Thus far, the debate over broadband deployment has generally been between those who believe that private telecom incumbents should be in charge of planning, financing and building next-generation broadband infrastructure, and those who advocate a larger role for government in the deployment of broadband infrastructure. These proposals include municipal-owned networks and a variety of subsidies and mandates at the federal level for incumbents to deploy faster broadband.

Tim Wu and Derek Slater have a great new paper out that approaches the problem from a different perspective: that broadband deployments could be planned and financed not by government or private industry, but by consumers themselves. That might sound like a crazy idea at first blush, but Wu and Slater do a great job of explaining how it might work. The key idea is "condominium fiber," an arrangement in which a number of neighboring households pool their resources to install fiber to all the homes in their neighborhoods. Once constructed, each home would own its own fiber strand, while the shared costs of maintaining the "trunk" cable from the individual homes to a central switching location would be managed in the same way that condominium and homeowners' associations currently manage the shared areas of condos and gated communities. Indeed, in many cases the developer of a new condominium tower or planned community could lay fiber along with water and power lines, and the fiber would be just one of the shared resources that would be managed collectively by the homeowners.

If that sounds strange, it's important to remember that there are plenty of examples where things that were formerly rented became owned. For example, fifty years ago in the United States no one owned a telephone. The phone was owned by Ma Bell and if yours broke they'd come and install a new one. But that changed, and now people own their phones and the wiring inside their homes, with your phone company owning the cable outside the home. One way to think about Slater and Wu's "homes with tails" concept is that it's just shifting that line of demarcation again. Under their proposal, you'd own the wiring inside your home and the line from you to your broadband provider.

Why would someone want to do such a thing? The biggest advantage, from my perspective, is that it could solve the thorny problem of limited competition in the "last mile" of broadband deployment. Right now, most customers have two options for high-speed Internet access. Getting more options using the traditional, centralized investment model is going to be extremely difficult because it costs a lot to deploy new infrastructure all the way to customers' homes. But if customers "brought their own" fiber, then the barrier to entry would be much lower. New providers would simply need to bring a single strand of fiber to a neighborhood's centralized point of presence in order to offer service to all customers in that neighborhood. So it would be much easier to imagine a world in which customers had numerous options to choose from.

The challenge is solving the chicken-and-egg problem: customer owned fiber won't be attractive until there are several providers to choose from, but it doesn't make sense for new firms to enter this market until there are a significant number of neighborhoods with customer-owned fiber. Wu and Slater suggest several ways this chicken-and-egg problem might be overcome, but I think it will remain a formidable challenge. My guess is that at least at the outset, the customer-owned model will work best in new residential construction projects, where the costs of deploying fiber will be very low (because they'll already be digging trenches for power and water).

But the beauty of their model is that unlike a lot of other plans to encourage broadband deployment, this isn't an all-or-nothing choice. We don't have to convince an entire nation, state, or even city to sign onto a concept like this. All you need is a neighborhood with a few dozen early-adopting consumers and an ISP willing to serve them. Virtually every cutting-edge technology is taken up by a small number of early adopters (who pay high prices for the privilege of being the first with a new technology) before it spreads to the general public, and the same model is likely to apply to customer-owned fiber. If the concept is viable, someone will figure out how to make it work, and their example will be duplicated elsewhere. So I don't know if customer-owned fiber is the wave of the future, but I do hope that people start experimenting with it.

You can check out their paper here. You can also check out an article I wrote for Ars Technica this summer that is based on conversations with Slater, Wu, and other pioneers in this area.

Richard Posner has written a characteristically thoughtful blog entry about the uncertain future of newspapers. He renders widespread journalistic concern about the unwieldy character of newspapers into the crisp economic language of "bundling":

Bundling is efficient if the cost to the consumer of the bundled products that he doesn't want is less than the cost saving from bundling. A particular newspaper reader might want just the sports section and the classified ads, but if for example delivery costs are high, the price of separate sports and classified-ad "newspapers" might exceed that of a newspaper that contained both those and other sections as well, even though this reader was not interested in the other sections.

With the Internet's dramatic reductions in distribution costs, the gains from bundling are decreased, and readers are less likely to prefer bundled products. I agree with Posner that this is an important insight about the behavior of readers, but would argue that reader behavior is only a secondary problem for newspapers. The product that newspaper publishers sell—the dominant source of their revenues—is not newspapers, but audiences.

Toward the end of his post, Posner acknowledges that papers have trouble selling ads because it has gotten easier to reach niche audiences. That seems to me to be the real story: Even if newspapers had undiminished audiences today, they'd still be struggling because, on a per capita basis, they are a much clumsier way of reaching readers. There are some populations, such as the elderly and people who are too poor to get online, who may be reachable through newspapers and unreachable through online ads. But the fact that today's elderly are disproportionately offline is an artifact of the Internet's novelty (they didn't grow up with it), not a persistent feature of the marektplace. Posner acknoweldges that the preference of today's young for online sources "will not change as they get older," but goes on to suggest incongruously that printed papers might plausibly survive as "a retirement service, like Elderhostel." I'm currently 26, and if I make it to 80, I very strongly doubt I'll be subscribing to printed papers. More to the point, my increasing age over time doesn't imply a growing preference for print; if anything, age is anticorrelated with change in one's daily habits.

As for the claim that poor or disadvantaged communities are more easily reached offline than on, it still faces the objection that television is a much more efficient way of reaching large audiences than newsprint. There's also the question of how much revenue can realistically be generated by building an audience of people defined by their relatively low level of purchasing power. If newsprint does survive at all, I might expect to see it as a nonprofit service directed at the least advantaged. Then again, if C. K. Prahalad is correct that businesses have neglected a "fortune at the bottom of the pyramid" that can be gathered by aggregating the small purchases of large numbers of poor people, we may yet see papers survive in the developing world. The greater relative importance of cell phones there, as opposed to larger screens, could augur favorably for the survival of newsprint. But phones in the developing world are advancing quickly, and may yet emerge as a better-than-newsprint way of reading the news.

James Grimmelmann has an interesting new essay, "Copyright, Technology, and Access to the Law," on the challenges of ensuring that the public has effective knowledge of the laws. This might sound like an easy problem, but Grimmelmann combines history and explanation to show why it can be difficult. The law – which includes both legislators' statutes and judges' decisions – is large, complex, and ever-changing.

Suppose I gave you a big stack of paper containing all of the laws ever passed by Congress (and signed by the President). This wouldn't be very useful, if what you wanted was to know whether some action you were contemplating would violate the law. How would you find the laws bearing on that action? And if you did find such a law, how would you determine whether it had been repealed or amended later, or how courts had interpreted it?

Making the law accessible in practice, and not just in theory, requires a lot of work. You need reliable summaries, topic-based indices, reverse-citation indices (to help you find later documents that might affect the meaning of earlier ones), and so on. In the old days of paper media, all of this had to be printed and distributed in large books, and updated editions had to be published regularly. How to make this happen was an interesting public policy problem.

The traditional answer has been copyright. Generally, the laws themselves (statutes and court opinions) are not copyrightable, but extra-value content such as summaries and indices can be copyrighted. The usual theory of copyright applies: give the creators of extra-value content some exclusive rights, and the profit motive will ensure that good content is created.

This has some similarity to our Princeton model for government transparency, which urges government to publish information in simple open formats, and leave it to private parties to organize and present the information to the public. Here government was creating the basic information (statutes and court opinions) and private parties were adding value. It wasn't exactly our model, as government was not taking care to publish information in the form that best facilitated private re-use, but it was at least evidence for our assertion that, given data, private parties will step in and add value.

All of this changed with the advent of computers and the Internet, which made many of the previously difficult steps cheaper and easier. For example, it's much easier to keep a website up to date than to deliver updates to the owners of paper books. Computers can easily construct citation indices, and a search engine provides much of the value of a printed index. Access to the laws can be cheaper and easier now.

What does this mean for public policy? First, we can expect more competition to deliver legal information to the public, thanks to the reduced barriers to entry. Second, as competition drives down prices we'll see fewer entities that are solely in the business of providing access to laws; instead we'll see more non-profits, along with businesses providing free access. More competition and lower prices will mean better and more effective access to the law for citizens. Third, copyright will still play a role by supporting the steps that remain costly, such as the writing of summaries.

Finally, it will matter more than ever exactly how government provides access to the raw information. If, as sometimes happens now, government provides the raw information in an awkward or difficult-to-use form, private actors must invest in converting it into a more usable form. These investments might not have mattered much in the past when the rest of the process was already expensive; but in the Internet age they can make a big difference. Given access to the right information in the right format, one person can produce a useful mashup or visualization tool with a few weeks of spare-time work. Government, by getting the details of data publication right, can enable a flood of private innovation, not to mention a better public debate.

David Robinson, Harlan Yu, Bill Zeller, and I have a new paper about how to use infotech to make government more transparent. We make specific suggestions, some of them counter-intuitive, about how to make this happen. The final version of our paper will appear in the Fall issue of the Yale Journal of Law and Technology. The best way to summarize it is to quote the introduction:

If the next Presidential administration really wants to embrace the potential of Internet-enabled government transparency, it should follow a counter-intuitive but ultimately compelling strategy: reduce the federal role in presenting important government information to citizens. Today, government bodies consider their own websites to be a higher priority than technical infrastructures that open up their data for others to use. We argue that this understanding is a mistake. It would be preferable for government to understand providing reusable data, rather than providing websites, as the core of its online publishing responsibility.

In the current Presidential cycle, all three candidates have indicated that they think the federal government could make better use of the Internet. Barack Obama's platform explicitly endorses "making government data available online in universally accessible formats." Hillary Clinton, meanwhile, remarked that she wants to see much more government information online. John McCain, although expressing excitement about the Internet, has allowed that he would like to delegate the issue, possible to a vice-president.

But the situation to which these candidates are responding – the wide gap between the exciting uses of Internet technology by private parties, on the one hand, and the government's lagging technical infrastructure on the other – is not new. The federal government has shown itself consistently unable to keep pace with the fast-evolving power of the Internet.

In order for public data to benefit from the same innovation and dynamism that characterize private parties' use of the Internet, the federal government must reimagine its role as an information provider. Rather than struggling, as it currently does, to design sites that meet each end-user need, it should focus on creating a simple, reliable and publicly accessible infrastructure that "exposes" the underlying data. Private actors, either nonprofit or commercial, are better suited to deliver government information to citizens and can constantly create and reshape the tools individuals use to find and leverage public data. The best way to ensure that the government allows private parties to compete on equal terms in the provision of government data is to require that federal websites themselves use the same open systems for accessing the underlying data as they make available to the public at large.

Our approach follows the engineering principle of separating data from interaction, which is commonly used in constructing websites. Government must provide data, but we argue that websites that provide interactive access for the public can best be built by private parties. This approach is especially important given recent advances in interaction, which go far beyond merely offering data for viewing, to offer services such as advanced search, automated content analysis, cross-indexing with other data sources, and data visualization tools. These tools are promising but it is far from obvious how best to combine them to maximize the public value of government data. Given this uncertainty, the best policy is not to hope government will choose the one best way, but to rely on private parties with their vibrant marketplace of engineering ideas to discover what works.

To read more, see our preprint on SSRN.

Today we're kicking off an online symposium on voluntary collective licensing of music, over at the Center for InfoTech Policy site.

The symposium is motivated by recent movement in the music industry toward the possibility of licensing large music catalogs to consumers for a fixed monthly fee. For example, Warner Music, one of the major record companies, just hired Jim Griffin to explore such a system, in which Internet Service Providers would pay a per-user fee to record companies in exchange for allowing the ISPs' customers to access music freely online. The industry had previously opposed collective licenses, making them politically non-viable, but the policy logjam may be about to break, making this a perfect time to discuss the pros and cons of various policy options.

It's an issue that evokes strong feelings – just look at the comments on David's recent post.

We have a strong group of panelists:

• Matt Earp is a graduate student in the i-school at UC Berkeley, studying the design and implementation of voluntary collective licensing systems.
• Ari Feldman is a Ph.D. candidate in computer science at Princeton, studying computer security and information policy.
• Ed Felten is a Professor of Computer Science and Public Affairs at Princeton.
• Jon Healey is an editorial writer at the Los Angeles Times and writes the paper's Bit Player blog, which focuses on how technology is changing the entertainment industry's business models.
• Samantha Murphy is an independent singer/songwriter and Founder of SMtvMusic.com.
• David Robinson is Associate Director of the Center for InfoTech Policy at Princeton.
• Fred von Lohmann is a Senior Staff Attorney at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, specializing in intellectual property matters.
• Harlan Yu is a Ph.D. candidate in computer science at Princeton, working at the intersection of computer science and public policy.

Check it out!

Bruce Schneier has an interesting new essay about how security people see the world. Here's a sample:

Uncle Milton Industries has been selling ant farms to children since 1956. Some years ago, I remember opening one up with a friend. There were no actual ants included in the box. Instead, there was a card that you filled in with your address, and the company would mail you some ants. My friend expressed surprise that you could get ants sent to you in the mail.

I replied: "What's really interesting is that these people will send a tube of live ants to anyone you tell them to."

Security requires a particular mindset. Security professionals – at least the good ones – see the world differently. They can't walk into a store without noticing how they might shoplift. They can't use a computer without wondering about the security vulnerabilities. They can't vote without trying to figure out how to vote twice. They just can't help it.

...

This kind of thinking is not natural for most people. It's not natural for engineers. Good engineering involves thinking about how things can be made to work; the security mindset involves thinking about how things can be made to fail. It involves thinking like an attacker, an adversary or a criminal. You don't have to exploit the vulnerabilities you find, but if you don't see the world that way, you'll never notice most security problems.

I've often speculated about how much of this is innate, and how much is teachable. In general, I think it's a particular way of looking at the world, and that it's far easier to teach someone domain expertise – cryptography or software security or safecracking or document forgery – than it is to teach someone a security mindset.

The ant farm story illustrates another aspect of the security mindset. Your first reaction to the might have been, "So what? What's so harmful about sending a package of ordinary ants to an unsuspecting person?" Even Bruce Schneier, who has the security mindset in spades, doesn't point to any terrible consequence of misdirecting the tube of ants. (You might worry about the ants' welfare, but in that case ant farms are already problematic.) If you have the security mindset, you'll probably find the possibility of ant misdirection to be irritating; you'll feel that something should have been done about it; and you'll probably file it away in your mental attic, in case it becomes relevant later.

This interest in "harmless failures" – cases where an adversary can cause an anomalous but not directly harmful outcome – is another hallmark of the security mindset. Not all "harmless failures" lead to big trouble, but it's surprising how often a clever adversary can pile up a stack of seemingly harmless failures into a dangerous tower of trouble. Harmless failures are bad hygiene. We try to stamp them out when we can.

To see why, consider the donotreply.com email story that hit the press recently. When companies send out commercial email (e.g., an airline notifying a passenger of a flight delay) and they don't want the recipient to reply to the email, they often put in a bogus From address like donotreply@donotreply.com. A clever guy registered the domain donotreply.com, thereby receiving all email addressed to donotreply.com. This included "bounce" replies to misaddressed emails, some of which contained copies of the original email, with information such as bank account statements, site information about military bases in Iraq, and so on. Misdirected ants might not be too dangerous, but misdirected email can cause no end of trouble.

The people who put donotreply.com email addresses into their outgoing email must have known that they didn't control the donotreply.com domain, so they must have thought of any reply messages directed there as harmless failures. Having gotten that far, there are two ways to avoid trouble. The first way is to think carefully about the traffic that might go to donotreply.com, and realize that some of it is actually dangerous. The second way is to think, "This looks like a harmless failure, but we should avoid it anyway. No good can come of this." The first way protects you if you're clever; the second way always protects you.

Which illustrates yet another part of the security mindset: Don't rely too much on your own cleverness, because somebody out there is surely more clever and more motivated than you are.

One of the challenges in understanding privacy is how to square what people say about privacy with what they actually do. People say they care deeply about privacy and resent unexpected commercial use of information about them; but they happily give that same information to companies likely to use and sell it. If people value their privacy so highly, why do they sell it for next to nothing?

To put it another way, people say they want more privacy than the market is producing. Why is this? One explanation is that actions speak louder than words, people don't really want privacy very much (despite what they say), and the market is producing an efficient level of privacy. But there's another possibility: perhaps a market failure is causing underproduction of privacy.

Why might this be? A recent Slate essay by Reihan Salam gives a clue. Salam talks about the quandry faced by companies like the financial-management site Wesabe. A new company building up its business wants to reassure customers that their information will be treated with the utmost case. But later, when the company is big, it will want to monetize the same customer information. Salam argues that these forces are in tension and few if any companies will be able to stick with their early promises to not be evil.

What customers want, of course, is not good intentions but a solid commitment from a company that it will stay privacy-friendly as it grows. The problem is that there's no good way for a company to make such a commitment. In principle, a company could make an ironclad legal commitment, written into a contract with customers. But in practice customers will have a hard time deciphering such a contract and figuring out how much it actually protects them. Is the contract enforceable? Are there loopholes? The average customer won't have a clue. He'll do what he usually does with a long website contract: glance briefly at it, then shrug and click "Accept".

An alternative to contracts is signaling. A company will say, repeatedly, that its intentions are pure. It will appoint the right people to its advisory board and send its executives to say the right things at the right conferences. It will take conspicuous, almost extravagant steps to be privacy-friendly. This is all fine as far as it goes, but these signals are a poor substitute for a real commitment. They aren't too difficult to fake. And even if the signals are backed by the best of intentions, everything could change in an instant if the company is acquired – a new management team might not share the original team's commitment to privacy. Indeed, if management's passion for privacy is holding down revenue, such an acquisition will be especially likely.

There's an obvious market failure here. If we postulate that at least some customers want to use web services that come with strong privacy commitments (and are willing to pay the appropriate premium for them), it's hard to see how the market can provide what they want. Companies can signal a commitment to privacy, but those signals will be unreliable so customers won't be willing to pay much for them – which will leave the companies with little incentive to actually protect privacy. The market will underproduce privacy.

How big a problem is this? It depends on how many customers would be willing to pay a premium for privacy – a premium big enough to replace the revenue from monetizing customer information. How many customers would be willing to pay this much? I don't know. But I do know that people might care a lot about privacy, even if they're not paying for privacy today.

Postings here have been a bit sparse lately, which I hope to remedy soon. In the meantime, you can get a hearty dose of tech policy blog goodness over at my course blog, where students in my course in Information Technology and Public Policy post their thoughts on the topic.

Today we're kicking off an online symposium on The Future of Scholarly Communication, run by the Center for Information Technology Policy at Princeton. An "online symposium" is a kind of short-term group blog, focusing on a specific topic. Panelists (besides me) include Ira Fuchs, Paul DiMaggio, Peter Suber, Stan Katz, and David Robinson. (See the symposium site for more information on the panelists.)

I started the symposium with an "introductory post. Peter Suber has already chimed in, and we're looking forward to contributions from the other panelists.

We'll be running more online symposia on various topics in the future, so this might be a good time to bookmark the symposium site, or subscribe to its RSS feed.

Hello again, FTT readers. You may remember me as a guest blogger here at FTT, writing about anti-circumvention, the print media's superiority (or lack thereof) to Wikipedia, and a variety of other topics.

I'm happy to report that I've moved to Princeton to join the university's Center for Information Technology Policy as its new associate director. Working with Ed and others here on campus, I'll be helping bring the Center into its own as a leading interdisciplinary venue for research and conversation about the social and political impact of information technology.

Over the next few months, I'll be traveling the country to look at how other institutions approach this area, in order to develop a strategic plan for Princeton's involvement in the field. As a first step toward understanding the world of tech policy, I've been doing a lot of reading lately.

One great source is The Creation of the Media by Princeton's own Paul Starr. It's carefully argued and highly readable, and I've found its content challenging. Conversations in tech policy often seem to stem from the premise that in the interaction between technology and society, the most important causal arrow points from the technologies into the social sphere. "Remix culture", perhaps the leading example at the moment, is a major cultural shift that is argued to stem from inherent properties of digital media, such as the identity between a copy and an original of a digital work.

But Paul argues that politics usually dominates the effects of technology, not the other way around. For example, although cheap printing technologies helped make the early United States one of the most literate countries of its time, Paul argues that America's real advantage was its postal system. Congress not only invested heavily in the postal service, but also gave a special discounted rate to printed material, effectively subsidizing publications of all kinds. As a result much more printed material was mailed in America than in, say, British Columbia at the same time.

One fascinating observation from Paul's book (pages 180-181 in the hardcover edition, for those following along at home) concerns the telegraph. In Britain, the telegraph was nationalized in order to ensure that private network operators didn't take advantage of the natural monopoly that they enjoyed ("natural" since once there was one set of telegraph wires leading to a place, it became hard to justify building a second set).

In the United States, there was a vociferous debate about whether or not to nationalize the telegraph system, which was controlled by Western Union, a private company:

[W]ithin the United States, Western Union continued to dominate the telegraph industry after its triumph in 1866 but faced two constraints that limited its ability to exploit its market power. First, the postal telegraph movement created a political environment that was, to some extent, a functional substitute for government regulation. Britain's nationalization of the telegraph was widely discussed in America. Worried that the US government might follow suit, Western Union's leaders at various times extended service or held rates in check to keep public opposition within manageable levels. (Concern about the postal telegraph movement also led the company to provide members of Congress with free telegraph service — in effect, making the private telegraph a post office for officeholders.) Public opinion was critical in confining Western Union to its core business. In 1866 and again in 1881, the company was on the verge of trying to muscle the Associated Press aside and take over the wire service business itself when it drew back, apparently out of concern that it could lose the battle over nationalization by alienating the most influential newspapers in the country. Western Union did, however, move into the distribution of commercial news and in 1871 acquired majority control of Gold and Stock, a pioneering financial information company that developed the stock ticker.

This situation–a dynamic equilibrium in which a private party polices its own behavior in order to stave off the threat of government intervention–strikes me as closely analogous to the net neutrality debate today. Network operators, although not subject to neutrality requirements, are more reluctant to exercise the options for traffic discrimination that are formally open to them, because they recognize that doing so might lead to regulation.