Gabrielle Bauer, a Toronto-based medical writer, has just published one of the most concise explanations of what’s wrong with the precautionary principle that I have ever read. The precautionary principle, you will recall, generally refers to public policies that limit or even prohibit trial-and-error experimentation and risk-taking. Innovations are restricted until their creators can prove that they will not cause any harms or disruptions. In an essay for The New Atlantis entitled, “Danger: Caution Ahead,” Bauer uses the world’s recent experiences with COVID lockdowns as the backdrop for how society can sometimes take extreme caution too far, and create more serious dangers in the process. “The phrase ‘abundance of caution’ captures the precautionary principle in a more literary way,” Bauer notes. Indeed, another way to look at it is through the prism of the old saying, “better to be safe than sorry.” The problem, she correctly observes, is that, “extreme caution comes at a cost.” This is exactly right and it points to the profound trade-offs associated with precautionary principle thinking in practice.

In my own writing about the problems associated with the precautionary principle (see list of essays at bottom), I often like to paraphrase an ancient nugget of wisdom from St. Thomas Aquinas, who once noted in his Summa Theologica that, if the highest aim of a captain were merely to preserve their ship, then they would simply keep it in port forever. Of course, that is not the only goal of a captain has. The safety of the vessel and the crew is essential, of course, but captains brave the high seas because there are good reasons to take such risks. Most obviously, it might be how they make their living. But historically, captains have also taken to the seas as pioneering explorers, researchers, or even just thrill-seekers.

This was equally true when humans first decided to take to the air in balloons, blimps, airplanes, and rockets. A strict application of the precautionary principle would have instead told us we should keep our feet on the ground. Better to be safe than sorry! Thankfully, many brave souls ignored that advice and took the heavens in the spirit of exploration and adventure. As Wilbur Wright once famously said, “If you are looking for perfect safety, you would do well to sit on a fence and watch the birds.” Needless to say, humans would have never mastered the skies if the Wright brothers (and many others) had not gotten off the fence and taken the risks they did.

Opportunity Costs Matter

Here we get to the true danger of strict versions of the precautionary principle: It essentially becomes a crime to get off the fence and do anything risky at all. This sets up the potential for stasis and stagnation as societal learning is severely curtailed. Progress becomes harder because there can be no reward without some risk. — both individually or societally. “Caution makes sense except when it doesn’t,” Bauer notes. She continues on to note:

Used too liberally, the precautionary principle can keep us stuck in a state of extreme risk-aversion, leading to cumbersome policies that weigh down our lives. To get to the good parts of life, we need to accept some risk.

As I argued in a book on these issues, the root problem with precautionary principle thinking is that “living in constant fear of worst-case scenarios—and premising public policy on them—means that best-case scenarios will never come about.” If societal attitudes and public policy will not tolerate the idea of any error resulting from experimentation with new and better ways of doing things, then we will obviously not get many new and better things! Scientist Martin Rees refers to this truism about the precautionary principle as “the hidden cost of saying no.”

The opportunity cost of inaction or stasis can be hard to quantify but imagine if we organized our entire society around a rigid application of the precautionary principle. Bauer notes that this is basically what we did during COVID. And the results are in. “It’s far past time we ask ourselves when  abundance really means excess, when our precautionary measures against Covid have gone too far, when we have ignored the costs and lost all sense of proportionality.” Unfortunately, the precautionary mindset–which is always rooted in fear of the unknown–took control. As Bauer notes:

It should have been socially acceptable to debate the merits of these tradeoffs, with nuance and without censure. But that is not what happened. Early in the pandemic, an unspoken rule — thou shalt not question the costs — sprang up and stifled discourse.

“And here’s the worst of it: the costs of excess caution can persist long after the initial danger has passed,” she notes. “It’s no different with Covid: our knee-jerk caution may have downstream effects that persist after the virus has ceased to be a threat.” She cites many compelling examples of the negative effects associated with extreme precautionary thinking during COVID, noting how, “[t]he impact of travel and trade restrictions on food security and childhood vaccination in developing countries will likely reverberate for decades.” Moreover:

The Covid-19 pandemic has laid bare the risks of extreme protection: lost businesses, lost livelihoods, lost graduations, lost loves, lost goodbyes; the loss of personal agency over life’s most intimate and meaningful moments; the loss, quite possibly, of our cherished principles of liberal democracy. A recent report by International IDEA, a democracy advocacy organization, concluded that many countries had become more authoritarian as they took steps to contain the pandemic.

This list of lockdown trade-offs goes on and the aggregate costs will be staggering once economists and others get around to better estimating them. As noted, gauging those costs will be challenging because of the many variables and values that come into play. But it remains vital that society takes risk analysis and trade-offs more seriously so that we don’t make these mistakes again and again.

Proportionality is the Key

Toward that end, Bauer makes “a plea for proportionality.” She wants society to strike a more reasonable balance when it comes to policy measures that might block actions and research that could help us better understand how to deal with risk uncertainties. Accordingly, “we must understand when to apply the precautionary principle and when to move on from it.”

“The precautionary principle doesn’t come with such checks and balances. On the contrary, it tends to perpetuate itself and acquire a life of its own,” she notes. In other words, once set in place initially for a given issue or sector, precautionary principle thinking tends to grow like bad weeds until it has taken over everything in sight. (To see the consequences of that in fields like aviation, space, nanotech, and others, please check out J. Storrs Hall’s amazing new book, Where Is My Flying Car?)

Of course, proportionality cuts both ways, and as I noted in my last two books, there are some instances in which at least a light version of the precautionary principle should be preemptively applied, but they are limited to scenarios where the threat in question is tangible, immediate, irreversible, and catastrophic in nature. In such cases, I argue, society might be better suited thinking 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. Generally speaking, however, this test is not satisfied in the vast majority of cases. “Innovation Allowed” should be our default principle. 

Conclusion

The single most important thing that we must always remember when debating precautionary principle-based policies is that, just because someone has good intentions and claims safety as their goal, that does not automatically make the world a safer place. To repeat: Excessive safety-related measure can result in less safety overall. Or again, as Bauer says, “extreme caution comes at a cost.”

No one ever summarized this truism more clearly than the great political scientist Aaron Wildavsky, who devoted much of his life’s work to proving how efforts to create a risk-free society would instead lead to an extremely unsafe society. In his 1988 book, Searching for Safety, Wildavsky warned of the dangers of “trial without error” reasoning, and contrasted it with the trial-and-error method of evaluating risk and seeking wise solutions to it. He argued that wisdom is born of experience and that we can learn how to be wealthier and healthier as individuals and a society only by first being willing to embrace uncertainty and even occasional failure. Here was the crucial takeaway:

The direct implication of trial without error is obvious: If you can do nothing without knowing first how it will turn out, you cannot do anything at all. An indirect implication of trial without error is that if trying new things is made more costly, there will be fewer departures from past practice; this very lack of change may itself be dangerous in forgoing chances to reduce existing hazards. . . . Existing hazards will continue to cause harm if we fail to reduce them by taking advantage of the opportunity to benefit from repeated trials.

Trial and error is the basis of all societal learning, and without it, humanity will be less safe and less prosperous over the long run. Gabrielle Bauer’s new essay captures that insight better than anything I’ve read since Wildavsky was writing about the dangers of the precautionary principle. I beg you to jump over to New Atlantis and read her entire article. It’s absolutely essential.

Additional reading from Adam Thierer on the precautionary principle

• Adam Thierer, “How Many Lives Are Lost Due to the Precautionary Principle?” The Bridge, October 31, 2019.
• Adam Thierer, “How to Get the Future We Were Promised,” Discourse, January 18, 2022.
• Adam Thierer, “Failing Better: What We Learn by Confronting Risk and Uncertainty,” in Sherzod Abdukadirov (ed.), Nudge Theory in Action: Behavioral Design in Policy and Markets (Palgrave Macmillan, 2016): 65-94.
• Adam Thierer, “Innovation and the Trouble with the Precautionary Principle,” AIER, April 20, 2020.
• Adam Thierer, “Are ‘Permissionless Innovation’ and ‘Responsible Innovation’ Compatible?” Technology Liberation Front, July 12, 2017.
• Adam Thierer, Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom, 2nd ed. (Arlington, VA: Mercatus Center at George Mason University, 2016).
• Adam Thierer, “Problems with Precautionary Principle-Minded Tech Regulation & a Federal Robotics Commission,” Medium, September 22, 2014.
• Adam Thierer, “Technopanics, Threat Inflation, and the Danger of an Information Technology Precautionary Principle,” Minnesota Journal of Law, Science & Technology 14, no. 1 (2013): 312–50.

Discourse magazine has just published my review of Where Is My Flying Car?, by J. Storrs Hall, which I argue is the most important book on technology policy written in the past quarter century. Hall perfectly defines what is at stake if we fail to embrace a pro-progress policy vision going forward. Hall documents how a “Jetsons” future was within our grasp, but it was stolen away from us. What held back progress in key sectors like transportation, nanotech & energy was anti-technological thinking and the overregulation that accompanies it. “[T]he Great Stagnation was really the Great Strangulation,” he argues. The culprits: negative cultural attitudes toward innovation, incumbent companies or academics looking to protect their turf, litigation-happy trial lawyers, and a raft of risk-averse laws and regulations.

Hall coins the term “the Machiavelli Effect” to identify why many people simultaneously fear the new and different, and they also want to protect whatever status quo they benefit from (or at least feel comfortable with). He builds on this passage from Niccolò Machiavelli’s classic 1532 study of political power, “The Prince”:

[I]t ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, then to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things. Because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new. This coolness arises partly from fear of the opponents, who have the laws on their side, and partly from the incredulity of men, who do not readily believe in new things until they have had a long experience of them. Thus it happens that whenever those who are hostile have the opportunity to attack they do it like partisans, whilst the others defend lukewarmly, in such wise that the prince is endangered along with them.

Hall notes that the Machiavelli Effect “has nothing to do with any conspiracy.” Rather, it comes down to human nature: Many people simultaneously fear the new and different, and they also want to protect whatever status quo they benefit from (or at least feel comfortable with). Isaac Asimov identified the same problem in a 1974 lecture when he noted how there had been “bitter, exaggerated, last-stitch resistance . . . to every significant technological change that had taken place on earth.” [On this same point, also see Innovation and Its Enemies: Why People Resist New Technologies, by Calestous Juma. It’s the best history on the topic.]

Hall identifies how the Machiavelli Effect held back nuclear, nanotech, and aviation technologies. “Over the long run, unchecked regulation destroys the learning curve, prevents innovation, protects and preserves inefficiency, and makes progress run backward.” The problem is the Precautionary Principle, which undermines the learning curve is by setting policy defaults to no trial and error as opposed to free to experiment. There can be no reward without some risk! Hall quotes Wilbur Wright on this, who once noted that, “If you are looking for perfect safety, you would do well to sit on a fence and watch the birds.”

Over-regulation of those sectors also resulted in massive misallocation of talent, “taking more than a million of the country’s most talented and motivated people and putting them to work making arguments and filing briefs instead of inventing, developing, and manufacturing.” Hall is equally critical of government R&D efforts. “One of the great tragedies of the latter 20th century, and clearly one of the causes of the Great Stagnation,” he argues, “was the increasing centralization and bureaucratization of science and research funding.”

Hall’s book builds on Jason Crawford’s insight that, “We need a new philosophy of progress,” that is rooted in optimism about the future and support for a culture of trial-and-error experimentation. Hall’s book is a major contribution to that effort. Hall makes a profoundly moral case for innovation. “The zero-sum society is a recipe for evil,” because it leaves us with a “static level of existence” that denies us the ability to improve the human condition. Indeed, Hall’s book is the most full-throated defense of innovation by a trained scientist or engineer since Samuel Florman’s 1976 “Existential Pleasures of Engineering.” Both are celebrations of the potential for humanity to build more and better tools to improve the world.

Hall’s book should also be read alongside books from Virginia Postrel (“The Future and Its Enemies”), Steven Pinker (“Enlightenment Now”), Matt Ridley (“How Innovation Works”) and Deirdre McCloskey’s three-volume trilogy about the history of modern economic growth. These scholars argue that there is a symbiotic relationship between innovation, economic growth, pluralism and human betterment, and that to deny people the ability to improve their lot in life is fundamentally anti-human.

I just cannot recommend Hall’s Where Is My Flying Car? highly enough. It’s a masterpiece. And bravo to Stripe Press for publishing a beautiful hardbound edition. It is a stunning book both to behold and read. Order it now, and jump over to Discourse to read my entire review of it.

In an amazing new MIT Technology Review piece, Antonio Regalado discusses how, “Some scientists are taking a DIY coronavirus vaccine, and nobody knows if it’s legal or if it works.” It is another powerful example of how “citizen-science” and medical self-experimentation (or “biohacking”) is increasingly being used to improve health outcomes, enhance human capabilities, or fight against deadly diseases like COVID. Regalado reports that:

Nearly 200 covid-19 vaccines are in development and some three dozen are at various stages of human testing. But in what appears to be the first “citizen science” vaccine initiative, Estep and at least 20 other researchers, technologists, or science enthusiasts, many connected to Harvard University and MIT, have volunteered as lab rats for a do-it-yourself inoculation against the coronavirus. They say it’s their only chance to become immune without waiting a year or more for a vaccine to be formally approved. Among those who’ve taken the DIY vaccine is George Church, the celebrity geneticist at Harvard University, who took two doses a week apart earlier this month. The doses were dropped in his mailbox and he mixed the ingredients himself.

Regalado notes that this is all happening despite legal and ethical questions:

By distributing directions and even supplies for a vaccine, though, the Radvac group is operating in a legal gray area. The US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) requires authorization to test novel drugs in the form of an investigational new drug approval. But the Radvac group did not ask the agency’s permission, nor did it get any ethics board to sign off on the plan.

Chapter 2 of my latest book (Evasive Entrepreneurs and the Future of Governance) features a discussion of DIY health efforts, citizen-science and biohacking. Average citizens are using new technological capabilities to address health needs, often beyond the confines of the law. Here’s the beginning of that discussion, which starts on p. 79 of the manuscript:

DIY health services and medical devices are on the rise thanks to the combined power of open-source software, 3D printers, cloud computing, and digital platforms that allow information sharing between individuals with specific health needs. Average citizens are using these new technologies to modify their bodies and abilities, often beyond the confines of the law. Welcome to the occasionally scary but oftentimes awe-inspiring world of biohacking. Biohackers are essentially “prosumers,” the term many used a decade ago to describe the way average citizens were taking advantage of new communications and computing technologies to become both producers and consumers of news, information, and entertainment. Pro-sumers evaded traditional industry norms and government regulations that had previously made it difficult for citizens to communicate freely. The same phenomenon is now shaking up the world of health and medicine as pro-sumers use new technological capabilities to take their health into their own hands and likely evade many traditional norms and regulations when doing so.

In other words, we can’t just put the genie back in the bottle with sweeping, repressive regulatory controls. Here’s an essay that Jordan Reimschisel and I wrote last year on “Biohacking, Democratized Medicine, and Health Policy” highlighting the many thorny policy issues in play here, as well as possible governance responses.

In another essay, Jordan and I argued that one of the most important and constructive policy responses would be stepped-up risk education and health literacy initiatives. We need constructive approaches to citizen-science and biohacking to make sure we address serious risks but simultaneously avoid blocking beneficial forms of health and medical innovation that our country desperately needs, especially at this time.

[Updated: March 2022]

I was speaking at a conference recently and discussing my life’s work, which for 30 years has been focused on the importance of innovation and intellectual battles over what we mean progress. I put together up a short list of some things I have written over the last few years on this topic and thought I would just re-post them here. I will try to keep this regularly updated, at least for a few years.

UNDERSTANDING THE CHALLENGE WE FACE:

• Defending Innovation Against Attacks from All Sides (November 2021)
• How to Get the Future We Were Promised (January 2022)
• The Radicalization of Modern Tech Criticism (April 2019)
• Is It ‘Techno-Chauvinist’ & ‘Anti-Humanist’ to Believe in the Transformative Potential of Technology? (September 2018)

HOW WE MUST RESPOND = “Rational Optimism” / Right to Earn a Living / Permissionless Innovation

• A Case for Innovation and Optimism (A conversation with Jason Crawford, March 2022)
• How To Defend a Culture of Innovation During the Technopanic (April 2019)
• Is This the End of Permissionless Innovation? (January 2021)
• How Technology Expands the Horizons of Our Humanity (November 2018)
• Deep Technologies & Moonshots: Should We Dare to Dream? (September 2018)
• The Right to Pursue Happiness, Earn a Living, and Innovate (September 2018)
• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2016)

ADDITIONAL READING:

• Is There a Science of Progress?  (August 2019)
• Technological Innovation and Economic Growth: A Brief Report on the Evidence (March 2019)
• 5 Books that Shaped My Thinking on Innovation (April 2020)
• Innovation and the Trouble with the Precautionary Principle (April 2020)

NEW BOOK (tying together all the essays and papers listed above):

• Evasive Entrepreneurs and the Future of Governance: How Innovation Improves Economies and Governments (2020)

Margaret Talbot has written an excellent New Yorker essay entitled, “The Rogue Experimenters,” which documents the growth of the D.I.Y.-bio movement. This refers to the organic, bottom-up, citizen science movement, or “leaderless do-ocracy” of tinkerers, as she notes. I highly recommend you check it out.

As I noted in my new book on Evasive Entrepreneurs and the Future of Governance, “DIY health services and medical devices are on the rise thanks to the combined power of open-source software, 3D printers, cloud computing, and digital platforms that allow information sharing between individuals with specific health needs. Average citizens are using these new technologies to modify their bodies and abilities, often beyond the confines of the law.”

Talbot discusses many of the same examples I discuss in my book, including:

• the Four Thieves Vinegar collective, which devised instructions for building its own version of the EpiPen;
• e-nable, an international collective of thirty thousand volunteers, designs and 3-D-prints prosthetic hands and arms (and which has, more recently, distributed more than fifty thousand face shields in more than twenty-five countries.);
• GenSpace and other community biohacking labs; and
• Open Insulin and Open Artificial Pancreas System.

I like the way Talbot compares these movements to the hacker and start-up culture of the Digital Revolution:

The D.I.Y.-bio movement, which emerged in the early two-thousands, seems almost evolutionarily adapted to its historical moment,” she argues. “It echoes aspects of startup culture, especially the early days of personal computing, with its garage-based origin stories. First came the hardware, then the software; now even the wetware of life can be created in people’s homes. D.I.Y. bio reflects popular skepticism about professional authority and gatekeeping, but it is not skeptical about learning or expertise.

She also quotes others on this point, like John Wilbanks, a health technologist at the research nonprofit Sage Bionetworks:

when new biotech companies fail, they tend to sell off their equipment for a discount, and community labs and biohackers scoop it up. Wilbanks told me, “D.I.Y. bio is very similar to the home-brew, hacker-club culture of the late seventies in Silicon Valley. If you’ve not gone on eBay to shop for a DNA sequencer that they can ship to you in twenty-four hours, check it out—there’s a massive secondary market.”

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this bottom-up citizen-science movement is that it run the political gamut. It includes “anarcho-libertarians” to those “steeped in social-justice activism,” Talbot says. But they are all generally unified by a commitment to the widespread dissemination of scientific knowledge and transparency in health-related matters. “D.I.Y. biologists often have a greater commitment than their professional counterparts do to making their work open to scrutiny—and available for free on the Internet,” Talbot notes.

“The D.I.Y.-bio ecosystem includes a lot of do-gooders, and many of them have been galvanized by the covid-19 crisis,” she also observes. Quite right. I discussed that fact in the launch essay for my book, “Evasive Entrepreneurialism and Technological Civil Disobedience in the Midst of a Pandemic.” I documented dozens of examples of various individuals and organizations rising up to meet the challenges posed by the pandemic. “Eventually, people take notice of how regulators and their rules encumber entrepreneurial activities, and they act to evade them when public welfare is undermined,” I argued. “Working around the system becomes inevitable when the permission society becomes so completely dysfunctional and counterproductive.” DIY health innovation has gone mainstream out of necessity.

Importantly, Talbot notes that when it comes to what counts as success for DIY health and biohacking, sometimes good enough is, well, good enough. On this point, she quotes Jon Schull, an e-nable (non-commercial 3D-printed prosthetics) co-founder, who says, “it doesn’t matter that e-nable hands aren’t state-of-the-art. The job of professional prostheses-makers, he said, is “to produce something really good, and if it’s merely better than nothing it’s not good enough”—but, in some circumstances, something is better than nothing.”

That is a crucial point understanding why this movement is so important: Working together in a spontaneous, bottom-up fashion, citizen scientists and tinkerers can act quickly to fill pressing public health needs. Of course, that is exactly what makes these same innovations potentially risky and has some people wondering about the wisdom of such efforts—and the potential need for more regulation.

I wish Talbott would have spent a bit more time diving into these ethical and legal questions. I really struggled with them when writing about all this stuff in my new book on evasive entrepreneurialism and technological civil disobedience. She does briefly discuss how some FDA regs might affect DIY bio movement, including efforts like Open Insulin.  “Even if Open Insulin begins producing a consistent product, it will have to overcome all kinds of regulatory obstacles to demonstrate safety and purity before taking it to market,” she notes. “Manufacturers of pharmacy-grade medications must provide the F.D.A. with reams of evidence that they can produce the substances with complete consistency, in sterile environments. Proving this level of proficiency can cost millions of dollars.” But Talbot does not spend much more time exploring what might happen next on this front if DIY efforts continue to expand.

“But what should the law say about people… who are creating their own specialized medical devices in an open-source, noncommercial fashion?” I ask in my new book.

I outlined three potential future scenarios for the movement:

1. DIY technologies go mainstream and become more commercialized.
2. biohacking remains decentralized but becomes more mainstream and professional without becoming fully commercial.
3. biohacking turn even more rogue or underground in nature as a form of guerrilla innovation that sometimes borders on neo-anarchism.

Regardless of the outcome, the ethical and regulatory issues will persist and grow as technological capabilities continue to grow more sophisticated, decentralized, and inexpensive. I argue in the book that it would be foolish for policymakers to think they can (or should) bottle up this movement altogether:

biohacking and decentralized medicine will expand for a simple reason: People care deeply about improving their health and abilities. They will take advantage of new technological capabilities that let them do so—especially when those capabilities are significantly cheaper than other options. To reiterate, that does not make these technologies safe or smart, but it does mean we will need a new approach to governance as evasive entrepreneurialism expands in this arena.

And then I continue on to note how improved risk education and awareness efforts might be one solution to the growing DIY bio movement.

Anyway, for more discussion on this, see pages 79-87 of my new book. I’ve also listed a few other essays down below that you might find interesting, including several penned by my former colleague Jordan Reimschisel.

Additional Reading:

• Andrea O’Sullivan & Adam Thierer, “3D Printers, Evasive Entrepreneurs and the Future of Tech Regulation,” The Bridge, August 1, 2018, https://www.mercatus.org/bridge/commentary/3d-printers-evasive-entrepreneurs-and-future-tech-regulation
• Jordan Reimschisel, “Biohackerspaces,” Medium, June 29, 2017, https://medium.com/@jordanreimschisel/biohackerspaces-b0cbde63c492
• Jordan Reimschisel, “Technology Could Enable Personal Medicine Whether We Like It Or Not,” Medium, August 10, 2017, https://medium.com/@jordanreimschisel/technology-could-enable-personal-medicine-whether-we-like-it-or-not-ce6e19b826fe
• Jordan Reimschisel, “Evolving Oversight of Digital Health,” Medium, June 21, 2018, https://medium.com/@jordanreimschisel/evolving-oversight-of-digital-health-d65199913503
• Adam D. Thierer and Adam Marcus, “Guns, Limbs, and Toys: What Future for 3D Printing?” Minnesota Journal of Law, Science & Technology, Vol. 17, No. 2, (2016), p. 805-854, http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2795562

I recently posted an essay over at The Bridge about “The Pacing Problem and the Future of Technology Regulation.” In it, I explain why the pacing problem—the notion that technological innovation is increasingly outpacing the ability of laws and regulations to keep up—“is becoming the great equalizer in debates over technological governance because it forces governments to rethink their approach to the regulation of many sectors and technologies.”

In this follow-up article, I wanted to expand upon some of the themes developed in that essay and discuss how they relate to two other important concepts: the “Collingridge Dilemma” and technological determinism. In doing so, I will build on material that is included in a forthcoming law review article I have co-authored with Jennifer Skees, Ryan Hagemann (“Soft Law for Hard Problems: The Governance of Emerging Technologies in an Uncertain Future”) as well as a book I am finishing up on the growth of “evasive entrepreneurialism” and “technological civil disobedience.”

Recapping the Nature of the Pacing Problem

First, let us quickly recap that nature of “the pacing problem.” I believe Larry Downes did the best job explaining the “problem” in his 2009 book on The Laws of Disruption. Downes argued that “technology changes exponentially, but social, economic, and legal systems change incrementally” and that this “law” was becoming “a simple but unavoidable principle of modern life.”

Downes was generally a cheerleader for such developments. For him, the pacing problem is more like the pacing benefit. But Downes is in the minority among most tech policy scholars in this regard. In the field of Science and Technology Studies (STS), discussions about the pacing problem and what to do about it are omnipresent and full of foreboding gloominess.

STS is a broad field of interdisciplinary studies unified by a concern with “the impacts and control of science and technology, with particular focus on the risks, benefits and opportunities that S&T may pose” to a wide range of values. STS studies incorporates many disciplines: legal and philosophical studies, sociology, anthropology, engineering, and others. In countless essays, papers, journal articles, and books, STS scholars lament the pacing problem and often insist something must be done, often without ever getting around to explaining what that something is.

Regardless of their field of study, there is broad recognition among these scholars that new technological, social, and political realities make the pacing problem a phenomenon worth studying.  In my Bridge essay, I identified three primary drivers of the pacing problem:

• Technological driver: The power of “combinatorial innovation,” which is driven by “Moore’s Law,” fuels a constant expansion of technological capabilities.
• Social driver: As citizens quickly assimilate new tools into their daily lives and then expect that even more and better tools will be delivered tomorrow.
• Political driver: Government has grown increasingly dysfunctional and unable to adapt to those technological and social changes.

The “Collingridge Dilemma”

Although they do not always refer to it by name, STS scholars regularly stress the so-called “Collingridge dilemma” in their work. The Collingridge dilemma refers to the extreme difficulty of putting proverbial genies back in their bottles once a given technology has reached a certain inflection point in society. The concept is named after David Collingridge, who wrote about the challenges of governing emerging technologies in his 1980 book, The Social Control of Technology .

“The social consequences of a technology cannot be predicted 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.” He called this the “dilemma of control,” and asserted that, “When change is easy, the need for it cannot be foreseen; when the need for change is apparent, change has become expensive, difficult and time-consuming.”

In a sense, the “Collingridge dilemma” is simply a restatement of the pacing problem but with (1) greater stress on the social drivers behind the pacing problem and, (2) an implicit solution to “the problem” in the form of preemptive control of new technologies while they are still young and more manageable.

Specifically, for many STS scholars, Collingridge’s “dilemma” is preferably solved through the application of the Precautionary Principle. The contours of the Precautionary Principle are notoriously murky and ill-defined. Nonetheless, as I discussed a great length in my last book on the subject, the Precautionary Principle generally refers to the belief that new innovations should be curtailed or disallowed until their developers can prove that they will not cause any harm to individuals, groups, specific entities, cultural norms, or various existing laws, norms, or traditions.

You can see the logic of the Collingridge dilemma and the Precautionary Principle at work everywhere in STS scholarship today. Few scholars want to admit they favor the Precautionary Principle, however, so they often use different terminology. “Anticipatory governance” or “upstream governance” are the preferred terms of art these days.

For example, in a recent law review article about “Regulating Disruptive Innovation,” Nathan Cortez argues that “new technologies can benefit from decisive, well-timed regulation” or even “early regulatory interventions.” Similarly, writing in Slate in 2014, John Frank Weaver insisted we should regulate emerging tech like artificial intelligence “early and often” to “get out ahead of” various social and economic concerns.

In his last book, A Dangerous Master: How to Keep Technology from Slipping beyond Our Control, bioethicist Wendell Wallach also argued for new forms of upstream governance and defined it as a system that allow for “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,” he argued. Wallach is basically just restating the Collingridge dilemma in this regard.

The problem with all these calls for the anticipatory or upstream governance solutions to the pacing problem and the Collingridge dilemma is that, like the Precautionary Principle more generally, the specific solutions are very incoherent or sometimes completely lacking. STS scholars almost always leave the reader hanging without offering a conclusion to their gloomy, pessimistic narratives about whatever technology or technological process it is they are critiquing. Critics are quick to issue bold calls-to-action, but rarely provide a detailed blueprint.

There are some exceptions. Some STS scholars have advocated for Precautionary Principle-minded legislation or agencies, like an “Artificial Intelligence Development Act,” a “National Algorithmic Technology Safety Administration” or a federal AI agency, such as a “Federal Robotics Commission.” Meanwhile, over the past decade, many STS scholars have pushed for national privacy and cybersecurity legislation, or expansive new forms of liability for technology companies. The regulatory authority sought in these cases would be squarely precautionary in character, aimed at addressing a wide array of hypothetical harms through permissioned-based rulemaking before those problems even materialize.

Technological Determinism?

Discussions about the pacing problem and the Collingridge dilemma have an air of technological determinism to them. Technological determinism generally refers to the notion that technology almost has a mind of its own and that it will plow forward without much resistance from society or governments. Here is a more scholarly definition from Sally Wyatt, who has explained how technological determinism is generally defined in a two-part fashion:

The first part is that technological developments take place outside society, independently of social, economic, and political forces. New or improved products or ways of making things arise from the activities of inventors, engineers, and designers following an internal, technical logic that has nothing to do with social relationships. The more crucial second part is that technological change causes or determines social change.

The opposite of technological determinism is usually referred to as “social constructivism,” which as Thomas Hughes notes, “presumes that social and cultural forces determine technical change.”

Ironically, among STS scholars, technological determinist reasoning is both (a) regularly on display, and (b) generally reviled. That is, many STS scholars speaking in deterministic tones about the inevitability of certain technological developments, but then they effortlessly shift into social constructivist mode when commenting on what they hope to do about it.

One of the most well-known technology critics of the past century was French philosopher Jacques Ellul. It is impossible to read his tracts and not find deterministic reasoning flying off every other page. He argued, for example, that technology is “self-perpetuating, all-persuasive, and inescapable,” and that it represents “an autonomous and uncontrollable force that dehumanized all that it touches.” Moreover, within the field of Marxist studies, technological determinism is ubiquitous. Of course, that goes back to Marx himself and his many ideological descendants, who held strongly deterministic views about the role industrial technology played in sharping history and socio-political systems. Plenty of other STS scholars remain hard-core social constructivist, however, and insist that dealing with the pacing problem and the Collingridge dilemma really just comes down to a matter of sheer social and political willpower.

Techno-determinist thinking is usually on display in more vivid terms among technological optimists. Reading the writings of futurists like Ray Kurzweil and Kevin Kelly, one cannot help but get the sense that they are pining for the day when we are all just assimilated into The Matrix. There is an air of utter futility associated with humanity’s efforts to resist the spread of various technological systems and processes. Philosopher Michael Sacasas refers to this mentality as “the Borg Complex,” which, he says, is often “exhibited by writers and pundits who explicitly assert or implicitly assume that resistance to technology is futile.”

The point I am trying to make here is that technological determinism is at work in all sorts of scholarship and punditry. Regardless of whether one subscribes to what Ian Barbour has labelled the warring viewpoints of “Technology as Liberator” or “Technology as a Threat,” very different people can hold strongly deterministic viewpoints.

Soft Determinism

The problem with all this talk about determinism—technological, social, political, or whatever—is that the lines are never quite as bright as some suggest. “Hard” determinism of any of these varieties simply cannot be correct. We have too many historical examples that run counter to both narratives.

Personally, I’ve always subscribed to what some refer to as “ soft technological determinism.” Technological historian Merritt Roe Smith defines “soft determinism” as the view “which holds that technological change drives social change but at the same time responds discriminatingly to social pressures,” as compared to “hard determinism,” which “perceives technological development as an autonomous force, completely independent of social constraints.”

Konstantinos Stylianou has offered a variant of soft determinism that zeroes in on better understanding the unique attributes of specific technologies and political systems when considering how difficult they may be to control. He argues that “there are indeed technologies so disruptive that by their very nature they cause a certain change regardless of other factors,” such as the Internet. Stylianou concludes that:

It seems reasonable to infer that the thrust behind technological progress is so powerful that it is almost impossible for traditional legislation to catch up. While designing flexible rules may be of help, it also appears that technology has already advanced to the degree that is able to bypass or manipulate legislation. As a result, the cat-and-mouse chase game between the law and technology will probably always tip in favor of technology. It may thus be a wise choice for the law to stop underestimating the dynamics of technology, and instead adapt to embrace it.

That may sound like just more hard deterministic thinking, but it represents a softer variety that holds that the special characteristics of some technologies are indeed altering our capacity to govern many newer sectors using traditional regulatory mechanisms. In my new law review article with Jennifer Skees and Ryan Hagemann, we conclude that this is the key factor motivating the gradual move away from “hard law” and toward “soft law” governance tools for a great many emerging technologies.

To be clear, this does not mean we are going to soon reach the proverbial “end of politics” or the “death of the nation-state” due to technology, or anything like that. As I point out in my forthcoming book, that sort of talk is silly. Some technology enthusiasts or libertarians use techno-determinist talk as if they are preaching a gospel of liberation theology—liberation from the state through technology emancipation, that is.

In reality, technology giveth and technology taketh away. Technology can empower people and institutions and help them challenge laws, regulations, and entire political systems. My forthcoming book documents how many “evasive entrepreneurs” are doing just that today, and with increasing regularity. But technology empowers government actors, too. In an unpublished 2009 manuscript entitled, “Does Technology Drive the Growth of Government?” my Mercatus Center colleague Tyler Cowen noted how growth of big government in the 20th century was greatly facilitated by various modern technologies (advanced transportation and communications networks, in particular). “Future technologies may either increase or decrease the role of government in society,” he noted, “but if history shows one thing, it is that we should not neglect technology in understanding the shift from an old political equilibrium to a new one.”

Thus, those who think that the pacing problem is a one-way ratchet to emancipation from state control need to realize that technology can be used for good and bad ends, and it can be used (and abused) by governments to expand their powers and limit our liberties. Similarly, those tech critics and STS scholars who lament how the pacing problem will undermine governments, democracy, or other institutions or values without radical interventions also are going too far. They need to recognize that while it is true many new technologies will march forward at a steady clip, it does not mean that society is powerless to bring some order to technological processes. We shape our tools and then our tools shape us. And then we create still more tools to improve upon previous tools, and the process goes on and on.

John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid put it best in this 2001 essay responding to “doom-and-gloom technofuturists”:

[T]echnological and social systems shape each other. The same is true on a larger scale. . . . Technology and society are constantly forming and reforming new dynamic equilibriums with far-reaching implications. The challenge . . . is to see beyond the hype and past the over-simplifications to the full import of these new sociotechnical formations.

So yes, the pacing problem is real, and it will continue to raise problems for social and political systems. But as Brown and Paul Duguid suggest, we’ll constantly adapt, form and reform new dynamic equilibriums, and then “muddle through,” just as we have so many times before.

Related Reading

• “The Pacing Problem and the Future of Technology Regulation”
• “Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change”
• “A Short Response to Michael Sacasas on Advice for Tech Writers”
• “Are “Permissionless Innovation” and “Responsible Innovation” Compatible?”
• “Wendell Wallach on the Challenge of Engineering Better Technology Ethics”
• “Book Review: Calestous Juma’s “Innovation and Its Enemies’”
• “Evasive Entrepreneurialism and Technological Civil Disobedience: Basic Definitions”

On Sunday night, 60 Minutes aired a feature with the ominous title, “Nobody’s Safe on the Internet,” that focused on connected car hacking and Internet of Things (IoT) device security. It was followed yesterday morning by the release of a new report from the office of Senator Edward J. Markey (D-Mass) called Tracking & Hacking: Security & Privacy Gaps Put American Drivers at Risk,  which focused on connected car security and privacy issues. Employing more than a bit of techno-panic flare, these reports basically suggest that we’re all doomed.

On 60 Minutes, we meet former game developer turned Department of Defense “cyber warrior” Dan (“call me DARPA Dan”) Kaufman–and learn his fears of the future: “Today, all the devices that are on the Internet [and] the ‘Internet of Things’ are fundamentally insecure. There is no real security going on. Connected homes could be hacked and taken over.”

60 Minutes reporter Lesley Stahl, for her part, is aghast. “So if somebody got into my refrigerator,” she ventures, “through the internet, then they would be able to get into everything, right?” Replies DARPA Dan, “Yeah, that’s the fear.” Prankish hackers could make your milk go bad, or hack into your garage door opener, or even your car.

This segues to a humorous segment wherein Stahl takes a networked car for a spin. DARPA Dan and his multiple research teams have been hard at work remotely programming this vehicle for years. A “hacker” on DARPA Dan’s team proceeded to torment poor Lesley with automatic windshield wiping, rude and random beeps, and other hijinks. “Oh my word!” exclaims Stahl.

Never mind that we are told that the “hackers” who “hacked” into this car had been directly working on its systems for years—a luxury scarcely available to the shadowy malicious hackers about whom DARPA Dan and his team so hoped to frighten us. The careful setup, editing, and Lesley Stahl’s squeals made for convincing theater.

Then there’s the Markey report. On the surface, the findings appear grim. For instance, we are warned that “Nearly 100% of cars on the market include wireless technologies that could pose vulnerabilities to hacking or privacy intrusions.” Nearly 100%? We’re practically naked out there! But digging through the report, we learn that the basis for this claim is that most of the 16 manufacturers surveyed responded that 100% of their vehicles are equipped with wireless entry points (WEPs)—like Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, navigation, and anti-theft features. Because these features “could pose vulnerabilities,” they are listed as a threat—one that lurks in nearly 100% of the cars on the market, at that.

Much of the report is similarly panicky and sometimes humorous (complaint #3: “many manufacturers did not seem to understand the questions posed by Senator Markey.”) The report concludes that the “alarmingly inconsistent and incomplete state of industry security and privacy practice,” warrants recommendations that federal regulators — led by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) — “promulgate new standards that will protect the data, security and privacy of drivers in the modern age of increasingly connected vehicles.”

Take a Deep Breath

As we face an uncertain future full of rapidly-evolving technologies, it’s only natural that some might feel a little anxiety about how these new machines and devices operate. Despite the exaggerated and sometimes silly nature of techno-panic reports like these, they reflect many people’s real and understandable concerns about new technologies.

But the problem with these reports is that they embody a “panic-first” approach to digital security and privacy issues. It is certainly true that our cars are become rolling computers, complete with an arsenal of sensors and networking technologies, and the rise of the Internet of Things means almost everything we own or come into contact with will possess networking capabilities. Consequently, just as our current generation of computing and communications technologies are vulnerable to some forms of hacking, it is likely that our cars and IoT devices will be as well.

But don’t you think that automakers and IoT developers know that? Are we really to believe that journalists, congressmen, and DARPA Dan have a greater incentive to understand these issues than the manufacturers whose companies and livelihoods are on the line? And wouldn’t these manufacturers only take on these risks if consumer demand and expected value supported them? Watching the 60 Minutes spot and reading through the Markey report, one is led to think that innovators in this space are completely oblivious to these threats, simply don’t care enough to address them, and don’t have any plans in motion. But that is lunacy.

No Mention of Liability?

To begin, neither report even mentions the possibility of massive liability for future hacking attacks on connected cars or IoT devices. That is amazing considering how the auto industry already attracts an absolutely astonishing amount of litigation activity. (Ambulance-chasing is a full-time legal profession, after all.) Thus, to the extent that some automakers don’t want to talk about everything they are doing to address security issues, it’s likely because they are still figuring out how to address the various vulnerabilities out there without attracting the attention of either enterprising hackers or trial lawyers.

Nonetheless, contrary to the absurd statement by Mr. Kaufman that “There is no real security going on” for connected cars or the Internet of Things, the reality is that these are issues that developers are actively studying and trying to address. Manufacturers of connected devices know that: (1) nobody wants to own or use devices that are fundamentally insecure or dangerous; and (2) if they sell such devices to the public, they are in for a world of hurt once the trial lawyers see the first headlines about it.

It also still quite unclear how big the threat is here. Writing over at Forbes yesterday, Doug Newcomb notes that “the threat of car hacking has largely been overblown by the media – there’s been only one case of a malicious car hack, and that was an inside job by a disgruntled former car dealer employee. But it’s a surefire way to get the attention of the public and policymakers,” he correctly observes. Newcomb also interviewed Damon McCoy, an assistant professor of computer science at George Mason University and a car security researcher, who noted that car hacking hasn’t become prevalent and that “Given the [monetary] motivation of most hackers, the chance of [automotive hacking] is very low.”

Security is a Dynamic, Evolving Process

Regardless, the notion that we can just clean this whole device security situation up with a single set of federal standards, as the Markey report suggests, is appealing but fanciful. “Security threats are constantly changing and can never be holistically accounted for through even the most sophisticated flowcharts,” observed my Mercatus Center colleagues Eli Dourado and Andrea Castillo in their recent white paper on “Why the Cybersecurity Framework Will Make Us Less Secure.” “By prioritizing a set of rigid, centrally designed standards, policymakers are neglecting potent threats that are not yet on their radar,” Dourado and Castillo note elsewhere.

We are at the beginning of a long process. There is no final destination when it comes to security; it’s a never-ending process of devising and refining policies to address vulnerabilities on the fly. The complex problem of cybersecurity readiness requires dynamic solutions that properly align incentives, improve communication and collaboration, and encourage good personal and organizational stewardship of connected systems. Implementing the brittle bureaucratic standards that Markey and others propose could have the tragic unintended consequence of rendering our devices even less secure.

Standards Are Developing Rapidly

Meanwhile, the auto industry has already come up with privacy standards that go above and beyond what most other digital innovators apply to their own products today. Here are the Auto Alliance’s “Consumer Privacy Protection Principles: Privacy Principles for Vehicle Technologies and Services,” which 23 major automobile manufacturers agreed to abide by. And, according to a press release yesterday, “automakers are currently working to establish an Information Sharing Analysis Center (or “Auto-ISAC”) for sharing vehicle cybersecurity information among industry stakeholders.”

Again, progress continues and standards are evolving. This needs to be a flexible, evolutionary process, instead of a static, top-down, one-size-fits-all bureaucratic political proceeding.

We can’t set down security and privacy standards in stone for fast-moving technologies like these for another reason, and one I am constantly stressing in my work on “Why Permissionless Innovation Matters.” If we spend all our time worrying about hypothetical worst-case scenarios — and basing our policy interventions on a parade of hypothetical horribles — then we run the risk that best-case scenarios will never come about.  As analysts at the Center for Data Innovation correctly argue, policymakers should only intervene to address specific, demonstrated harms. “Attempting to erect precautionary regulatory barriers for purely speculative concerns is not only unproductive, but it can discourage future beneficial applications of the Internet of Things.” And the same is true for connected cars.

Trade-Offs Matter

Technopanic indulgence isn’t always merely silly or annoying—it can be deadly.

“During the four deadliest wars the United States fought in the 20th century, 39 percent more Americans were dying in motor vehicles” than on the battlefield. So writes Washington Post reporter Matt McFarland in a powerful new post today. The ongoing toll associated with human error behind the wheel is falling but remains absolutely staggering, with almost 100 people losing their lives and almost 6,500 people injured every day.

We must never fail to appreciate the trade-offs at work when we are pondering precautionary regulation. Ryan Hagemann and I wrote about these issues in our recent Mercatus Center working paper, “Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars.” That paper, which has been accepted for publication in a forthcoming edition of the Wake Forest Journal of Law & Policy, outlines the many benefits of autonomous or semi-autonomous systems and discusses the potential cost of delaying their widespread adoption.

When it comes to the various security, privacy, and ethical considerations related to intelligent vehicles, Hagemann and I argue that they “need to be evaluated against the backdrop of the current state of affairs, in which tens of thousands of people die each year in auto-related accidents due to human error.” We continue on later in the paper:

Autonomous vehicles are unlikely to create 100 percent safe, crash-free roadways, but if they significantly decrease the number of people killed or injured as a result of human error, then we can comfortably suggest that the implications of the technology, as a whole, are a boon to society. The ethical underpinnings of what makes for good software design and computer-generated responses are a difficult and philosophically robust space for discussion. Given the abstract nature of the intersection of ethics and robotics, a more detailed consideration and analysis of this space must be left for future research. Important work is currently being done on this subject. But those ethical considerations must not derail ongoing experimentation with intelligent-vehicle technology, which could save many lives and have many other benefits, as already noted. Only through ongoing experimentation and feedback mechanisms can we expect to see constant improvement in how autonomous vehicles respond in these situations to further minimize the potential for accidents and harms. (p. 42-3)

As I noted here in another recent essay, “anything we can do to reduce it significantly is something we need to be pursuing with great vigor, even while we continue to sort through some of those challenging ethical issues associated with automated systems and algorithms.”

No Mention of Alternative Solutions

Finally, it is troubling that neither the 60 Minutes segment nor the Markey report spend any time on alternative solutions to these problems. In my forthcoming law review article, “The Internet of Things and Wearable Technology: Addressing Privacy and Security Concerns without Derailing Innovation,” I devote the second half of the 90-page paper to constructive solutions to the sort of complex challenges raised in the 60 Minutes segment and the Markey report.

Many of the solutions I discuss in that paper — such as education and awareness-building efforts, empowerment solutions, the development of new social norms, and so on – aren’t even touched on by the reports. That’s a real shame because those methods could go a long way toward helping to alleviate many of the issues the reports identify.

We need a better public dialogue than this about the future of connected cars and Internet of Things security. Political scare tactics and techno-panic journalism are not going to help make the world a safer place. In fact, by whipping up a panic and potentially discouraging innovation, reports such as these can actually serve to prevent critical, life-saving technologies that could change society for the better.

Additional Reading

• Making Sure the “Trolley Problem” Doesn’t Derail Life-Saving Innovation, January 15, 2015.
• Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change, June 30, 2014
• Law review article: “Removing Roadblocks to Intelligent Vehicles and Driverless Cars,” September 17, 2014.
• Law review article: “The Internet of Things and Wearable Technology: Addressing Privacy and Security Concerns without Derailing Innovation.”
• Ongoing blog series: Moral Panics & Technopanics
• Permissionless Innovation: The Continuing Case for Comprehensive Technological Freedom (2014)
• Slide Presentation: Policy Issues Surrounding the Internet of Things & Wearable Technology, September 12, 2014
• [Video] Cap Hill Briefing on Emerging Tech Policy Issues (June 2014)
• The Growing Conflict of Visions over the Internet of Things & Privacy, January 14, 2012
• Can We Adapt to the Internet of Things? IAPP Privacy Perspectives, June 19, 2013
• My Filing to the FTC in its ‘Internet of Things’ Proceeding, May 31, 2013

Evan Selinger, a super-sharp philosopher of technology up at the Rochester Institute of Technology, is always alerting me to interesting new essays and articles and this week he brought another important piece to my attention. It’s a short new article by Arturo Casadevall, Don Howard, and Michael J. Imperiale, entitled, “The Apocalypse as a Rhetorical Device in the Influenza Virus Gain-of-Function Debate.” The essay touches on something near and dear to my own heart: the misuse of rhetoric in debates over the risk trade-offs associated with new technology and inventions. Casadevall, Howard, and Imperiale seek to “focus on the rhetorical devices used in the debate [over infectious disease experiments] with the hope that an analysis of how the arguments are being framed can help the discussion.”

They note that “humans are notoriously poor at assessing future benefits and risks” and that this makes many people susceptible to rhetorical ploys based on the artificial inflation of risks. Their particular focus in this essay is the debate over so-called “gain-of-function” (GOF) experiments involving influenza virus, but what they have to say here about how rhetoric is being misused in that field is equally applicable to many other fields of science and the policy debates surrounding various issues. The last two paragraphs of their essay are masterful and deserve everyone’s attention:

Who has the upper hand in the GOF debate? The answer to this question will be apparent only when the history of this time is written. However, it is possible that in the near future, arguments about risk will trump arguments about benefits, because the risk of a GOF experiment unleashing a devastating epidemic plays on a well-founded human fear, while the potential benefits of the research are considerably harder to articulate. In debates about benefits and risks, arguments based on positing extreme risks, however unlikely, are powerful rhetorical devices because they play into human fears. While we all agree that the risk of a GOF experiment unleashing a deadly epidemic is not zero, such an event would be at the extreme end of the likely outcomes from GOF experimentation. Arguing against GOF on the basis of pandemic dangers is a powerful rhetorical device because anyone can understand it. The problem with the use of apocalyptic scenarios in risk-benefit analysis is that they invoke the possibility for infinite suffering, irrespective of the probability of such an event, and the prospect of infinite suffering can potentially overwhelm any good obtained from knowledge gained from such experiments. Repeatedly invoking the apocalypse can create a sophistry that we call the apocalyptic fallacy, which, when applied in a vacuum of evidence and theory, proposes consequences that are so dire, however low the probability, that this tactic can be employed to quash any new invention, technique, procedures, and/or policy. The apocalyptic fallacy is an effective rhetorical tool that is meaningless in the absence of objective numbers. We remind those who invoke the apocalypse that the DNA revolution went on to deliver a multitude of benefits without unleashing the fears of Asilomar and that the large hadron collider was turned on, the Higgs boson was discovered, the standard model in physics was validated, and we are still here. Hence, we caution individuals against overreliance on the apocalypse in the debates ahead, for rhetoric can win the day, but rhetoric never gave us a single medical advance.

This is spot-on and, again, has applicability in many other arenas. Indeed, it aligns quite nicely with what I had to say about the use and misuse of rhetoric in information technology debates in my recent law review article on “Technopanics, Threat Inflation, and the Danger of an Information Technology Precautionary Principle” (Minnesota Journal of Law, Science and Technology, Vol. 14, No. 1, Winter 2013). In that piece, I began by noting that:

Fear is an extremely powerful motivational force. In public policy debates, appeals to fear are often used in an attempt to sway opinion or bolster the case for action. Such appeals are used to convince citizens that  threats to individual or social well-being may be avoided only if specific steps are taken. Often these steps take the form of anticipatory regulation based on the precautionary principle. Such “fear appeal arguments” are frequently on display in the Internet policy arena and often take the form of a fullblown “moral panic” or “technopanic.”  These panics are intense public, political, and academic responses to the emergence or use of media or technologies, especially by the young.  In the extreme, they result in regulation or censorship. While cyberspace has its fair share of troubles and troublemakers, there is no evidence that the Internet is leading to greater problems for society than previous technologies did. That has not stopped some from suggesting there are reasons to be particularly fearful of the Internet and new digital technologies. There are various individual and institutional factors at work that perpetuate fear-based reasoning and tactics.

I continued on to document the structure of “fear appeal” arguments, and then outlined how those arguments can be deconstructed and refuted using sound analysis and real-world evidence. The logic pattern behind fear appeal arguments looks something like this (as documented by Douglas Walton, in his outstanding textbook, Fundamentals of Critical Argumentation):

• Fearful Situation Premise: Here is a situation that is fearful to you.
• Conditional Premise: If you carry out A, then the negative consequences portrayed in this fearful situation will happen to you.
• Conclusion: You should not carry out A.

In the field of rhetoric and argumentation, this logic pattern is referred to as argumentum in terrorem or argumentum ad metum. A closely related variant of this argumentation scheme is known as argumentum ad baculum, or an argument based on a threat. Argumentum ad baculum literally means “argument to the stick,” and the logic pattern in this case looks like this (again, according to Walton’s book on the subject):

• Conditional Premise: If you do not bring about A, then consequence B will occur.
• Commitment Premise: I commit myself to seeing to it that B will come about.
• Conclusion: You should bring about A.

The problem is that these logic patterns and rhetorical devices are logical fallacies or are based on outright myths. Once you start carefully unpacking arguments based on this logic pattern and applying reasoned, evidenced-based analysis, you can quickly show why the premise is not valid.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop some people (including a great many policymakers) from utilizing such faulty logic or misguided rhetorical devices. Even worse, as I note in my paper, is that,

fear appeals are facilitated by the use of threat inflation. Specifically, threat inflation involves the use of fear-inducing rhetoric to inflate artificially the potential harm a new development or technology poses to certain classes of the population, especially children, or to society or the economy at large. These rhetorical flourishes are empirically false or at least greatly blown out of proportion relative to the risk in question.

I then go on for many pages in my paper to document the use of fear appeals and threat inflation in a variety of information technology debates. I show that in every case where such tactics are common, they are unjustified once the evidence is evaluated dispassionately.  Regrettably, those who employ fear tactics and use threat inflation often don’t care because they know exactly what they are doing: The use of apocalyptic rhetoric grabs attention and sometimes ends serious deliberation. It is often an intentional ploy to scare people into action (or perhaps just into silence), even if that result is not based on a reasoned, level-headed evaluation of all the facts on hand.

The lesson here is simple: The ends do not justify the means. No matter how passionately you feel about a particular policy issue — even those that you perhaps believe potentially involve life and death ramifications — it is wise to avoid the use of apocalyptic rhetoric. Generally speaking, the sky is not falling and when one insists that it is, they should be backing up their assertions with a substantial body of evidence. Otherwise, they are just using fear appeal arguments and apocalyptic rhetoric to unnecessarily scare people and end all serious debate over issues that are likely far more complex and nuanced than their rhetoric suggests.

[For all my essays on “technopanics,” moral panics, and threat inflation, see this compendium I have assembled.]

Shane Greenstein, Kellogg Chair in Information Technology at Northwestern’s Kellogg School of Management, discusses his recent paper, Collective Intelligence and Neutral Point of View: The Case of Wikipedia , coauthored by Harvard assistant professor Feng Zhu. Greenstein and Zhu’s paper takes a look at whether Linus’ Law applies to Wikipedia articles. Do Wikipedia articles have a slant or bias? If so, how can we measure it? And, do articles become less biased over time, as more contributors become involved? Greenstein explains his findings.

Download

Related Links

• Is Wikipedia Biased?, Greenstein, Zhu
• Harvard Business School Biography, Greenstein
• Harvard Business School Biography, Zhu
• The Irony of Public Funding, The Virulent World of Mouse

… they are going to try to recreate the Archimedes Death Ray. [GeekDad has the report.] Anyone who ever fried ants on the sidewalk using a magnifying glass as a kid will want to tune in! [Note: They tried it once before on a smaller scale, but the new experiment is much more grand.]

[Seriously, MythBusters is the best science show on TV in years. I make my kids watch it with me.]

Don’t judge a book by its cover (or its title, for that matter). I’m usually faithful to that maxim, but I must admit that when I first saw the title and cover of “<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grand-Theft-Childhood-Surprising-Violent/dp/0743299515/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1208179493&sr=8-1″>Grand Theft Childhood: The Surprising Truth About Violent Video Games and What Parents Can Do,” I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, “here we go again.” I figured that I was in for another tedious anti-gaming screed full of myths and hysteria about games and gamers. Boy, was I wrong. Massively wrong.