Slate recently published an astonishing piece of revisionist history under the title, “Bring Back the Golden Age of Broadcast Regulation,” which suggested that the old media regulatory model of the past would be appropriate for modern digital media providers and platforms. In the essay, April Glaser suggests that policymakers should resurrect the Fairness Doctrine and a host of old Analog Era content controls to let regulatory bureaucrats address Digital Age content moderation concerns.

In a tweetstorm, I highlighted a few examples of why the so-called Golden Era wasn’t so golden in practice. I began by noting that the piece ignores the troubling history of FCC speech controls and unintended consequences of regulation. That regime gave us limited, bland choices–and a whole host of First Amendment violations. We moved away from that regulatory model for very good reasons.

For those glorifying the Fairness Doctrine, I encourage them to read the great Nat Hentoff’s excellent essay, “The History & Possible Revival of the Fairness Doctrine,” about the real-world experience of life under the FCC’s threatening eye. Hentoff notes:

Others were harassed in ways that were both humorous and horrifying. For example, go back and review the amazing FCC (and FBI!) investigation of The Kingsmen’s song “Louie Louie,” due to fears about its unintelligible lyrics:

Or go back and read former CBS president Fred Friendly’s 1975 book (The Good Guys, the Bad Guys & the First Amendment) about abuses of the Fairness Doctrine during both Republican and Democratic administrations. This stuff from Kennedy years, which I summarized in old book, is quite shocking:

And then there was the “golden era” of broadcast regulation under Nixon, where regulatory harassment intensified to counter what had happened during Democratic administrations. Here’s Jesse Walker summarizing those dark days:

Also read Tom Hazlett on the Nixon years and all the broadcast meddling that happened on a ongoing basis. “License harassment of stations considered unfriendly to the Administration became a regular item on the agenda at White House policy meetings,” he notes. And then even the Smothers Brothers became victims!

This is how Tom Hazlett perfectly summarized the choice before us regarding whether to let regulatory bureaucracies decide what is “fair” in media. This is exactly the same question we should be asking today when people suggest reviving the old “golden era” media control regime.

Keep in mind, the examples of content meddling cited here most involve the Fairness Doctrine. Indecency rules, the Financial Interest and Syndication Rules, and other FCC policies gave politicians others levers of exerting influence and control over speech. The meddling was endless.

This was no “Golden Era” or broadcast regulation–unless, that is, you prefer bland, boring, limited choices and endless bureaucratic harassment of media. No amount of wishful thinking or revisionist history can counter the hard realities of that dismal era in our nation’s history. We should wholeheartedly and vociferously reject calls to resurrect it.

Over the course of the year, I collect some of my favorite (and least favorite) tech policy essays and put them together in an end-of-year blog post so I will remember notable essays in the future. (Here’s my list from 2013.) Here are some of the best tech policy essays I read in 2014 (in chronological order).

• Joel Mokyr – “The Next Age of Invention,” City Journal, Winter 2014. (An absolutely beautiful refutation of the technological pessimism that haunts our age. Mokry concludes by noting that, “technology will continue to develop and change human life and society at a rate that may well dwarf even the dazzling developments of the twentieth century. Not everyone will like the disruptions that this progress will bring. The concern that what we gain as consumers, viewers, patients, and citizens, we may lose as workers is fair. The fear that this progress will create problems that no one can envisage is equally realistic. Yet technological progress still beats the alternatives; we cannot do without it.” Mokyr followed it up with a terrific August 8 Wall Street Journal oped, “What Today’s Economic Gloomsayers Are Missing.“)
• Michael Moynihan – “ Can a Tweet Put You in Prison? It Certainly Will in the UK ,”  The Daily Beast , January 23, 2014. (Great essay on the right and wrong way to fight online hate. Here’s the kicker: “There is a presumption that ugly ideas are contagious and if the already overburdened police force could only disinfect the Internet, racism would dissipate. This is arrant nonsense.”)
• Hanni Fakhoury –  “ The U.S. Crackdown on Hackers Is Our New War on Drugs,” Wired , January 23, 2014. (“We shouldn’t let the government’s fear of computers justify disproportionate punishment. . . . It’s time for the government to learn from its failed 20th century experiment over-punishing drugs and start making sensible decisions about high-tech punishment in the 21st century.”)
• Carole Cadwalladr – “Meet Cody Wilson, Creator of the 3D-gun, Anarchist, Libertarian,” Guardian/Observer, February 8, 2014. (Entertaining profile of one of the modern digital age’s most fascinating characters. “There are enough headlines out there which ask: Is Cody Wilson a terrorist? Though my favourite is the one that asks: ‘Cody Wilson: troll, genius, patriot, provocateur, anarchist, attention whore, gun nut or Second Amendment champion.’ Though it could have added, ‘Or b) all of the above?'”)

• Michael Sacasas – “What Are We Talking About When We Talk About Technology?” February 14, 2014, and “Traditions of Technological Criticism,” February 15, 2014. (Sacasas continues his discussion of differing conceptions of the term “technology.” In the process, he surveys a wide swath of technology theorists & critics and then offers a rough taxonomy grouping them in various ways. Terrifically interesting. Note: I used Michael’s posts as the launching point for a blog post of my own on, “Defining ‘Technology.'”)
• Glenn Garvin – “TV’s Deregulated Golden Age: Why so few critics understand what made HBO possible,” Reason, February 2014. (Garvin explains how freedom to innovate was the key ingredient in unleashing the modern Golden Age of television. I love the opening lines: “For decades, no art form was more meticulously regulated by the government than television. For decades, no art form was more relentlessly bashed by its critics. Amazingly, nobody ever seems to make a connection between these two facts.” So damn true.)
• Antonis Polemitis – “Bitcoin Series 19: Bizarre Shadowy Paper-Based Payment System Being Rolled Out Worldwide,” Ledra Capital blog, February 17, 2014. (An absolutely epic satire of the Bitcoin technopanic. Hugely entertaining.)
• Eli Dourado – “Why the Left Doesn’t Have to Hate Innovation,” The Umlaut, April 2, 2014. (A sharp response to an Evgeny Morozov rant about innovation policy.)
• John Villasenor – “The Future Of Innovation: Five Things We Can Learn From Bitcoin,” Forbes, May 12, 2014. (Offers “five things that the growth of cryptocurrencies can teach us about the future of innovation.”)
• Marc Andreesen – “This is Probably a Good Time to Say That I Don’t Believe Robots Will Eat All the Jobs…,” Andreessen Horowitz blog, June 13, 2014. (Andreessen single-handedly revolutionized Twitter posting style in 2014 with his “Twitterstorm” format of essentially blogging via multi-part tweets. His mini-manifestos are powerful stuff, and none were better than this one, which he thankfully transcribed and posted to his firm’s blog. In it, he lays out the optimistic case for robotic automation and the many benefits he believes it will bring to society.)
• Adam Thierer – “Muddling Through: How We Learn to Cope with Technological Change,” Medium, June 30, 2014. (Is it wrong to put one of my own essays on this list. Probably! But I am quite proud of this one and, if nothing else, I hope it offers others a good reading list on the topic. Specifically, the essay surveys the extensive writing on “heaven” and “hell” scenarios about the impact of technological change on society.)
• Peter W. Singer & Allan Friedman, “The 5 Biggest Cybersecurity Myths, Debunked,” Wired, July 2, 2014. (Singer & Friedman inject some much-needed sanity back into the techno-panicky debates over cybersecurity and “cyberwar.”)
• Daniel Akst, “What Can We Learn From Past Anxiety Over Automation?” Wilson Quarterly, Summer 2014. (A nice look back at a century’s worth of hand-wringing over the looming threat of automation and job-displacement.)
• Clive Thompson, “How a 1974 sci-fi novel for teens eerily predicted the rise of personal drones,” Medium, September 5, 2014. (Probably my favorite essay of the year since Clive manages to combine lessons from one my favorite childhood books along with my current fascination with “precautionary principle” thinking. Splendid writing, as always, from Thompson.)
• Jason Feifer, “The Internet is Not Harming You. Here’s What’s Harmful: Fearmongering about the Internet,” Fast Company, November 2014. (“Falsely romanticizing the past allows us to think that we stand at a threshold as some last vestige of better, tech-disconnected humans. The truth is that as culture evolves our priorities change as well.”)
• Adam Elkus – “Don’t Fear Artificial Intelligence,” Slate, October 31, 2014. (Elkus pushes back against what he regards as the growing technopanic over artificial intelligence.)
• Steven Johnson – “We’re living the dream; we just don’t realize it,” CNN, November 28, 2014.  (“Americans enjoy longer, healthier lives in more stable families and communities than we did 20 years ago. But other than the crime trends, these facts are rarely reported or shared via word-of-mouth channels.”)
• Blake Ross – “Uber.gov: It’s Time to Let the Government Drive,” Medium, December 2, 2014. (A fun tongue-and-cheek piece about just how badly Las Vegas, Nevada — like many other governments — have mangled their “consumer protection” mandate when it comes to transportation services.)

And my nominees for Worst Tech Policy Essays of 2014 go to:

• Evgeny Morozov – “Stunt the Growth” (As the old saying goes, you can’t put lipstick on a pig, but preeminent techno-crank Evgeny Morozov certainly tries his darnedest to dress up Ludditism and make it sexy in this elitist rant endorsing a “degrowth” movement for the world of information technology.)
• Anthony Weiner – “Here’s What Tesla And The Other Silicon Valley ‘Disruptors’ Don’t Get About Politics” (An astonishing defense of cronyist and protectionist state laws that harm consumer welfare. In essence, Weiner says that disruptive entrepreneurs should just shut up on get on with the business of playing ball with politicians and regulators. Don’t rock the boat, you damn innovators!)
• Richard Eskow – “Let’s nationalize Amazon and Google: Publicly funded technology built Big Tech” (Yes, some people still think converting tech companies into public utilities is a good idea. Do I really need to explain why that’s such a bad idea? OK, well I did in this 62-page paper!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Problems with Precautionary Regulation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Problems with a Federal Robotics Commission

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

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

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

Will It Really Just Be an Advisory Body?

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

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

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

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

Public Choice / Regulatory Capture Problems

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can We Clean Up Old Messes Before Building More Bureaucracies?

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

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

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

Do We Become Global Innovation Leaders Through Bureaucratic Direction?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Alternative Approach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Additional Reading

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

In a New York Times op-ed this weekend entitled “You Can’t Say That on the Internet,” Evgeny Morozov, author of The Net Delusion, worries that Silicon Valley is imposing a “deeply conservative” “new prudishness” on modern society. The cause, he says, are “dour, one-dimensional algorithms, the mathematical constructs that automatically determine the limits of what is culturally acceptable.” He proposes that some form of external algorithmic auditing be undertaken to counter this supposed problem. Here’s how he puts it in the conclusion of his essay:

Quaint prudishness, excessive enforcement of copyright, unneeded damage to our reputations: algorithmic gatekeeping is exacting a high toll on our public life. Instead of treating algorithms as a natural, objective reflection of reality, we must take them apart and closely examine each line of code. Can we do it without hurting Silicon Valley’s business model? The world of finance, facing a similar problem, offers a clue. After several disasters caused by algorithmic trading earlier this year, authorities in Hong Kong and Australia drafted proposals to establish regular independent audits of the design, development and modifications of computer systems used in such trades. Why couldn’t auditors do the same to Google? Silicon Valley wouldn’t have to disclose its proprietary algorithms, only share them with the auditors. A drastic measure? Perhaps. But it’s one that is proportional to the growing clout technology companies have in reshaping not only our economy but also our culture.

It should be noted that in a Slate essay this past January, Morozov had also proposed that steps be taken to root out lies, deceptions, and conspiracy theories on the Internet.  Morozov was particularly worried about “denialists of global warming or benefits of vaccination,” but he also wondered how we might deal with 9/11 conspiracy theorists, the anti-Darwinian intelligent design movement, and those that refuse to accept the link between HIV and AIDS.

To deal with that supposed problem, he recommended that Google “come up with a database of disputed claims” or “exercise a heavier curatorial control in presenting search results,” to weed out such things. He suggested that the other option “is to nudge search engines to take more responsibility for their index and exercise a heavier curatorial control in presenting search results for issues” that someone (he never says who) determines to be conspiratorial or anti-scientific in nature.

Taken together, these essays can be viewed as a preliminary sketch of what could become a comprehensive information control apparatus instituted at the code layer of the Internet. Morozov absolutely refuses to be nailed down on the details of that system, however. In a response to his earlier Slate essay, I argued that Morozov seemed to be advocating some sort of Ministry of Truth for online search, although he came up short on the details of who or what should play that role. But in both that piece and his New York Times essay this weekend, he implies that greater oversight and accountability are necessary.  “Is it time for some kind of a quality control system [for the Internet]?” he asked in his Slate oped. Perhaps it would be the algorithmic auditors he suggests in his new essay. But who, exactly, are those auditors? What is the scope of their powers?

When I (and others) made inquiries via Twitter requesting greater elaboration on these questions, Morozov summarily dismissed any conversation on the point. Worse yet, he engaged in what is becoming a regular Morozov debating tactic on Twitter: nasty, sarcastic, dismissive responses that call into question the intellectual credentials of anyone who even dares to ask him a question about his proposals.  Unless you happen to be Bruno Latour — the obtuse French sociologist and media theorist who Morozov showers with boundless, adorning praise — you can usually count on Morozov to dismiss you and your questions or concerns in a fairly peremptory fashion.

I’m perplexed by what leads Morozov to behave so badly. When I first met him a couple of years ago, it was at a Georgetown University event he invited me to speak at. He seemed like an agreeable, even charming, fellow in person. But on Twitter, Morozov bears his fangs at every juncture and spits out venomous missives and retorts that I would call sophomoric except that it would be an insult to sophomores everywhere. Morozov even accuses me of “trolling” him whenever I ask him questions on Twitter, even though I am doing nothing more that posing the same sort of hard questions to him that he regularly poses to others (albeit in a much more snarky fashion).  He always seems eager to dish it out, but then throws a Twitter temper tantrum whenever the roles are reversed and the tough questions come his way. Perhaps Morozov is miffed by some of what I had to say in my mixed review of his first book, The Net Delusion, or my Forbes column that raised questions about his earlier proposal for an Internet “quality control” regime.  But I invite others to closely read the tone of those two essays and tell me whether I said anything to warrant Morozov’s wrath. (In fact, I actually said some nice things about his book in that review and later named it the most important information technology policy book of the year.)

Regardless of what motivates his behavior, I do not think it is unreasonable to ask for more substantive responses from Morozov when he is making grand pronouncements and recommendations about how online culture and commerce should be governed. The best I could get him to say on Twitter is that is that he only had 1,200 words to play with in his latest Times oped and that more details about his proposal would be forthcoming. Well, in the spirit of getting that conversation going, allow me to outline a few questions:

1)      What is the specific harm here that needs to be addressed?

• Do you have evidence of systematic algorithmic manipulation or abuse by Google, Apple, or anyone else, for that matter? Or is this all just about a handful of anecdotes that seemed to be corrected fairly quickly?

2)      What standard or metric should we use to determine the extent of this problem, to the extent we determine it is a problem at all?

• To the extent autocomplete results are what troubles you, can you explain how individuals or entities are “harmed” by those results?
• If this is about reputation, what is your theory of reputational harm and when it is legally actionable?
• If this is about informational quality or “truth,” can you explain what would constitute success?
• Can you appreciate the concerns / values on the other side of this that might motivate some degree of algorithmic tailoring? For example, some digital intermediaries may seek to curb the use of a certain amount of vulgarity, hate speech, or other offensive content on their sites since they are broad-based platforms with diverse audiences. (That’s why most search providers default to “moderate” filtering for image searches, for example.) While I think we both favor maximizing free speech online, do you accept that some of this private speech and content balancing is entirely rational and has, to some extent, always gone on? Also, aren’t there plenty of other ways to find the content you’re looking for besides just Google, which you seem preoccupied with?

3)      What is the proposed remedy and what are its potential costs and unintended consequences?

• Can you explain the mechanism of control that you would like to see put in place to remedy this supposed problem? Would it be a formal regulatory regime?
• Have you considered the costs and /or potentially unintended consequences associated with an algorithmic auditing regime if it takes on a regulatory character?
• For example, if you are familiar with how long many regulatory proceedings can take to run their course, do you not fear the consequences of interminable delays and political gaming?
• How often should the “auditing” you propose take place? Would it be a regular affair, or would it be driven by complaints?

4)      Is this regime national in scope? Global? How will it be coordinated /administered?

• In the United States, presumably the Federal Communications Commission or Federal Trade Commission would be granted new authority to carry out algorithmic audits, or would a new entity need to be created?
• Is additional regulatory oversight necessary and, if so, how is this coordinated by nationally and globally?

5)      Are there freedom of speech / censorship considerations that flow from (3) and (4)?

• At least in the United States, algorithmic audits that had the force of law behind them could raise serious freedom of speech concerns. (See Yoo’s paper on “architectural censorship” and the recent work of Volokh & Grimmelmann on search regulation) and long-settled First Amendment law (see, e.g., Tornillo) ensures that editorial discretion is housed in private hands. How would you propose we get around these legal obstacles?

6)      Are there less-restrictive alternatives to administrative regulation?

• Might we be able to devise various alternative dispute resolution techniques to flag problems and deal with them in a non-regulatory / non-litigious fashion?
• Could voluntary industry best practices and/or codes of conduct be developed to assist these efforts?
• Could an entity like the Broadband Internet Technical Advisory Group (BITAG) help sort out “neutrality” claims in this context, as they do in the broadband context?
• Might it be the case that social norms and pressure can keep this problem in check? The very act of shining light on silly algorithmic screw-ups — much as you have in your recent opeds — has a way of keeping this problem in check.

I hope that Morozov finds these questions to be reasonable. My skepticism of most Internet regulation is no secret, so I suppose that Morozov or others might attempt to dismiss some of these questions as the paranoid delusions of a wild-eyed libertarian. But I suspect that I’m not the only one who feels uneasy with Morozov’s proposals since they could open the door to regulators across the globe to engage in “algorithmic auditing” on the flimsy assumption that some great harm exists from a few silly autocomplete suggestions or a couple conspiratorial websites. We deserve answers to questions like these before we start calling in the Code Cops to assume greater control over online speech.

I enjoyed this Wall Street Journal essay by Daniel H. Wilson on “The Terrifying Truth About New Technology.”  It touches on many of the themes I’ve discussed here in my essays on techno-panics, fears about information overload, and the broader battle throughout history between technology optimists and pessimists regarding the impact of new technologies on culture, life, and learning. Wilson correctly notes that:

The fear of the never-ending onslaught of gizmos and gadgets is nothing new. The radio, the telephone, Facebook — each of these inventions changed the world. Each of them scared the heck out of an older generation. And each of them was invented by people who were in their 20s.

He continues:

Young people adapt quickly to the most absurd things. Consider the social network Foursquare, in which people not only willingly broadcast their location to the world but earn goofy virtual badges for doing so. My first impulse was to ignore Foursquare—for the rest of my life, if I have to. And that’s the problem. As we get older, the process of adaptation slows way down. Unfortunately, we depend on alternating waves of assimilation and accommodation to adapt to a constantly changing world. For [developmental psychologist Jean] Piaget, this balance between what’s in the mind and what’s in the environment is called equilibrium. It’s pretty obvious when equilibrium breaks down. For example, my grandmother has phone numbers taped to her cellphone. Having grown up with the Rolodex (a collection of numbers stored next to the phone), she doesn’t quite grasp the concept of putting the numbers in the phone. Why are we so nostalgic about the technology we grew up with? Old people say things like: “This new technology is stupid. I liked (new, digital) technology X better when it was called (old, analog) technology Y. Why, back in my day….” Which leads inexorably to, “I just don’t get it.”

There’s a simple explanation for this phenomenon: “adventure window.” At a certain age, that which is familiar and feels safe becomes more important to you than that which is new, different, and exciting. Think of it as “set-in-your-ways syndrome.”

I first heard the term “adventure window” on an NPR program back in 2006 during a wonderful Robert Krulwich spot entitled “Does Age Quash Our Spirit of Adventure?” Krulwich’s piece featured a neuroscientist who had been studying why it is that humans (indeed, all mammals) have an innate tendency to lose their willingness to try new things after a certain point in their lives. He called this our “adventure window.” The neuroscientist came to study this phenomenon after growing increasingly annoyed with his young male research assistant, who would come to work every day of the week listening to something new and quite different than the day before. Meanwhile, the much older neuroscience professor lamented the fact that he had been listening to the same Bob Marley tape seemingly forever.

Simply stated, our willingness to try new things and experiment with new forms of culture — our “adventure window” — fades rapidly after certain key points in life, as we gradually get set in our ways. For the professor and many of the rest of us, our adventure window comes slamming shut sometime in our mid-30s.

This is doubly interesting to me because it provides another explanation for why one generation protests an older generation’s censorial ways only to themselves become advocates of repressing the next generation’s culture and technology when they grow older.  Many cultural critics and average folk alike always seem to think the best days are behind us and the current good-for-nothing generation and their new-fangled gadgets and culture are garbage. This is the reason I opened my old report on “Parental Controls & Online Child Protection” in the following way:

What effect does media exposure have on our children? That question has generated heated debates from one generation to the next. From the waltz to rock and roll to rap music, from movies to comic books to video games, from radio and television to the Internet and social networking websites — every new media format or technology spawns a fresh debate about the potential negative effects it might have on kids. Parents, educators, academics, social scientists, media pundits, and many others all offer their opinions, but rarely is any consensus reached.

“These concerns stretch back to the birth of literacy itself,” notes Vaughan Bell in his excellent Slate essay from February 2010 entitled, “Don’t Touch That Dial! A History of Media Technology Scares, from the Printing Press to Facebook.”  Bell observed:

Worries about information overload are as old as information itself, with each generation reimagining the dangerous impacts of technology on mind and brain. From a historical perspective, what strikes home is not the evolution of these social concerns, but their similarity from one century to the next, to the point where they arrive anew with little having changed except the label.

Indeed, as I point out in my old “Net optimists vs. pessimisms” essay and subsequent book chapter, you can actually trace this debate all the way back to the well-known allegorical tale from Plato’s Phaedrus about the dangers of the written word. The debate between King Thamus and the god Theuth has been the template for every debate about culture and technology that has followed.  Read it for yourself and see.  Basically, King Thamus’ adventure window had slammed shut and the spoken tradition of learning was where he wanted progress to stop. Theuth stressed the benefits of a new technology — writing — for memory and learning.

And so the debate continues. It will never end.

Ryan Radia brought to my attention this excellent Slate piece by Vaughan Bell entitled, “Don’t Touch That Dial! A History of Media Technology Scares, from the Printing Press to Facebook.” It touches on many of the themes I’ve discussed here in my essays on techno-panics, fears about information overload, and the broader optimists v. pessimist battle throughout history regarding the impact of new technologies on culture, life and learning. “These concerns stretch back to the birth of literacy itself,” Bell rightly notes:

Worries about information overload are as old as information itself, with each generation reimagining the dangerous impacts of technology on mind and brain. From a historical perspective, what strikes home is not the evolution of these social concerns, but their similarity from one century to the next, to the point where they arrive anew with little having changed except the label.

Quite right. And Bell’s essay reminds us of this gem from the great Douglas Adams about how bad we humans are at putting technological change in perspective:

Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works. Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things.

So true, and I wish I would have remembered it before I wrapped up my discussion about “adventure windows” in the review of Jaron Lanier’s new book, You Are Not a Gadget, which I published last night. As I noted in that essay:

Our willingness to try new things and experiment with new forms of culture—our “adventure window”—fades rapidly after certain key points in life, as we gradually get set in our ways. Many cultural critics and average folk alike always seem to think the best days are behind us and the current good-for-nothing generation and their new-fangled gadgets and culture are garbage.

Perhaps most important is Bell’s indictment of the science—or complete lack thereof behind—the chicken-littleism:

These fears have also appeared in feature articles for more serious publications: Nicolas Carr’s influential article “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” for the Atlantic suggested the Internet was sapping our attention and stunting our reasoning; the Times of London article “Warning: brain overload” said digital technology is damaging our ability to empathize; and a piece in the New York Times titled “The Lure of Data: Is It Addictive?” raised the question of whether technology could be causing attention deficit disorder. All of these pieces have one thing in common—they mention not one study on how digital technology is affecting the mind and brain. They tell anecdotes about people who believe they can no longer concentrate, talk to scientists doing peripherally related work, and that’s it. Imagine if the situation in Afghanistan were discussed in a similar way. You could write 4,000 words for a major media outlet without ever mentioning a relevant fact about the war. Instead, you’d base your thesis on the opinions of your friends and the guy down the street who works in the kebab shop. He’s actually from Turkey, but it’s all the same, though, isn’t it? There is, in fact, a host of research that directly tackles these issues. To date, studies suggest there is no consistent evidence that the Internet causes mental problems. If anything, the data show that people who use social networking sites actually tend to have better offline social lives, while those who play computer games are better than nongamers at absorbing and reacting to information with no loss of accuracy or increased impulsiveness.

Amen!

Interesting piece by Farhad Manjoo of Slate today entitled “So Gmail Was Down. Get Over It.” Manjoo notes that Google’s Gmail service went down briefly this week — for an hour and a half — and that led to a lot of people “freaking out” over the downtime. He asks” “Google’s e-mail service works 99.9 percent of time. Why do we freak out during the other 0.1 percent?”

That’s an good question, but I actually didn’t hear all that many people bitching about it this time around. In fact, I am rather surprised how little I heard about this incident. I think that’s because many of us are gradually growing accustomed to a world in which communications networks and digital devices deliver something less than the holy grail of “five 9s” uptime.  That was the standard for telephony and computing in the world I grew up in: 99.999% was the magic number that network engineers aspired to and that many of us in the public generally demanded.

Today, however, we settle for something less.  As Manjoo’s piece about Gmail suggests, we’ll settle “three 9s,” as in 99.9% reliability.  And sometimes we’ll settle for far less than that. Why is that?  I think Robert Capps has part of the answer in his recent Wired essay, “The Good Enough Revolution: When Cheap and Simple Is Just Fine.” Capps points out the modern Digital Age has seen the “triumph of what might be called Good Enough tech.  Cheap, fast, simple tools are suddenly everywhere.” He continues:

So what happened? Well, in short, technology happened. The world has sped up, become more connected and a whole lot busier. As a result, what consumers want from the products and services they buy is fundamentally changing. We now favor flexibility over high fidelity, convenience over features, quick and dirty over slow and polished. Having it here and now is more important than having it perfect. These changes run so deep and wide, they’re actually altering what we mean when we describe a product as “high-quality.”  And it’s happening everywhere.

I think that much is obvious. The triumph of “Good Enough” can be seen most notably in how we make phone calls today. Whether its the cell phone call that breaks up or drops out mid conversation, or the Skype call that sounds like two tin cans connected by string, the bottom line is we settle for something far less reliable today than we did in the past. When I was a kid growing up in rural Illinois and Indiana in the 70s, phones were blocky, all black, and plenty expensive. But they worked just fine. The call sounded great. I sometimes long for that quality today when struggling to put together a podcast and having to live with horrendous Skype quality problems.  Or when I am trying to listen to a conference call on my cell phone only to have the call dropped a couple of times, requiring me to call back in several times.

Robert Capps points out we have all made similar trade-offs for music. As an audiophile, I am just sick about the decline of high-quality music. The MP3 revolution has been marvelous in many ways, but the underlying quality of the music’s reproduction is not one of them.  Those of us with high-end audio equipment would be happy to do an “A/B” test for you non-believers any day of the week and show you just how lame over-compressed MP3s and satellite radio sound compared to CDs or, better yet, glorious old vinyl LPs!

But we live with these trade-offs because, as Capps suggests, flexibility, convenience and cost have improved so much.  Who doesn’t love the idea of carrying your entire music collection in your pocket on a media player or mobile phone that is smaller than a deck of cards?  And we all really like the sound of that when the the price is so nice; as in constantly falling. The price of communications connectivity and digital media have both plummeted in real terms compared to the past.

Thus, incidents like Gmail’s brief outage this week are likely to become less concerning for most of us as time goes on. Gmail a great free service that works great 99.9% of that time.  And that’s plenty good enough for most of us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus, I went on to argue that:

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

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

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

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

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

A key point that Berin and I try to get across in our Forbes editorial today about the Yahoo!-Microsoft deal is that the high-tech marketplace evolves too rapidly for creaky Analog Era antitrust laws to keep up. We wanted to say more on that point in our piece, but we had a tight deadline (and a strict word limit!)  Well, turns out that we really don’t need to do so now because Farhad Manjoo of Slate has done a better job than we ever could have making that point in this essay today entitled, “The Case Against the Case Against Google“:

But if the government was right on the facts [in the Microsoft case], it was wrong on the big picture. The theory behind the prosecution was that Microsoft’s mobster tactics would raise the price of software and slow down innovation. But that didn’t happen. In 2002, Microsoft settled the antitrust case with the Bush administration; it faced no substantial penalties for its years of bad behavior. At that point, it still looked unbeatable—it had the same OS monopoly, office-software monopoly, and Web-browser monopoly. And you know what happened? It got beat anyway. Many of Microsoft’s assets turned out not to matter, because upstarts like Google and old foes like Apple found ways to innovate around them.

Indeed, in many ways Microsoft’s size was a liability, not an asset. This is the classic innovator’s dilemma; the company was so intent on protecting its cash cows—it derives most of its revenue from two products, Windows and Office—that it was blind to opportunities in new markets. Microsoft couldn’t make a Web e-mail system like Gmail, because that would have threatened Outlook. And why should Microsoft bother with free online word processing apps when Office was doing so well? When journalist Steven Levy showed Bill Gates the first iPod, Gates’ first reaction was, “It’s only for Macintosh?” Gates saw the iPod through the lens of desktop computers; if the iPod connected only to Macs, it didn’t pose a threat to Microsoft. What he didn’t figure out was that the iPod would herald the iTunes Store, allowing Apple to become not only the most influential entertainment company in the world, but also the dominant software maker for mobile devices. Yes, the first iPod didn’t work on Windows. In time, it would help render Windows irrelevant.

Exactly right. Antitrust advocates have often failed to appreciate that markets are evolutionary and dynamic, and when those markets are built upon code, the pace and nature of change becomes unrelenting and utterly unpredictable.

“Liberty upsets patterns.” That was one of the many lessons that the late Harvard philosopher Robert Nozick taught us in his 1974 masterpiece “Anarchy, State, and Utopia.” What Nozick meant was that there is a fundamental tension between liberty and egalitarianism such that when people are left to their own devices, some forms of inequality would be inevitable and persistent throughout society. (Correspondingly, any attempt to force patterns, or outcomes, upon society requires a surrender of liberty.)

No duh, right? Most people understand this today–even if some of them are all too happy to hand their rights over to the government in exchange for momentary security or some other promise.  In the world of media policy, however, many people still labor under the illusion that liberty and patterned equality are somehow reconcilable. That is, some media policy utopians and Internet pollyannas would like us to believe that if you give every man, woman, and child a platform on which to speak, everyone will be equally heard.  Moreover, in pursuit of that goal, some of them argue government should act to “upset patterns” and push to achieve more “balanced” media outcomes. That is the philosophy that has guided the “media access” movement for decades and it what fuels the “media reformista” movement that is led by groups like the (inappropriately named) Free Press, which was founded by neo-Marxist media theorist Robert McChesney.

Alas, perfect media equality remains an illusive pipe dream. As I have pointed out here before, there has never been anything close to “equal outcomes” when it comes to the distribution or relative success of books, magazines, music, movies, book sales, theater tickets, etc.  A small handful of titles have always dominated, usually according to a classic “power law” or “80-20” distribution, with roughly 20% of the titles getting 80% of the traffic / revenue.  And this trend is increasing, not decreasing, for newer and more “democratic” online media.

For example, recent research has revealed that “the top 10% of prolific Twitter users accounted for over 90% of tweets” and  “the top 15% of the most prolific [Wkipedia] editors account for 90% of Wikipedia’s edits.” As Clay Shirky taught us back in 2003 in this classic essay, the same has long held true for blogging, where outcomes are radically inegalitarian, with a tiny number of blogs getting the overwhelming volume of blogosphere attention.  The reason, Shirky pointed out, is that:

In systems where many people are free to choose between many options, a small subset of the whole will get a disproportionate amount of traffic (or attention, or income), even if no members of the system actively work towards such an outcome. This has nothing to do with moral weakness, selling out, or any other psychological explanation. The very act of choosing, spread widely enough and freely enough, creates a power law distribution.

The latest proof of the persistence of power laws in the media world comes from Slate’s Chris Wilson, who recently analyzed traffic distribution over on YouTube to answer the question: “Will My Video Get 1 Million Views on YouTube?” Alas, YouTube proves every bit as anti-egalitarian as every other media platform throughout history:

This is the great promise of YouTube: Your video can soar in popularity through sheer word-of mouth—or rather, click-of-mouth—until eventually people are making T-shirts about it. No one ever said this was going to happen for everyone. So, what are your chances of achieving YouTube stardom? I crunched the numbers to find out what percentage of YouTube videos hit it big, cracking even 10,000 or 100,000 views. The results: You might have better odds playing the lottery than of becoming a viral video sensation.

And after he runs the numbers to show how such a small percentage of videos dominate YouTube, Wilson goes on to note:

These figures certainly don’t ratify the grand promise of social media. Not everyone uses YouTube to launch their showbiz or political career, but the potential to do so is central to the Web 2.0 narrative that figures in so many newsmagazine panegyrics. When the odds of even 1,000 people viewing your video in a month’s time are only 3 percent, however, it’s tough to argue that hitting it big on YouTube is anything more than dumb luck. You could argue that this is the way it’s always been in show biz, and you’d be right. But wasn’t the Web supposed to change all that?

Indeed, why is that?  After all, as Wilson suggests, the Internet, blogs, social networks, Twitter, YouTube, and so on, were the revolutionary platforms that were supposed to democratize all media and give everyone a fighting chance to be heard.  Instead, power laws and media inequality have proven relentlessly persistent.  Here’s how I explained why this is the case in an earlier essay:

There are several reasons that power laws always exist in all media contexts. We used to think it was because the economics of media are quite different than most other industries. Namely, media industries typically exhibit “public good” qualities; high fixed (production costs), but lower distribution costs.  But the primary reason why power laws are probably more prevent in media industries than other sectors of the economy is because the creation and consumption of news and popular culture is a truly social phenomenon. Think of it as the economics of popular choice and the sociology of fashion and fads. People (and consumers) react to what others are reading or watching. Word-of-mouth counts. Bandwagon effects exist. First-mover advantages are significant. And so on.  The end result is a hopeless imbalance of outcomes or outputs.  Media egalitarianism is simply an impossibility.

OK, so now that I’ve said all this and rained on the New-Media-Will-Produce-Perfect-Outcomes-Parade, let me explain why NONE OF THIS MAKES A DAMN BIT OF DIFFERENCE.   What is really important is equality of media opportunity, not equality of media outcomes.  A focus on the latter is both foolish and destructive. It is foolish because media equality is an impossibility absent extreme measures, which in turn explains why it is destructive. We would need totalitarian government controls on media outputs and consumption in order to achieve anything remotely close to “balance” or “equality” in terms of media results.

Again, all that really counts is that people have a chance to be heard, not whether millions are listening.  New media platforms really do change some things for the better because at least we now all have an equal chance to make a go at it and grab a bit of that audience. That’s certainly more than could be said back in the old analog media world, in which we suffered from outlet scarcity and information poverty. Today, by contrast, will live in a wonderful world of media abundance, where every man, woman, and child really does have a soapbox on which to stand and speak to the world.

Of course, no one may be listening.  And there will always be someone else who will nab greater audience share than you.

Get used to it. It is the way the media world has always worked, and it is the way every media platform will work until the end of time.  So long as citizens are free to choose, media inequality is inevitable.

A classic piece here by Farhad Manjoo of Slate about how “the Internet of 1996 is almost unrecognizable compared with what we have today.”  It’s a fun look back at just how far the Internet has come over the past 13 years.  I love this passage:

We all know that the Internet has changed radically since the ’90s, but there’s something dizzying about going back to look at how people spent their time 13 years ago. Sifting through old Web pages today is a bit like playing video games from the 1970s; the fun is in considering how awesome people thought they were, despite all that was missing. In 1996, just 20 million American adults had access to the Internet, about as many as subscribe to satellite radio today. The dot-com boom had already begun on Wall Street– Netscape went public in 1995 — but what’s striking about the old Web is how unsure everyone seemed to be about what the new medium was for. Small innovations drove us wild: Look at those animated dancing cats! Hey, you can get the weather right from your computer! In an article ranking the best sites of ’96, Time gushed that Amazon.com let you search for books “by author, subject or title” and “read reviews written by other Amazon readers and even write your own.” Whoopee. The very fact that Time had to publish a list of top sites suggests lots of people were mystified by the Web. What was this place? What should you do here? Time recommended that in addition to buying books from Amazon, “cybernauts” should read Salon, search for recipes on Epicurious, visit the Library of Congress, and play the Kevin Bacon game.

God, do you remember those days?  I sure do.  I penned a piece last month about the amazing technological progress we have witnessed over the past decade.

Meanwhile, we have a whole town full of clowns here in DC looking to regulate the Internet and digital technology for one reason or another.  All these would-be regulators need to step back and appreciate just how well markets have been working and why regulation would be a disaster for technological progress. Viva la (Technology) Revolution!

Interesting article here (“Not All Information Wants to Be Free“) by Jack Shafer of Slate. He notes that many people focus on why “pay wall” business models don’t work online, but few people discuss those models that do (i.e., the ones that successfully get customers to pay for access to content behind the wall).  Shafer walks through some of the ones that have worked and concludes:

Not all successful paid sites are alike, but they all share at least one of these attributes: 1) They are so amazing as to be irreplaceable. 2) They are beautifully designed and executed and extremely easy to use. 3) They are stupendously authoritative.

Succinctly stated, the pay-per-view sites are damn unique, offering content or a service that consumers are unlikely to find elsewhere. Of course, that’s a pretty small universe of sites, and unless you content is extraordinarily unique and time-sensitive, I have a hard time believing that a pay wall model will work for most sites.

Importantly, however, Shafer notes that the Internet is still young and business models still have a lot of evolving to do. He concludes his piece by comparing where the Net stands today relative to where broadcast television stood when it was still in its infancy:

If the commercial Internet didn’t get going until 1995, then we’re only 13 or 14 years into the Web era. When television was 13 or 14, practically no pay-TV operations existed outside of a relatively few cable television operations. Starting the 1970s and then in the 1980s, paid TV in the form of HBO and other premium stations started to take root. Radio, born in the early 1920s, didn’t arrive in a paid form until just early in this century. Very few online newspapers or magazines are sufficiently useful to demand a paying premium. But for those who hold dear the notion that information on the Web will forever want to be free, it’s early yet. Keep your eyes peeled for publications whose Web sites are sprouting nonbrowser apps, refining their content, experimenting with new reading devices, bulking up their databases, and above all, publications that are listening to the man from Google who this week wrote, “[O]nline journalism is still in its relative infancy. … The experience of consuming news on the web today fails to take full advantage of the power of technology”

This catfight between Ron Rosenbaum of Slate and Jeff Jarvis of Buzz Machine about the future of journalism in the Internet Age is quite a heated affair. But what I found most interesting about it is that it reflects one element of the Net “optimist — pessimist” divide that I have been writing about here recently. Specifically, it touches on the divide over whether the Internet and digital technologies are reshaping the media marketplace and the field of journalism for better or for worse.

Rosenbaum is playing the pessimist role here and asking some sharp questions about the advice being dished out by “Web futurists” and “new-media gurus” as it relates the reversing the decline of the journalism profession. Rosenbaum says that the problem with Jarvis is that:

he’s become increasingly heartless about the reporters, writers, and other “content providers” who have been put out on the street by the changes in the industry. Not only does he blame the victims, he denies them the right to consider themselves victims. They deserve their miserable fate — and if they don’t know it, he’ll tell them why at great length. Sometimes it sounds as if he’s virtually dancing on their graves.

Jarvis — a quintessential Net optimist if their ever was one — responds with his usual flare and says that all he is doing is “holding journalists responsible for the fate of journalism” and trying to show them and industry a better path forward. Then he goes after Rosenbaum as follows:

He whines and prefers to mock me for going to conferences, advising news companies, and teaching journalists (helping to train more of them, not end up with fewer of them). I’m not sure what he’d rather have me do: Sit in my room and mope, sitting shiva for the past? Refuse to discuss the future of journalism? Tell newspapers when they call asking for brainstorming to fuck off and die? Would that be in solidarity with my hack brethren who did too little to transform journalism in the last 13 years of the web?

Like I said, it’s a heated affair and I’m sure it will continue. Just to throw in my own 2 cents… As I pointed out a few days ago in my essay about why I am a “pragmatic optimist“:

I believe the era of traditional Mass Media is coming to an end, but “professional” media institutions and creators continue to play a vital role in the creation, aggregation, and dissemination of news, information, culture, and entertainment. The Internet, however, will force gut-wrenching changes on traditional media institutions and some of the more vital ones (ex: daily local newspapers) will struggle to re-invent themselves, or may wither away entirely. And I believe that “professional” journalism faces very serious challenges from the rise of the Internet and user-generated content, but I also believe that hybrid forms of news-gathering and reporting are offering society exciting new ways to learn about the world around them.

Having said that, I am somewhat sympathetic to the critique Rosenbaum sets forth in his piece. I have always enjoyed Jarvis, but sometimes his writing (like that of many Pollyanna-ish Net optimists) gets a bit tedious in blaming the disintermediated individuals or industries for not seeing what was coming. The fact is, the Internet has caught us all off-guard and few of us could have predicted, or planned for, the sweeping changes it has ushered in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writing at Slate, Tim Wu tries to make Obama out to be the real Big Government candidate on media policy, who will deliver “if not a chicken in every pot, a fiber-optic cable in every home.” By contrast, Wu implies that McCain is just another pro-big business lackey who doesn’t understand “that the media and information industries are special—that like the transportation, energy, or financial industries, they are deeply entwined with the public interest.” Wu goes on to say:

Ultimately, most of the difference in Obama’s and McCain’s media policies boils down to questions about whether the media is special and a dispute over how much to trust the private sector. Camp McCain would tend to leave the private sector alone, with faith that it will deliver to most Americans what they want and deserve. The Obama camp would probably administer a more frequent kick in the pants, in the belief that good behavior just isn’t always natural.

First, as a factual matter, Wu is just wrong about McCain being some sort of a radical hands-off, pro-market liberalizer on media policy issues. Oh, if only that were true! But for those of us who have been in DC covering telecom and media policy for many years, it is widely understood there is no nailing down John McCain on any tech, telecom or media policy issue. He’s been all over the board. While he has sponsored or supported some deregulatory initiatives on the telecom front in the past, he’s also been a supporter of other regulatory causes. His battles with broadcasters and cable, for example, are well-known. Most recently, McCain has been leading the effort to impose a la carte mandates on cable and satellite operators. And if you’re all about Big Government credentials, then don’t forget McCain-Feingold, a law that made it a felony for corporations, nonprofit advocacy groups, and labor unions to run ads that criticize–or even name or show–members of Congress within 60 days of a federal election. And then there was the far more troubling McCain-Feingold II. Although it did not pass, McCain’s measure would have required broadcasters to run 12 hours of “candidate-centered and issue-centered programming” in the six weeks prior to primary and general elections—without giving broadcasters any control over those 12 hours (half of which would have had to run during prime time). The bill would have created a voucher system for the purchase of airtime for political advertisements, financed by an annual spectrum-use fee on all broadcast license holders. In sum, the legislation would have forced broadcast stations to pay a tax to the federal government that would in turn finance a pool of funds that politicians could turn around and spend to run ads on those very stations!

This sounds like the sort of Big Government Media Agenda that should make Tim Wu happy, but he doesn’t mention any of it in his essay.

But let me address the more fundamental, and quite mistaken, premise that underlies Wu’s essay — namely, that increased government activism in the media and broadband marketplace will somehow lead us to techno-nirvana. When Wu states that “the difference in Obama’s and McCain’s media policies boils down to questions about whether the media is special and a dispute over how much to trust the private sector,” he conveniently ignores the flip-side of that statement. That is, shouldn’t the real question here be: “How much do we trust the public sector”? Wu apparently assumes that “public interest” regulation will be all wine and roses. Enlightened, benevolent lawmakers and regulators who understand that media is “special” will concoct just the right mix of regulatory policies that will be pro-consumer, pro-democracy, and pro-free speech.

Sorry, but I’m not buying it. One would need to ignore 100 years worth of experience to believe such fanciful notions, and Wu seemingly does. Somehow, all will be different now. Regulators won’t be captured by special interests. Command-and-control regulation will suddenly become far more efficient and not deter innovation. And policymakers will resist the urge to censor speech.

Do you believe that story? If you’ve read your economic history, you’re probably just as skeptical as I am. It is revisionist history to say that the era of regulated monopoly and “public interest” media regulation was some sort of pro-consumer, pro-innovation, pro-free speech paradise. In reality, a “chicken in every pot” means a regulator on every cyber-corner. And I just don’t understand how someone as smart as Tim Wu thinks the entire process won’t once again come to be captured by the very interests he hopes to “kick in the pants.” They will be wearing the pants before it is over!

I invite Tim Wu and all his activist-minded friends on the Left to take another look at the definitive 2-volume Economics of Regulation by a more enlightened and experienced Democrat, Professor Alfred E. Kahn. In that masterwork, they will find the following words of wisdom (and caution):

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