What So Different About Cyberspace? It seems as though the initial round of discussion between Larry and myself has produced a "two cultures" problem, which it is worth setting out briefly here. Over the past several years I have had extensive contact with the Internet, not only as an academic but also as a lawyer. But it is not because of any affection for, or preoccupation with its technical architecture, or with its internal folkways. Rather, I have come to it by indirection. If you have an expertise in privacy and defamation, then someone will ask you to testify on the question of whether one should allow strong encryption by private parties on the Net, or whether the publication online of confidential information obtained by fraud or trickery is protected under the First Amendment. For someone who sees the Internet as the latest advance in technology, which is not all that different from the radio, the cell phone, or the fax machine, there is a strong tendency to see issues on the Internet as though they were outgrowths of familiar problems elsewhere. I thought (and still think) that one of the great strengths of Larry's book is the way in which he integrates nice examples from physical space with those from cyberspace. Thus he is right on to say that there are two ways in which to reduce the theft of car radios (Page 90), one of them is to increase the punishment for theft, and the other is to render them useless once they are taken out of the car by someone who does not know the code (old-fashioned sense) for their release. Here I might add that the second remedy is, in conventional terms, a better one that the first. The higher penalties will have multiple effects: One is to reduce the number of thefts, but another is to encourage more violent action by the thieves that remain when faced with the risk of capture. The marginal cost of killing an innocent party would be quite low if the sanction for stealing radios were life imprisonment for first-time offenders. But the puzzles of marginal deterrence are not invoked if the radios are disabled when removed, and so architecture, or technology, works nicely in real space, and it should work well in cyberspace to avoid similar problems. So far so good. No one could doubt that architecture matters in cyberspace. The ability to limit the number of times that someone can resort to a computer program, for example, means that technology allows for a form of price discrimination that eliminates some of the unwelcome cross-subsidies associated with the sale of certain programs, just as an accurate billing system means that pricing for phones is not subject to flat fees only. Here again, the point is useful to make but does not get us to the question of the proper approach for understanding the distinctive use and regulation of cyberspace. So we come to the third point: Larry mentions that the original architecture of cyberspace was given to us by researchers and hackers. And so it was. The usual ethic among both groups is for the public dissemination of information. With researchers, the community I know best, the free interchange of ideas of critical for the advancement of knowledge. There are no secrets in this world. But many of the best researchers also have jobs that require them to work for industry, where the protection of innovation via trade secrets and patents is the norm, and for equally good reason: Business cannot turn a profit if all its improvements are instantly appropriable by others. Now, it happens that the best minds are frequently used for both research and commerce, and we have to develop protocols, and we do develop protocols, that deal with the potential conflict of interest as they move from one regime to another. And in ordinary space we have both public and private property, with the same individuals participating in both regimes. In ordinary affairs, I do not think that the rise of commerce results in the loss of liberty. As a member of the university community, I have worked over the years in setting out the guidelines to deal with conflicts-of-interest regulations that allow most people to participate in both. I see no reason why that cannot happen in cyberspace as well. Those people who wish to set up commercial portals through which others must come do not violate the liberty of those who choose not to enter. The different values are certainly there, but the Net is a richer and not a poorer place by virtue of the fact that some folks can live in gated communities while others can run free over a commons on some other part of the Net. There is no more loss of freedom here in any intelligible sense that there is a loss of freedom when my neighbor erects a new house to which he invites only his friends. Of course, the values in commerce are different from those in the code (i.e., practices) of the Internet. But these new arrivals will not, as Larry suggests, "flip" the character of the Net. The original enclaves can hold firm as new people open up new territory. The Net is not some single homogenous object that admits to only a single culture. We can have private and public, commercial and charitable, spaces on the Net, just as we do anywhere else. If in so doing we change the character of the Net, we do so by proper means, and so be it. That said, how does this tie into the grander questions of what a libertarian does or should believe. Larry says that his point was really that the attitude of "leave the Net alone" will lead to a loss of liberty. His words are ominous: "My argument is that this response will lead to a Net with far less liberty than the Net we know now, with a potential to be far more regulated than any world we have known--ever." I don't get it. In one sense, the statement is right. If folks can defame at will on the Internet and escape through anonymity, there is something deeply amiss. But if the argument is that commercialization poses the same dreaded threat to the Net as defamation, then I think that he is wrong, given that the two could live side by side in the manner just described. These conclusions follow, I think, from any account of libertarianism that pays attention to the views within the ivory tower. It is, I might add, relatively close to that which is given the idea of liberty by the ordinary man. "Your freedom to use your fist stops at the edge of my face" is a recognition of the universal duties of forbearance that lie at the heart of the libertarian code. But I am told that there is a different world out there that represents some present and powerful political reality: It is a world in which it is wrong to think about defamation, wrong to think about trade secrets, wrong to think about blackmail. That would make me a Red. So here is the irony. To take a traditional libertarian position makes one a Red. If this libertarianism has the message keep government out, then perhaps it is wrong to describe this as a form of anarchy. Rather, it starts to resemble a self-appointed militia that wants to keep out others who do not want to share in their values. It is the most unlibertarian position of a monopoly on custom and mores to the early arrivals. That said, I don't think that Larry has tried in Code to respond to the popular sentiment on the street. The passages I quoted in the first round come from Chapter 7 of his book, "What Things Regulate," which begins with a reference to that most ivory-towered individual John Stuart Mill, the author of On Liberty , who articulated the famous "harm principle" with which libertarian thought of all stripes has grappled since he wrote. Mill, as Larry points out, did believe that public opinion was one counterweight to private action, and it has been a hard question since that time, whether popular sentiment is an equal obstacle to individual freedom as law backed by force, or whether it works with sufficient cohesion to influence conduct in a single direction. That is a fair and important set of questions to ask, but again, it is not one that is unique to cyberspace. Larry then goes astray in my view when he writes, "Threats to liberty change. ... The labor movement was founded on the idea that the market is sometimes a threat to liberty--not just because of low wages but also because the market form of organization itself disables a certain form of freedom. In other societies, at other times, the market is the key, not the enemy, of liberty." (Page 85-86). So here is where I am left. I do not understand how the market is the enemy of liberty, at least if the competitive market is understood. I do not see why low wages could ever be regarded as a threat to liberty, even if workers would prefer, ceteris paribus , higher ones. I do not know what it means to say that "the market form of organization itself disables a certain form of freedom." At most, the competition of new forms of social organization draw people away from older forms of association. So that said, the passages that I quote do not reflect a non-academic view of liberty by guys on the street. It reflects at least in part the conception of liberty that was championed earlier in this century by such writers as Robert Lee Hale, who found coercion in every refusal to deal. Or, to the extent that it really means keep the government out, it sounds like an attempt by the earlier settlers of the new domain to monopolize its structure at the expense of later comers who wish to play by a different set of rules in some portion of that space. I think that Larry is trying to reach a larger audience with his book, and to do so, he has to explain why under the influence of commerce, cyberspace is becoming highly regulable for those who do not participate in that commerce, and why the regulation that commerce imposes on those who voluntarily join into it should be a bad thing. Stated otherwise, the task that I think remains is to translate the language and sentiments of those within the Internet culture so that their positions can be better understood by those of us who do not yet understand what is so distinctive and special about the Net.