Category: Intellectual Property

Management Wants Precarity: A California Ideology for Employment Law

LaborShareThe reader of Talent Wants to be Free effectively gets two books for the price of one. As one of the top legal scholars on the intersection of employment and intellectual property law, Prof. Lobel skillfully describes key concepts and disputes in both areas. Lobel has distilled years of rigorous, careful legal analysis into a series of narratives, theories, and key concepts. Lobel brings legal ideas to life, dramatizing the workplace tensions between loyalty and commitment, control and creativity, better than any work I’ve encountered over the past decade. Her enthusiasm for the subject matter animates the work throughout, making the book a joy to read. Most of the other participants in this symposium have already commented on how successful this aspect of the book is, so I won’t belabor their points.

Talent Want to Be Free also functions as a second kind of book: a management guide. The ending of the first chapter sets up this project, proposing to advise corporate leaders on how to “meet the challenge” of keeping the best performers from leaving, and how “to react when, inevitably, some of these most talented people become competitors” (26). This is a work not only destined for law schools, but also for business schools: for captains of industry eager for new strategies to deploy in the great game of luring and keeping “talent.” Reversing Machiavelli’s famous prescription, Lobel advises the Princes of modern business that it is better to be loved than feared. They should celebrate mobile workers, and should not seek to bind their top employees with burdensome noncompete clauses. Drawing on the work of social scientists like AnnaLee Saxenian (68), Lobel argues that an ecology of innovation depends on workers’ ability to freely move to where their talents are best appreciated.

For Lobel, many restrictions on the free flow of human capital are becoming just as much of a threat to economic prosperity as excess copyright, patent, and trademark protection. Both sets of laws waste resources combating the free flow of information. A firm that trains its workers may want to require them to stay for several years, to recoup its investment (28-29). But Lobel exposes the costs of such a strategy: human capital controls “restrict careers and connections that are born between people” (32). They can also hurt the development of a local talent pool that could, in all likelihood, redound to the benefit of the would-be controlling firm. Trapped in their firms by rigid Massachusetts’ custom and law, Route 128’s talent tended to stagnate. California refused to enforce noncompete clauses, encouraging its knowledge workers to find the firms best able to use their skills.

I have little doubt that Lobel’s book will be assigned in B-schools from Stanford to Wharton. She tells a consistently positive, upbeat story about management techniques to fraternize the incompatibles of personal fulfillment, profit maximization, and regional advantage. But for every normative term that animates her analysis (labor mobility, freedom of contract, innovation, creative or constructive destruction) there is a shadow term (precarity, exploitation, disruption, waste) that goes unexplored. I want to surface a few of these terms, and explore the degree to which they limit the scope or force of Lobel’s message. My worry is that managers will be receptive to the book not because they want talent to be free in the sense of “free speech,” but rather, in the sense of “free beer:” interchangeable cog(nitive unit)s desperately pitching themselves on MTurk and TaskRabbit.
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Talent Flow and the Theory of the Firm

Both Vic Fleisher and Shubha Ghosh in their thoughtful commentary about Talent Wants to Be Free invoke the theory of the firm to raise question about the extent of desirable freedom in talent and knowledge flows. In its basic iteration, the theory of the firm suggests that arms-length contracting will not be optimal when one party has the ability to renegotiate and hold the other party up, which is the conventional rational for the desirability of talent controls. This is what I describe in the book as the Orthodox Model of employment intellectual property: firms fear making relational investment in employees and then having the employees renegotiate the contract under a threat of exit. Firms respond through mobility restrictions aimed at eliminating the transaction costs of this kind of opportunism. In the book, I accept, at least for some situations, this aspect of the benefits and confidence that are created for firms in internalizing production and ensuring ongoing loyalty by all players. The orthodox model thus explains post-employment controls as necessary to encourage optimal investment within the corporation. More company controls = more internal R&D and human capital investment. The new model developed in the book doesn’t deny these benefits but argues that the orthodox model is incomplete. The Dynamic-Dyadic Model asks about the costs and benefits when controls are employed.  It suggests that yes, often, protecting human capital and trade secret investments is often in the immediate interest of a company, but that too much control becomes a double-edged sword. This is because of both the demotivating effects on employee performance when lateral markets are reduced and because over-time, although information leakage and job-hopping by talented workers may provide competitors with undue know-how, expertise, and technologies, constraining mobility reduces knowledge spillovers and information sharing that outweigh the occasional losses. The enriched model is supported by a growing body of empirical evidence that finds that regions with less controls and more talent freedom, such as California, have in fact more R&D investment, quicker economic growth and greater innovation.

Vic is of course right that one solution to this problem is to recreate high-powered (market-like) incentives for performance within the firm. This is an aspect that I am greatly interested in and I analyze it in Talent Wants to Be Free as the question of whether controls and restrictions can effectively alternate with the carrots of performance-based compensation, vesting interests, loyalty inducing work environments, employee stock options and so forth. I too like Shubha am a fan of Hirschman’s Exit, Voice, and Loyalty and have found it useful in analyzing employment relations. I view the behavioral research as shedding light on these questions of what these intra-firm incentives need to look like in order to preserve the incentive to innovate. In a later post I will elaborate on the monitoring and motivational tradeoffs that exist in individual and group performance.

More generally, though, the research suggests that at least in certain industries, most paradigmatically fast-paced, high-tech fields, innovation is most likely when the contracting environments have thick networks of innovators that are mobile (i.e. Silicon valley) and firms themselves are horizontally networked. The flow of talent and ideas is important to innovation and rigid boundaries of the firm can stifle that interaction even with the right intra-firm incentives. The benefits in terms of innovation rise in these structures of denser inter-firm connections, but also, the costs of opportunism that drive the conventional wisdom are in fact lower than the traditional theory of the firm would predict. This is because talent mobility is a repeated game and at any given moment, a firm can be on either side of the raiding and poaching.   Policies against talent controls have the effect of reducing the costs of opportunistic renegotiation by ensuring the firm can hire replacement innovators when it loses its people. To push back on Vic’s phrasing, talent wants to be appreciated and free. MIT economist Daron Acemoglu’s analysis of investments and re-investments in workers as a key ingredient of production and growth is helpful in understanding some of this dynamic. People invest in their own human capital without knowing the exact work they will eventually do, just as companies must make investment decisions in technology and capital funds without always knowing who they will end up hiring. Acemoglu describes the positive upward trajectory under these conditions of uncertainty: When workers invest more in their human capital, businesses will invest more because of the prospects of acquiring good talent. In turn, workers will invest more in their human capital as they may end up in one or more of these companies.  The likelihood of finding good employers creates incentives for overall investments in human capital.

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Human Capital Law and Innovation Policy

This is a thrilling week for Talent Wants to Be Free. I am incredibly honored and grateful to all the participants of the symposium and especially to Deven Desai for putting it all together. It’s only Monday morning, the first official day of the symposium, and there are already a half a dozen fantastic posts up, all of which offer so much food for thought and so much to respond to. Wow! Before posting responses to the various themes and comments raised in the reviews, I wanted to write a more general introductory post to describe the path, motivation, and goals of writing the book.

Talent Wants to Be Free: Why We Should Learn to Love Leaks, Raids and Free Riding comes at a moment in time in which important developments in markets and research have coincided, pushing us to rethink innovation policy and our approaches to human capital. First, the talent wars are fiercer than ever and the mindset of talent control is rising. The stats about the rise of restrictions over human capital across industries and professions are dramatic.  Talent poaching is global, acquisition marathons increasingly focus on the people and their skills and potential for innovation as much as they look at the existing intellectual property of the company. And corporate espionage is the subject of heated international debates. Second, as a result of critical mass of new empirical studies coming out of business schools, law, psychology, economics, geography, we know so much more today compared to just a few years ago about what supports and what hinders innovation. The theories and insights I develop in the book attempt to bring together my behavioral research and economic analysis of employment law, including my experimental studies about the effects of non-competes on motivation, my theoretical and collaborative experimental studies about employee loyalty and institutional incentives, and my scholarship about the changing world of work, along with theories about endogenous growth and agglomeration economies by leading economists, such as Paul Romer and Michael Porter, and new empieircal field studies by management scholars such as Mark Garmaise, Olav Sorenson, Sampsa Samila, Matt Marx, and Lee Fleming. Third, as several of the posts point out, these are exciting times because legislatures and courts are actually interested in thinking seriously about innovation policy and have become more receptive to new evidence about the potential for better reforms.

As someone who teaches and writes in the fields of employment law, I wrote the book in the hopes that we can move beyond what I viewed as a stale conversation that framed these issues of non-competes, worker mobility, trade secrets and ownership over ideas  as labor versus business; protectionism versus free markets (as is often the case with other key areas of my research such as whistleblowing and discrimination). A primary goal was to shift the debate to include questions about how human capital law affects competitiveness and growth more generally. Writing about work policy, my first and foremost goal is to understand the nature of work in its many evolving iterations. Often in these debates we get sidetracked. While we have an active ongoing debate about the right scope of intellectual property, under the radar human capital controls have been expanding, largely without serious public conversation. My hope has been to encourage broad and sophisticated exchanges between legal scholars, policymakers, business leaders, investors, and innovators.

And still, there is so much more to do! The participants of the symposium are pushing me forward with next steps. The exchanges this week will certainly help crystalize a lot of the questions that were beyond the scope of the single book and several new projects are already underway. I will mention in closing a couple of other colleagues who have written about the book elsewhere and hope they too will join in the conversation. These include a thoughtful review by Raizel Liebler on The Learned FanGirl, a Q&A with CO’s Dan Solove, and other advance reviews here. Once again, let me say how grateful and appreciative I am to all the participants. Nothing is more rewarding.

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Human Capital, Tacit Knowledge, and the Limits of Intellectual Property

Orly’s ambitious and thought-provoking book covers a significant amount of intellectual ground. She deftly navigates covenants not to compete, nondisclosure agreements, trade secrets, and intellectual property assignments to provide a compelling argument for the free flow of talent in the modern economy. Orly’s work raises a host of questions that space constraints no doubt prevented her from more fully exploring, and I would encourage her to extend her analyses in subsequent work.

One aspect of Orly’s work that I found particularly intriguing is that it reveals a central irony about information. The title of her book is a play on Stewart Brand’s famous phrase “information wants to be free.” While this statement has a contemporary ring, the observation that information is “slippery” and readily appropriable has a long pedigree and has had significant legal and policy ramifications. As Orly notes, Thomas Jefferson invoked the freely appropriable nature of technical information to help justify exclusive rights on inventions. More formally, economists have long characterized technical knowledge as a public good that is nonrival, nonexcludable, and capable of nearly costless transmission. The “slipperiness” of technical information is now largely taken for granted and provides significant theoretical justification for exclusive rights on knowledge assets. Indeed, IP scholars such as Polk Wagner have argued that information’s natural tendency to slip through cracks and build upon itself should alleviate concerns that strict exclusive rights can bottle up knowledge. Information, after all, wants to be free.

Orly’s account of the talent wars, however, reveals that much information does not naturally want to be free. As Orly recognizes, much technical information is tacit and personal to a particular creator or inventor. Such tacit knowledge takes the form of intangible know-how that is difficult and sometimes impossible to codify. Importantly, even when an invention is disclosed in a patent, much valuable technical knowledge related to that invention often remains tacit and is not formally shared. The inadequacy of patent disclosure and the difficulty of transmitting tacit knowledge create a need for companies licensing patents to somehow obtain this information. This is evident, for example, in university patenting and technology transfer, a field that Orly addresses. Empirical accounts of academic technology transfer show that private companies, in parallel to licensing university patents, often seek direct interactions with faculty inventors precisely to obtain their patent-related tacit knowledge.

The tacit, sticky nature of technical information relates to another theme that permeates Orly’s work: agglomeration economies and the importance of place. In theory, patents adequately disclose the inventions they cover, which has the effect of reducing transaction costs in licensing negotiations. Among other implications, such ex ante disclosure should make licensing negotiations less sensitive to geographic proximity; at least with respect to appropriating technical knowledge, a potential licensee should not have a great need to interact directly with an inventor, for the patent itself discloses the technology. However, empirical studies of academic licensing show that licenses tend to cluster around licensor universities. To be sure, a host of factors helps explain such clustering, from universities’ commitment to local economic development to the spatially concentrated nature of professional networks (a theme that Orly also highlights). But the need for faculty inventors to literally sit down with licensee firms to convey patent-related tacit knowledge also contributes to such agglomeration. While some information can be transmitted by reading a patent a thousand miles away, sometimes transferring patent-related technical knowledge requires side-by-side demonstrations of a new technology or that ever-valuable personal conversation over a cup of coffee.

In subtle ways, Orly’s work thus offers a cogent exposition of the limits of patent law and formal technology transfer. In theory, the patent system provides a public repository of technical knowledge from which all can draw in their innovative pursuits. At the very least, licensees themselves should be able to rely on the disclosure of patents to adapt licensed inventions for commercial use. However, much information is not freely appropriable. Even when an invention is disclosed, much information remains tacit and personal to the inventor. Thus, patents are inherently limited as a vehicle for disclosing and transferring technologies, thereby creating a need for much costlier, geographically constrained, tacit knowledge transfer between individuals.

In a broader sense, Orly’s observations highlight an interesting paradox about the “freedom” of information. In the classic economic account, the ease of appropriating technical information represents a problem. This problem is resolved by subjecting technical information to exclusive rights, thus shoring up incentive to invent. However, Orly’s study reveals that much information is subject to a different problem: it is too difficult to appropriate, as it resists formal codification and disclosure. This creates a need for a different type of policy intervention, one that focuses on enhancing the mobility of the underlying sources of information—people—rather than information itself. Paradoxically, the fact that much information is not truly free provides all the more reason that the talent generating that information should be.

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Beyond Lawyers: Thoughts on Talent Wants To Be Free

This book is a terrific synthesis of many literatures on legal rules regulating employee-generated intellectual property, human capital, and the nature of innovation. Through her broad and perceptive reading in law, economics, sociology, geography, psychology, and organizational behavior, among other fields, Lobel has compiled a persuasive argument in favor of free employee mobility. She explains the law of trade secrets, noncompetition and nondisclosure agreements, pre-invention assignment agreements, and works for hire in copyright in terms that can be understood by nonlawyers. She explains economic concepts like prisoners’ dilemmas, agglomeration economies, and the rigidity of labor markets in simple terms and links them to legal rules and to news accounts of how legal rules affect company and employee behavior.

One of the book’s great strengths is how engaging the writing is and how deftly Lobel constructs her synthesis. The prose style is jaunty. The examples are ripped from the pages of the Wall Street Journal, magazines aimed at business readers, academic studies published in peer-reviewed journals of business and economics, as well as canonical stories of genius inventors and entrepreneurs ranging from Ben Franklin to Thomas Edison to Steve Jobs. In a mere two pages, she skips from academic studies of business to anecdotes about her experiences consulting with inventors to a story reported in Forbes Magazine to Joseph Schumpeter’s classic economic works published in the 1920s (pp. 202-203). She makes great use of a diversity of sources to develop her argument about why the law ought to allow a great deal more mobility of human capital than it currently does.

The book is clearly aimed at an audience of business people and policy makers rather than legal scholars. As she says at the end, “If many of your best employees are leaving you, it serves as a warning sign to make changes.” (p. 244) That is all to the good. Many of the ideas in this book aren’t new – scholars have been criticizing overbroad enforcement of noncompetes, trade secrets, and invention and copyright assignments for decades, and the research on agglomeration economies (like Silicon Valley) is no longer novel. But the broad scholarly consensus in both law and business/economics that employee mobility leads to economic growth has not yet had much impact on law. Indeed, the proposed Restatement of Employment Law is poised to make some aspects of the law in this area more hostile to employee mobility. So an appeal to nonlawyers seems essential. As Lobel points out (pp. 72-73), at least one state (Massachusetts) has been engaged in a serious look at whether to dramatically change its laws governing noncompete agreements to allow much more employee mobility, and a book like this is tailor made to be read by legislators mulling over whether Massachusetts businesses would be helped or hurt by making noncompete agreements unenforceable. She translates the empirical work of a number of scholars into clear and simple lessons for business executives and policy makers.

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The benefits of being free

I applaud Orly for this excellent contribution.  There is much to praise and much to comment on.  I was particularly attracted to the interdisciplinary perspective of the book and its heavy reliance on and reporting of studies in economics, psychology, and other literatures—including but not limited to Orly’s original research.  The book provides an excellent discussion of various dimensions of innovation studies.  It also provides compelling descriptions of many different real world contexts where the lessons from the academic studies play out on the ground.  The combination is quite amazing.  I also think it is quite important that she focused attention on people, and the human, social and intellectual capital that actually drives innovation across sectors.  Too often, innovation studies lose sight of the actual people involved.  Orly’s book covers so much ground and connects with various topics I’m also interested in.  It is difficult for me to pick a particular topic of theme to comment on in this blog post.  (I’m tempted, for example, to push her to say more about technology transfer offices at universities and how they’ve evolved over time in terms of their approach to control.  I also would like to hear *much* more about the application of commons governance ideas.)  Instead, I’ll say something about the broad ambition of the book.

Orly presents the book as new wisdom – a “dynamic model” — to challenge conventional wisdom – the “orthodox model” – about the necessity of strict control over talented employees, ideas, and various other complementary resources that drive creative and innovative progress and economic growth.  I think the book does a wonderful job of pointing out the many ways in which theoretical and empirical work across many fields of inquiry combine to challenge if not completely undermine the conventional wisdom.  Controls on the flow of ideas and employees often backfire and are costly to the firm and the public.  Orly describes very well the substantial benefits – benefits all too often ignored or assumed away – in sustaining the freedom to operate, to move, to experiment, to tinker, and so on.  She effectively makes the case for a much more nuanced approach to thinking about innovation and the various ways in which freedom (to operate, to move, to think, to experiment, to ride, etc.) impact innovation and social welfare more generally.

That said, I don’t think the book supplies a fully formed alternative vision, theory or model about what degree of control/freedom may be needed to sustain innovation.  The Goldilocks nature of the problem, which Orly describes, surfaces throughout, and it is hard to know where or how to strike the right balances as a matter of public policy (law) and private strategy (corporate practice).  The book at times seems to suggest that it will offer a solution or that the solution might be absolute freedom / no control.  But that is not really what the book ends up saying, as I understand it.  In the end, we remain stuck with the problem of nuance and variety and context- or industry-specific balancing.  Frankly, I don’t think this is a bad result at all; it’s probably where we need to be if we’re basing our judgments in reality.

For some reason, I was surprised when the book ended.  I wanted more.  I expected more.  In a sense, this is a good thing because the book provoked me to think about and look for more.  But I wonder whether the final part of the book could have tied the themes together a bit more tightly and at least proposed a research agenda for developing a more nuanced approach to innovation.  Many of the pieces of the puzzle are in Orly’s book.  But the puzzle remains incomplete.

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Introducing the Talent Wants To Be Free Symposium

Talent Wants to be FreeThis week Concurring Opinions is hosting a symposium on Professor Orly Lobel’s book, Talent Wants to be Free: Why We Should Learn to Love Leaks, Raids, and Free Riding. In simplest terms, Professor Lobel takes on some thorny problems in innovation policy debates including whether to lock down talent and ideas or to embrace the movement of people and knowledge. Though these tensions seem easy to understand, the natural desire to keep what one has means arguments to tie up whatever seems to be giving one an advantage creates larger debates about optimal control and outcomes. Professor Lobel’s work tangles with these core ideas and more.

Professor Lobel is leading thinker on the intersection of employment law, intellectual property law, regulatory and administrative law, torts, behavioral economics, health policy, consumer law and trade secrets as they relate to innovation. She is the Don Weckstein Professor of Labor and Employment Law at University of San Diego School of Law and holds an SJD and LLM fro Harvard as well as an LLB from Tel Aviv University. She is a member of the American Law Institute and the recipient of research grants from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, the American Bar Association litigation Fund, the Searle-Kauffman Fellowship, the Southern California Innovation Project, and Netspar, University of Tilburg. We are honored to have her join us for the symposium as our great list of guest authors engage with her book.

Our line-up of authors include Matt Bodie, Anupam Chander, Danielle Citron, Catherine Fisk, Vic Fleischer, Brett Frischmann, Shubha Ghosh, Ron Gilson, Peter Lee, and Frank Pasquale. We look forward to everyone’s contributions.

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Eisenhower on Innovation Ctd.

In response to my post about President Eisenhower’s statement about innovation from his Farewell Address, Michael Risch comments that:

“Lamoreaux, et al., have an article called “Patent Alchemy” that argues (and I extend the argument in an essay I’m working on) that part of the rise of patent trolls is due to a dialing back of company based research, coupled with “individual tinkering” in the form of software patents that can be developed at home. This is [one reason] why people used to large company patenting are freaking out, and historians generally say this is just a repeat of the past.”

The thought that software patents are a modern form of garage invention is an interesting one.

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Global Legal Pluralism

I remember back in 2003, Anupam Chander and I both took part in a cyberlaw retreat on Cape Cod sponsored by Harvard Law School’s Berkman Center for Internet and Society.  Most of the professors assembled at the retreat were concerned with how to “solve” the problems that local regulation of internet activity might pose.  In contrast, Anupam Chander and I repeatedly made the case that this was not a problem to be solved, but an inevitable expression of cultural diversity.  Further, we argued that there might even be some benefits that could accrue from such legal pluralism, properly managed.

We have been fellow travellers ever since, and I am very pleased to see Anupam’s project finally come to fruition in this lively and agile book.  As befits a broadly synthetic work about the electronic silk road, Anupam stiches together an impressive array of examples that convincingly demonstrate the importance of the global trade in services.  In addition, turning from the descriptive to the normative, he lays out principles that might undergird a governance regime for this cross-border activity that leaves open the possibility for multiple competing normative voices.

Anupam’s approach is one that is consonant with the conception of global legal pluralism I have been pursuing for over a decade, and so I have few objections to his account.  Quite rightly, Anupam steers a useful middle ground on issues of so-called extraterritorial regulation.  He neither says that local regulation should always trump all other possible normative authorities (as sovereigntist territorialists often do), nor does he call for a full universal harmonization scheme.  Instead, he adopts a pithy aphorism: “harmonize where possible and glocalize where necessary.”  The key here is that a decisionmaker in a cross-border dispute should always ask whether it is possible to defer to another legal regime in the interests of a harmonious interlocking transnational legal system.  Even asking such a question can, over time, inculcate habits of mind that cause decision-makers to be restrained about reflexively applying their own law in all circumstances.  At the same time, Anupam recognizes that there will be instances when such deference is impossible and local populations will feel the need to impose local norms on cross-border activity.  In such cases, he asks global services companies to “glocalize”: customize their global services product to conform to the law of various localities.

My guess is that such an approach will be workable in many cases, and so Anupam’s argument is an advance.  It is also usefully pluralist in that it leaves space for multiple communities—local international, and transnational—to assert normative authority.  This is in marked contrast to an approach that seeks to elide normative difference and tries to impose a single authoritative set of norms.  Thus, I fully embrace his project.

I do have two quibbles, however.

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The Life of Pi in the Electronic Silk Road

The Life of Pi presents an epic journey that a boy survives by maximizing spiritual strength in the most adverse circumstances. Called Pi, the boy harnesses curiosity, spirituality, and love to go through his adventurous “international” journeys through religions, cultures, and most notably nature with a stormy ocean.

In his new book The Electronic Silk Road: How the Web Binds the World in Commerce, Anupam Chander also narrates an epic journey that we must embark on in the digital age. Skillfully written with elegant prose, the book explores complex challenges posed by culture, politics, and technology associated with trade in information services.

As a boundless venue hosting trade in services, cyberspace turns out to be the ocean that Pi crossed. According to Anupam, it has enormous barriers blocking the freedom of trading information services in the global context. Culture matters. While some information services are totally fine in western societies, they may be seen as hostile to Islamic beliefs. Politics matters. It has resulted in information suppression in certain authoritarian countries. Technology matters. It facilitates the growth of information services. But it has been used to block trade in information services.

The great firewalls that exist in the electronic silk road best illustrate the difficulty of promoting trade in information services. As mighty as the storm and waves that Pi suffered on the ocean, they are utilized by repressive regimes to monitor, filter, and even shut down the Internet. In 2010 Google withdrew its operations from mainland China. This incident, as I understand from reading Anupam’s book, is a shipwreck as serious as the one that Pi remembers as the darkest day of his life. But it is also a shipwreck similar to the one that Pi regards as a new journey into knowing himself, other beings with him, and the world or nature at large.

On the one hand, Google’s retreat sounded the loudest alarm to the protection of freedom of information in repressive regimes. Nearly 1.3 billion Chinese citizens as well as many other fellow human beings are subject to cyberspace information suppression by authoritarian regimes. As Anupam bluntly reminds us, “[w]hen allied with willing Internet service providers, websites, software providers, and financial intermediaries, a government can gain an omniscience heretofore unknown.” In the digital age, it is the cross-border information services that supply state-of-the-art technologies and abundant financial resources to the authoritarian regimes.

On the other hand, the Google incident calls for immediate and long-term interventions in order to reshape cyberspace as a sphere free of uncivilized surveillance. This journey to information freedom is, indeed, as arduous as the one that Pi experienced across the ocean and continents. Religion, language, imagination, dignity, and even capacity for love all play an important part contributing to Pi’s triumph. The same applies to the journey toward information freedom. After all, people subject to information suppression live with (or without) different religions and speak different languages. Therefore, the capacity for a concerted effort to empower human dignity and love to address information suppression varies significantly across the world. Toward the end of book, Anupam hints that the World Trade Organization, an international institution that governs global trade both in goods and services, might be of little help to resolve this issue. Without any competent international organizations charting the map, the journey to the heaven of information freedom is destined to be a long and tricky adventure.

Reading The Electronic Silk Road together with The Life of Pi prompted me to think about issues that go beyond information suppression existing in repressive regimes. I realized that there are two major issues looming large in the digital age. While we enjoy the unprecedented freedom, convenience, and entertainment that digital technology can bring to us, we must ponder the dark side of digital technology and how the law should tackle it.

First and foremost, we can identify and understand the ways in which the ubiquity of information services can spawn profound problems. The Life of Pi conveys problems of this kind: hostility toward another religion and culture; indifference to other human beings deemed as inferior; and unwillingness to reciprocate others’ good deeds (Richard Parker, the tiger who has a human name, runs into the nearby jungle without a glance back). All these problems remain for Pi, although he has miraculously made it to shore. Online information services have caused similar problems. For example, the websites hosting information services are rife with fraud. Shortly after I posted an advertisement on Craigslist for subleasing my apartment last fall, I received several emails through which the senders attempted to persuade me to deposit money into their bank accounts before they took over the lease. After doing a bit research about online fraud, I could not help asking myself why there are so many people who choose fraud as their jobs.

Thus, digital technology is a double-edged sword. It promotes free flow of information and provides the social glue to bind many people together to wage revolutions against repressive regimes (e.g., the Jasmine Revolution). However, it also wields the power to alienate many people from the social network of direct interactions, leaving them increasingly alone in their spaces of egoism. Today, the majority of people on the subway spend much of their time using their smartphones or tablets. They appear in the tangible public spaces, but they confine themselves to those machines connected with the Internet, enjoying the private fun of checking Facebook or Twitter, playing electronic games, reading news, shopping online, or watching YouTube videos. Digital technology has facilitated widespread use of emails and text messages, further reducing the occasions for face-to-face conversations, greetings, or smiles. Thus, these trends raise the question whether digital technology promotes engagement with others or reinforces the individual quest for solitude. A new book by Sherry Turkle, Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other, has a comprehensive and nuanced discussion about this tangled issue.

How should the law tackle the double-edged nature of digital technology? Law is critically important in this regard, because it informs people of what they can and cannot do. Anupam teaches us that core to the law regulating trade mediated via cyberspace is the protection of “the right of individuals to share and receive information.” This core right prioritizes the “delivery and consumption” of information “regardless of frontiers” (p.202). His novel proposal that combines globalization together with harmonization of laws serves the full realization of this right.

But can celebration of the individual right to share and receive information offer means by which we can deal with the alienating effect of digital technology? In other words, does the language of rights really increase the consciousness of sharing information as it purports to? To some extent, it does. Anupam proves this with many vivid examples, particularly the Jasmine Revolution in which sharing information about freedom and democracy was the focal point. But as I discussed earlier and others’ works have proven, digital technology has also driven an increasing number of people to withdraw from traditional means of communication and confine themselves to an egoistic world of isolation.

I believe the language of responsibility can play a big part in dealing with this problem. In my recent article entitled Copyright and Responsibility, I point out that law “regulates human affairs through rules that require people to enjoy their freedoms and exercise their rights in responsible ways.” Responsibilities always come together with rights. Without the infusion with responsibilities, rights are meaningless. Persons are not only individuals but also social members of communities, countries, and the whole world. As social members, persons must not single-mindedly pursue only the realization of their individual rights. Rather, they should also constantly ask what responsibilities they should take on and how they can fulfill them in their social membership.

Anupam does mention the importance of responsibility. For example, he urges that Internet service providers follow the “Do No Evil” responsibility, which requires them not to collaborate with repressive regimes that suppress the free flow of information. Indeed, this responsibility is crucial. But should we also ask Internet service providers to take on more responsibilities to encourage people to spend slightly less time using computers, smartphones, or tablets and slightly more time interacting with others in various ways? In this sense, Internet service providers may have a responsibility to cultivate a healthy environment and culture for human interactions. A follow-up question is whether individuals should have the responsibility to spend slightly more time paying attention to others and their communities via computers, smartphones, or tablets.

Both The Life of Pi and The Electronic Silk Road prompt me to think more about the problems in the human world. The Life of Pi teaches me how a person can grow and mature through overcoming tough challenges and even evils. Anupam’s The Electronic Silk Road teaches me how globalized human societies can continue to flourish through overcoming the obstacles caused by national boundaries and the self-centered energy embedded in each human being. Both The Life of Pi and The Electronic Silk Road celebrate the beauty of human spirituality and its power to deter selfishness and even evil.