separate the cyber-libertarian and cyber-collectivist schools of thinking.  I argue that it comes down to this:

The cyber-libertarian believes 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, another key difference relates to how quickly one jumps to the conclusion that “code failures” are actually occurring at all. I argue:

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. Moreover, if you are always running around crying “market failure!” and calling in the code cops, 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! To reiterate a key point I already stressed in my original essay: One need not believe that the markets in code are “perfectly competitive” to accept that they are “competitive enough” — or at least, better than regulatory alternatives.

Anyway, please head over to the Cato site to read the whole thing and let me know what you think.  If nothing else, I’m sure that Seth Finkelstein will have something incredibly nasty to say about me!  And I will wear his scorn as a badge of honor.

The week-long Cato Unbound online debate about the 10th anniversary of Lawrence Lessig’s Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace continues today with Prof. Lessig’s response to Declan McCullagh’s opening essay, “What Larry Didn’t Get,” Jonathan Zittrain’s follow-up essay, and my essay on, “Code, Pessimism, and the Illusion of ‘Perfect Control.’”  Needless to say, Prof. Lessig isn’t too happy with my response. You should jump over to the Cato site to read the entire thing, but here are a couple of excerpts and my response.

To my suggestion that there is a qualitative difference between law and code, Prof. Lessig says:

I’ve argued that things aren’t quite a simple as some libertarians would suggest. That there’s not just bad law. There’s bad code. That we don’t need to worry just about Mussolini. We also need to worry about DRM or the code AT&T deploys to help the government spy upon users. That public threats to liberty can be complemented by private threats to liberty. And that the libertarian must be focused on both.  […] Of course, law is law. Who could be oblivious to that? And who would need a book to explain it?  But the fact that “law is law” does not imply that it has a “much greater impact in shaping markets and human behavior.” Sometimes it does — especially when that “law” is delivered by a B1 bomber. But ask the RIAA whether it is law or code that is having a “greater impact in shaping markets” for music. Or ask the makers of Second Life whether the citizens of that space find themselves more constrained by the commercial code of their geo-jurisdiction or by the fact that the software code of Second Life doesn’t permit you simply to walk away (so to speak) with another person’s scepter. Whether and when law is more effective than code is an empirical matter — something to be studied, and considered, not dismissed by banalities spruced up with italics.

Well, I beg the professor’s pardon for excessive use of italics.  [I won’t ask for an apology for misspelling my last name in his piece!] Regardless, it’s obvious that we’ll just never see eye-to-eye on the crucial distinction between law and code. Again, as I stated in my essay: “With code, escape is possible. Law, by contrast, tends to lock in and limit; spontaneous evolution is supplanted by the stagnation of top-down, one-size-fits-all regulatory schemes.”

Lessig largely dismisses much of this with that last line above, suggesting that we just need to keep studying the matter to determine the right mix of what works best.  To be clear, while I’m all for studying the impact of law vs. code as “an empirical matter,” that in turn begs the question of how we define effectiveness or success. I suspect that the professor and I would have a “values clash” over some rather important first principles in that regard.  This is, of course, a conflict of visions that we see throughout the history of philosophy; a conflict between those who put the individual and the individual’s rights at the core of any ethical political system versus those who would place the rights of “the community,” “the public” or some other amorphous grouping(s) at the center of everything.  It’s a classic libertarian vs. communitarian / collectivist debate.

Lessig, however, makes it clear in his response that he doesn’t take kindly to being called a cyber-collectivist, even accusing me of “red-baiting” by using the term.  But the collectivism of which I speak is a more generic type; not the hard-edged Marxist brand of collectivism of modern times.   What separates Lessig’s brand of cyber-collectivism from the cyber-libertarianism that I espouse is a general preference for who calls the shots most of the time.  Quite obviously, I place an enormous amount of faith in largely unfettered markets in code to generally advance the values of individual liberty, freedom of speech, and economic innovation more often than rule by politics and public officials will.  Prof. Lessig is obviously far more enamored with the potential of the state and politics to play a beneficial role in shaping things.

Thus, even though Prof. Lessig rejects the association, Declan McCullagh was right to point to the distant influence of Plato on Code and much of Lessig’s other work.  (And there’s a bit of Rousseauian influence there, too.)  In any event, if Prof. Lessig takes offense at this label and wants to call his approach something other than cyber-collectivism, than by all means be my guest; invent a new term and I’ll use it.  But to me, as a student of political philosophy, I see his philosophy as just another variant of collectivism and just don’t know what else to call it.  This isn’t “red-baiting;” it’s simply an exercise in philosophical classification.

To some extent, Prof.  Lessig undercuts my arguments here in concluding his essay by asking that we “focus on a large number of difficult questions that remain… about how to preserve the liberty of society and the Net against the ever-expanding harm caused by the captured corruption that we call democratic government.”  Hey, now that sounds like something a true libertarian might say! (Except that we would have likely used the phrase “preserve the liberty of the individual” instead of “society”!) Regardless, Lessig is at least willing to admit that there may be some problems in paradise for Platonist thinking or Rousseauian romanticism.

Alas, for reasons articulated quite nicely here by Tim Lee in the past, “Lessig clearly understands what it takes to catch the interest of conservative- and libertarian-minded readers, and he’s not above spinning his arguments to maximize their appeal to the people he’s addressing.” For the libertarian, there is only one fool-proof solution to the problem of government corruption: You shrink the Leviathan. From what I’ve seen of Lessig’s proposals so far to address corruption, however, he’s not really willing to have that conversation. It’s all about the old “getting money out of politics” and “kill all the lobbyists” approach. Unfortunately, as Tim notes:

The problem isn’t that there’s a discrete list of corrupt practices that we can identify and prohibit. The problem is that if politicians are willing to be corrupted, and special interests are willing to spend resources to corrupt them, they’ll find ways to get it done. You can certainly reduce the effect on the margin — by banning overt bribery, for example — but once you’ve banned the really obvious categories of back-scratching, it becomes more and more difficult to make any further progress. What’s going on in Washington is disgusting, to be sure, but it’s not new or unique to the United States. And I think fixing it is going to be a lot more challenging than Lessig imagines.

I couldn’t agree more.  Nonetheless, I eagerly await more details from Prof. Lessig regarding his new effort to address corruption in our political system, however he defines it.  He may set forth some reform proposals that we libertarians find quite sensible and ultimately endorse.  But if “reform” instead comes in the form of layers of additional campaign finance regulations, well then, I think we’ll find ourselves disagreeing once again. Because many of those so-called reforms are simply free-speech violating restrictions on the rights of both individuals to petition their government.

But to conclude this exchange on a good note, let me just say that — at least in theory — I wholeheartedly endorse Lawrence Lessig’s call to protect “the Net against the ever-expanding harm caused by the captured corruption that we call democratic government.”   And I hope someday he will be more open to the notion that limits on the power of the state are the ultimate key to accomplishing that goal.

The Cato Unbound online debate about the 10th anniversary of Lawrence Lessig’s Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace continues today with my response to Declan McCullagh’s opening essay, “What Larry Didn’t Get,” as well as Jonathan Zittrain’s follow-up.

In my response, “Code, Pessimism, and the Illusion of ‘Perfect Control,'” I begin by arguing that:

The problem with peddling tales of a pending techno-apocalypse is that, at some point, you may have to account for your prophecies — or false prophecies as the case may be. Hence, the problem for Lawrence Lessig ten years after the publication of his seminal book, Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace.

I go on to argue that:

Lessig’s lugubrious predictions proved largely unwarranted. Code has not become the great regulator of markets or enslaver of man; it has been a liberator of both. Indeed, the story of the past digital decade has been the exact opposite of the one Lessig envisioned in Code.

After providing several examples of just how wrong Lessig’s predictions were, I then ask:

[W]hy have Lessig’s predictions proven so off the mark? Lessig failed to appreciate that markets are evolutionary and dynamic, and when those markets are built upon code, the pace and nature of change becomes unrelenting and utterly unpredictable. With the exception of some of the problems identified above, a largely unfettered cyberspace has left digital denizens better off in terms of the information they can access as well as the goods and services from which they can choose. Oh, and did I mention it’s all pretty much free-of-charge? Say what you want about our cyber-existence, but you can’t argue with the price!

I am forced to admit, however, that Lessig’s book has had enormous impact of the field of cyberlaw and digital technology policy:

This brings me to what I believe is the most important impact of Code: the philosophical movement it has spawned. As Declan noted in his opening essay, Code “offered a burgeoning protest movement [a] unifying theme and philosophy” in that it was both a polemic against cyber-libertarianism and a sort of call-to-arms for cyber-collectivism. It gave this movement its central operating principle: Code and cyberspace can be bent to the will of the collective, and it often must be if we are to avoid any number of impending disasters brought on by those nefarious (or just plain incompetent) folks in corporate America. Led by a gifted, prolific set of disciples such as Jonathan Zittrain and Tim Wu, as well as increasingly influential activist groups such as Public Knowledge and Free Press, Lessig’s cyber-collectivists continue to preach skepticism regarding markets and property rights, and a general openness to — and frequent embrace of — government solutions to digital-era dilemmas. […]  Prof. Lessig and his movement are winning the battle of ideas on the cyber-front today. We have Code to thank — or blame — for that.

Please head over to the Cato Unbound website to read the entire thing.  Prof. Lessig’s response is scheduled to be posted on Monday.

As I mentioned on Monday,  the folks over at Cato Unbound have put together an online debate about the impact of Lawrence Lessig’s Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace as it turns 10 this year.

The opening essay from Declan McCullagh, “What Larry Didn’t Get,” took Lessig to task for favoring rule by “technocratic philosopher kings” over the spontaneous invisible hand of code.   In Round 2 of the debate, Harvard’s Jonathan Zittrain comes to Lessig’s defense and suggests that the gap between Lessig and libertarians is not as wide as Declan suggests:

The debate between Larry and the libertarians is more subtle. Larry says: I’m with you on the aim — I want to maintain a free Internet, defined roughly as one in which bits can move between people without much scrutiny by the authorities or gatekeeping by private entities. Code’s argument was and is that this state of freedom isn’t self-perpetuating. Sooner or later government will wake up to the possibilities of regulation through code, and where it makes sense to regulate that way, we might give way — especially if it forestalls broader interventions.

Run over to Cato Unbound to read the rest.  My response will be going up next (on Friday) and then Prof. Lessig’s will be up next Monday.

Before commenting on Lawrence Lessig’s latest call to abolish the Federal Communications Commission (he issued a similar call for the FCC’s abolition earlier this year, which I commented on here), let’s recall what Tim Lee posted yesterday about “Real Regulators“:

Too many advocates of regulation seem to have never considered the possibility that the FCC bureaucrats in charge of making these decisions at any point in time might be lazy, incompetent, technically confused, or biased in favor of industry incumbents. That’s often what “real regulators” are like, and it’s important that when policy makers are crafting regulatory scheme, they assume that some of the people administering the law will have these kinds of flaws, rather than imagining that the rules they write will be applied by infallible philosopher-kings.

Ironically, Prof. Lessig — who typically defends many forms of high-tech regulation like Net neutrality and online content labeling — is essentially agreeing with Tim’s critique of bureaucracy. But Lessig seems to ignore the underlying logic of Tim’s critique and instead imagines that we need only reinvent bureaucracy in order to save it. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, let’s hear what Lessig proposes.

In a Newsweek column this week entitled “Reboot the FCC,” Lessig argues that the FCC is beyond saving because, instead of protecting innovation, the agency has succumb to an “almost irresistible urge to protect the most powerful instead.” Consequently, he continues:

The solution here is not tinkering. You can’t fix DNA. You have to bury it. President Obama should get Congress to shut down the FCC and similar vestigial regulators, which put stability and special interests above the public good. In their place, Congress should create something we could call the Innovation Environment Protection Agency (iEPA), charged with a simple founding mission: “minimal intervention to maximize innovation.” The iEPA’s core purpose would be to protect innovation from its two historical enemies–excessive government favors, and excessive private monopoly power.

As was the case with his earlier call to “blow up the FCC,” I am tickled to hear Lessig call for shutting down an agency that many of us have been fighting against for the last few decades. (Here’s a 1995 blueprint for abolishing the FCC that I contributed to, and here’s PFF’s recent “DACA” project to comprehensively reform and downsize the agency.)

But is Lessig really calling for the same sort of sweeping regulatory reform and downsizing that others have been calling for? And has he identified the real source of the problem that he hopes to correct?  I don’t think so. There are 3 basic problems with the argument Lessig is putting forward in his essay. I will address each in turn.

(1) Real Reform or Just Reshuffling of Deck Chairs?

The first problem is that Lessig isn’t really calling for complete abolition of the FCC; just the transfer of many of its regulatory responsibilities to the supposedly less “corrupt” new Innovation Environment Protection Agency (iEPA). As you read the paragraphs below, note how in the process of re-branding the FCC as the “iEPA,” Lessig seems to be handing that new agency a lot of the FCC’s old powers:

The iEPA’s first task would thus be to reverse the unrestrained growth of these monopolies. For example, much of the wireless spectrum has been auctioned off to telecom monopolies, on the assumption that only by granting a monopoly could companies be encouraged to undertake the expensive task of building a network of cell towers or broadcasting stations. The iEPA would test this assumption, and essentially ask the question: do these monopolies do more harm than good? With a strong agency head, and a staff absolutely barred from industry ties, the iEPA could avoid the culture of favoritism that’s come to define the FCC. And if it became credible in its monopoly-checking role, the agency could eventually apply this expertise to the area of patents and copyrights, guiding Congress’s policymaking in these special-interest hornet nests. The iEPA’s second task should be to assure that the nation’s basic communications infrastructure spectrum— the wires, cables and cellular towers that serve as the highways of the information economy—remain open to new innovation, no matter who owns them. For example, “network neutrality” rules, when done right, aim simply to keep companies like Comcast and Verizon from skewing the rules in favor of or against certain types of content and services that run over their networks. The investors behind the next Skype or Amazon need to be sure that their hard work won’t be thwarted by an arbitrary decision on the part of one of the gatekeepers of the Net. Such regulation need not, in my view, go as far as some Democrats have demanded. It need not put extreme limits on what the Verizons of the world can do with their network—they did, after all, build it in the first place—but no doubt a minimal set of rules is necessary to make sure that the Net continues to be a crucial platform for economic growth. Beyond these two tasks, what’s most needed from the iEPA is benign neglect. Certainly, it should keep competition information flowing smoothly and limit destructive regulation at the state level, and it might encourage the government to spend more on public communications infrastructure, for example in the rural areas which private companies often ignore.

“But beyond these limited tasks, ” Lessig claims, “whole phone-books worth of regulation could simply be erased. And with it, we would remove many of the levers that lobbyists use to win favors to protect today’s monopolists.”

Again, from what he’s said here, it sure doesn’t sound like “whole phone books worth of regulation” are being erased. What Lessig has done is essentially restate the current powers and responsibilities of the FCC.  I don’t see much serious downsizing being proposed here at all. Indeed, his call for Net neutrality regulation represents an expansion of bureaucracy.

Instead, what Lessig seems to be saying is that the new iEPA will do the job right because it will be less “corrupt” and enlightened. But that’s not true either.

(2) What Larry Doesn’t Get (about Bureaucracy)

Lessig is essentially calling for the same sort of “scientific” or “professional” bureaucracy that his progressive forefathers advocated a century ago when the modern regulatory leviathan was being envisioned and erected. But what has changed since then? Nothing. Special interests were able to gain influence then just as they do now.

This gets back to Tim Lee’s point about how many pundits and policymakers foolishly believe that everything will magically be better once rules are “applied by infallible philosopher-kings.” Apparently Lessig believes that lots of those folks will be walking the halls at the new iEPA. They’ll somehow be immune from the the “almost irresistible urge to protect the most powerful” that FCC bureaucrats have fallen prey to.

But Lessig provides no rational reason for us to believe that this will really be the case. And really, why should we believe that story? Do we have any good historical evidence to support such a proposition? To the contrary, everything we know from the history of regulation and bureaucracy tells us that exactly the opposite will be the case.

As I so often do when I debate quixotic progressives who say they can construct a more “enlightened” regulatory state, I invite Prof. Lessig to take a hard look at the definitive 2-volume Economics of Regulation by a far more experienced progressive Democrat, Professor Alfred E. Kahn. In Kahn’s masterwork, Prof. Lessig will find the following words of wisdom (and caution) from someone who spent a lifetime studying the issue:

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.

(3) No Right to Petition Government ?

At this point, Prof. Lessig and his defenders will no doubt say that everything will be different this time around when they reinvent bureaucracy. The secret, they seem to suggest, is “getting money out of politics” or “ending corruption” by “special interests.” Again, hard to argue against any of that — except to say as we have here many times before that if Big Government exists, special interests will exist to influence it (probably unduly so). Thus, the logical solution is real regulatory reform and downsizing of bureaucracy. That is the only way we are ever really going to solve the problem Prof. Lessig wants to address.

But Prof. Lessig and his supporters are obviously not going to accept that. What they want is government activism without the ugly downsides of lobbying and special interest influence polluting the process. Is there any way to do it? Again, for the reasons I have stated here, I doubt it. But what, exactly, would it mean in practice to let them try?  I fear that what Prof. Lessig and many other “progressives” mean by “ending special interest influence” is really ending the free speech rights of citizens to petition their government if those citizens happen to be corporations.

Let’s remember what the First Amendment says:

“Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Now, I certainly realize how unpopular this will be to some, but if you believe in the plain text of the Constitution then you should respect the right of citizens (including corporate entities) to petition (i.e., “lobby”) the government for consideration of their interests, especially if the government is imposing significant regulatory burdens on them. Calling for limits on the ability of the regulated to petition their regulators is a fundamental betrayal of the plain language of the First Amendment.

I don’t want to put words in Prof. Lessig’s mouth, but I have a feeling that this is where his proposal is heading. He says that the staff of his new iEPA will be “absolutely barred from industry ties” but doesn’t really spell out what that means. If it just means limits on who can be hired for certain positions in the new agency, I’m generally fine with that (even though I do not for one minute believe it will magically “end corruption.”) If, however, Lessig and his fellow progressives want rules restricting the ability of “interests” to communicate with this new agency, then I find such a proposal quite troubling.

One final point: What exactly counts as a “special interest”? No doubt, Lessig and other progressives equate interests with corporations. But what about unions, co-ops, non-profits, schools, charities, think tanks, etc.?  They all petition government endlessly. Would Lessig limit their rights?

I hope Prof. Lessig takes the time to ellaborate on his proposal because he may have good answers to many of the quibbles I have raised here. I really do want to take him at his word and believe that he is ready to radically reform the regulatory beast that has so completely failed in its mission to improve consumer welfare.  But I have my doubts. And, sadly, I have history on my side.

It’s been a big year for tech policy books. Several important titles were released in 2008 that offer interesting perspectives about the future of the Internet and the impact digital technologies are having on our lives, culture, and economy. Back in September, I compared some of the most popular technology policy books of the past five years and tried to group them into two camps: “Internet optimists” vs. “Internet pessimists.” That post generated a great deal of discussion and I plan on expanding it into a longer article soon. In this post, however, I will merely list what I regard as the most important technology policy books of the past year.

What qualifies as an “important” tech policy book? Basically, it’s a title that many people in this field are currently discussing and that we will likely be talking about for many years to come. I want to make it clear, however, that merely because a book appears on this list it does not necessarily mean I agree with everything said in it. In fact, I found much with which to disagree in my picks for the two most important books of 2008, as well as many of the other books on the list. [Moreover, after reading all these books, I am more convinced than ever that libertarians are badly losing the intellectual battle of ideas over Internet issues and digital technology policy. There’s just very few people defending a “Hands-Off-the-Net” approach anymore. But that’s a subject for another day!]

Another caveat: Narrowly focused titles lose a few points on my list. For example, as was the case in past years, a number of important IP-related books have come out this year. If a book deals exclusively with copyright or patent issues, it does not exactly qualify as the same sort of “tech policy book” as other titles found on this list since it is a narrow exploration of just one set of issues that have a bearing on digital technology policy. The same could be said of a book that deals exclusively with privacy policy, like Solove’s Understanding Privacy. It’s an important book with implications for the future of tech policy, but I demoted it a bit because of its narrow focus.

With those caveats in mind, here are my Top 10 Most Important Tech Policy Books of 2008 (and please let me know about your picks for book of the year):

(1) Jonathan Zittrain ­– The Future of the Internet, and How to Stop It

Zittrain’s book is the most important of 2008 because it’s the one we will still be talking the most about a decade from now. However, I think we’ll be talking about how wrong his thesis was that the “generative” Internet and general purpose PCs are dying.  Indeed, I’ve been quite critical of the thesis that Jonathan sets forth in his book, and I have discussed my reservations in a lengthy book review and a series of follow-up essays here and elsewhere. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5).  We’ve also debated his book on the an NPR-Boston [audio is here] and we debated in person at New America Foundation in early November [video is here].

Despite my serious reservations, Jonathan’s book is important, well-written, and absolutely deserves your attention if you care about the future of technology policy.

(2) Nick Carr – The Big Switch: Rewiring the World, From Edison to Google

Part 1 of Nick Carr’s book is an eloquent early history of cloud computing, nicely comparing it to previous technological revolutions. It’s beautifully done. In Part 2 of the book, however, Carr turns sour and argues that the impact of cloud computing will be quite miserable for our economy, culture, and society. The Big Switch probably makes the best case than any Net pessimist has been penned thus far, and for that reason alone it deserves your attention. Ultimately, however, I found his case unconvincing.

You can find my complete review of Carr’s book here.

(3) John Palfrey and Urs Gasser – Born Digital: Understanding the First Generation of Digital Natives

Palfrey and Gasser’s fine early history of this generation of “Digital Natives” serves as a starting point for any conversation about how to mentor and interact with the children of the Web. It’s a comprehensive and very even-handed discussion about a variety of concerns or Internet pathologies, including: online safety, personal privacy, copyright piracy, offensive content, classroom learning, and much more. Despite a few nitpicks, I really enjoyed this book and highly recommend it. Importantly, it is a very accessible book that even the non-tech layman can pick up and appreciate. [Note: Don Tapscott’s Grown Up Digital: How the Net Generation is Changing Your World, shares a lot in common with Born Digital, but Tapscott doesn’t spend much time on policy issues and that’s why his book isn’t on my list.]

My review of Palfrey and Gasser’s Born Digital is here. [Update Feb 2009: I also hosted a podcast about the book featuring Prof. Palfrey.]

(4) Clay Shirky – Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing without Organizations

While Nick Carr [see #2 above] and Lee Siegel [see #5 below] are leading the “techno-pessimist” parade this year, Clay Shirky is this year’s leading cheerleader for “cyber-optimism.” Shirky argues that the falling costs and growing ease of digital distribution are making it increasingly easy for individuals to engage in group-forming and collective action endeavors. The resulting rise of “mass amateurization” poses a significant challenge to old media operations and traditional business models and practices. In this sense, Shirky is building on many of the themes and arguments previously set forth in books like The Wealth of Networks (Benkler), Wikinomics (Tapscott and Williams), and Convergence Culture (Jenkins). If you’ve already read those titles, you’ll find a great deal of familiar thinking here.

I never got around to putting together a full review of Here Comes Everybody, but Tim Lee had a nice write-up over at Ars earlier this year.

(5) Lee Siegel – Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Electronic Mob

Siegal is this year’s Andrew Keen; a cyber-sourpuss who thinks the whole world is going to hell and that the Internet is to blame. Like Keen’s Cult of the Amateur, Siegel’s Against the Machine is an anti-Web 2.0 screed that finds no redeeming qualities about the Internet or user-generated content.  In particular, Wikipedia and amateur production are blasted as being detrimental to professional media.

Both Siegel and Keen are essentially channeling the ghost of the late Neil Postman, whose 1992 book Technopoly remains the classic statement of techno-pessimism. They prove worthy disciples as they preach the Gospel According to Chicken Little and push for a neo-Luddite revival. But Siegel’s techno-pessimism is boundless and his hatred for all things digital is truly breathtaking. For that reason, however, his book deserves attention.

My lengthy critique of Siegel’s book can be found here.

(6) Ronald J. Deibert, John G. Palfrey, Rafal Rohozinski, and Jonathan Zittrain (eds.) – Access Denied: The Practice and Policy of Global Internet Filtering

This is essential reading for anyone studying the methods governments are using to stifle online expression. The contributors provide a regional and country-by-country overview of the global state of online speech controls and discuss the long-term ramifications of increasing government filtering of online networks. Even if you don’t read the whole thing, this is a must-have title for your bookshelf since there is no other resource out there like this. And it should be required reading in every cyberlaw class in America. [Note: It also contains a very helpful chapter on the mechanics of Net filtering.]  Very highly recommended.

(7) Hal Abelson, Ken Ledeen, and Harry Lewis – Blown to Bits: Your Life, Liberty, and Happiness After the Digital Explosion

Think of this book as “Internet Policy for the Educated Layman.” Abelson, Ledeen, and Lewis survey a broad swath of tech policy territory — privacy, search, encryption, free speech, copyright, spectrum policy — and provide the reader with a nice history and technology primer on each topic. Like Palfrey and Gasser’s Born Digital [see #3 above], Blown to Bits is very accessible and each chapter contains a great deal of useful information to bring you up to speed on the hottest tech policy debates under the sun. Recommended.

My review of Blown to Bits can be found here.

(8) Lawrence Lessig – Remix: Making Art and Commerce Thrive in the Hybrid Economy

Remix treads a lot of ground already covered in Lessig’s other books and essays (perhaps it should have been called “Rehash”), but it more fully develops his thinking on the legal treatment of derivative works. Actually, in some ways (especially in the second half of the book), it’s more of a restatement of much of what is found in Benkler’s Wealth of Networks, albeit in a far less verbose fashion. Regardless, Prof. Lessig has attained rock-star status in tech policy circles and the release of each of his new books or papers becomes a bit of an event. Remix has been no different. It has already attracted a great deal of attention and deserves to be on this list for that reason alone. But if you have read his previous work, you’ll already be familiar with much of what you find in Remix.

Generally speaking, I thought Prof. Lessig made a good case regarding the benefits of remix culture and why copyright law should leave breathing room for the various derivative works of amateur creators. But he too often blurs remix culture with “ripoff culture” (i.e., those who aren’t out to create anything new but instead just take something without paying a penny for it). To solve that latter problem, he endorses a “simple” blanket licensing scheme for the Internet. In this essay, I addressed why blanket online licensing would be anything but simple.

(9) James Bessen and Michael J. Meurer – Patent Failure: How Judges, Bureaucrats, and Lawyers Put Innovators at Risk

Bessen and Meurer argue that America’s patent system is in trouble because “it fail[s] to provide clear and efficient notice of the boundaries of the rights granted.” Patent litigation has exploded, they say, and the costs of the system now outweigh the benefits. Generally speaking, with the exception of the chemical and pharmaceutical industries, Bessen and Meurer don’t feel the patent system does a lot of good.”[I]t seems unlikely that patents today are an effective policy instrument to encourage innovation overall,” they conclude. They detail several reforms to help improve notice and to “make patents work as property” again the way they claim they once did.

Although the authors deal with patents broadly, the book has great relevance to digital technology policy because of their discussion of business method patents and software patents. (Incidentally, that chapter from the book is available online). They argue that software technology is especially prone to problems of “abstraction” and obviousness. As a result, software patenting has been a major contributor to the litigation explosion we have seen in recent years.

Although I agree with their case against software patents, I remain unconvinced that the patent system is failing as badly as Bessen and Meurer claim. Nonetheless, they present a powerful case that deserves to be taken seriously. Patent Failure will have an enormous impact on these debates going forward.

For more opinions on the book… Tim Lee posted a favorable review of Patent Failure over at Ars this summer. And, back in March, there was a lively discussion about the book over at Patently-O. Finally, at last year’s PFF “Aspen Summit,” Michael Meurer debated these issues with some of America’s leading patent law experts. Bronwyn H. Hall, Professor of Economics at Cal-Berkeley, challenges his findings. The video of that panel is here.

(10) Daniel Solove – Understanding Privacy

Daniel Solove’s book — and his approach to classifying and dealing with privacy problems — will have a profound impact on all future privacy debates. In that sense, it is a vital text; a must read for all who follow, or engage in, privacy debates.  On the other hand, Solove’s claim that he can construct a new paradigm based strictly on a pragmatic, utilitarian, “?problem-solving” approach, is ultimately a failure. There is just no getting around the fact that, at some point, you are going to have to provide a more robust theory of rights or justice to explain why one right trumps another. I elaborate in this lengthy critique of Solove’s Understanding Privacy.

Honorable Mentions: Here are a couple of titles that I couldn’t fit on my list but that you might want to also consider reading: Neil Netanel – Copyright’s Paradox; Matt Mason – The Pirate’s Dilemma: How Youth Culture Is Reinventing Capitalism; David Friedman – Future Imperfect: Technology and Freedom in an Uncertain World; Cory Doctorow — Content; and Don Tapscott — Grown Up Digital: How the Net Generation is Changing Your World.

Please let me know if there are other titles I have overlooked, and let me know your opinion about the best technology policy book(s) of 2008 by voting in our poll and commenting more down below.

[poll id=”3″]