My thanks to Dr. Wayne Brough, President at Innovation Defense Foundation, for reviewing my new book, Evasive Entrepreneurs and the Future of Governance, over at the AIER website. Brough says of the book:

Adam Thierer has created a thoughtful and surprisingly timely book examining the interplay between entrepreneurs, innovation, and regulators. Thoughtful because he tackles tough questions of innovation and governance in a dynamic market. Timely because the coronavirus pandemic has forced policymakers to seriously reconsider the cumulative regulatory burden and how it may impede the economic recovery. Whether it’s V-shaped or a slower, longer recovery, decades worth of regulatory underbrush has taken its toll on economic activity while providing few, if any, benefits.

He also does a nice job summarizing the key theme of both this latest book and my previous one on Permissionless Innovation:

Thierer takes to task the anti-growth mentality and the political movements against innovation and growth, highlighting the long tradition of hostility toward innovation, from the early 19th-century Luddites up through today’s technophobes advocating restrictions on new technologies such as artificial intelligence. Much of this is driven by the precautionary principle, which Thierer views as an inappropriate guide for regulators. The precautionary principle is a highly risk-averse standard that provides regulators an excuse to stifle innovation for the slightest perceived hazard.

But Dr. Brough rightly takes me to task for not addressing intellectual property issues in either book. He’s right. I did indeed chicken out of bringing IP policy into these books for a variety of reasons. After I co-edited a big book on IP wars in 2002 (Copy Fights), I made so many enemies for trying to walk the moderate middle path that I largely abandoned the field forevermore. I just got tired of the Holy Wars fought over the topic, and every time I tried to play the role of peacemaker in those wars, I just got shot at by both sides in the intellectual crossfire. I was simultaneously being accused of being an “IP anarchist” and “a whore for Big Content,” by people on either side of those wars. At one point, a board member of the Cato Institute suggested I should be removed from my job for not being enough of an IP opponent while, at the exact same time, a Cato adjunct fellow was suggesting I was already far too radical of an IP opponent. I certainly couldn’t be both! It was comical, but also exhausting and incredibly frustrating. And so I raised the white flag of surrender and walked off the IP battlefield around 2005.

But I also did not bring IP policy into either of my latest books simply because I needed to pick my battles and focus on the issues I know best. When you go down the IP rabbit hole, there’s no escaping that endless descent. Both books would have needed to be significantly longer to incorporate nuanced discussions of how copyright and patents affect innovation outcomes.

Regardless, I very much understand the concerns that Dr. Brough raises in his review about how, “the efficacy of intellectual property laws is inextricably tied to innovation, for better or worse,” and how, “[s]ome of the most disruptive innovation has occurred in the shadow of intellectual property laws that still struggle to keep pace with the rate of technological change.” He’s correct, and entire books have been written on the topic… including my old one!

Anyway, you can read the opening chapter of my new book here, or buy the entire thing here. And my thanks again to Wayne Brough for taking the time to read and review it.

Reason magazine recently published my review of Franklin Foer’s new book, World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech. My review begins as follows:

If you want to sell a book about tech policy these days, there’s an easy formula to follow. First you need a villain. Google and Facebook should suffice, but if you can throw in Apple, Amazon, or Twitter, that’s even better. Paint their CEOs as either James Bond baddies bent on world domination or naive do-gooders obsessed with the quixotic promise of innovation. Finally, come up with a juicy Chicken Little title. Maybe something like World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech. Wait—that one’s taken. It’s the title of Franklin Foer’s latest book, which follows this familiar techno-panic template almost perfectly.

The book doesn’t break a lot of new ground; it serves up the same old technopanicky tales of gloom-and-doom that many others have said will befall us unless  something is done to save us. But Foer’s unique contribution is to unify many diverse strands of modern tech criticism in one tome, and then amp up the volume of panic about it all. Hence, the “existential” threat in the book’s title. I bet you didn’t know the End Times were so near!

Read the rest of my review over at Reason. And, if you care to read some of my other essays on technopanics through the ages, here’s a compendium of them.

“The quickest way to find out who your enemies are is to try doing something new.” Thus begins Innovation and Its Enemies, an ambitious new book by Calestous Juma that will go down as one of the decade’s most important works on innovation policy.

Juma, who is affiliated with the Harvard Kennedy School’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, has written a book that is rich in history and insights about the social and economic forces and factors that have, again and again, lead various groups and individuals to oppose technological change. Juma’s extensive research documents how “technological controversies often arise from tensions between the need to innovate and the pressure to maintain continuity, social order, and stability” (p. 5) and how this tension is “one of today’s biggest policy challenges.” (p. 8)

What Juma does better than any other technology policy scholar to date is that he identifies how these tensions develop out of deep-seated psychological biases that eventually come to affect attitudes about innovations among individuals, groups, corporations, and governments. “Public perceptions about the benefits and risks of new technologies cannot be fully understood without paying attention to intuitive aspects of human psychology,” he correctly observes. (p. 24)

Opposition to Change: It’s All in Your Head

Juma documents, for example, how “status quo bias,” loss aversion, and other psychological tendencies tend to encourage resistance to technological change. [Note: I discussed these and other “root-cause” explanations of opposition to technological change in Chapter 2 of my book, Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom, as well as in my 2012 law review article on “Technopanics, Threat Inflation, and the Danger of an Information Technology Precautionary Principle.”]  Juma notes, for example, that “society is most likely to oppose a new technology if it perceives that the risks are likely to occur in the short run and the benefits will only accrue in the long run.” (p. 5) Moreover, “much of the concern is driven by perception of loss, not necessarily by concrete evidence of loss.” (p. 11)

Juma’s approach to innovation policy studies is strongly influenced by the path-breaking work of Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter, who long ago documented how entrepreneurial activity and the “perennial gales of creative destruction” were the prime forces that spurred innovation and propelled society forward. But Schumpeter was also one of the first scholars to realize that psychological fears about such turbulent change was what ultimately lead to much of the short-term opposition to new technologies that, in due time, we eventually come to see as life-enriching or even life-essential innovations.  Juma uses Schumpeter’s insight as the launching point for his exploration and he successfully verifies it using meticulously-detailed case studies.

Case Study-Driven Analysis

My favorite case study in the book discusses how the dairy industry fought the creation and spread of margarine (excuse the pun!). I had no idea how ugly that situation got, but Juma provides all the gory details in what I consider one of the very best crony capitalist case studies ever penned.

In particular, in a subsection of that chapter entitled “The Laws against Margarine,” he provides a litany of examples of how effective the dairy industry was in convincing lawmakers to enact ridiculous anti-consumer regulations to stop margarine, even though the product offered the public a much-needed, and much more affordable, substitute for traditional butter. At one point, the daily industry successfully lobbied five states to adopt rules mandating that any imitation butter product had to be dyed pink! Other states enacted labelling laws that required butter substitutes to come in ominous-looking black packaging. Again, all this was done at the request of the incumbent dairy industry and the National Dairy Council, which would resort to almost any sort of deceptive tactic to keep a cheaper competing product out of the hands of consumers.

And so it goes in chapter after chapter of Juma’s book. The amount of detail in each of these unique case studies is absolutely stunning, but they nonetheless remain highly readable accounts of sectoral protectionism, special interest rent-seeking, and regulatory capture. In this way, Juma is plowing some familiar ground already covered by other economic historians and political scientists, such as Joel Mokyr and Mancur Olson, both of whom are mentioned in the book, as well as a long line of public choice scholars who are, somewhat surprisingly, not discussed in the text. Nonetheless, Juma’s approach is still fresh, unique, and highly informative. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many distinct and highly detailed case studies assembled in one place by a single scholar.  What Juma has done here is truly impressive.

Related Innovation Policy Paradigms

Beyond Schumpeter’s clear influence, Juma’s approach to studying innovation policy also shares a great deal in common with two other unmentioned innovation policy scholars, Virginia Postrel and Robert D. Atkinson.

Postrel’s 1998 book, The Future and Its Enemies, contrasted the conflicting worldviews of “dynamism” and “stasis” and showed how the tensions between these two visions would affect the course of human affairs. She made the case for embracing dynamism — “a world of constant creation, discovery, and competition” — over the “regulated, engineered world” of the stasis mentality. Similarly, in his 2004 book, The Past and Future of America’s Economy, Atkinson documented how “American history is rife with resistance to change,” and in recounting some of the heated battles over previous technological revolutions he showed how two camps were always evident: “preservationists” and “modernizers.”

When Juma repeatedly recounts the fight between “innovation and incumbency” in his case studies, he is essentially describing the same paradigmatic divide that Postrel and Atkinson highlight in their works when they discuss “dynamist” vs. “stasis” tensions and the “modernizers” vs. “preservationists” battles that we have seen throughout history. [Note: In my 2014 essay on, “Thinking about Innovation Policy Debates: 4 Related Paradigms,” I discussed Postrel and Atkinson’s books and other approaches to understanding tech policy divisions and then related them to the paradigms I contrast in my work: the so-called “precautionary principle” vs. “permissionless Innovation” mindsets.]

Finally, Juma’s book could also be compared to another freshly released book, The Politics of Innovation, by Mark Zachary Taylor. Taylor’s book is also essential reading on this lamentable history of industrial protectionism and the resulting political opposition to change we have seen over time. [Note: Brent Skorup and provided many other high-tech cronyist case studies like these in our 2013 law review article, “A History of Cronyism and Capture in the Information Technology Sector.”]

To counter the prevalence of special interest influence and poor policymaking more generally, Juma stresses the need for evidence-based analysis and a corresponding rejection of fear-mongering and deceptive tactics by public officials and activist groups. He’s particularly concerned with “the use of demonization and false analogies to amplify the perception of risks associated with a new product.”

Accordingly, he would like to see improved educational and risk communication efforts aimed at better informing the public about risk trade-offs and the many potential future benefits of emerging technologies. “Learning how to communicate to the general public is an important aspect of reducing distrust [in new technologies],” Juma argues. (p. 312)

On the Pacing Problem

But Juma never really adequately squares that recommendation with another point he makes throughout the text about how “the pace of technological innovation is discernibly fast,” (p. 5) and how it is accelerating in an exponential fashion. “The implications of exponential growth will continue to elude political leaders if they persist in operating with linear worldviews.” (p. 14) But if it is indeed the case that things are moving that fast, then are we not potentially doomed to live in never-ending cycles of technopanics and misinformation campaigns about new technologies no matter how much education we try to do?

Regardless, Juma’s argument about the speed of modern technological change is quite valid and shared by many other scholars. He is essentially making the same case that Larry Downes did in his excellent 2009 book, The Laws of Disruption: Harnessing the New Forces That Govern Life and Business in the Digital Age. Downes argued that lawmaking in the information age is inexorably governed by the “law of disruption” or the fact that “technology changes exponentially, but social, economic, and legal systems change incrementally.”  This law, Downes said, is “a simple but unavoidable principle of modern life,” and 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 argued, “conflicts between social, economic, political, and legal systems” will intensify and “nothing can stop the chaos that will follow.”

Again, Juma makes that same point repeatedly throughout the chapters of his book. This is also a restatement of the so-called “pacing problem,” as it is called in the field of the philosophy of technology. I discussed the pacing problem at length in my recent review of Wendell Wallach’s important new book, A Dangerous Master: How to Keep Technology from Slipping beyond Our Control. Wallach nicely defined the pacing problem as “the gap between the introduction of a new technology and the establishment of laws, regulations, and oversight mechanisms for shaping its safe development.” “There has always been a pacing problem,” he noted but, like Juma, Wallach believes that modern technological innovation is occurring at an unprecedented pace, making it harder than ever to “govern” using traditional legal and regulatory mechanisms.

New Approaches to Technological Governance Needed

Both Wallach in A Dangerous Master and Juma in Innovation and Its Enemies struggle with how to solve this problem. Wallach advocates “soft law” mechanisms or even informal “Governance Coordinating Committees,” which would oversee the development of new technology policies and advise existing governmental institutions. Juma is somewhat ambiguous regarding potential solutions, but he does stress the general need for a flexible approach to policy, as he notes on pg. 252:

It is important to make clear distinctions between hazards and risks. It is necessary to find a legal framework for addressing hazards. But such a framework should not take the form of rigid laws whose adoption needs to be guided by evidence of harm. More flexible standards that allow continuous assessment of emerging safety issues related to a new product are another way to address hazards. This approach would allow for evidence-based regulation.

Beyond that Juma wants to see “entrepreneurialism exercised in the public arena” (p. 282) and calls for “decisive leaders to champion the application of new technologies.” (p. 283) He argues such leadership is needed to ensure that life-enriching technologies are not derailed by opponents of change.

On the other hand, Juma sees a broader role for policymakers in helping to counter some of the potential side effects associated with many emerging technologies. He highlights three primary areas of concern. First, he suggests political leaders might need to find ways “to help balance the benefits and risks of automation” due to the rapid rise of robotics and artificial intelligence. Second, he notes that synthetic biology and gene-editing will give rise to many thorny issues that require policymakers to balance “potentially extraordinary benefits and the risk of catastrophic consequences.” (p. 284)  Finally, he points out that medicine and healthcare are set to be radically transformed by emerging technologies, but they are also threatened by archaic policies and practices in many countries.

In each case, Juma hopes that “decisive,” “adaptive” and “flexible” leaders will steer a sensible policy course with an eye toward limiting “the spread of political unrest and resentment toward technological innovation.” (p. 284)  That’s a noble goal, but Juma remains a bit vague on the steps needed to accomplish that balancing act without tipping public policy in favor a full-blown precautionary principle-based regime for new technologies. Juma clearly wants to avoid that result, but it remains unclear how or where he would draw clear lines in the sand to prevent it from occurring while at the same time achieving “decisive leadership” aimed at balancing potential risks and benefits.

Similarly, his repeated calls in the closing chapter for “inclusive innovation” efforts and strategies sounds sensible in theory, but Juma speaks in abstract generalities about what the term means and doesn’t provide a clear vision for how that would translate into concrete actions that would not end up giving vested interests a veto over new forms of technological innovation that they disfavor.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

Generally speaking, however, Juma wants this balance struck in favor of greater openness to change and an ongoing freedom to experiment with new technological capabilities. As he notes in his concluding chapter:

The biggest risk that society faces by adopting approaches that suppress innovation is that they amplify the activities of those who want to preserve the status quo by silencing those arguing for a more open future. […] Keeping the future open and experimenting in an inclusive and transparent way is more rewarding that imposing the dictum of old patterns. (pgs. 289, 316)

In that regard, the thing I liked most about Innovation and Its Enemies is the way throughout the text that Juma stressed the symbiotic relationship between risk-taking and progress. One of the ways he does so is by kicking off every chapter with a fun quote on that theme from some notable figure. He includes gems like these:

• “Nothing will ever be attempted if all possible objections must be first overcome.” – Samuel Johnson
• “Only those will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” – T.S. Eliot
• “If you risk nothing, then you risk everything.” – Geena Davis
• “Test fast, fail fast, adjust fast.” – Tom Peters

Of course, I was bound to enjoy his repeated discussion of this theme because that was the central thesis of my latest book, in which I made the argument that, “if we spend all our time living in constant fear of worst-case scenarios—and premising public policy upon such fears—then many best-case scenarios will never come about.” Or more simply, as the old saying goes: “nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

On Pastoral Myths

I also liked the way that Juma used his case studies to remind us how “the topics may have changed, but the tactics have not.” (p. 143) For example, much of the fear-mongering and deceptive tactics we have seen through the years are based on “pastoral ideals,” i.e., appeals to nature, farm life, old traditions, of just the proverbial “good old days,” whenever those supposedly were! “Demonizing innovation is often associated with campaigns to romanticize past products and practices,” Juma notes. “Opponents of innovation hark back to traditions as if traditions themselves were not inventions at some point in the past.” (p. 309)  So very true!

That was especially the case in battles over new farming methods and technologies, when opponents of change were frequently “championing a moral cause to preserve a way of life,” as Juma discusses in several chapters. (p. 129) New products or methods of production were repeatedly but wrongly characterized as dangerous simply because they were not supposedly “natural” or “traditional” enough in character.

Of course, if all farming and other work was to remain frozen in some past “natural” state, we’d all still be hunters and gathers struggling to find the next meal to put in our bellies. Or, if we were all still on the farms of the “good old days,” then we’d still be stuck using an ox and plow in the name of preserving the “traditional” ways of doing things.

Humanity has made amazing strides—including being able to feed more people more easily and cheaply than ever before—precisely because we broke with those old, “natural” traditions. Alas, many vested interests and even quite a few academics today still employ these same pastoral appeals and myths to oppose new forms of technological change. Juma’s case studies powerfully illustrate why that dynamic continues to be a driving force in innovation policy debates and how it has delayed the diffusion of many important new goods and services throughout history. When the opponents of change rest their case on pastoral myths and nostalgic arguments about the good old days we should remind them that the good old days weren’t really that great after all.

Conclusion

In closing, Innovation and Its Enemies earns my highest recommendation. Even though 2016 is only half done as I write this, Professor Juma’s book is probably already a shoo-in as my choice for best innovation policy book of the year. And I am certain that it will also go down as one of the decade’s most important innovation policy books. Buy the book now and read every word of it. It is well worth your time.

Additional material related to Juma’s book:

• Calestous Juma’s website at the Harvard Kennedy School
• Official book page for Innovation and Its Enemies
• Concise summary of the book from AAAS: “Why important innovations stall; understanding obstacles to change is key to future”
• Steven Overly, “Humans once opposed coffee and refrigeration. Here’s why we often hate new stuff,” Washington Post, July 21, 2016.
• Matt Ridley’s review of the book for The Times of London.

Other Related Books

In addition to the books that I already mentioned throughout this review, readers who find Juma’s book and the issues he discusses in it of interest should also consider reading these other books on innovation policy, technological governance, and regulatory capture.  Although many of them are more squarely focused on the information technology sector or other emerging technology fields, they all relate to the general subject matter and approach found throughout Juma’s book. [NOTE: Links, where provided, are to my reviews of these books.]

• The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape Our Future, by Kevin Kelly (2016)
• Innovative Governance Models for Emerging Technologies, Gary E. Marchant, Kenneth W. Abbott & Braden Allenby (eds.), (2013)
• Consent of the Networked: The Worldwide Struggle for Internet Freedom ,by Rebecca MacKinnon (2012)
• Networks and States: The Global Politics of Internet Governance, by Milton Mueller (2010)
• The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires, by Tim Wu (2010)
• The Rational Optimist: How Prosperity Evolves, by Matt Ridley (2010)
• Blown to Bits: Your Life, Liberty, and Happiness After the Digital Explosion, by Hal Abelson, Ken Ledeen, and Harry Lewis (2008)
• Radical Evolution: The Promise and Peril of Enhancing Our Minds, Our Bodies — and What It Means to Be Human, by Joel Garreau (2005)
• The Creation of Media, by Paul Starr (2005)
• Ruling the Waves: Cycles of Discovery, Chaos, and Wealth from the Compass to the Internet, by Debora Spar (2004)
• Questioning Technology, by Andrew Feenberg (1999)
• Thinking through Technology: The Path between Engineering and Philosophy, by Carl Mitcham (1994)
• Technologies of Freedom: On Free Speech in an Electronic Age, by Ithiel de Sola Pool (1983)

Wallach’s latest book is entitled, A Dangerous Master: How to Keep Technology from Slipping beyond Our Control. And, as I’ve noted here recently, the greatly expanded second edition of my latest book, Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom, has just been released.

Of all the books of technological criticism or skepticism that I’ve read in recent years—and I have read stacks of them!— A Dangerous Master is by far the most thoughtful and interesting. I have grown accustomed to major works of technological criticism being caustic, angry affairs. Most of them are just dripping with dystopian dread and a sense of utter exasperation and outright disgust at the pace of modern technological change.

Although he is certainly concerned about a wide variety of modern technologies—drones, robotics, nanotech, and more—Wallach isn’t a purveyor of the politics of panic. There are some moments in the book when he resorts to some hyperbolic rhetoric, such as when he frets about an impending “techstorm” and the potential, as the book’s title suggests, for technology to become a “dangerous master” of humanity. For the most part, however, his approach is deeper and more dispassionate than what is found in the leading tracts of other modern techno-critics.

Many Questions, Few Clear Answers

Wallach does a particularly good job framing the major questions about emerging technologies and their effect on society. “Navigating the future of technological possibilities is a hazardous venture,” he observes. “It begins with learning to ask the right questions—questions that reveal the pitfalls of inaction, and more importantly, the passageways available for plotting a course to a safe harbor.” (p. 7) Wallach then embarks on a 260+ page inquiry that bombards the reader with an astonishing litany of questions about the wisdom of various forms of technological innovation—both large and small. While I wasn’t about to start an exact count, I would say that the number of questions Wallach poses in the book runs well into the hundreds. In fact, many paragraphs of the book are nothing but an endless string of questions.

Thus, if there is a primary weakness with A Dangerous Master, it’s that Wallach spends so much time formulating such a long list of smart and nuanced questions that some readers may come away disappointed when they do not find equally satisfying answers. On the other hand, the lack of clear answers is also completely understandable because, as Wallach notes, there really are no simple answers to most of these questions.

Just Slow Down!

Moving on to substance, let me make clear where Wallach and I generally see eye-to-eye and where we part ways.

Generally speaking, we agree about the need to come up with better “soft governance” systems for emerging technologies, which might include multistakeholder process, developer codes of conduct, sectoral self-regulation, sensible liability rules, and so on. (More on those strategies in a moment.)

But while we both believe it is wise to consider how we might “bake-in” better ethics and norms into the process of technological development, Wallach seems much more inclined than me to expect that we will be able to pre-ordain (or potentially require?) all this happens before much of this experimentation and innovation actually moves forward. Wallach opens by asking:

Determining when to bow to the judgment of experts and whether to intervene in the deployment of a new technology is certainly not easy. How can government leaders or informed citizens effectively discern which fields of research are truly promising and which pose serious risks? Do we have the intelligence and means to mitigate the serious risks that can be anticipated? How should we prepare for unanticipated risks? (p. 6)

Again, many good questions here! But this really gets to the primary difference between Wallach’s preferred approach and my own: I tend to believe that many of these things can only be worked out through ongoing trial and error, the constant reformulation of the various norms that govern the process of innovation, and the development of sensible ex post solutions to some of the most difficult problems posed by turbulent technological change.

By contrast, Wallach’s generally attitude toward technological evolution is probably best summarized by the phrases: “Slow down!” and, “Let’s have a conversation about it first!” As he puts it in his own words: “Slowing down the accelerating adoption of technology should be done as a responsible means to ensure basic human safety and to support broadly shared values.” (p. 13)

But I tend to believe that it’s not always possible to preemptively determine which innovations to slow down, or even how to determine what those “shared values” are that will help us make this determination. More importantly, I worry that there are very serious potential risks and unintended consequences associated with slowing down many forms of technological innovation, which could improve human welfare in important ways. There can be no prosperity, after all, without a certain degree of risk-taking and disruption.

Getting Out Ahead of the Pacing Problem

Yet, what concerns Wallach most is the much-discussed issue from the field of the philosophy of technology, the so-called “pacing problem.” Wallach concisely defines the pacing problem as “the gap between the introduction of a new technology and the establishment of laws, regulations, and oversight mechanisms for shaping its safe development.” (p. 251) “There has always been a pacing problem,” he notes, but he is concerned that technological innovation—especially highly disruptive and potentially uncontrollable forms of innovation—is now accelerating at an absolutely unprecedented pace.

(Just as an aside for all the philosophy nerds out there…  Such a rigid belief in the “pacing problem” represents a techno-deterministic viewpoint that is, ironically, sometimes shared by technological skeptics like Wallach as well as technological optimists like Larry Downes and even many in the middle of this debate, like Vivek Wadhwa. See, for example, The Laws of Disruption by Downes and “Laws and Ethics Can’t Keep Pace with Technology” by Wadhwa. Although these scholars approach technology ethics and politics quite differently, they all seem to believe that the pace of modern technological change is so relentless as to almost be an unstoppable force of nature. I guess the moral of the story is that, to some extent, we’re all technological determinists now!)

Despite his repeated assertions that modern technologies are accelerating at such a potentially uncontrollable pace, Wallach nonetheless hopes we can achieve some semblance of control over emerging technologies before they reach a critical “inflection point.” In the study of history and science, an inflection point generally represents a moment when a situation and trend suddenly changes in a significant way and things begin moving rapidly in a new direction. These inflections points can sometimes develop quite abruptly, ushering in major changes by creating new social, economic, or political paradigms. As it relates to technology in particular, inflection points can refer to the moment with a particular technology achieves critical mass in terms of adoption or, more generally, to the time when that technology begins to profoundly transform the way individuals and institutions act.

Another related concept that Wallach discusses is the so-called “Collingridge dilemma,” which refers to the notion that it is difficult to put the genie back in the bottle once a given technology has reached a critical mass of public adoption or acceptance. The concept is named after David Collingridge, who wrote about this in his 1980 book, The Social Control of Technology. “The social consequences of a technology cannot be predicated early in the life of the technology,” Collingridge argued. “By the time undesirable consequences are discovered, however, the technology is often so much part of the whole economics and social fabric that its control is extremely difficult.”

On “Having a Discussion” & Coming Up with “a Broad Plan”

These related concepts of inflection points and the Collingridge dilemma constitute the operational baseline of Wallach’s worldview. “In weighing speedy development against long-term risks, speedy development wins,” he worries. “This is particularly true when the risks are uncertain and the perceived benefits great.” (p. 85)

Consequently, throughout his book, Wallach pleads with us to take what I will call Technological Time Outs. He says we need to pause at times so that we can have “a full public discussion” (p. 13) and make sure there is a “broad plan in place to manage our deployment of new technologies” (p. 19) to make sure that innovation happens only at “a humanly manageable pace” (p. 261) “to fortify the safety of people affected by unpredictable disruptions.” (p. 262) Wallach’s call for Technological Time Outs is rooted in his belief that “the accelerating pace [of modern technological innovation] undermines the quality of each of our lives.” (p. 263)

That is Wallach’s weakest assertion in the book and he doesn’t really offer much evidence to prove that the velocity of modern technological is hurting us rather than helping us, as many of us believe. Rather, he treats it as a widely accepted truism that necessitates some sort of collective effort to slow things down if the proverbial genie is about to exit the bottle, or to make sure those genies don’t get out of their bottles without a lot of preemptive planning regarding how they are to be released into the world. In the following passage on pg. 72, Wallach very succinctly summarizes his approach recommended throughout A Dangerous Master:

this book will champion the need for more upstream governance: more control over the way that potentially harmful technologies are developed or introduced into the larger society. Upstream management is certainly better than introducing regulations downstream, after a technology is deeply entrenched or something major has already gone wrong. Yet, even when we can access risks, there remain difficulties in recognizing when or determining how much control should be introduced. When does being precautionary make sense, and when is precaution an over-reaction to the risks? (p. 72)

Those who have read my Permissionless Innovation book will recall that I open by framing innovation policy debates in almost exactly the same way as Wallach suggests in that last line above. I argue in the first lines of my book that:

The central fault line in innovation policy debates today can be thought of as ‘the permission question.’  The permission question asks: Must the creators of new technologies seek the blessing of public officials before they develop and deploy their innovations? How that question is answered depends on the disposition one adopts toward new inventions and risk-taking, more generally.  Two conflicting attitudes are evident. One disposition is known as the ‘precautionary principle.’ Generally speaking, it refers to the belief that new innovations should be curtailed or disallowed until their developers can prove that they will not cause any harm to individuals, groups, specific entities, cultural norms, or various existing laws, norms, or traditions. The other vision can be labeled ‘permissionless innovation.’ It refers to the notion that experimentation with new technologies and business models should generally be permitted by default. Unless a compelling case can be made that a new invention will bring serious harm to society, innovation should be allowed to continue unabated and problems, if any develop, can be addressed later.

So, by contrasting these passages, you can see what I am setting up here is a clash of visions between what appears to be Wallach’s precautionary principle-based approach versus my own permissionless innovation-focused worldview.

How Much Formal Precaution?

But that would be a tad bit too simplistic because just a few paragraphs after Wallach makes the statement just above about “upstream management” being superior to ex post solutions formulated “after a technology is deeply entrenched,” Wallach begins slowly backing away from an overly-rigid approach to precautionary principle-based governance of technological processes and systems.

He admits, for example, that “precautionary measures in the form of regulations and governmental oversight can slow the development of research whose overall society impact will be beneficial,” (p. 26) and that can “be costly” and “slow innovation.” For countries, Wallach admits, this can have real consequences because “Countries with more stringent precautionary policies are at a competitive disadvantage to being the first to introduce a new tool or process.” (p. 74)

So, he’s willing to admit that what we might call a hard precautionary principle usually won’t be sensible or effective in practice, but he is far more open to soft precaution. But this is where real problems begin to develop with Wallach’s approach, and it presents us with a chance to turn the tables on him a bit and begin posing some serious questions about his vision for governing technology.

Much of what follows below are my miscellaneous ramblings about the current state of the intellectual dialogue about tech ethics and technological control efforts. I have discussed these issues at greater length in my new book as well as a series of essays here in past years, most notably: “On the Line between Technology Ethics vs. Technology Policy; “What Does It Mean to “Have a Conversation” about a New Technology?”; and, “Making Sure the “Trolley Problem” Doesn’t Derail Life-Saving Innovation.”

As I’ve argued in those and other essays, my biggest problem with modern technological criticism is that specifics are in scandalously short supply in this field! Indeed, I often find the lack of details in this arena to be utterly exasperating. Most modern technological criticism follows a simple formula:

TECHNOLOGY –>> POTENTIAL PROBLEMS –>> DO SOMETHING!

But almost all the details come in the discussion about the nature of the technology in question and the apparent many problems associated with it. Far, far less thought goes into the “DO SOMETHING!” part of the critics’ work. One reason for that is probably self-evident: There are no easy solutions. Wallach admits as much at many junctures throughout the book. But that doesn’t excuse the need for the critics to give us a more concrete blueprint for identifying and then potentially rectifying the supposed problems.

Of course, the other reason that many critics are short of specifics is because what they really mean when they quip how much we need to “have a conversation” about a new disruptive technology is that we need to have a conversation about stopping that technology.

Where Shall We Draw the Line between Hard and Soft Law?

But this is what I found most peculiar about Wallach’s book: He never really gives us a good standard by which to determine when we should look to hard governance (traditional top-down regulation) versus soft governance (more informal, bottom-up and non-regulatory approaches).

On one hand, he very much wants society to exercise greatly restraint and precaution when it comes to many of the technologies he and others worry about today. Again, he’s particularly concerned about the potential runaway development and use of drones, genetic editing, nanotech, robotics, and artificial intelligence. For at least one class of robotics—autonomous military robots—Wallach does call for immediate policy action in the form of an Executive Order to ban “killer” autonomous systems. (Incidentally, there’s also a major effort underway called the “Campaign to Stop Killer Robots” that aims to make such a ban part of international law through a multinational treaty.)

But Wallach also acknowledges the many trade-offs associated with efforts to preemptively controls on robotics and other technology. Perhaps for that reason, Wallach doesn’t develop a clear test for when the Precautionary Principle should be applied to new forms of innovation.

Clearly there are times when it is appropriate, although I believe it is only in an extremely narrow subset of cases. In the 2 ^nd Edition of my Permissionless Innovation book, I tried to offer a rough framework for when formal precautionary regulation (i.e., highly-restrictive policy defaults are necessary, such as operational restrictions, licensing requirements, research limitations, or even formal bans) might be necessary. I do not want to interrupt the flow of this review of Wallach’s book too much, so I have decided to just cut-and-paste that portion of Chapter 3 of my book (“When Does Precaution Make Sense?”) down below as an appendix to this essay.

The key takeaway of that passage from my book is that all of us who study innovation policy and the philosophy of technology—Wallach, myself, the whole darn movement—have done a remarkably poor job being specific about precisely when formal policy precaution is warranted. What is the test? All too often, we get lazy and apply what we might call an “I-Know-It-When-I-See-It” standard. Consider the possession of bazookas, tanks, and uranium. Almost all of us would agree that citizens should not be allowed to possess or use such things. Why? Well, it seems obvious, right? They just shouldn’t! But what is the exact standard we use to make that determination.

In coming years, I plan on spending a lot more time articulating a better test by which Precautionary Principle-based policies could be reasonably applied. Those who know me may be taken aback by what I just said. After all, I’ve spend many years explaining why Precautionary Principle-based thinking threatens human prosperity and should be rejected in the vast majority of cases. But that doesn’t excuse the lack of a serious and detailed exploration of the exact standard by which we determine when we should impose some limits on technological innovation.

Generally speaking, while I strongly believe that “permissionless innovation” should remain the policy default for most technologies, there certainly exists some scenarios where the threat of harm associated with a new innovation might be highly probable, tangible, immediate, irreversible, and catastrophic in nature. If so, that could qualify it for at least a light version of the Precautionary Principle. In a future paper or book chapter I’m just now starting to research, I hope to fuller develop those qualifiers and formulate a more robust test around them.

I would have very much liked to see Wallach articulate and defend a test of his own for when formal precaution would make sense. And, by extension, when should we default to soft precaution, or soft law and informal governance mechanisms for emerging technologies.

We turn to that issue next.

Toward Soft Governance & the Engineering of Better Technological Ethics

Even though Wallach doesn’t provide us with a test for determining when precaution makes sense or when we should instead default to soft governance, he does a much better job explaining the various models of soft law or informal governance that might help us deal with the potential negative ramifications of highly disruptive forms of technological change.

What Wallach proposes, in essence, is that we bake a dose of precautionary directly into the innovation process through a wide variety of informal governance/oversight mechanisms. “By embedding shared values in the very design of new tools and techniques, engineers improve the prospect of a positive outcome,” he claims. “The upstream embedding of shared values during the design process can ease the need for major course adjustments when it’s often too late.” (p. 261)

Wallach’s favored instrument of soft governance is what he refers to as “Governance Coordinating Committees” (GCCs). These Committees would coordinate “the separate initiatives by the various government agencies, advocacy groups, and representatives of industry” who would serve as “issue managers for the comprehensive oversight of each field of research.” (p. 250) He elaborates and details the function of GCCs as follows:

These committees, led by accomplished elders who have already achieved wide respect, are meant to work together with all the interested stakeholders to monitor technological development and formulate solutions to perceived problems. Rather than overlap with or function as a regulatory body, the committee would work together with existing institutions. (p. 250-51)

Wallach discussed the GCC idea in much greater detail in a 2013 book chapter he penned with Gary E. Marchant for a collected volume of essays on Innovative Governance Models for Emerging Technologies. (I highly recommend you pick up that book if you can afford it! Many terrific essays in that book on these issues.) In their chapter, Marchant and Wallach specify some of the soft law mechanisms we might use to instill a bit of precaution preemptively. These mechanisms include: “codes of conduct, statements of principles, partnership programs, voluntary programs and standards, certification programs and private industry initiatives.”

If done properly, GCCs could provide exactly the sort of wise counsel and smart recommendations that Wallach desires. In my book and many law review articles on various disruptive technologies, I have endorsed many of the ideas and strategies Wallach identifies. I’ve also stressed the importance of many other mechanisms, such as education and empowerment-based strategies that could help the public learn to cope with new innovations or use them appropriately. In addition, I’ve highlighted the many flexible, adaptive ex post remedies that can help when things go wrong. Those mechanisms include common law remedies such as product defects law, various torts, contract law, property law, and even class action lawsuits. Finally, I have written extensively about the very active role played by the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) and other consumer protection agencies, which have broad discretion to police “unfair and deceptive practices” by innovators.

Moreover, we already have a quasi-GCC model developing today with the so-called “multistakeholder governance” model that is often used in both informal and formal ways to handle many emerging technology policy issues.  The Department of Commerce (the National Telecommunications and Information Administration in particular) and the FTC have already developed many industry codes of conduct and best practices for technologies such as biometrics, big data, the Internet of Things, online advertising, and much more. Those agencies and others (such as the FDA and FAA) are continuing to investigate other codes or guidelines for things like advanced medical devices and drones, respectively. Meanwhile, I’ve heard other policymakers and academics float the idea of “digital ombudsmen,” “data ethicists,” and “private IRBs” (institutional review boards) as other potential soft law solutions that technology companies might consider. Perhaps going forward, many tech firms will have Chief Ethical Officers just as many of them today have Chief Privacy Officers or Chief Security Officers.

In other words, there’s already a lot of “soft law” activities going on in this space. And I haven’t even begun an inventory of the many other bodies or groups that already exist in each sector today that has set forth their own industry self-regulatory codes, but they exist in almost every field that Wallach worries about.

So, I’m not sure how much his GCC idea will add to this existing mix, but I would not be opposed to them playing the sort of coordinating “issue manager” role he describes. But I still have many questions about GCC’s, including:

• How many of them are needed and how we will know which one is the definitive GCC for each sector or technology?
• If they are overly formal in character and dominated by the most vociferous opponents of any particular technology, a real danger exists that a GCC could end up granting a small cabal a “heckler’s veto” over particular forms of innovation.
• Alternatively, the possibility of “regulatory capture” could be a problem for some GCCs if incumbent companies come to dominate their membership.
• Even if everything went fairly smoothly and the GCCs produced balanced reports and recommendations, future developers might wonder if and why they are to be bound by older guidelines.
• And if those future developers choose not to play by the same set of guidelines, what’s the penalty for non-compliance?
• And how are such guidelines enforced in a world where what I’ve called “global innovation arbitrage” is an increasing reality?

Challenging Questions for Both Hard and Soft Law

To summarize, whether we are speaking of “hard” or “soft” law approaches to technological governance, I am just not nearly as optimistic as Wallach seems to be that we will be able to find consensus on these three things:

(1) what constitutes “harm” in many of these circumstances;

(2) which “shared values” should prevail when “society” debates the shaping of ethics or guiding norms for emerging technologies but has highly contradictory opinions about those values (consider online privacy as a good example, where many people enjoy hyper-sharing while other demand hyper-privacy); and,

(3) that we can create a legitimate “governing body” (or bodies) that will be responsible for formulating these guidelines in a fair way without completely derailing the benefits of innovation in new fields and also remaining relevant for very long.

Nonetheless, as he and others have suggested, the benefit of adopting a soft law/informal governance approach to these issues is that it at least seeks to address these questions in more flexible and adaptive fashion. As I noted in my book, traditional regulatory systems “tend to be overly rigid, bureaucratic, inflexible, and slow to adapt to new realities. They focus on preemptive remedies that aim to predict the future, and future hypothetical problems that may not ever come about. Worse yet, administrative regulation generally preempts or prohibits the beneficial experiments that yield new and better ways of doing things.” ( Permissionless Innovation, p. 120)

So, despite the questions I have raised here, I welcome the more flexible soft law approach that Wallach sets forth in his book. I think it represents a far more constructive way forward when compared to the opposite “top-down” or “command-and-control” regulatory systems of the past. But I very much want to make sure that even these new and more flexible soft law approaches leave plenty of breathing room for ongoing trial-and-error experimentation with new technologies and systems.

Conclusion

In closing, I want to reiterate that not only did I appreciate the excellent questions raised by Wendell Wallach in A Dangerous Master, but I take them very seriously. When I sat down to revise and expand my Permissionless Innovation book last year, I decided to include this warning from Wallach in my revised preface: “The promoters of new technologies need to speak directly to the disquiet over the trajectory of emerging fields of research. They should not ignore, avoid, or superficially dampen criticism to protect scientific research.” (p. 28–9)

As I noted, in response to Wallach: “I take this charge seriously, as should others who herald the benefits of permissionless innovation as the optimal default for technology policy. We must be willing to take on the hard questions raised by critics and then also offer constructive strategies for dealing with a world of turbulent technological change.”

Serious questions deserve serious answers. Of course, sometimes those posing those questions fail to provide many answers of their own! Perhaps it is because they believe the questions answer themselves. Other times, it’s because they are willing to admit that easy answers to these questions typically prove quite elusive. In Wallach’s case, I believe it’s more the latter.

To wrap up, I’ll just reiterated that both Wallach and I share a common desire to find solutions to the hard questions about technological innovation. But the crucial question that probably separates his worldview and my own is this: Whether we are talking about hard or soft governance, how much faith should we place in preemptive planning vs. ongoing trial and error experimentation to solve technological challenges? Wallach is more inclined to believe we can divine these things with the sagacious foresight of “accomplished elders” and technocratic “issue managers,” who will help us slow things down until we figure out how to properly ease a new technology into society (if at all). But I believe that the only way we will find many of the answers we are searching for is by allowing still more experimentation with the very technologies that he and others seek to control the development of. We humans are outstanding problem-solvers and have the uncanny ability among all mammals to adapt to changing circumstances. We roll with the punches, learn from them, and become more resilient in the process. As I noted in my 2014 essay, “Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change”:

we modern pragmatic optimists must continuously point to the unappreciated but unambiguous benefits of technological innovation and dynamic change. But we should also continue to remind the skeptics of the amazing adaptability of the human species in the face of adversity. [. . .] Humans have consistently responded to technological change in creative, and sometimes completely unexpected ways. There’s no reason to think we can’t get through modern technological disruptions using similar coping and adaptation strategies.

Will the technologies that Wallach fears bring about a “techstorm” that overwhelms our culture, our economy, and even our very humanity? It’s certainly possible, and we should continue to seriously discuss the issues that he and other skeptics raise about our expanding technological capabilities and the potential for many of them to do great harm. Because some of them truly could.

But it is equally plausible—in fact, some of us would say, highly probable—that instead of overwhelming us, we learn how to bend these new technological capabilities to our will and make them work for our collective benefit. Instead of technology becoming “a dangerous master,” we will instead make it our helpful servant, just as we have so many times before.

APPENDIX: When Does Precaution Make Sense?

[excerpt from chapter 3 of Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom. Footnotes omitted. See book for all references.]

But aren’t there times when a certain degree of precautionary policymaking makes good sense? Indeed, there are, and it is important to not dismiss every argument in favor of precautionary principle–based policymaking, even though it should not be the default policy rule in debates over technological innovation.

The challenge of determining when precautionary policies make sense comes down to weighing the (often limited) evidence about any given technology and its impact and then deciding whether the potential downsides of unrestricted use are so potentially catastrophic that trial-and-error experimentation simply cannot be allowed to continue. There certainly are some circumstances when such a precautionary rule might make sense. Governments restrict the possession of uranium and bazookas, to name just two obvious examples.

Generally speaking, permissionless innovation should remain the norm in the vast majority of cases, but there will be some scenarios where the threat of tangible, immediate, irreversible, catastrophic harm associated with new innovations could require at least a light version of the precautionary principle to be applied.  In these cases, we might be better suited to think about when an “anti-catastrophe principle” is needed, which narrows the scope of the precautionary principle and focuses it more appropriately on the most unambiguously worst-case scenarios that meet those criteria.

But most cases don’t fall into this category. Instead, we generally allow innovators and consumers to freely experiment with technologies, and even engage in risky behaviors, unless a compelling case can be made that precautionary regulation is absolutely necessary.  How is the determination made regarding when precaution makes sense? This is where the role of benefit-cost analysis (BCA) and regulatory impact analysis is essential to getting policy right.  BCA represents an effort to formally identify the tradeoffs associated with regulatory proposals and, to the maximum extent feasible, quantify those benefits and costs.  BCA generally cautions against preemptive, precautionary regulation unless all other options have been exhausted—thus allowing trial-and-error experimentation and “learning by doing” to continue. (The mechanics of BCA are discussed in more detail in section VII.)

This is not the end of the evaluation, however. Policymakers also need to consider the complexities associated with traditional regulatory remedies in a world where technological control is increasingly challenging and quite costly. It is not feasible to throw unlimited resources at every problem, because society’s resources are finite.  We must balance risk probabilities and carefully weigh the likelihood that any given intervention has a chance of creating positive change in a cost-effective fashion.  And it is also essential to take into account the potential unintended consequences and long-term costs of any given solution because, as Harvard law professor Cass Sunstein notes, “it makes no sense to take steps to avert catastrophe if those very steps would create catastrophic risks of their own.”  “The precautionary principle rests upon an illusion that actions have no consequences beyond their intended ends,” observes Frank B. Cross of the University of Texas. But “there is no such thing as a risk-free lunch. Efforts to eliminate any given risk will create some new risks,” he says.

Oftentimes, after working through all these considerations about whether to regulate new technologies or technological processes, the best solution will be to do nothing because, as noted throughout this book, we should never underestimate the amazing ingenuity and resiliency of humans to find creative solutions to the problems posed by technological change.  (Section V discusses the importance of individual and social adaptation and resiliency in greater detail.) Other times we might find that, while some solutions are needed to address the potential risks associated with new technologies, nonregulatory alternatives are also available and should be given a chance before top-down precautionary regulations are imposed. (Section VII considers those alternative solutions in more detail.)

Finally, it is again essential to reiterate that we are talking here about the dangers of precautionary thinking as a public policy prerogative—that is, precautionary regulations that are mandated and enforced by government officials. By contrast, precautionary steps may be far more wise when undertaken in a more decentralized manner by individuals, families, businesses, groups, and other organizations. In other words, as I have noted elsewhere in much longer articles on the topic, “there is a different choice architecture at work when risk is managed in a localized manner as opposed to a society-wide fashion,” and risk-mitigation strategies that might make a great deal of sense for individuals, households, or organizations, might not be nearly as effective if imposed on the entire population as a legal or regulatory directive.

Finally, at times, more morally significant issues may exist that demand an even more exhaustive exploration of the impact of technological change on humanity. Perhaps the most notable examples arise in the field of advance medical treatments and biotechnology. Genetic experimentation and human cloning, for example, raise profound questions about altering human nature or abilities as well as the relationship between generations.

The case for policy prudence in these matters is easier to make because we are quite literally talking about the future of what it means to be human.  Controversies have raged for decades over the question of when life begins and how it should end. But these debates will be greatly magnified and extended in coming years to include equally thorny philosophical questions.  Should parents be allowed to use advanced genetic technologies to select the specific attributes they desire in their children? Or should parents at least be able to take advantage of genetic screening and genome modification technologies that ensure their children won’t suffer from specific diseases or ailments once born?

Outside the realm of technologically enhanced procreation, profound questions are already being raised about the sort of technological enhancements adults might make to their own bodies. How much of the human body can be replaced with robotic or bionic technologies before we cease to be human and become cyborgs?  As another example, “biohacking”—efforts by average citizens working together to enhance various human capabilities, typically by experimenting on their own bodies —could become more prevalent in coming years.  Collaborative forums, such as Biohack.Me, already exist where individuals can share information and collaborate on various projects of this sort.  Advocates of such amateur biohacking sometimes refer to themselves as “grinders,” which Ben Popper of the Verge defines as “homebrew biohackers [who are] obsessed with the idea of human enhancement [and] who are looking for new ways to put machines into their bodies.”

These technologies and capabilities will raise thorny ethical and legal issues as they advance. Ethically, they will raise questions of what it means to be human and the limits of what people should be allowed to do to their own bodies. In the field of law, they will challenge existing health and safety regulations imposed by the FDA and other government bodies.

Again, most innovation policy debates—including most of the technologies discussed throughout this book—do not involve such morally weighty questions. In the abstract, of course, philosophers might argue that every debate about technological innovation has an impact on the future of humanity and “what it means to be human.” But few have much of a direct influence on that question, and even fewer involve the sort of potentially immediate, irreversible, or catastrophic outcomes that should concern policymakers.

In most cases, therefore, we should let trial-and-error experimentation continue because “experimentation is part and parcel of innovation” and the key to social learning and economic prosperity.  If we froze all forms of technological innovation in place while we sorted through every possible outcome, no progress would ever occur. “Experimentation matters,” notes Harvard Business School professor Stefan H. Thomke, “because it fuels the discovery and creation of knowledge and thereby leads to the development and improvement of products, processes, systems, and organizations.”

Of course, ongoing experimentation with new technologies always entails certain risks and potential downsides, but the central argument of this book is that (a) the upsides of technological innovation almost always outweigh those downsides and that (b) humans have proven remarkably resilient in the face of uncertain, ever-changing futures.

In sum, when it comes to managing or coping with the risks associated with technological change, flexibility and patience is essential. One size most certainly does not fit all. And one-size-fits-all approaches to regulating technological risk are particularly misguided when the benefits associated with technological change are so profound. Indeed, “[t]echnology is widely considered the main source of economic progress”; therefore, nothing could be more important for raising long-term living standards than creating a policy environment conducive to ongoing technological change and the freedom to innovate.

The Mercatus Center at George Mason University has just released my latest working paper, “The Internet of Things and Wearable Technology: Addressing Privacy and Security Concerns without Derailing Innovation.” The “Internet of Things” (IoT) generally refers to “smart” devices that are connected to both the Internet and other devices. Wearable technologies are IoT devices that are worn somewhere on the body and which gather data about us for various purposes. These technologies promise to usher in the next wave of Internet-enabled services and data-driven innovation. Basically, the Internet will be “baked in” to almost everything that consumers own and come into contact with.

Some critics are worried about the privacy and security implications of the Internet of Things and wearable technology, however, and are proposing regulation to address these concerns. In my new 93-page article, I explain why preemptive, top-down regulation would derail the many life-enriching innovations that could come from these new IoT technologies. Building on a recent book of mine, I argue that “permissionless innovation,” which allows new technology to flourish and develop in a relatively unabated fashion, is the superior approach to the Internet of Things.

As I note in the paper and my earlier book, if we spend all our time living in fear of the worst-case scenarios — and basing public policies on them — then best-case scenarios can never come about. As the old saying goes: nothing ventured, nothing gained. Precautionary principle-based regulation paralyzes progress and must be avoided.  We instead need to find constructive, “bottom-up” solutions to the privacy and security risks accompanying these new IoT technologies instead of top-down controls that would limit the development of life-enriching IoT innovations.

The better alternative is to deal with concerns creatively as they develop, using a balanced, layered approach  involving many different solutions, including: educational efforts, technological empowerment tools, social norms, public and watchdog pressure, industry best practices and self-regulation, transparency, torts and products liability law, and targeted enforcement of existing legal standards as needed.

Generally speaking, patience, humility, and forbearance by policymakers is crucial to allowing greater innovation and consumer choice in this arena. Importantly, policymakers should not forget that societal and individual adaptation will play a role here, just as it has during so many other turbulent technological transformations.

This article can be downloaded on my Mercatus Center page, on SSRN, or at Research Gate. I am hoping to find a law or policy journal interested in publishing this paper soon. If you with a journal and are interested, please contact me. [UPDATE 12/3/14: This paper has been accepted for publication in the Richmond Journal of Law & Technology, Vol. 21, Issue 6 (2015).]

Finally, if you are interested in this topic, you might want to flip through these slides I prepared for a presentation on this topic that I made at the Federal Communications Commission in September:

On Thursday, it was my great pleasure to present a draft of my forthcoming paper, “The Internet of Things & Wearable Technology: Addressing Privacy & Security Concerns without Derailing Innovation,” at a conference that took place at the Federal Communications Commission on “Regulating the Evolving Broadband Ecosystem.” The 3-day event was co-sponsored by the American Enterprise Institute and the University of Nebraska College of Law.

The 65-page working paper I presented is still going through final peer review and copyediting, but I posted a very rough first draft on SSRN for conference participants. I expect the paper to be released as a Mercatus Center working paper in October and then I hope to find a home for it in a law review. I will post the final version once it is released. [UPDATE:The final version of this working paper was released on November 19, 2014.]

In the meantime, however, I thought I would post the 46 slides I presented at the conference, which offer an overview of the nature of the Internet of Things and wearable technology, the potential economic opportunities that exist in this space, and the various privacy and security challenges that could hold this technological revolution back. I also outlined some constructive solutions to those concerns. I plan to be very active on these issues in coming months.

Additional Reading

• “The Growing Conflict of Visions over the Internet of Things & Privacy,” January 14, 2012
• “Can We Adapt to the Internet of Things?” IAPP Privacy Perspectives, June 19, 2013
• My Filing to the FTC in its ‘Internet of Things’ Proceeding, May 31, 2013
• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2014)
• [Video] Cap Hill Briefing on Emerging Tech Policy Issues (June 2014)

In his latest weekly Wall Street Journal column, Gordon Crovitz has penned a review of the new Jeff Jarvis book, Public Parts: How Sharing in the Digital Age Improves the Way We Work and Live . Gordon’s review closely tracks my own thoughts on the book, which I laid out last week in my Forbes essay, “Is Privacy Overrated?”  Gordon’s essay is entitled “Are We Too Hung Up on Privacy” and he finds, like I do, that Jarvis makes compelling case for understanding the benefits of publicness as the flip-side of privacy. Instead of repeating all the arguments we make in our reviews here, I’ll just ask people go check out both of our essays if they are interested.

I did, however, want to elaborate on one thing I didn’t have time to discuss in my review of the Jarvis book. While I like the approach he used in the book, I thought Jarvis could have spent a bit more time exploring some the thorny legal issues in play when advocates of privacy regulation look to enshrine into law quite expansive views of privacy “rights.”

One of the things that both Crovitz and I appreciated about the Jarvis book was the way he tries to get us to think about privacy in the context of ethics instead of law. “Privacy is an ethic governing the choices made by the recipient of someone else’s information,” Jarvis argues, while “publicness is an ethic governing the choices made by the creator of one’s own information,” he says. In my review, I explained why this was so important:

Jarvis’ approach to thinking about privacy and publicness in terms of ethics is particularly smart precisely because privacy is such a subjective human condition—a “conceptual jungle” and a “concept in disarray,” says law professor Daniel J. Solove, author of Understanding Privacy. Thus, a good case can be made for restraint when it comes to legislating to define and protect privacy. That doesn’t mean privacy isn’t important—it is. But how we go about “protecting” it needs to be balanced against other rights and responsibilities. For example, we’d all agree with Thomas Jefferson and the Founders that we have a “right to pursue happiness,” but a right to happiness would be a different matter altogether. Government can’t guarantee happiness. It wouldn’t even be able to define it. The same is largely true of privacy. We certainly have the right to pursue private lives and take steps to secure facts about ourselves. At the margins, law can sometimes help us do so—most often by safeguarding us against fraudulent activities. And there are plenty of tools on the market that can help people protect their personal data. By contrast, legalistic efforts to define privacy as a strict “right” leads us back into that “conceptual jungle,” which is full of unintended consequences.

Let’s unpack this a bit more because if one agrees with the argument that Jarvis makes–that privacy is better thought of as a matter of ethics and social norms–it has important ramifications for ongoing efforts to speak of privacy in legalistic ways. It’s not that I’m against any sort of privacy “rights,” but I do believe it is important to acknowledge that other important values are at stake here and we must appreciate how increased privacy controls could conflict with them.  “Recognizing that we are legislating in the shadow of the First Amendment suggests a powerful guiding principle for framing privacy regulations,” argues Kent Walker, a privacy expert who now serves as a general counsel at Google. “Like any laws encroaching on the freedom of information, privacy regulations must be narrowly tailored and powerfully justified.”

Ironically, many privacy advocates are strongly critical of copyright law and claim that, as currently structured, it represents an unjust or excessive information control regime. Yet, privacy regulation would constitute a stronger information control regime by creating the equivalent of copyright law for personal information, which would, in turn, conflict mightily with the First Amendment. [See my essays, “Two Paradoxes of Privacy Regulation” and “Privacy as an Information Control Regime: The Challenges Ahead.” The rest of this essay borrows from those pieces as well as this big filing I submitted to the FTC in February.]

In his recent book Skating on Stilts, Stewart Baker reminds us that the famous 1890 Samuel Warren and Louis Brandeis Harvard Law Review essay on “The Right to Privacy”—which is tantamount to a sacred text for many modern privacy advocates—was heavily influenced by copyright law.  As Baker explains:

Brandeis wanted to extend common law copyright until it covered everything that can be recorded about an individual. The purpose was to protect the individual from all the new technologies and businesses that had suddenly made it easy to gather and disseminate personal information: “the too enterprising press, the photographer, or the possessor of any other modern device for rewording or reproducing scenes or sounds.”  […] Brandeis thought that the way to ensure the strength of his new right to privacy was to enforce it just like state copyright law. If you don’t like the way “your” private information is distributed, you can sue everyone who publishes it.

Incidentally, it is important to recall that their call for such a regime was essentially driven by a desire to censor the press. In their article, Warren and Brandeis argued that:

The press is overstepping in every direction the obvious bounds of propriety and of decency. Gossip is no longer the resource of the idle and of the vicious, but has become a trade, which is pursued with industry as well as effrontery. To satisfy a prurient taste the details of sexual relations are spread broadcast in the columns of the daily papers. To occupy the indolent, column upon column is filled with idle gossip, which can only be procured by intrusion upon the domestic circle.

So angered were Warren and Brandeis by reports in daily papers of specifics from their own lives that they were led to conclude that:

man, under the refining influence of culture, has become more sensitive to publicity, so that solitude and privacy have become more essential to the individual; but modern enterprise and invention have, through invasions upon his privacy, subjected him to mental pain and distress, far greater than could be inflicted by mere bodily injury.

It is unclear how one could have greater “pain and distress” inflicted by words than “by mere bodily injury,” and yet the law review article that essentially gave birth to American privacy law articulated such a theory of harm.  And it only follows, then, that they would advocate fairly draconian controls on speech and press rights if they felt this strongly.

Taken to the extreme, however, giving such a notion the force of law would put privacy rights on a direct collision course with the First Amendment and freedom of speech.  As Eugene Volokh argued in a 2000 law review article entitled, “Freedom of Speech, Information Privacy, and the Troubling Implications of a Right to Stop People from Speaking about You”:

The difficulty is that the right to information privacy—the right to control other people’s communication of personally identifiable information about you—is a right to have the government stop people from speaking about you. And the First Amendment (which is already our basic code of “fair information practices”) generally bars the government from “control[ling the communication] of information,” either by direct regulation or through the authorization of private lawsuits.

This is what makes efforts to untether privacy regulation from a harms-based model or mode of analysis so troubling. For example, the Federal Trade Commission’s recent privacy review says that “the FTC’s harm-based approach also has limitations [because] it focuses on a narrow set of privacy-related harms—those that cause physical or economic injury or unwarranted intrusion into consumers’ daily lives.”  The Commission then suggests that “for some consumers, the actual range of privacy-related harms is much wider and includes reputational harm, as well as the fear of being monitored or simply having private information ‘out there,’” and suggests “consumers may feel harmed when their personal information… is collected, used, or shared without their knowledge or consent or in a manner that is contrary to their expectations.”

Not only does the Commission fail to offer any data on how this supposed harm manifests itself, how severe it is, or what trade-offs it presents to society, but it utterly fails to account for the dangerous slippery slope of speech control it puts us on. If appeals for regulation are based on emotion instead of concrete evidence of consumer harm, where will this take us next? If, for example, the Commission is to regulate based upon the fact that “consumers may feel harmed… when their personal information… in a manner that is contrary to their expectations,” how long will it be before some suggest this standard should trump First Amendment rights in other contexts?

For example, this more emotional approach to privacy regulation brings us one step closer to a “right not to be offended” or a “right to be forgotten,” as some in Europe favor. Here in the U.S., we see a similar effort underway with the so-called “Internet Eraser Button” idea, which has even been floated in federal legislation. How could a journalist even conduct their business in such a world? By their very nature, good reporters are nosy and, to some extent, disregard the privacy of the people and institutions they report on.

This is why privacy regulation must not be reduced to amorphous claims of “dignity” rights, where an assertion by a small handful that they “feel harmed” comes to replace a strict showing of actual harm to persons or property. To go down that path would have grave consequences for the future of freedom of speech, transparency, openness, and accountability.

Of course, there are many different types of privacy concerns, each of which demands its own analysis and legal consideration.  While I think most privacy concerns should be left to the realm of personal responsibility, user empowerment, and industry self-regulation, other privacy issues are more serious and should be elevated to the level of “rights.” When we speak of government search and seizure or surveillance concerns, “rights” talk certainly makes more sense. Likewise, identity theft is more than just a violation of privacy, it’s a violation of personal property rights.

With such notable exceptions, however, I prefer we speak of privacy in terms of ethics and norms. Legalistic, rights-based conceptions of privacy invite excessive government interventions with myriad unintended consequences.

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

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

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

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

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

Electric Parallels

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

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

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

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

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

Carr’s Critique of “Techno-Utopianism”

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

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

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

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

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

Dangers of Disintermediation and the Problem with “Free”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Downsides of Hyper-Personalization

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of the titles I included in a mega-book review about Internet optimists and pessimists that I posted here a few months ago, I mentioned Lee Siegel’s new book, Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Electronic Mob.  It is certainly the dourest of the recent books that have adopted a pessimistic view of the impact the Internet is having on our culture, society, and economy. Because Siegel’s book is one of the most important technology policy books of 2008, however, I decided to give it a closer look here.

Siegel’s book essentially picks up where Andrew Keen’s leaves off in Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet is Killing our Culture (2007).  I posted a two-part review of Keen’s book here last year [Part 1, Part 2], but here’s a quick taste of Keen’s take on things.  He argues “the moral fabric of our society is being unraveled by Web 2.0” and that “our cultural standards and moral values are not all that are at stake.  Gravest of all,” Keen continues, “the very traditional institutions that have helped to foster and create our news, our music, our literature, our television shows, and our movies are under assault as well.”

As I noted in my earlier “Net optimists vs. pessimists” essay, after reading Cult of the Amateur, I didn’t think anyone else could ever be quite as over-the-top and Chicken Little-ish as Keen. But after working my way through Siegel’s Against the Machine, I realized I was wrong. It made Keen seem downright reasonable and cheery by comparison! Keen and Siegel seem to be in heated competition for the title “High Prophet of Internet Doom,” but Siegel is currently a nose ahead in that race.

Keen and Siegel are both essentially channeling the ghost of the late Neil Postman, the one-time dean of the modern school of techno-pessimism. Postman’s 1992 book Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, was the first major anti-Digital Age diatribe and it remains the reigning champion of anti-technology screeds. “Information has become a form of garbage,” Postman argued, “not only incapable of answering the most fundamental human questions but barely useful in providing coherent direction to the solution of even mundane problems.” If left unchecked, Postman argued, America’s new technopoly — “the submission of all forms of cultural life to the sovereignty of technique and technology” — would destroy “the vital sources of our humanity” and lead to “a culture without a moral foundation” by undermining “certain mental processes and social relations that make human life worth living.”

Although Lee Siegel doesn’t bother citing him, he owes much to Postman’s brand of social criticism. Indeed, in large part, Siegel is simply bringing Postman’s critique of the Information Age up to date. Like Postman and Keen, Siegel is concerned about the “destructive side” of the Internet and the Information Age, which they all feel is being overlooked. Specifically, the attack these authors mount on the Information Age and the Net can be boiled down to two major themes:

1. The Net is destroying (or at least greatly diminishing) the role of experts, authority, “truth”, and traditional societal norms and institutions. This is having (or eventually will result in) dangerous ramifications for our culture, economy, and democracy.
2. The personalization and customization that the Information Age and the Internet have spawned is an unambiguously negative development for our society and culture. Moreover, in large part, the entire Web 2.0 experience is largely just about commercial interests furthering their ends.

Let’s take a closer look what Siegel says about each.

Experts, Authority, and “Truth”

Like Postman and Keen, Siegel doesn’t mix words when it comes to his contempt for the disintermediating influences of modern information technology. He is particularly concerned about the loss of “truth” and “authority” in our new environment. “Culture needs authoritative institutions like a powerful newspaper; it needs them both to protect its critical, independent spirit and to make sure that culture’s voices heard in the louder din of more powerful economic and political entities.” (p. 140-1) By empowering the masses to have more of a voice, Siegel says, “unbiased, rational, intelligent, and comprehensive news… will become less and less available.” (p. 165) “[G]iving everyone a voice,” he argues, “can also be a way to keep the most creative, intelligent, and original voices from being heard.” (p. 5)

Like many other Net skeptics, Siegel views Wikipedia, YouTube, blogs, and almost all user-generated content with a combination of confusion or contempt. “[S]elf-expression is not the same thing as imagination” or art, he argues. (p. 52)  Instead, he regards the explosion of online expression as the “narcissistic” bloviation of the masses and argues it is destroying true culture and knowledge. “Under the influence of the Internet,” he says, “knowledge is withering away into information.” (p. 152) Our new age of information abundance is not worth celebrating, he says, because “information is powerlessness.” (p. 148).

One reason Siegel gets nostalgic about the age of scarcity is because elites like him — and others who were lucky enough to have access to mainstream media — had a more privileged place in the old media world.  As a social / cultural critic, he can’t be happy with all the competition he now faces in that field from the blogosphere and online media outlets.

But it’s difficult to sympathize with Siegel’s position that others should be excluded from having a voice now in an effort to preserve the old order. After all, for the past seven decades, public policy has largely been preoccupied with getting society out of the scarcity mess (even though public policy created much of that mess!) by ensuring that citizens had more choices and outlets. Now that we have more options, some people like Keen and Siegel aren’t happy about the fact that the hoi polloi have been empowered. But, even if some traditional institutions lose the dominant position they once held in society, plenty of “authoritative” and “professional” media options and outlets continue to exist. Our new Information Age simply empowers millions of other voices to join the conversation and offer alternative perspectives and input.

But Siegel also disputes what he regards as such romanticized notions of “online participation” and “personal democracy.” To him, everyone is just in it for the money. “Web 2.0 is the brainchild of businessmen,” and the “producer public” is really just a “totalized ‘consumerist’ society.”  But what about all those bloggers who (like me!) are in it for the love of the conversation and debate?  Well, says Siegel, we just don’t realize the harm we are doing by trying to have our say!  “[T]he bloggers are playing into the hands of political and financial forces that want nothing more than to see the critical, scrutinizing media disappear.” (p. 141) And as for those true believers and Net evangelists who believe that something truly exciting is happening with our new online conversation, according to Siegel, they are simply “in a mad rush to earn profits or push a fervent idealism.” (p. 25-6)

It’s difficult for me to imagine anything more insultingly stupid than those last two statements.  The insulting part about them is that Siegel is essentially telling us all to shut up!  We all need to put down our pens — or, rather, our keyboards — and understand that we are doing great harm to those journalists, institutions, or other enlightened few who are really providing the “critical, scrutinizing” function so essential for a healthy democracy and culture. It’s just blatantly elitist for Siegel to suggest that only a select few have any business sharing their views with the world, and he even acknowledges that several times in the book. But he wears that elitist tag like a badge of honor as he stares down his nose at the newly empowered masses, snorting in disgust at everything he sees.

And the stupid part about those statements above is that the vast majority of bloggers or online participants are absolutely not in it for the money, or even out to take down mainstream media. They just want to be heard. But, again, Siegel believes that what you all have to say is not worth hearing anyway.

The Supposed Perils of Personalization

Indeed, Siegel’s primary gripe with the Web 2.0 world is that while most of us appreciate the growing personalization of information and content as well as the increasingly participatory nature of the Internet, he sees that as an unmitigated evil.  “The Internet is the first social environment to serve the needs of the isolated, asocial individual.” (p. 6)  The “Daily Me” (personalized, instantaneously delivered content) that Nicholas Negroponte predicted and longed for in his prescient 1995 book Being Digital, is viewed by Siegel as nothing more that the creation of a “narcissistic culture” in which “exaggeration” and the “loudest, most outrageous, or most extreme voices sway the crowd his way; the cutest, most self-effacing, most ridiculous, or most transparently fraudulent of voices saw the crowd of voices that way.” (p. 79)  He goes so far as to refer to it as our “democracy’s fatal turn” in that, instead of “allowing individuals to create their own cultural and commercial choices,” Web 2.0 has instead created “a more potent form of homogenization.” (p. 67)

In this regard, Siegel is channeling another Net skeptic, the prolific Cass Sunstein of the University of Chicago Law School.  In his 2001 book Republic.com, Sunstein also referred to Negroponte’s “Daily Me” in contemptuous terms, saying that the hyper-customization of websites and online technologies was causing extreme social fragmentation, isolation, and alienation, and could lead to political extremism. “A system of limitless individual choices, with respect to communications, is not necessarily in the interest of citizenship and self-government,” he wrote. As I said in my review of his book in Regulation magazine that year, Sunstein was essentially saying that the Internet is breeding a dangerous new creature: Anti-Democratic Man. “Group polarization is unquestionably occurring on the Internet,” he proclaimed, and it is weakening what he called the “social glue” that binds society together and provides citizens with a common “group identity.” If that continues unabated, Sunstein argued, the potential result could be nothing short of the death of deliberative democracy and the breakdown of the American system of government.

Siegel continues this line of reasoning in Against the Machine but, like Sunstein, completely fails to offer anything more than a few random anecdotes in defense of their thesis that the Net is leading to close-mindedness, homogenization, and the death of deliberative democracy. Worse yet, they also both completely fail to look at the other side of the story, which is that the Internet and Web 2.0 may be having the exact opposite effect. I made that argument in my 2005 book, Media Myths: Making Sense of the Debate over Media Ownership (p. 39):

The reality is that citizens do face an overwhelming number of media choices today, and that probably does make it somewhat more difficult for them to have “shared experiences” involving any individual news or entertainment program. But that isn’t really such a lamentable development. Government need not take steps to make sure everyone watches or listens to the same programs each night so they can all talk about them around the watercooler at work the next day. It’s just as good that everyone can discuss something different that they saw or heard the night before. And the very fact there are so many distinct media options available to citizens is better for a healthy democracy than a limited range of media options. Again, regardless of who owns what, the fact remains that we have more sources of news, communications, and entertainment than ever before in this country. Still, some media critics wax nostalgic about a mythical time — a supposed “Golden Age” of newspapers, radio, or television — when the populace was more closely linked or unified in some grand sociological sense by common reporting or programming options. But that is a stretch. The days when William Randolph Hearst dominated media, or when only three TV networks brought us our news at a set time each night, could hardly be labeled the “Golden Age” of those respective mediums. If that’s the world media critics want us to return to, then this represents, as Jonathan Knee argues, “an argument for homogeneity hiding under the pretext of diversity.”

And, indeed, that’s exactly what Siegel is proposing in his book, as Keen also does in his. They want to roll back to clock and return us to the mythical “good ‘ol days” of media. Again, when were those days? I simply cannot fathom how anyone can claim that the age of media scarcity — with its limited outlets and opportunities — was truly better than the world we find ourselves in today. As I noted in the first part of my two-part review of Keen’s book, which was entitled “Why an Age of Abundance Really is Better than an Age of Scarcity”:

What Keen doesn’t seem willing to tolerate is that when everyone has a voice, a lot more silly things are going to be said and heard. Back in the days before we all had our own soapboxes (websites, blogs, social networks, YouTube posts, etc.) we all had opinions, but we had few ways to get those opinions out. Now that the Internet has become the great leveler and given everyone the ability to be a one-person newspaper or broadcaster to the world, the dream of a more fully empowered citizenry is slowly becoming a reality. The upside is that everyone gets an equal chance to be heard. But the downside is that everyone gets an equal chance to be heard! That is, with the good comes some bad. There are wonderful contributions to culture and human communications being made by average Joes and Janes across the globe because of the Web. But let’s face it, there’s a lot of crap out there too. Cutting through the cultural clutter can been a real challenge, and even with the best search tools in the world at your disposal, it can still be difficult to find that diamond in the rough. But aren’t we better off as a society because of the opportunities now at our disposal? Isn’t an age of media and cultural abundance — warts and all — still preferable to the age of scarcity which preceded it?

I believe it is. And as I concluded in my review of Keen’s book, which seems like an equally sensible way to conclude this review of Lee Siegel’s tedious screed:

I think we are definitely better off because of this seismic shift in our communications and media environment. The human conversation is more diverse than ever before, and we have been empowered to experience the full range of culture and human creativity (for better and for worse!)

[Note: You might want to first read my review of Jonathan Zittrain’s book to give this essay some context.]

Jonathan Zittrain must have been smiling as he read Leander Kahney’s excellent Wired cover story this month, “How Apple Got Everything Right By Doing Everything Wrong.” In a sense, the article vindicates Zittrain’s thesis in The Future of the Internet–And How to Stop It. Again, in his provocative book, Zittrain argues that, for a variety of reasons, the glorious days of the generative, open Internet and general-purpose PCs are supposedly giving way to closed networks and a world of what he contemptuously calls “sterile, tethered devices.” And Apple products such as the iPhone, the iPod, and iTunes serve as prime examples of the troubling world that await us. And Kahney’s article confirms that Apple is every bit as closed and insular as Zittrain suggests. Kahney nicely contrasts Apple with Google, a company that “embraces openness,” trusts “the wisdom of crowds,” and has its famous “Don’t be evil” philosophy:

It’s ironic, then, that one of the Valley’s most successful companies ignored all of these tenets. Google and Apple may have a friendly relationship — Google CEO Eric Schmidt sits on Apple’s board, after all — but by Google’s definition, Apple is irredeemably evil, behaving more like an old-fashioned industrial titan than a different-thinking business of the future. Apple operates with a level of secrecy that makes Thomas Pynchon look like Paris Hilton. It locks consumers into a proprietary ecosystem. And as for treating employees like gods? Yeah, Apple doesn’t do that either.

On the other hand, Kahney’s article serves as vindication of my response to Zittrain’s book since the article illustrates how, despite breaking all the typical rules of Silicon Valley, the company is more successful than ever and has legions of happy customers. Again, in my review of his book, I argued that there is no reason that we can’t have the best of both worlds. Much of the time, “open” systems produce the best results. Other times, more closed, proprietary models give rise to great products. Today’s digital marketplace is full of wonderful devices and services of both flavors. Apple’s success proves that point, as Kahney’s Wired article shows:

by deliberately flouting the Google mantra, Apple has thrived. When Jobs retook the helm in 1997, the company was struggling to survive. Today it has a market cap of $105 billion, placing it ahead of Dell and behind Intel. Its iPod commands 70 percent of the MP3 player market. Four billion songs have been purchased from iTunes. The iPhone is reshaping the entire wireless industry. Even the underdog Mac operating system has begun to nibble into Windows’ once-unassailable dominance; last year, its share of the US market topped 6 percent, more than double its portion in 2003. It’s hard to see how any of this would have happened had Jobs hewed to the standard touchy-feely philosophies of Silicon Valley. Apple creates must-have products the old-fashioned way: by locking the doors and sweating and bleeding until something emerges perfectly formed. It’s hard to see the Mac OS and the iPhone coming out of the same design-by-committee process that produced Microsoft Vista or Dell’s Pocket DJ music player. Likewise, had Apple opened its iTunes-iPod juggernaut to outside developers, the company would have risked turning its uniquely integrated service into a hodgepodge of independent applications — kind of like the rest of the Internet, come to think of it.

Importantly, it’s not just that Apple has thrived, it’s that consumers have loved their products to the point that there is a sort of “cult of Apple” out there. I should make clear that I am no Apple fanboy. As my TLF colleagues Tim Lee and Jerry Brito can attest, I am constantly making fun of them for their love of Apple products. I am willing to deal with the warts associated with the PC environment because I love the more open-ended nature of it. That being said, there are times when I have to swallow my pride and admit to Tim and Jerry that, in many ways, their Apple products are superior to my PC and Windows-based toys. It’s impossible to spend a few minutes with the iPhone or the latest iPods and Macs and not fall in love with those devices and their interfaces. They are truly spectacular. Thus, as Kahney’s article makes clear, whether you love him or hate him, you have to admit that Jobs is on to something:

No other company has proven as adept at giving customers what they want before they know they want it. Undoubtedly, this is due to Jobs’ unique creative vision. But it’s also a function of his management practices. By exerting unrelenting control over his employees, his image, and even his customers, Jobs exerts unrelenting control over his products and how they’re used. And in a consumer-focused tech industry, the products are what matter.

Indeed they are. And even though Zittrain labels Apple’s products “sterile and tethered,” there is no doubt that the company’s approach has produced some wonderful results. Personally, they are not for me since I prefer all those “general purpose” devices that Zittrain lionizes. But, again, we can have both. Let Steve Jobs be a control freak and keep those walls around Apple’s digital garden high and tight if he wants. There are plenty of other wide open gardens for the rest of us to play in.

Jonathan Zittrain, who is affiliated with Oxford University and Harvard’s Berkman Center, recently released a provocatively titled book: The Future of the Internet–And How to Stop It. It’s an interesting read and I recommend you pick it up despite what I’ll say about it in a moment. (Incidentally, if you ever have a chance to hear Jonathan speak, I highly recommend you do so. He is, bar none, the most entertaining tech policy geek in the world. Imagine Dennis Miller with a cyberlaw degree.)

Jonathan’s book contrasts two different paradigms that he argues could define the Net’s future: The “generative” Net versus what he refers to as a world of “tethered, sterile appliances.” By “generative” he means technologies or networks that invite or allow tinkering and all sorts of creative uses. Think general-purpose personal computers and the traditional “best efforts” Internet. “Tethered, sterile appliances” by contrast, are technologies or networks that discourage or disallow tinkering. Basically, “take it or leave it” proprietary devices like Apple’s iPhone or the TiVo, or online walled gardens like the old AOL and current cell phone networks.

Jonathan’s thesis is that, for a variety of reasons [viruses, Spam, identify theft, etc], we run the risk of seeing the glorious days of the generative, open Net give way to more tethered devices and closed networks. He states:

“Today, the same qualities that led to [the success of the Internet and general-purpose PCs] are causing [them] to falter. As ubiquitous as Internet technologies are today, the pieces are in place for a wholesale shift away from the original chaotic design that has given rise to the modern information revolution. This counterrevolution would push mainstream users away from the generative Internet that fosters innovation and disruption, to an appliancized network that incorporates some of the most powerful features of today’s Internet while greatly limiting its innovative capacity—and, for better or worse, heightening its regulability. A seductive and more powerful generation of proprietary networks and information appliances is waiting for round two. If the problems associated with the Internet and PC are not addressed, a set of blunt solutions will likely be applied to solves problems at the expense of much of what we love about today’s information ecosystem.” [p. 8].

In other words, Jonathan fears that many people will flock to tethered appliances in a search for stability or security. That’s bad, in his opinion, because those tethered appliances are less “open” and more likely to be “regulable,” either by large corporate intermediaries or government officials. Thus, the “future of the Internet” he is hoping to “stop” is a world dominated by tethered digital appliances because it is too limiting and too easy for others to control.

My primary objection to Jonathan’s thesis is that (1) he seems to be over-stating things quite a bit; and in doing so, (2) he creates a false choice of possible futures from which we must choose. What I mean by false choice is that Jonathan doesn’t seem to believe a hybrid future is possible or desirable. I see no reason why we can’t have the best of both worlds–a world full of plenty of tethered appliances, but also plenty of generativity and openness.

Importantly–and Jonathan acknowledges this point to some extent–the boundaries between “generative” and “tethered appliances” are growing increasingly murky. Social networking sites, for example, allow a great deal of generative activity, but they also impose some limitations on what can be posted, or limit the porting of profiles / information over to other sites. Similarly, the iPhone—which Jonathan calls a “sterile” technology—was completely closed at first, but is now growing more open to tinkering with the SDK rollout. But it’s unlikely it will ever be perfectly open. Finally, the TiVo, which Jonathan also throws into the “sterile” bucket, is a tightly controlled technology in some ways, but allows consumers to do some truly wonderful things with it within certain confines.

And there’s a good reason for all of this: Hybrid solutions often make a great deal of sense. They offer creative opportunities within certain confines in an attempt to balance openness and stability. And this brings us back to how Jonathan is over-stating his thesis, in my opinion; he just doesn’t convince me that the old order—of open networks & general-purpose PCs—is dying. It’s still around and always will be. It’s just that a new crop of characters—let’s call them “mere mortals”—have joined us in cyberspace and are increasingly part of the ongoing digital experience. But those of us who are true-blue tech geeks and tinker-happy gadgeteers still have plenty of generative toys at our disposal even though the mere mortals now walk among us.

For example, like many other tech geeks, I have an outrageously expensive mobile phone that allows me to add just about any application I want to it. Problem is, the more I muck with it, the slower and less reliable it gets in some ways, which is precisely why some mere mortals just want a good old-fashion “sterile” phone that won’t give them any hassles. Regardless, on the “generative-vs.-sterile appliance” spectrum, the range of mobile devices just continues to grow and grow in both directions. You can decide what type of device you want. I want something more generative—warts and all. My wife—a true mere mortal if there ever was one—just wants something that works, even if has far fewer options in terms of generative capabilities. (Of course, she’s not trying to compose blog posts like this on her phone like I am! She just wants to check e-mail on occasion and make phone calls. Imagine that: using a phone just to make calls. Crazy!)

So, my question to Jonathan is—to quote the great philosopher Rodney King—Why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t it a sign of progress that we now have different models that appeal to different types of users? After all, those supposedly “sterile” applications like the iPhone and Tivo are loved by millions. Even calling them “sterile” seems a bit silly to me. After all, those devices have “fostered innovation and disruption” just like PCs and the Net have, just in a different way. Regardless, does Jonathan think all those people would really be better off if they were forced to fend for themselves with completely open iPhones and TiVos? Should the iPhone be shipped to market with no apps loaded on the main screen, forcing everyone to get them for on their own? Should TiVos have no interactive menus out-of-the-box, forcing you to go online and find some homebrew that someone whipped up to give you an open source guide in all its blocky ugliness?

Again, before you answer that question for yourself, put yourself in the shoes of a mere mortal. It’s easy for many us who are tech geeks to look down our noses at those who seem to want to have the hand held through cyberspace or digital experiences. But there’s nothing wrong with those people who seek stability and security in digital devices and their networking experiences—even if they find those solutions in the form of “tethered appliances.” Not everyone wants to have the same cyber-experiences we do. Not everyone wants to reprogram their mobile phones, hack their consoles, write their own code, or even just write a blog or join a social networking site. Millions upon millions of people live perfectly normal lives without ever doing any of these things! (It’s true, I’ve even met a couple of these people… They are called my parents!) Still, many of those mere mortals WILL want to use many of the same toys we tech geeks use, or take cautious steps into the occasional cold pool called cyberspace—one tippy toe at a time. Why shouldn’t those folks be accommodated with “lesser” devices?

I fear that Jonathan has spent a little too much time in the ivory tower surrounded by countless people like me who are almost part cyborg in that they use so much technology that they are practically at one with their devices. (If I don’t have a laptop in my backpack and a mobile phone in my pocket I start to experience phantom pains, like I am missing appendages). If one finds themselves stuck in an echo chamber with enough of these other cyborg-humans, they can start to fear the consequences of what might happen when the mere mortals start walking in the front door and asking asinine questions about how to boot up their devices or log on to certain websites. But we have nothing to fear from these aliens. They can have their closed systems and we can have our open systems. We can tinker; they can just play with what they are given. We can be highly interactive cyber-goobers; they can be utterly passive couch potatoes. And so on.

Moreover, a big part of the gap here is simply generational and will pass with time. Once today’s tech geeks are grandparents, most of our kids and grandkids will largely demand the same sort of systems we do because they will be more accustomed to the occasional downsides that accompany the Wild West that cyberspace can sometimes be. But there will always be a crowd who demands some hand-holding and added security.

Jonathan’s short-term concern about how the desire for more stable and secure systems will lead to a more “regulable” world, is understandable. Concerns about privacy, child safety, defamation, identity theft and so on, will continue to lead to calls for more intervention. At the corporate level, however, some of that potential intervention makes a great deal of sense. For example, if ISPs are in a position to help do something to help alleviate some of these problems—especially Spam and viruses—what’s wrong with that? Of course, it gets a lot trickier with things like child safety and copyright issues. That’s where excessive intervention by ISPs could create serious speech and privacy problems—namely in the form of a forced surrender of anonymity.

But, again, I think there is a happy balance here. Bruce Owen, one of my intellectual heroes, really nails it in his response to Jonathan’s thesis:

“Why does Zittrain think that overreaction is likely, and that its costs will be unusually large? Neither prediction is self-evident. Faced with the risk of infection or mishap, many users already restrain their own taste for PC-mediated adventure, or install protective software with similar effect. For the most risk-averse PC users, it may be reasonable to welcome “tethered” PCs whose suppliers compete to offer the most popular combinations of freedom and safety. Such risk-averse users are reacting, in part, to negative externalities from the poor hygiene of other users, but such users in turn create positive externalities by limiting the population of PCs vulnerable to contagion or hijacking. As far as one can tell, this can as easily produce balance or under reaction as overreaction—it is an empirical question. But, as long as flexibility has value to users, suppliers of hardware and interconnection services will have incentives to offer it, in measured ways, or as options.”

That’s exactly right. We can find happy middle-ground solutions. By contrast, Jonathan’s alternative solutions to these problems are quite amorphous. He speaks of the need for a “latter-day Manhattan project, not to build a bomb but to design the tools and conventions by which to continuously defuse one.” (p. 173). That seems like a strange metaphor or paradigm for him to choose since the Manhattan project was highly secretive and centrally planned, the exact opposite of what he seems to desire. But, again, what he desires remains very murky. It seems he wants to solve the problems brought about by openness with more openness—primarily in the form of collective intelligence and action. If we all just find smart ways to work together, we can improve open systems, he argues. Well, sure we can.. sorta. But it will never work perfectly on its own. Some people are going to want more safety and security. They should get it, even if comes in the form of “sterile appliances and tethered devices.” Because, again, the rest of us always have the option to choose something else.

One proposed solution that Jonathan does spell out in a bit more detail troubles me greatly. When discussing the future of Net neutrality, he makes some interesting arguments similar to those we often make here about how unlikely it is that network intermediaries will really be able to stifle the free flow of bits. But then Jonathan goes on to say:

“If there is a present worldwide threat to neutrality in the movement of bits, it comes not from restrictions on traditional Internet access that can be evaded using generative PCs, but from enhancements to traditional and emerging appliancized services that are not open to third-party tinkering.” (p. 181)

He then blasts cable and satellite boxes as being “walled gardens” and creating “mediated experiences” and goes on to ask: “So when should we consider network neutrality-style mandates for appliancized systems?” I would have hoped the answer would be NEVER, since we don’t want pesky FCC bureaucrats making those sort of calls for us and stifling device innovation as a result. Alas, Jonathan seems to feel differently, and responds to his own question as follows:

“The answer lies in that subset of appliancized systems that seeks to gain the benefits of third-party contributions while reserving the right to exclude it later. … Those who offer open APIs on the Net in an attempt to harness the generative cycle ought to remain application-neutral after their efforts have succeeded, so all those who built on top of their interface can continue to do so on equal terms.” (p. 184)

I have many problems with that logic. First, most developers who offer open APIs aren’t likely to close them later precisely because they don’t want to incur the wrath of “those who built on top of their interface.” But, second, for the sake of argument, let’s say they did want to abandoned previously open APIs and move to some sort of walled garden. So what? Isn’t that called marketplace experimentation? Are we really going to make that illegal? Finally, if they were so foolish as to engage in such games, it might be the best thing that ever happened to the market and consumers since it could encourage more entry and innovation as people seek out more open, pro-generative alternatives.

Consider this example: Now that Apple has opened to door to third-party iPhone development a bit with the SDK, does that mean that under Jonathan’s proposed paradigm we should treat the iPhone as the equivalent of commoditized common carriage device? That seems incredibly misguided to me. If Steve Jobs opens the development door just a little bit only to slam it shut a short time later, he will pay dearly for that mistake in the marketplace. For God’s sake, just spend a few minutes over on the Howard Forums or the PPC Geeks forum if you want to get a taste for the insane amount of tinkering going on out there in the mobile world right now on other systems. If Apple tries to roll back the clock, Microsoft and others will be all too happy to take their business by offering a wealth of devices that allow you to tinker to your heart’s content. We should let such experiments continue and let the future of the Internet be determined by market choices, not regulatory choices such as forced API neutrality.

Anyway, read Jonathan’s book. I’ve probably gone a bit too hard on him here, but it’s an important and enlightening book about one possible vision of the Net’s future. In the end, I guess my outlook is just a little rosier than his.

( Update: Following this review, I discussed my reservations in a series of follow-up essays. (Part 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]. Finally, I named Jonathan’s book the “most important tech policy book of 2008” on my end-of-year Top 10 list.)

In a previous essay, I critiqued Andrew Keen’s thesis that our culture was better off in the age of scarcity than it is in today’s world of media and cultural abundance. In this essay, I want to make a few comments about his latest anti-Web 2.0 rant regarding how, in addition to destroying art and culture, the age of abundance and “amateur” content creation is going to result in the death of advertising.

In an AdWeek guest editorial this week, Keen argues that:

Web 2.0 is, in truth, the very worst piece of news for the advertising industry since the birth of mass media. In the short term, the Web 2.0 hysteria marks the end of the golden age of advertising; in the long term, it might even mark the end of advertising itself.

[…]

[F]or the advertiser, media content is indeed losing its value, a value historically derived from its scarcity. This devaluation of media isn’t hard to quantify: It can be measured everywhere, in falling CPM and the failure of social networks to develop viable business models. No new technology—neither the false dawn of mobile, nor the holy grail of personalized, targeted advertising—is going to save the advertising business now. No, the truth is that advertising can only be saved if we can re-create media scarcity. That means less user-generated content and more professionally created information and entertainment, less technology and more creativity. The advertising community desperately needs more gatekeepers, more professional creative authorities, more so-called media “elites” who will curate, filter and organize content. That’s the way to re-establish the value of the message. It’s the one commercial antidote to Web 2.0’s radically destructive cultural democracy.

Oh my, where to begin…

Well, Keen is right about one thing (and only one thing) here: The end of the age of scarcity is certainly shaking up the advertising world. Bob Garfield of Ad Age wrote an interesting set of articles on this issue recently under the title “Chaos Scenario.” (Part 1 and Part 2.) When Bob called me for a comment for Part 2 of that series, here’s what I told him:

“It’s a very different kind of world. The problem is, the expectations are there to capture that mass audience that long ago disappeared. We are witnessing the gradual death of the business models that thrived in that age of scarcity.”

So, in a sense, I agree with Keen that the death of scarcity will challenge traditional advertising arrangements and media business models. Unlike Keen, however, I am not Chicken Little-ish in my outlook of things and I certainly do not believe that the end of scarcity “might even mark the end of advertising itself.” Just because media and advertising are changing doesn’t mean they are dying. They are just evolving. As John Gartner of the Marketing Shift blog notes, “Advertising won’t die. But it will never be the same.”

Indeed, there are some incredibly innovative advertising strategies being developed today in response to the changing nature of media development, distribution, and consumption. For example, I knew the world had changed in a major way when a friend sent me the link to the latest Geico ad that had been posted on YouTube and I spent the next twenty minutes watching a whole batch of new and old Geico ads. [I don’t know who developed those ads, but they deserve a raise! Brilliant stuff.] But I’ve also found myself watching ads in other strange places lately. The Microsoft XBox 360 Marketplace, for example, has many ads and promo clips that I find myself viewing regularly. And yes, I’ve even clicked on a few ads I’ve found on my mobile phone.

But Keen doesn’t seem willing to acknowledge that such innovative changes are occurring or that they might be a perfectly healthy evolution of the marketplace. Instead, he makes the preposterous argument that “advertising can only be saved if we can re-create media scarcity” and that “The advertising community desperately needs more gatekeepers, more professional creative authorities, more so-called media “elites” who will curate, filter and organize content. That’s the way to re-establish the value of the message. It’s the one commercial antidote to Web 2.0’s radically destructive cultural democracy.”

There are times when I am reading Keen’s book and articles like this and I find myself wondering: Does he really believe this stuff, or is he just a savvy idea marketer who understands that the best way to sell books its to be more over-the-top than the last guy?

Sadly, Keen seems to be a true believer in the Coming Cultural End Times and the collapse of all things once sacred (at least that which he holds sacred). As I pointed out in my previous essay about Keen, his view of the world is unapologetically techno-conservative and culturally elitist. Indeed, he is the living embodiment of what Virgina Postrel calls “the stasis mentality.”

Keen’s work really got me thinking about Virginia Postrel’s wonderful book The Future and Its Enemies: The Growing Conflict over Creativity, Enterprise, and Progress, which is now almost ten years old. In her book, Postrel paints a brilliant picture of how many debates about technology and progress will unfold in the future. She contrasts stasis thinking with dynamism, and her work is worth quoting extensively here because it perfectly unlocks the mystery behind Keen’s thinking:

How we feel about the evolving future tells us who we are as individuals and as a civilization: Do we search for stasis—a regulated, engineered world? Or do we embrace dynamism—a world of constant creation, discovery, and competition? Do we value stability and control, or evolution and learning? Do we declare with Appelo that “we’re scared of the future” and join Adams in decrying technology as “a killing thing”? Or do we see technology as an expression of human creativity and the future as inviting? Do we think that progress requires a central blueprint, or do we see it as a decentralized, evolutionary process? Do we consider mistakes permanent disasters, or the correctable by-products of experimentation? Do we crave predictability, or relish surprise? These two poles, stasis and dynamism, increasingly define our political, intellectual, and cultural landscape. The central question of our time is what to do about the future. And that question creates a deep divide.

Indeed it does, and that is the divide that now exists between Andrew Keen and most of the rest of us who have fully embraced (or at least learned to cope with) the sweeping changes brought about by the rise of the Internet, user-generated content, and “amateur” culture in general. No doubt, as Keen suggests, disintermediation has been a destabilizing force. The death of scarcity and the rise of abundance have shaken up the old order. But it is not all for the worse. While the creative destruction of the capitalist marketplace is always difficult, in the long run, it typically brings about better business models and modes of thinking.

But Keen wants to wind back the clock and “re-create scarcity” to save traditional business models. How would that even work? He never seems to get around to providing clear answers to that question, and for good reason: It would likely be incredibly intrusive and destructive. Virginia Postrel perfectly identified the logical implications of the stasis mentality that Keen represents when she wrote:

Stasist social criticism… brings up the specifics of life only to sneer at or bash them. Critics assume that readers will share their attitudes and will see contemporary life as a problem demanding immediate action by the powerful and wise. This relentlessly hostile view of how we live, and how we may come to live, is distorted and dangerous. It overvalues the tastes of an articulate elite, compares the real world of trade-offs to fantasies of utopia, omits important details and connections, and confuses temporary growing pains with permanent catastrophes. It demoralizes and devalues the creative minds on whom our future depends. And it encourages the coercive use of political power to wipe out choice, forbid experimentation, short-circuit feedback, and trammel progress.

And therein lies the ultimate danger of the stasis mindset that Keen embodies: It isn’t just silly, it’s downright destructive and a significant threat to our liberties.

Andrew Keen is the web’s favorite whipping boy these days, and in some ways he has it coming. His latest book, The Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet is Killing Our Culture, is an anti-all-things-Web 2.0 screed. Keen lambastes “Internet democracy” (specifically the Wiki model of collaborative creation) and decries the rising tide of user-generated everything. When you get right down to it, Keen’s view of the world is unapologetically techno-conservative and culturally elitist. He’s angry that there are fewer intermediaries minding the culture. As a result, he argues, “professional” media (by which he means to say “better” media) is giving way to “amateur” media (which he regards as synonymous with, well… crap).

Unsurprisingly, the blogosphere has fought back with a vengeance and called Keen every nasty name in the book. But the best and most level-headed critique of Keen’s work is still this old essay by the ever-insightful Clay Shirky. Clay’s response rightly concedes that Keen in correct in pointing out that some important things have been lost with the rise of the Internet. There certainly are fewer intermediaries filtering our culture for us, and that will sound like a great thing to many of us. But it’s important to realize that some of those mediating forces serve a valuable role. Editors, for example, play an important, but often overlooked, role in terms of improving the quality of great deal of media content of all varieties (journalism, books, movies, music, etc). The blogosphere is becoming an editor-free zone, and at times it really shows. There are times when some particularly insulting things are said or silly mistakes are made that probably would have been corrected had a good editor been responsible for overseeing the final product.

On the other hand, the unfiltered Web 2.0 experience is wonderfully refreshing. Sometimes it’s nice to see what the uninhibited exchange of ideas results in. Regardless, the bottom line is that the editing profession (broadly defined) is changing because of the Internet. That is undeniable. And other mediating forces or institutions are seeing their power or relative importance in the cultural creation process diminished as the Internet-spawned disintermediation continues unabated.

Will that create short term problems? Undeniably. But Keen thinks these developments are contributing to a sort of cultural catastrophe and that we are collectively much worse off because of this disintermediation and empowerment of the “amateur.” This goes much too far in my opinion.

What Keen doesn’t seem willing to tolerate is that when everyone has a voice, a lot more silly things are going to be said and heard. Back in the days before we all had our own soapboxes (websites, blogs, social networks, YouTube posts, etc.) we all had opinions, but we had few ways to get those opinions out. Now that the Internet has become the great leveler and given everyone the ability to be a one-person newspaper or broadcaster to the world, the dream of a more fully empowered citizenry is slowly becoming a reality. The upside is that everyone gets an equal chance to be heard. But the downside is that everyone gets an equal chance to be heard! That is, with the good comes some bad. There are wonderful contributions to culture and human communications being made by average Joes and Janes across the globe because of the Web. But let’s face it, there’s a lot of crap out there too. Cutting through the cultural clutter can been a real challenge, and even with the best search tools in the world at your disposal, it can still be difficult to find that diamond in the rough.

But aren’t we better off as a society because of the opportunities now at our disposal? Isn’t an age of media and cultural abundance–warts and all–still preferable to the age of scarcity which preceded it? Think about the big picture. As I pointed out in my recent City Journal essay on “The Media Cornucopia”:

Throughout most of history, humans lived in a state of extreme information poverty. News traveled slowly, field to field, village to village. Even with the printing press’s advent, information spread at a snail’s pace. Few knew how to find printed materials, assuming that they even knew how to read. Today, by contrast, we live in a world of unprecedented media abundance that once would have been the stuff of science-fiction novels. We can increasingly obtain and consume whatever media we want, wherever and whenever we want: television, radio, newspapers, magazines, and the bewildering variety of material available on the Internet.

I think we are definitely better off because of this seismic shift in our communications and media environment. The human conversation is more diverse than ever before, and we have been empowered to experience the full range of culture and human creativity (for better and for worse!)

Moreover, the old mediating institutions aren’t dead yet. There are still plenty of large-scale media operations and content creators / editors that are alive and well producing a wide variety of culture. It’s just that they now face a lot more competition than ever before, and from sources of a very different nature (small-scale, independent, and wonderfully “amateur-ish.”)

Finally, let’s not forget that the age of scarcity and mediated culture that Keen seems to put on pedestal created a lot of crap too! Sure, the Internet era gave us Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and plenty of pathetic, time-wasting YouTube videos. But the age of media “professionalism” gave us “Three’s Company,” the Bay City Rollers, and “Killer Klowns from Outer Space.” Each era produced its fair share of quality and crap. There’s just more of both these days and that’s what Keen doesn’t seem willing to accept. But I’ll take that deal any day over the limited choices of the bygone scarcity era he seems eager to reestablish.

[Note: Part 2 of this essay can be found here.]