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IP: Godwin review of Lessig's CODE


From: Dave Farber <farber () cis upenn edu>
Date: Mon, 20 Dec 1999 09:10:37 -0500



Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1999 12:33:15 -0500
To: farber () cis upenn edu
From: Mike Godwin <mnemonic () well com>


Dave, here's my take on Lessig's book.


--Mike



Lessig's CODE puts cyberspace at center of new constitutional debate.
Review of CODE AND OTHER LAWS OF CYBERSPACE (Basic Books, 1999)
By Mike Godwin
For E-Commerce Law Weekly

Imagine that you could somehow assemble the pioneers of the Internet
and the first political theorists of cyberspace in a room and poll
them as to what beliefs they have in common. Although there'd be lots
of heated discussion and no unanimity on any single belief, you might
find a majority could get behind something like the following four
premises.

1) The Internet does not lend itself to regulation by governments.

2) The proper way to guarantee liberty is to limit the role of
government and to prevent government from acting foolishly with
regard to the Internet.

3) The structure of the Internet-the "architecture" of cyberspace, if
you will-is politically neutral and cannot easily be manipulated by
government or special interests.

4) The expansion of e-commerce and the movement of much of our public
discourse to the online world will increase our freedom both as
citizens and as consumers.

But what if each of these premises is at best incomplete and at worse
false or misleading? (Leave aside the likelihood that they're not
entirely consistent with one another.) What if the architecture of
the Net can be changed by government and the dynamism of e-commerce?
What if the very developments that enhance electronic commerce also
undermine political freedom and privacy? The result might be that
engineers and activists who are concerned about preserving democratic
values in cyberspace were focusing their efforts in the wrong
direction. By viewing governmental power as the primary threat to
liberty, autonomy, and dignity, they'd blind themselves to the real
threats-threats that it may require government to block or remedy.

It is precisely this situation in which Harvard law professor
Lawrence Lessig believes we find ourselves. In his new book CODE AND
OTHER LAWS OF CYBERSPACE (Basic Books, 1999), Lessig explores at
length his thesis that the existing accounts of the political and
legal framework of cyberspace are incomplete, and that their very
incompleteness may prevent us from preserving the aspects of the
Internet we value most. CODE is a direct assault on the libertarian
perspective that informs much Internet policy debate these days.
What's more, Lessig knows that he's swimming against the tide here,
but he nevertheless takes on in CODE a project that, although focused
on cyberspace, amounts to nothing less than the relegitimization of
the liberal (in the American sense) philosophy of government.

It is a measure of Lessig's thoroughness and commitment to this
project that he mostly succeeds in reopening the debate about the
proper role of government with regard to the Net -- this in an era in
which, with the exception of a few carveouts like Internet gambling
and cybersquatting, Congress and the White House have largely thrown
up their hands when it comes to Internet policy. While this
do-nothingism is arguably an improvement over the kind of panicky,
ill-informed interventionism of 1996's Communications Decency Act
(which Lessig terms "[a] law of extraordinary stupidity" that
"practically impaled itself on the First Amendment), it also falls
far short, he says, of preserving fundamental civil values in a
landscape reshaped by technological change.

The Architecture Is Not Static

To follow Lessig's reasoning in CODE you need to follow his
terminology. This is not always easy to do, since the language by
which he describes the Internet as it is today and as it might
someday become is deeply metaphorical. Perhaps the least problematic
of his terms is "architecture," which Lessig borrows from Mitchell
Kapor's Internet aphorism that "architecture is politics." Although
his use of the term is a little slippery, Lessig mostly means for us
to understand the term "architecture" to refer to both (a) the
underlying software and protocols on which the Internet is based and
(b) the kinds of applications that may run "on top of that Internet
software infrastructure. And while the first kind of architecture is
not by itself easily regulable, Lessig says, the second kind might
make it so-for example by incorporating the various monitoring and
identification functions that already exist on proprietary systems
and corporate intranets.

More difficult to get a handle on is his use of the word "code,"
which seems to expand and contract from chapter to chapter. At some
bedrock level, Lessig means "code" to signify the hardware and software
that makes up the Internet environment (akin to the sense of "code" that
programmers use). But he's also fond of metaphoric uses of "code"
that muddy the waters. "Code is law," Lessig writes at several
points, by which we may take him to mean that the Internet's software
constrains and shapes our behavior with as much force as law does.
(And of course the book's title equates code and law.)

Elsewhere, however, he writes that code is something qualitatively
different from law in that it does not derive from legislative or
juridical action or community norms, yet may affect us more than laws
or norms do, while providing us less opportunity for amendment or
democratic feedback. It doesn't help matters when he refers to things
like bicycle locks as "real-world code." But if you can suspend your
lexical disbelief for a while, the thrust of Lessig's argument
survives any superficial confusions wrought by his terminology.

That argument depends heavily on the first point Lessig makes about
Internet architecture, which is simply that it's malleable-shapeable
by human beings who may wish to implement an agenda. The initial
architecture of the Internet, he says correctly, emphasized openness
and flexibility but provided little support for identifying or
authenticating actual individuals or monitoring them or gathering
data about them. "On the Internet it is both easy to hide that you
are a dog and hard to prove that you are not," Lessig writes. But
this is a version of the Internet, he says, that is already being
reshaped by e-commerce, which has reasons for wanting to identify
buyers, share financial data about them, and authenticate the
participants in transactions. At the center of e-commerce-wrought
changes is the technology of encryption, which, while it has the
ability to render communications and transactions secret in transit,
also enables an architecture of identification (through, e.g.,
encryption-based certification of identity and digital signatures).
The key to the creation of such an architecture, Lessig writes, is
not that a government will require people to hold and use certified
Ids.  Instead, he writes, "The key is incentives: systems that build
the incentives for individuals voluntarily to hold IDs." Adds Lessig:
"When architectures accommodate users who come with an ID installed
and make life difficult for users who refuse to bear an ID,
certification will spread quickly."

But even if you don't believe that e-commerce alone will establish an
architecture of identification, he writes, there are reasons to
believe that government will want to help such an architecture along.
After all, a technology that enables e-commerce merchants to identify
you and authorize your transactions may also have an important
secondary usefulness to a government that wants to know where you've
been and what you've been up to on the Internet.

And if the government wants to change the technological architecture
of the Internet, there's no reason to believe it wouldn't succeed, at
least to some extent. After all, Lessig says, the government is
already involved in mandating changes in existing architectures in
order to effectuate policy. Among the examples of this kind of
architectural intervention, he says, are (a) the Communications
Assistance to Law Enforcement Act of 1994, in which Congress
compelled telephone companies to make their infrastructure more
conducive to successful wiretaps, (b) Congress's requiring the
manufacturers of digital recording devices to incorporate
technologies that limit the extent to which perfect copies can be
made, and (c) the requirement in the Telecommunications Act of 1996
that the television industry design and manufacture a V-chip to
facilitate individuals' ability to automatically block certain kinds
of televised content.

With an identification architecture in place, Lessig argues, what
previously might seem to be an intractable Internet-regulation
problem, like the prohibition of Internet gambling, might become
quite manageable.

The Government and Code

An account of social activity on the Internet that deals solely with
the legal framework is inadequate, Lessig argues.  In Lessig's view,
the actual "regulators" of social behavior come from four sources,
each of which has its own dynamic. Those sources of social
constraints are: the market, the law, social norms, and architecture
(here "architecture" means "the constructed environment in which
human beings conduct their activities).  "But these separate
constraints obviously don't simply exist as givens in a social life,"
Lessig writes. "They are neither found in nature nor fixed by God,"
he writes, adding that each constraint "can be changed, although the
mechanism of changing each is complex." The legal system, he says,
"can have a significant role in this mechanics."

So can the open-source movement, which Lessig refers to as "open
code." The problem with "architectural" constraints, and the thing
that distinguishes them from any other kind, is that they don't
depend on human awareness or judgment to function.  You may choose
whether or not to obey a law or a social norm, for example, and you
may choose whether or not to buy or sell something in the market, but
(to use the metaphor) you can't enter a building through a door if
there's no door there, and you can't open a window if there's no
window. Open code-software that is part of a code "commons," that is
not owned by any individual or business, and that can be inspected
and modified-can provide a "a check on state power," Lessig writes,
insofar as it makes any government-mandated component of the
architecture of the Net both visible to, and (potentially) alterable
by, citizens. Open code, which still makes up a large part of the
Internet infrastructure, is thus a way of making architecture
accountable and subject to democratic feedback, he argues. "I
certainly believe that government must be constrained, and I endorse
the constraints that open code imposes, but it is not my objective to
disable government generally," Lessig writes. But, he adds, "some
values can be achieved only if government intervenes."

A Jurisprudence of Cyberspace?

One way that government intervenes, of course, is through the court
system. And as Lessig notes, it may be the courts that are first
called upon to interpret and preserve our social values when
technology shifts the effective balance of rights for individuals.  A
court faced with such a shift often must engage in "translation" of
longstanding individual rights into a new context, he says. Take
wiretapping, for example. Once upon a time, it was not so easy for
law-enforcement agents to get access to private conversations. But
once telephones had become commonplace and (as Lessig puts it) "life
had just begun to move onto the wires," the government began to tap
phones in order to gather evidence in criminal investigations. Does
wiretapping raise Fourth Amendment concerns? The Supreme Court first
answered this question in Olmstead v. United States (1928) -- the
answer for the majority was that wiretapping (at least when the tap
was placed somewhere other than on a tappee's property) did not raise
Fourth Amendment issues since the precise language of the Fourth
Amendment does not address the nontrespassory overhearing of
conversations. That's one mode of translation, Lessig writes-the
court preserved the precise language of the Fourth Amendment in a way
that contracted the scope of the zone of privacy protected by the
Fourth Amendment.

But that's only one way to translate constitutional values, Lessig
argues. Another, and arguably preferable approache, he says, would be
to follow Justice Louis Brandeis's approach in his dissent in
Olmstead-an approach that preserves the scope of the privacy zone
while departing from a strict adherence to the literal language of
the Amendment. (Brandeis's dissent, arguing that the capture of
private conversations does implicate the Fourth Amendment, was
adopted by the Supreme Court forty years after Olmstead.)

But what if technology raises a question for a court for which it's
not clear which interpretative choice comes closer to preserving or
"translating" the values inherent in the Bill of Rights? Borrowing
from contract law, Lessig calls such a circumstance a "latent
ambiguity." He further suggests (this is perhaps the most
unfashionable of his arguments) that, instead of simply refusing to
act and referring the policy question to the legislature, courts
might simply attempt to make the best choice at preserving
constitutional values in the hope that its choice will at minimum
"spur a conversation about these fundamental values ... to focus a
debate that may ultimately be resolved elsewhere" (e.g., the
legislature).

All this begins to seem far afield from the law of cyberspace, but
Lessig's larger point is that the changes wrought by the Internet and
related technologies are likely to raise significant "latent
ambiguity" problems. He focuses on three areas in which technologies
raise important questions about values but for which a passive or
overliteral "translation" approach would not be sufficient.  Those
areas are intellectual property, privacy, and freedom of speech. In
each case, the problem Lessig sees is one that is based on "private
substitutes for public law"-private, non-governmental decisionmaking
that undercuts the values the Constitution and Bill of Rights were
meant to preserve.

With intellectual property, and with copyright in particular,
technological changes raises new problems that the nuanced
established legal balances built into the law don't address. Lessig
challenges the longstanding assertion (in Internet circles, at least)
that the very edifice of copyright law is likely to crumble in the
era of the Internet, which enables millions of perfect copies of a
creative work to be duplicated and disseminated for free, regardless
of whether the copyright holder has granted anyone a license. In
response to that perceived threat, Lessig observes, the copyright
holders have moved to force changes in technology and changes in the
law.

As a result, technologically implemented copyright-protection and
copyright-management schemes are coming online, and the government
has already taken steps to prohibit the circumvention of such
schemes. This has created a landscape in which the traditional
exercise of one's rights to "fair use" of another's work under the
Copyright Act may become meaningless. The fact that one technically
has a right to engage in fair use is of no help when one can't engage
in any unauthorized copying. Complicating this development, Lessig
believes, is the oncoming implementation of an ID infrastructure on
the Internet, which may make it impossible for individuals to engage
in anonymous reading.

This bears some explaining. Consider that if you buy a book in a
bookstore with cash, or if you read it in the library, nobody knows
what you're buying and reading.  By contrast, a code-based licensing
scheme in which you identify yourself online in order to obtain or
view a copy of a copyrighted work may undercut your anonymity,
especially if there's an Internet I.D. Infrastructure already in
place.) That the technology changes are "private" ones-they don't
involve anything we'd call "state action" and thus do not raise what
we normally would call a constitutional problem-but they affect
public values just as deeply as traditional constitutional problems
do.

A similar argument can be made about how the Internet alters our
privacy rights and expectations.  Because the Internet both makes our
backgrounds more "searchable" and our current behavior more
monitorable, Lessig reasons, the privacy protections in our Bill of
Rights may become meaningless. Once again, when the searching and
monitoring is done by someone other than the government, it means
that the "state action" trigger for invoking the Bill of Rights is
wholly absent. What's more, such searching and monitoring, whether
done by the government or otherwise, may be invisible to the person
being investigated. You'll have lost your right to any meaningful
privacy and you won't even know it's gone until it's too late.
Lessig's analysis of the problem here is convincing, even though his
proposed solution, a "property regime" for personal data that would
replace today's "liability regime" is deeply problematic. This is
partly because it would transmute invasions of privacy into property
crimes (aren't the jails full enough without adding gossips to the
inmates?) and partly because the distinction he draws between
property regimes and liability regimes as to which benefits the
individual more is (in my view) illusory in practical terms.

Perhaps Lessig's most controversial position with regard to the
threat of private action to public values is the one he's explored
previously in a number of articles for law reviews and popular
publications-the argument that some version of the Communications
Decency Act (perhaps one that required minors to identify themselves
as such so as to be blocked from certain kinds of content) is less
dangerous to freedom of speech than is the private use of
technologies that filter content.  It's important to understand that
Lessig is not actually calling for a new CDA here, although that
nuance might escape some legislators.

Lessig interprets such a version of the CDA (and the architecture
that might be created by it) as a kind of "zoning," which he sees as
preferable to private, non-legislated filtering because, he says,
zoning "builds into itself a system for its limitation. A site cannot
block someone from the site without that individual knowing it." By
contrast, he says, a filtering regime such as (now widely regarded as
moribund) Platform for Internet Content Selection enables all sorts
of censorship schemes, not just nominally child-protecting ones.
PICS, because it can scale to function at the server or even network
level, can be used by a government to block, say, troubling political
content. And because PICS support can be integrated into the
architecture of the Internet, it could be used to create compelling
private incentives for people to label their Internet content. Worse,
he says, such blocking would (he says) be invisible to individuals.

There are many problems with Lessig's analysis here, and while it
would take more space than I have here to discuss them in depth, I
can at least indicate what some of the problems are. First of all,
it's not at all clear that one couldn't create a "zoning" solution
that kept the zoning-excluded users from knowing (directly at least)
that they've been excluded. Second, if a zoning scheme works to
exclude users identified as kids, is there any reason to think it
wouldn't work equally well in excluding users identified as Iranians
or Japanese or Americans? (Don't forget that incipient I.D.
architecture, after all.)

Third, a PICS-like scheme, implemented at the server level or higher,
is actually less threatening to freedom of speech than key-word or
other content filtering at the server level or higher. PICS, in order
to function, requires that some high percentage of the content
producers in the world buy into the self-labelling scheme before a
repressive government could use it to block its citizens from
disapproved content. Brute-force key-word filtering, by contrast,
doesn't require anyone else's cooperation-a repressive government
could choose its own PICS-independent criteria and implement them at
the server level or elsewhere.

Fourth, there's nothing inherent in the architecture of a PICS-style
scheme (in the unlikely event that such a scheme were implemented) or
any other server-level filtering scheme that requires that users not
be notified that blocking took place. In short, you could design that
architecture so that its operation is visible.

Lessig is right to oppose the implementation of anything that might
be called an architecture of filtering. But one wonders why he is so
intent on saying that zoning is better than filtering when both
models can operate as tools of repression. Lessig answers that
question by letting us know what his real worry is, which is that
individuals with filtering tools will block out those who need to be
heard. Says Lessig: "[F]rom the standpoint of society, it would be
terrible if citizens could simply tune out problems that were not
theirs.... We must confront the problems of others and think about
problems that affect our society. This exposure makes us better
citizens." His concern is that we'll use filtering tools to bar us
from that salutary exposure.

Leaving aside the question of whether his value here is one we should
embrace (it's hard to harmonize it with what Brandeis in his Olmstead
dissent termed "the right to be let alone"), it seems worth noting
that the Internet does not really stand as evidence to Lessig's
assumption that people will use their new tools to avoid
confrontation with those holding different opinions. Indeed, much of
the evidence seems to point the other way, as anyone who's ever
viewed a long-running Internet flame war or inspected dueling Web
sites can attest. Nothing forces combatants on the Internet to stay
engaged, but they do anyway. The fact is, we like to argue with each
other-as Deborah Tannen has pointed out, we have embraced an
"argument culture." (Whether that culture is healthy is another
question, of course.)

But even if one disagrees with Lessig's analysis of certain
particular issues, this doesn't detract from his main argument, which
is that private decisionmaking, enhanced by new technologies and
implemented as part of the "architecture" of the Internet, may
undercut the democratic values (freedom of speech, privacy, autonomy,
access to information) at the core of our society. Implicit in his
argument is that the traditional focus of civil-libertarians, which
is to challenge government interventions in speech and privacy
arenas, may be counterproductive in this new context. If I read him
right, Lessig is calling for a new constitutional philosophy, one
rooted perhaps in Mill's essay "On Liberty," in which government can
function as a positive public tool to preserve from private
encroachments the liberty values we articulated in the Constitution
in terms of constraints on government. Such a philosophy would
require a very imaginative "translation" of constitutional values
indeed to get past the objection that the Bill of Rights is only
about limiting "state action."

What CODE is really about is the need for political liberals to put a
positive face on the role of government without embracing statism or
seeming to.  Although this is clearly Lessig's project, he's
pessimistic about its success-in the public debate about Internet
policy, he complains, the libertarians have essentially won the
field. What he'd like to see, perhaps, is a constitutional structure
in which something like the Bill of Rights could be invoked against
challenges to personal liberty or autonomy, regardless of whether the
challenges come from public or private sources. The ideology of
libertarianism, he believes, will interpret the changes wrought by
e-commerce and other private action as a given, like the weather. "We
will watch as important aspects of privacy and free speech are erased
by the emerging architecture of the panopticon, and we will speak,
like modern Jeffersons, about nature making it so-forgetting that
here, we are nature," he writes in a somewhat forlorn final chapter.
Lessig may be right in his gloomy predictions, but let's suppose his
worst fears are not realized, and a new debate begins about the
proper role of government in cyberspace and about appropriate
limitations on private crafting of the online architecture. At least
some of the thanks for that development will have to go to Lessig's
CODE.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I speak the password primeval .... I give the sign of democracy ...."
            --Walt Whitman
Mike Godwin can be reached by phone at 202-721-8432.
His book, CYBER RIGHTS, can be ordered at
        http://www.panix.com/~mnemonic .
----------------------------------------------------------------------------


----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I speak the password primeval .... I give the sign of democracy ...."
            --Walt Whitman
Mike Godwin can be reached by phone at 202-721-8432.
His book, CYBER RIGHTS, can be ordered at
        http://www.panix.com/~mnemonic .
----------------------------------------------------------------------------


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