May 3, 2024

FreeConference Suit: Neutrality Fight or Regulatory Squabble?

Last week FreeConference, a company that offers “free” teleconferencing services, sued AT&T for blocking access by AT&T/Cingular customers to FreeConference’s services. FreeConference’s complaint says the blocking is anticompetitive and violates the Communications Act.

FreeConference’s service sets up conference calls that connect a group of callers. Users are given an ordinary long-distance phone number to call. When they call the assigned number, they are connected to their conference call. Users pay nothing beyond the cost of the ordinary long-distance call they’re making.

As of last week, AT&T/Cingular started blocking access to FreeConference’s long-distance numbers from AT&T/Cingular mobile phones. Instead of getting connected to their conference calls, AT&T/Cingular users are getting an error message. AT&T/Cingular has reportedly admitted doing this.

At first glance, this looks like an unfair practice, with AT&T trying to shut down a cheaper competitor that is undercutting AT&T’s lucrative conference-call business. This is the kind of thing net neutrality advocates worry about – though strictly speaking this is happening on the phone network, not the Internet.

The full story is a bit more complicated, and it starts with FreeConference’s mysterious ability to provide conference calls for free. These days many companies provide free services, but they all have some way of generating revenue. FreeConference appears to generate revenue by exploiting the structure of telecom regulation.

When you make a long-distance call, you pay your long-distance provider for the call. The long-distance provider is required to pay connection fees to the local phone companies (or mobile companies) at both ends of the call, to offset the cost of connecting the call to the endpoints. This regulatory framework is a legacy of the AT&T breakup and was justified by the desire to have a competitive long-distance market coexist with local phone carriers that were near-monopolies.

FreeConference gets revenue from these connection fees. It has apparently cut a deal with a local phone carrier under which the carrier accepts calls for FreeConference, and FreeConference gets a cut of the carrier’s connection fees from those calls. If the connection fees are large enough – and apparently they are – this can be a win-win deal for FreeConference and the local carrier.

But of course somebody has to pay the fees. When an AT&T/Cingular customer calls FreeConference, AT&T/Cingular has to pay. They can pass on these fees to their customers, but this hardly seems fair. If I were an AT&T/Cingular customer, I wouldn’t be happy about paying more to subsidize the conference calls of other users.

To add another layer of complexity, it turns out that connection fees vary widely from place to place, ranging roughly from one cent to seven cents per minute. FreeConnection, predictably, has allied itself with a local carrier that gets a high connection fee. By routing its calls to this local carrier, FreeConnection is able to extract more revenue from AT&T/Cingular.

For me, this story illustrates everything that is frustrating about telecom. We start with intricately structured regulation, leading companies to adopt business models shaped by regulation rather than the needs of customers. The result is bewildering to consumers, who end up not knowing which services will work, or having to pay higher prices for mysterious reasons. This leads a techno-legal battle between companies that would, in an ideal world, be spending their time and effort developing better, cheaper products. And ultimately we end up in court, or creating more regulation.

We know a better end state is possible. But how do we get there from here?

[Clarification (2:20 PM): Added the “To add another layer …” paragraph. Thanks to Nathan Williams for pointing out my initial failure to mention the variation in connection fees.]

Judge Strikes Down COPA

Last week a Federal judge struck down COPA, a law requiring adult websites to use age verification technology. The ruling by Senior Judge Lowell A. Reed Jr. held COPA unconstitutional because it is more restrictive of speech (but no more effective) than the alternative of allowing private parties to use filtering software.

This is the end of a long legal process that started with the passage of COPA in 1999. The ACLU, along with various authors and publishers, immediately filed suit challenging COPA, and Judge Reed struck down the law. The case was appealed up to the Supreme Court, which generally supported Judge Reed’s ruling but remanded the case back to him for further proceedings because enough time had passed that the technological facts might have changed. Judge Reed held another trial last fall, at which I testified. Now he has ruled, again, that COPA is unconstitutional.

The policy issue behind COPA is how to keep kids from seeing harmful-to-minors (HTM) material. Some speech is legally obscene, which means it is so icky that it does not qualify for First Amendment free speech protection. HTM material is not obscene – adults have a legally protected right to read it – but is icky enough that kids don’t have a right to see it. In other words, there is a First Amendment right to transmit HTM material to adults but not to kids.

Congress has tried more than once to pass laws keeping kids away from HTM material online. The first attempt, the Communications Decency Act (CDA), was struck down by the Supreme Court in 1997. When Congress responded by passing COPA in 1999, it used the Court’s CDA ruling as a roadmap in writing the new law, in the hope that doing so would make COPA consistent with free speech.

Unlike the previous CDA ruling, Judge Reed’s new COPA ruling doesn’t seem to give Congress a roadmap for creating a new statute that would pass constitutional muster. COPA required sites publishing HTM material to use age screening technology to try to keep kids out. The judge compared COPA’s approach to an alternative in which individual computer owners had the option of using content filtering software. He found that COPA’s approach was more restrictive of protected speech and less effective in keeping kids away from HTM material. That was enough to make COPA, as a content-based restriction on speech, unconstitutional.

Two things make the judge’s ruling relatively roadmap-free. First, it is based heavily on factual findings that Congress cannot change – things like the relative effectiveness of filtering and the amount of HTM material that originates overseas beyond the effective reach of U.S. law. (Filtering operates on all material, while COPA’s requirements could have been ignored by many overseas sites.) Second, the alternative it offers requires only voluntary private action, not legislation.

Congress has already passed laws requiring schools and libraries to use content filters, as a condition of getting Federal funding and with certain safeguards that are supposed to protect adult access. The courts have upheld such laws. It’s not clear what more Congress can do. Judge Reed’s filtering alternative is less restrictive because it is voluntary, so that computers that aren’t used by kids, or on which parents have other ways of protecting kids against HTM material, can get unfiltered access. An adult who wants to get HTM material will be able to get it.

Doubtless Congress will make noise about this issue in the upcoming election year. Protecting kids from the nasty Internet is too attractive politically to pass up. Expect hearings to be held and bills to be introduced; but the odds that we’ll get a new law that makes much difference seem pretty low.

New Congress, Same Old Issues

With control of the House and Senate about to switch parties, everybody is wondering how the new management will affect their pet policy issues. Cameron Wilson has a nice forecast for tech policy issues such as competitiveness, globalization, privacy, DRM, and e-voting.

Most of these don’t break down as partisan issues – differences are larger within each party than between the two parties. So the shift in control won’t necessarily lead to any big change. But there are two factors that may shake things up.

The first factor is the acceleration of change that happens in any organization when new leadership comes in. The new boss wants to show that he differs from the old boss, especially if the old boss was fired. And the new boss gets a short grace period in which to be bold. If a policy or practice was stale and needed to be changed but the institutional ice floes were just stuck, new management may loosen them.

The second factor has to do with the individuals who will run the various committees. If you’re not a government geek, you may not realize how much the agenda on particular issues is set by House and Senate committees, and particularly by the committee chairs. For example, any e-voting legislation must pass through the House Administration Committee, so the chair of that committee can effectively block such legislation. As long as Bob Ney was chair of the committee, e-voting reform was stymied – that’s why the Holt e-voting bill could have more than half of the House members as co-sponsors without even reaching a vote. But Mr. Ney’s Abramoff problem and the change in party control will put Juanita Millender-McDonald in charge of the committee. Suddenly Ms. Millender-McDonald’s opinion on e-voting has gotten much more important.

The bottom line is that on most tech issues we don’t know what will happen. On some issues, such as the broad telecom/media/Internet reform discussion, the situation is at least as cloudy as before. Let the battles begin.

More on Meta-Freedom

Tim Lee comments:

The fact that you can waive your free speech rights via contract doesn’t mean that it would be a good idea to enact special laws backing up those contracts with criminal penalties. I think you’re missing an important middle ground here. The choice isn’t between no tinkering rights and constitutionally mandated tinkering rights. There’s a third option: the the law should neither restrict nor guarantee tinkering rights. You’re welcome to tinker, but you’re also welcome to contract away your freedom to tinker.

The DMCA sticks its thumbs on the “no tinkering” side of the scale by giving DRM creators rights beyond those available to parties in ordinary contract disputes, and by roping third parties into the DRM “contract” whether they’ve agreed to it or not. If I sign a NDA, and then I break it, the company can sue me. But they can’t have me thrown in jail. And they can’t necessarily sue the journalist to whom I divulged the NDA’d information.

But repealing the DMCA would not create an inalienable right to tinker. It would simply put the freedom to tinker on the same plane as all our other rights: you’d have the right to sign them away by contract, but in the absence of a contract you would retain them.

He is right. There is an important middle ground possible that calls for DMCA repeal without calling for the contracts that restrict tinkering rights to be unenforceable. There is certainly a great deal to be said in favor of such a position. I would still say that the mixture-of-motives issue applies, because when people are allowed to sign away their tinkering rights, many of them will, and this outcome will be particularly unwelcome among power users and technology policy activists.

The Freedom to Tinker with Freedom?

Doug Lay, commenting on my last post, pointed out that the Zune buyout would help make a world of DRM-enabled music services more attractive. “Where,” he asked, “does this leave the freedom to tinker?”

Anti-DMCA activism has tended to focus on worst-case, scary scenarios that can spur people to action. It’s a standard move in politics of all kinds, aptly captured in the title of a 2005 BBC documentary about Bush and Blair, The Power of Nightmares. In the context of a world of DRM gone mad, it’s obvious why we need the freedom to tinker. We need it because (in that world) opaque, tinker-proof devices protected by restrictive laws would be extremely harmful to consumers. The only way to make sure that the experience of the average media viewer or software user doesn’t go down the tubes, in this scenario, is to make sure that consumers, either legislatively or through individual choice, never let DRM get off the ground.

But consider an alternative possibility. The Darknet is a permanent backdrop for any real-world system. The major players know this – after all, it was a team at Microsoft Research that helped to launch the Darknet idea. The big players will, in the long run, be smart enough not to drive users into the arms of the Darknet. They will compete with the Darknet, and with each other, and will end up producing systems that most consumers think are fine. Yes, consumers will (still) chafe at the restrictions on DRM-protected systems ten or twenty years from now. But on the whole, they will find that these systems are attractive, and worth investing in.

Who loses in this scenario? Ed and others have argued that all consumers will suffer to some degree because we all enjoy the benefits that come from a few intrepid power users excercising the freedom to tinker. There are educational benefits that come from tinkering and, perhaps most importantly, the freedom to tinker keeps technologies flexible and leaves room for them to interoperate in surprising ways not initially envisioned by their creators. And, as Alex has pointed out to me, the social costs of tinkerproofing are cumulative in such a way that there may be a collective bargaining problem–we may have a situation in which the freedom to tinker does not matter very much to most individuals, but we’d all be better off if, collectively, we assigned a higher value to our individual freedom to tinker than we actually feel for it.

These arguments certainly have significant merit. Together, they (and others like them) might be enough to make it the case that we should create legal protection for the freedom to tinker, or at least build a social consensus for the importance of tinkering.

But I think the people who lose the most, in this DRM-isn’t-so-bad scenario, are the power users. People who like to poke around under the hood. People who are outliers, attaching more importance to the freedom to tinker than a typical consumer attaches to it. I’m talking, in other words, about us.

We the reader-participants of www.freedom-to-tinker.com are an unusual bunch. We really like to tinker. In my own case, I know that I care more about things like being able to time and space shift my media collection than the average person does. I derive a certain strange pleasure from being able to change the way the interface on my desktop computer looks. I buy books so I can mark them up, even though it would be much cheaper and more space-efficient to use a library.

In fact, when I think about it, I have to admit that I would find a world where DRM works and the ability to tinker can be bargained away to be a bit of a downer. I know that the equilibrium point the market reaches, in such a case, will be based on the moderate importance most people attach to tinkering, rather than the high importance that I attach to it. I’ll probably still buy in to some DRM-based music scheme in the long run, just as I still go to the movies even while wishing that they would focus more on plot and less on special effects. But I’ll miss the tinkering.

If the government were to put a legal guarantee behind the freedom to tinker, it would be reducing peoples’ freedom to contract by telling them they can’t bargain away their tinkering rights. It would force on consumers as a whole an outcome that they would manifestly not choose for themselves in the private market. Yes, it is possible that externalities or collective action issues could justify this coercion. But even if those considerations didn’t justify the coercion, part of me would still want it to happen, because that way, I’d get to keep tinkering rights that, under a different terrain of options, I would end up choosing to relinquish.

I apparently haven’t mastered the art of ending a blog post, so just as I closed last time with a “bottom line,” this one gets a “moral of the story.” The moral of the story is that many of us, who may find ourselves arguing based on public reasons for public policies that protect the freedom to tinker, also have a private reason to favor such policies. The private reason is that we ourselves care more about tinkering than the public at large does, and we would therefore be happier in a protected-tinkering world than the public at large would be. We all owe it to ourselves, to each other, and to the public with whom we communicate to be careful and candid about our mixture of motivations.