Since I’ve criticized the DMCA’s copyright expansion, I was particularly interested in the inter-agency debate over EFF’s proposed jailbreak exemption. Even given the expanded “para-copyright” of anticircumvention, the Register of Copyrights and NTIA disagreed over how far the copyright holder’s monopoly should reach. The Register recommended that jailbreaking be exempted from circumvention liability, while NTIA supported Apple’s opposition to the jailbreak exemption.

According to the Register (PDF), Apple’s “access control [preventing the running of unapproved applications] does not really appear to be protecting any copyright interest.” Apple might have had business reasons for wanting to close its platform, including taking a 30% cut of application sales and curating the iPhone “ecosystem,” those weren’t copyright reasons to bar the modification of 50 bytes of code.

NTIA saw it differently. In November 2009, after receiving preliminary recommendations from Register Peters, Asst. Secretary Larry Strickling wrote (PDF):

NTIA does not support this proposed exemption [for cell phone jailbreaking]…. Proponents argue that jailbreaking will support open communications platforms and the rights of consumers to take maximum advantage of wireless networks and associated hardware and software. Even if permitting cell phone “jailbreaking” could facilitate innovation, better serve consumers, and encourage the market to utilize open platforms, it might just as likely deter innovation by not allowing the developer to recoup its development costs and to be rewarded for its innovation. NTIA shares proponents’ enthusiasm for open platforms, but is concerned that the proper forum for consideration of these public policy questions lies before the expert regulatory agencies, the U.S. Department of Justice and the U.S. Congress.

The debate affects what an end-user buys when purchasing a product with embedded software, and how far copyright law can be leveraged to control that experience and the market. Is it, as Apple would have it, only the right to use the phone in the closed “ecosystem” as dictated by Apple, with only exit (minus termination fees) if you don’t like it there? or is it a building block, around which the user can choose a range of complements from Apple and elsewhere? In the first case, we see the happenstance of software copyright locking together a vertically integrated or curated platform, forcing new entrants to build the whole stack in order to compete. In the second, we see opportunities for distributed innovation that starts at a smaller scale: someone can build an application without Apple’s approval, improving the user’s iPhone without starting from scratch.

NTIA would send these “public policy” questions to Congress or the Department of Justice (antitrust), but the Copyright Office and Librarian of Congress properly handled them here. “[T]he task of this rulemaking is to determine whether the availability and use of access control measures has already diminished or is about to diminish the ability of the public to engage in noninfringing uses of copyrighted works similar or analogous to those that the public had traditionally been able to make prior to the enactment of the DMCA,” the Register says. Pre-DMCA, copyright left room for reverse engineering for interoperability, for end-users and complementors to bust stacks and add value. Post-DMCA, this exemption helps to restore the balance toward noninfringing uses.

In a related vein, economists have been framing research into proprietary strategies for two-sided markets, in which a platform provider is mediating between two sets of users — such as iPhone’s end-users and its app developers. In their profit-maximizing interests, proprietors may want to adjust both price and other aspects of their platforms, for example selecting fewer app developers than a competitive market would support so each earns a scarcity surplus it can pay to Apple. But just because proprietors want a constrained environment does not mean that the law should support them, nor that end-users are better off when the platform-provider maximizes profits. Copyright protects individual works against unauthorized copying; it should not be an instrument of platform maintenance — not even when the platform is or includes a copyrighted work.

The Supreme Court’s long-awaited decision in Bilski v. Kappos brought closure to this particular patent prosecution, but not much clarity to the questions surrounding business method patents. The Court upheld the Federal Circuit’s conclusion that the claimed “procedure for instructing buyers and sellers how to protect against the risk of price fluctuations in a discrete section of the economy” was unpatentable, but threw out the “machine-or-transformation” test the lower court had used. In its place, the Court’s majority gave us a set of “clues” which future applicants, Sherlock Holmes-like, must use to discern the boundaries separating patentable processes from unpatentable “abstract ideas.”

The Court missed an opportunity to throw out “business method” patents, where a great many of these abstract ideas are currently claimed, and failed to address the abstraction of many software patents. Instead, Justice Kennedy’s majority seemed to go out of its way to avoid deciding even the questions presented, simultaneously appealing to the new technological demands of the “Information Age”

As numerous amicus briefs argue, the machine-or-transformation test would create uncertainty as to the patentability of software, advanced diagnostic medicine techniques, and inventions based on linear programming, data compression, and the manipulation of digital signals.

and yet re-ups the uncertainty on the same page:

It is important to emphasize that the Court today is not commenting on the patentability of any particular invention, let alone holding that any of the above-mentioned technologies from the Information Age should or should not receive patent protection.

The Court’s opinion dismisses the Federal Circuit’s brighter line test for “machine-or-transformation” in favor of hand-waving standards: a series of “clues,” “tools” and “guideposts” toward the unpatentable “abstract ideas.” While Kennedy notes that “This Age puts the possibility of innovation in the hands of more people,” his opinion leaves all of those people with new burdens of uncertainty — whether they seek patents or reject patent’s exclusivity but risk running into the patents of others. No wonder Justice Stevens, who concurs in the rejection of Bilski’s application but would have thrown business method patents out with it, calls the whole thing “less than pellucid.”

The one thing the meandering makes clear is that while the Supreme Court doesn’t like the Federal Circuit’s test (despite the Federal Circuit’s attempt to derive it from prior Supreme Court precedents), neither do the Supremes want to propose a new test of their own. The decision, like prior patent cases to reach the Supreme Court, points to larger structural problems: the lack of a diverse proving-ground for patent cases.

Since 1982, patent cases, unlike most other cases in our federal system, have all been appealed to one court, United States Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit. Thus while copyright appeals, for example, are heard in the circuit court for the district in which they originate (one of twelve regional circuits), all patent appeals are funneled to the Federal Circuit. And while its judges may be persuaded by other circuits’ opinions, one circuit is not bound to follow its fellows, and may “split” on legal questions. Consolidation in the Federal Circuit deprives the Supreme Court of such “circuit splits” in patent law. At most, it may have dissents from the Federal Circuit’s panel or en banc decision. If it doesn’t like the test of the Federal Circuit, the Supreme Court has no other appellate court to which to turn.

Circuit splits are good for judicial decisionmaking. They permit experimentation and dialogue around difficult points of law. (The Supreme Court hears fewer than 5% of the cases appealed to it, but is twice as likely to take cases presenting inter-circuit splits.) Like the states in the federal system, multiple circuits provide a “laboratory [to] try novel social and economic experiments.” Diverse judges examining the same law, as presented in differing circumstances, can analyze it from different angles (and differing policy perspectives). The Supreme Court considering an issue ripened by the analysis of several courts is more likely to find a test it can support, less likely to have to craft one from scratch or abjure the task. At the cost of temporary non-uniformity, we may get empirical evidence toward better interpretation.

At a time when “harmonization” is pushed as justification for treaties(and a uniform ratcheting-up of intellectual property regimes), the Bilski opinion suggests again that uniformity is overrated, especially if it’s uniform murk.

danah pointed out the number of places we don’t learn enough. We “see” others on social media but fail to follow through on what we learn. She described a teen whose MySpace page chronicled abuse at her mother’s hands for months before the girl picked up a weapon. After the fact, the media jumped on “murder has a MySpace,” but before, none had used that public information to help her out of the abuse. In a less dramatic case of short-sighted vision, danah showed Twitter users responding to trending black names after the BET Awards with “what’s happening to the neighborhood?” Despite the possibilities networked media offer, we often fail to look below the surface, to learn about those around us and make connections.

Adam, showing the possibilities of networked sensors in urban environments, described a consequence of “learning too much.” Neighbors in a small apartment building had been getting along just fine until someone set up a web forum. In the half year thereafter, most of the 6 apartments turned over. People didn’t want to know so much about those with whom they shared an address. Here, we might see what Jeffrey Rosen and Lawrence Lessig have characterized as the problem of “short attention spans.” We learn too much to ignore, but not enough to put the new factoid in context. We don’t pay attention long enough to understand.

How do we get the “just right” level of visibility to and from others? and what is “just right”? danah notes that we participate in networked publics, Helen Nissenbaum talks of contexts. One challenge is tuning our message and understanding to the various publics in which we speak and listen; knowing that what we put on Facebook or MySpace may be seen by many and understood by few. Like danah, Kevin Marks points out the asymmetry of the publics to which we speak and listen.

Another challenge is to find connections among publics and build upon them to engage with those who seem different, Ethan Zuckerman’s xenophilia. The ‘Net may have grown past the stage where just Internet use could be conversation-starter enough but spaces within it take common interest and create community. Socializing in World of Warcraft or a blog’s comments section can make us more willing to hear our counterparts’ context.

Finally, our largest public, here in the United States, is our democracy. We need to live peacefully with our neighbors and reach common decisions. Where our time is too limited to bestow attention on all, do we need to deliberately look away? John Rawls, in Political Liberalism, discusses political choices supported by an “overlapping consensus” from people with differing values and comprehensive views of “the good.” I wonder whether this overlapping consensus depends on a degree of privacy and a willingness to look away from differences outside the consensus.

Danny Sullivan, at Search Engine Land, wonders why more people aren’t paying attention:

On Friday afternoon, Google made the biggest change that has ever happened in search engines, and the world largely yawned. Maybe Google timed its announcement that it was personalizing everyone’s search results just right, so few would notice. Maybe no one really understood how significant the change was. Whatever the reason, it was a huge development and deserves much more attention than it has received so far.

I agree this is a big deal, even if it’s only the next step in a trend begun by customized search for signed-in users years ago. And except for here, I won’t even mention the P-word, “privacy.” Because on top of the implications of storing all a user’s search history, I wonder about the transparency of personalized search. How do we understand what search looks like to the world as it gets sliced up by history, location, and other inferences search providers make about their searchers?

As users, we’ve basically come to terms with the non-transparency of the search algorithms that determine which results to show and how to order them. We use the engine that mostly gets us relevant results (or perhaps, that offers shopping discounts). If we’re dissatisfied with the results Google returns, we can use Yahoo or Bing.

We also have some degree of trust that search isn’t systematically discriminating against particular pages or providers for undisclosed reasons. When Google received copyright takedown demands from the Church of Scientology years ago, prompting it to remove many links to “Operation Clambake,” Google sent the takedowns to Chilling Effects and linked them from its search pages so searchers could see why the search had apparently become more pro-Scientology in its results. More recently, the search engine has worked with the Berkman Center’s StopBadware to flag malware distribution points and let searchers know why sites have been flagged “harmful.” When a racist image appeared in searches for “Michelle Obama,” Google used an ad to explain why, but did not tweak algorithms to remove the picture.

How do we verify that this trust is warranted, that page visibility is a relative meritocracy? With open source, we could read the code or delegate that task to others. With a closed platform where we can’t do that, our next best alternative is implicit or explicit comparison of results with others. Investigative journalists might follow a tip-off that liberal media seemed to rank higher than conservative, and run some comparisons and questions to test and report back; search engine optimizers, motivated to improve their own pages’ rankings, might also alert us to biases that caused unfair demotions — we can believe we’re seeing a reasonable mix of digital camera stores because proprietors would complain if they were omitted. If something “feels wrong” to enough people, chances are it will bubble up through the crowd for verification (or debunking — see the complaints that iTunes “shuffle” feature isn’t random, by listeners who confuse randomness with a non-random even distribution). If a search engine failed to disclose payment-induced bias, the FTC might even follow with a complaint.

With personalized search, these crowd-sourced modes of verification will work less well. We won’t know if the biases we encounter in search are also seen by others, or if the store shuffles its end-caps when it sees us walk in. It would be easier for an Evil search provider to subtly tweak results to favor paying clients or ideologies, unnoticed.

Finally, I’m reminded of the “ants” in Cory Doctorow’s excellent Human Readable — an automated adaptive system so complex even its creators can’t debug it or determine its patterns. If someone is paying off the ants, society can’t trace the payments.

When I asked a version of this transparency question to the “real-time search” panel at Supernova, Barney Pell of Bing suggested that users don’t want to know how the search works, only that it gets them useful results. Part of my utility function, though, is fairness. I hope we can reconstruct that broader view in a world of ever-more-personalized search.

Copyright scholars have been talking for a long time about the DMCA and its impact on fair use — if your media is locked by DRM, you may be forbidden technologically from legally permissible criticism or transformation. (See the extraordinary lengths to which the MPAA goes in trying to say this isn’t so.) This is a serious problem, but it has bothered me that the focus has often eclipsed another DRM-induced problem, the foreclosure of open innovation and development around digital media.

In a draft paper, The Imperfect is the Enemy of the Good: Anticircumvention Versus Open Innovation, that will appear in the Berkeley Technology Law Journal this spring, I argue that conflicts with open development are a serious architectural flaw in anticircumvention law and policy. As we recognize the value of disruptive and user-driven innovation, we should shape the law to help, not hinder, this decentralized development.

Under an anticircumvention regime, the producers of media content can authorize or deny authorization to technologies for playing their works. Open source technologies and their developers cannot logically be authorized. “Open-source DRM” is a contradiction in terms, for open source encourages user modification (and copyleft requires its availability), while DRM compels “robustness” against those same user modifications. Since DRM aims to control use of content while permitting the user to see or hear it, it can be implemented only in software or hardware that is able to override its user’s wishes—and can’t be hacked to do otherwise. For a DRM implementation to make any sense, therefore, its barriers against user modification of the rights management must be at least as strong as those against user access to its protected content.

I characterize a “DRM imperative” and explore the technical incompatibilities between regulation by code and exploration of code. We see DRM centralizing development and forcing the black-boxing of complementary media technology, in a widening zone as it mandates that protected media be played only on compliant devices, that those may output media content only to other compliant devices, etc. The home media network is thus progressively closed to open-source development.

Foreclosing open development costs us technically, economically, and socially. We lose predicted technological improvements, those of user-innovators (von Hippel) or disruptive technologies (Christensen) from outside the incumbent-authorized set, that could offer new options for content creators and audiences (such as better playback, library, mixing, and commerce options). We lose social and cultural opportunities for commons-based peer production.

You can find the draft paper at SSRN, bepress, or here in PDF.

The BoingBoing team did this the other day when they got a legal threat from Ralph Lauren’s lawyers over an advertisement they mocked on the BoingBoing blog for featuring a stick-thin model. The lawyers claimed copyright infringement, saying “PRL owns all right, title, and interest in the original images that appear in the Advertisements.” Other hosts pull content “expeditiously” when they receive these notices (as Google did when notified of the post on Photoshop Disasters), and most bloggers and posters don’t counter-notify, even though Chilling Effects offers a handy counter-notification form.

Not BoingBoing, they posted the letter (and the image again) along with copious mockery, including an offer to feed the obviously starved models, and other sources picked up on the fun. The image has now been seen by many more people than would have discovered it in BoingBoing’s archives, in a pattern the press has nicknamed the “Streisand Effect.”

We use the term “chilling effects” to describe indirect legal restraints, or self-censorship, because most cease-and-desist letters don’t go through the courts. The lawyers (and non-lawyers) sending them rely on the in terrorem effects of threatened legal action, and often succeed in silencing speech for the cost of an e-postage stamp.

Actions like BoingBoing’s use the court of public opinion to counter this squelching. They fight legalese with public outrage (in support of legal analysis), and at the same time, help other readers to understand they have similar rights. Further, they increase the “cost” of sending cease-and-desists, as they make potential claimants consider the publicity risks being made to look foolish, bullying, or worse.

For those curious about the underlying legalities here, the Copyright Act makes clear that fair use, including for the purposes of commentary, criticism, and news reporting, is not an infringement of copyright. See Chilling Effects’ fair use FAQ. Yet the DMCA notice-and-takedown procedure encourages ISPs to respond to complaints with takedown, not investigation and legal balancing. Providers like BoingBoing’s Priority Colo should also get credit for their willingness to back their users’ responses.

As a result of the attention, Ralph Lauren apologized for the image: “After further investigation, we have learned that we are responsible for the poor imaging and retouching that resulted in a very distorted image of a woman’s body. We have addressed the problem and going forward will take every precaution to ensure that the caliber of our artwork represents our brand appropriately.”

May the warming (and proper attention to the health of fashion models) continue!

We’re also working behind the scenes to get takedown notices posted more quickly. In conjunction with Blogger, we’ve been working to help Bloggers get better information about DMCA notices demanding removal of material from their blogs, so they can determine whether to remove or edit the posts, or to counter-notify instead.

Now “open system” doesn’t mean anarchy. The Internet has rules, technical standards codified in the unassuming sounding “Requests for Comment.” As described by the author of RFC 1, Steve Crocker (How the Internet Got Its Rules), the RFCs were designed to help people coordinate activity, to build an interoperable network: “After all, everyone understood there was a practical value in choosing to do the same task in the same way. For example, if we wanted to move a file from one machine to another, and if you were to design the process one way, and I was to design it another, then anyone who wanted to talk to both of us would have to employ two distinct ways of doing the same thing.” By coordinating an open infrastructure, the Net’s architects left room for expansion at the edges.

While critics have been quick to call the statement and the rules it prefigures “government regulation,” Chairman Genachowski says “this is not about government regulation of the Internet. It’s about fair rules of the road,” (a phrase picked up by Commissioners Copps and Clyburn in their supporting statements). Like rules of the road, basic non-discrimination and transparency principles promote interoperability: As every driver and car manufacturer knows what to expect of the highways, every Internet user and application-developer should know what he or she can assume as substrate.

Yes, road rules constrain some innovation at the core — you can’t build a public road with braid-like traffic patterns where cars freely weave in and out in both directions, or with yellow stop signs and green “yield,” but you can still improve the pavement or road reflectors. The added predictability of a standard interface enables other more significant innovation at the edges — the Porsche, Prius, Smart, and Tesla can all drive on the same standard highway.

Most importantly, Chairman Genachowski shows he understands the option value of network openness — leaving room for the unexpected:

The Internet’s creators didn’t want the network architecture — or any single entity — to pick winners and losers. Because it might pick the wrong ones. Instead, the Internet’s open architecture pushes decision-making and intelligence to the edge of the network — to end users, to the cloud, to businesses of every size and in every sector of the economy, to creators and speakers across the country and around the globe. In the words of Tim Berners-Lee, the Internet is a “blank canvas” — allowing anyone to contribute and to innovate without permission.

As the Net’s core became more fixed since the days of RFC 1, it has enabled attachment of various devices and formats, some of which would become standards in their own right (HTTP, HTML) others of which would never really take off (VRML 3D modeling). We can’t pick winners, but we can build a field for contests worth winning.

Working through the details of the proposed FCC rules will be critical, and difficult, but the principles Genachowski offers for implementation provide a solid foundation.

Perhaps the strangest reports out of last week’s hearing were those on the Register of Copyrights’s statement, in which she asserted that the settlement “is tantamount to creating a private compulsory license through the judiciary [and that] such decisions are the domain of Congress.” The Register urged that courts shouldn’t endorse “settlements that come so close to encroaching on the legislative function.”

Now while I suggested on my first read of the settlement that the registry and clearinghouse “look[ed] like private implementations of infrastructure you’d really expect government to provide,” government has thus far failed to do so (no Orphan Works legislation), while private actors have moved them much closer. That’s a reason to bemoan government’s pace and the capture of public copyright law by special-interest lobbying, perhaps, but not to stand in the way of private cooperation toward greater access.

The great absurdity in the Register’s complaint is to label the settlement a “compulsory license.” A compulsory license, in the few places they exist in copyright law, is mandatory on the copyright holder. A songwriter cannot object to a new arrangement and recording that does not “change the basic melody or fundamental character” of a previously recorded work — her only right is to recover the compulsory “cover” license fee or to negotiate a different arrangement. The Google settlement, by contrast, offers rights-holders options: the right to opt-out of the settlement entirely, leaving the defaults of copyright law in place, or the ability to participate in the settlement and request different treatment of their works. Authors need only step up and say something if they prefer copyright’s defaults to Google’s.

So while I’d love to see the settlement opened even further, to participation from other digitizers and other representatives of the public interest, this particular complaint from the Register strikes off. If government can’t facilitate access to accumulated human wisdom, it should get out of the way (while keeping watch for anticompetitive effects) while others do. Instead, the Register’s intervention here sounds like the petulant complaint of one not invited to the settlement table.