In a dark room we can do just as we like

Earlier I expressed some pessimism about the future of copyright law, finishing with an extended quote from Bill Patry's own gloomy diagnosis. Now Charles Johnson has written a sharp response to Patry, insisting that the proper evaluand is not law but life, where copyright-as-lived is nearly irrelevant. I think Johnson is right in some ways but wrong in others, and my reasons for thinking his optimism misplaced have implications that go far beyond questions of copyright.

To clarify: I agree with the two claims that seem at the heart of Johnson's post: that as a practical matter, copyright law has proven ineffective at barring access to creative works; and that voluntary initiative (think DeCSS, Napster, Bittorrent, The Pirate Bay, IRC channels, etc.) is typically a better use of activists' energy and resources than governmental politics as far as actually enhancing freedom-as-lived. So what's the problem? In a nutshell, I think Johnson is too quick to downplay, 1, the damage that even "unenforceable" policies can do, and 2, the long-term social and political costs of states criminalizing, rather than merely ignoring, the "counter-economy" or radical sector more generally.

There's some truth to Johnson's claim that "a law that cannot be enforced is as good as a law that has been repealed." While jurisprudes might quibble about how precisely to characterise the situation, a norm whose existence is universally ignored by the legal system's officials is of questionable validity at best. The problem is when we turn to norms that cannot be generally or impartially enforced, but are enforced nonetheless, the penalties meted out in conformity to the whims ("priorities") of particular officials. The best examples of this, of course, remains what Lawyers, Guns, and Money call "The War on [Some Classes of People Who Use Some Sorts of] Drugs." As with copyright, vast segments of the population regularly break the relevant laws; doing so is neither practically difficult nor unusually risky; for a certain sort of person, even explicit admissions of criminality have essentially no consequences at all. And yet none of this stops officials from locking millions of their fellow human beings in cages for doing the wrong drug as the wrong sort of person at the wrong time--or voters from eagerly rewarding those officials with higher offices and greater powers.

This so widely acknowledged as to be almost banal, especially in Law & Society work, but it bears repeating: laws whose enforcement is possible only when selective are not uncommon, because officials--and not only officials--value the discretion such laws inevitably require. If everyone is guilty of something, officials can effectively target people and not merely behavior. There's a big difference between random enforcement and discretionary enforcement, even when structural factors constrain both to the same aggregate arrest totals, and I worry that copyright law will follow narcotics and "vice" policing into the ugly realm where all is permitted, so long as you don't annoy the wrong people.

Johnson has written some good critiques of the fetishization of our flawed constitution and against law-worship more generally, but I worry that he's too dismissive of the conceptual link between liberty and the rule of law. I don't pretend to have this stuff fully worked out, but I think the republican focus on protected status, a security against the arbitrary will of another, reflects an important dimension of any liberty worth defending. None of which implies that modern nation-states are either necessary to or particularly good at safeguarding this liberty; I merely want to insist that what matters is not aggregate enforcement but individual vulnerability, even if this vulnerability is largely insufficient to deter the proscribed behavior.

My second concern is more speculative, and (blush) rather Foucaultian. What leads to vulnerability is the gap between cultural and legal norms, a gap prompted both by the low (unconditional) probability of punishment and the marginal benefits of rule-breaking. Napster was revolutionary because it provided a service that hadn't before been available at any price--the possibility of getting nearly any song on demand. It's taken the music industry a decade to replicate this feat, but they've basically done it; for a lot of stuff, it's just easier to pay. The cost/benefit calculus has shifted.

So long as you've got the money, that is. I suspect the optimal pricing structure will lead to something of a separating equilibrium; middle class kids pay (and share libraries via sneakernet), poor kids infringe online. Among the privileged, unlicensed downloading becomes much worse than illegal--it becomes tacky and pathetic, like crack (but not powder) cocaine. Or perhaps the parallel is to payroll taxes--convenient because automatic, at least for Dilberts living and working within institutions large and ordinary enough to become bureaucratized; annoying and painful, tempting evasion, for those who walk different paths. (And of course, that dynamic itself disincentivizes deviance.) Even now, a distressing number of people seem to think "he knew the risks" sufficient reason to temper the sympathy one might ordinarily feel for a person facing a 6-digit lawsuit over harmless acts; what happens when today's Organization Kids become tomorrow's prosecutors, governors, judges? (Ian MacDonald's novels Brasyl and especially River of Gods both portray futures with this interesting cultural-juristic twist on "the digital divide.")

One response might be to question my armchair sociology; far from being Foucaultian self-disciplinarians living in a digital Panopticon of Google-powered data mining, aren't Kids These Days selling their virginities on eBay and posting the videos to MySpace (before penning angsty regrets on Livejournal), consequences be damned? Perhaps. But I'm dubious that youthful oversharing in the name of authenticity is in any fundamental tension with copyright, once content owners and manufacturers realize that user experience is everything (think of the cellphone ringtone business).

Ultimately, it's precisely because I agree with Johnson about the importance of social, technological, and cultural change that I question his optimistic conclusions. It may be easier than ever to evade copyright controls, but even aside from the issue of discretionary enforcement, we need to look at the other side of the ledger: the increasing invisibility of those very controls. The defining feature of the Napster era was not simply the yawning gulf between copyright and copynorm but the indispensibility of copyright infringement to participation in youth culture, even for the privileged. This indispensibility is disappearing, and the gulf may go with it; the Google Books settlement promises to skip the Napster stage entirely--heading right to the locked-down iTunes paradigm--as the books of the world join its music in the digital ether. And that would be deeply unfortunate, less for econ 101 deadweight-loss reasons than for the impact on tomorrow's taken-for-granteds concerning freedom, ownership, and authority.