ARTS & FARCES internet

Dan Kohn’s other shoe has dropped. “Steal This Essay 2: Why Encryption Doesn’t Help” is a great follow-up to his “Steal This Essay 1: Content Is a Pure Public Good.”

When content providers start encrypting their content, the game is over. All it takes is one kid with a little spare time who is sufficiently motivated to crack or route around the encryption system. Bits is bits and by definition, can be copied infinitely with no loss of signal quality. Because digital information is a nonrival, nonexcludable good, there goes the business model and acceptable “shrinkage rates” that have served media conglomerates well for more than 100 years.

This is old news, and intelligent content creators have understood this basic reality for some time. What remains to be discovered, is a sustainable business model for digital information in this new reality. For that, I’m eagerly looking forward to Kohn’s next essay.

Bob Dylan blew into town last night on an ill, idiot wind, and he didn’t have to sing about it for us to know which way it was blowing. This was, after all, the day that the U.S. Congress passed a disturbing bill that hopes to combat terrorism by restricting civil rights.

I hate—absolutely detest—arena shows, but you make an exception for Bob Dylan especially when it’s his first show in his mom’s home town since she died.

At least three and maybe four generations came together 14,000 strong to hear what this 60-year-old national treasure—and one of our own up here on the far edge—had to say about the most troubling times in more than 30 years. I have to admit that it was a little disconcerting when Dylan and his band took the stage in snazzy white and burgundy suits, respectively. From up in the cheap seats it looked like a 1970s soul review, but this was Dylan and I eagerly suspended belief and judgment. Since he’s been opening recent shows with Fred Rose’s “Wait For The Light To Shine,” I knew that those must be western-cut suits and this show—like most Dylan shows—was going to run the gamut of musical styles.

One of the few polices ARTS & FARCES has is that all projects must be self-supporting; otherwise they are acts of charity. This website first appeared in February 1993 and has never been a profit center for us. Rather, it’s always been used as a sort of advertisement for ourselves.

For several years, though, there has been a not-so-subtle shift in the way we’ve obtained work. Many companies—large and small—no longer contract directly with businesses providing editorial and consulting services, choosing instead to insulate themselves and their contracting decisions by using an intermediary. We prefer not to work this way for two reasons. First, an intermediary or subcontractor situation clouds the issue of who our customer is, and we find that clouding uncomfortable. Second, the intermediary situation unfairly and artificially inflates (sometimes by a factor of more than 40%) the rate our customers pay for our services.

ARTS & FARCES has always taken pride in meeting deadlines and budgets and staying profitable by reducing overhead whenever possible.

Dan Kohn is a Silicon Valley venture capitalist, but don’t let that stop you from reading his excellent essay, “Content is a pure public good.”

His point is that digitally distributed content is what economists call a nonexcludable (no one can stop its flow), non-rival (we can all use it without anyone else having to give it up) good. Digital content, then, is what economists call a pure public good, like National Public Radio or a lighthouse. As a result, the current economic model used by all content distributors is dying a painful death.

Something has completely escaped today’s terrorists. The world will always need an “America”—a country in which citizens not only believe in, but in reality must have, an opportunity to control their destinies. “America” has come to represent a place in which oppressed citizens of the world will always seek refuge. And the current war on terrorism and America has given me an even deeper appreciation for some parts of America’s past—and glimmers of hope for things to come.

Walking past the old Works Progress Administration retaining wall that supports the sports fields in our neighborhood’s Groveland Elementary School, has reminded me for years of the spirit of our nation’s call-to-arms in a different era; a spirit of unity, purpose and new directions—and most of all—citizens working to serve the greatest number. I admit I am often wistful for the spirit of that time; for I sometimes wonder if that spirit is as durable and as beautiful as that old, hand crafted, stone wall.

I have known more than one baby-boomer of the 1950’s to be somewhat jealous of the salutations witnessed among members of the World War 11 generation when two former servicemen met for the first time, “Where did you serve?” It proffered not only introductions to another person’s past, but was a gateway of interest to each other’s battles. From there, their comradeship could go most anywhere. Now imagine every citizen of this country having just such a form of introduction immediately available to each and every other citizen: “Where did you serve?”

“Where did you serve?” It reflects a different attitude among our citizenry than “Where did you go to school?” Each reflects a very different kind of education, and neither should demean the other.