As many commentators have noted, the Packers’ shares are little more than a voluntary donation to the football team. Since the Packers are a nonprofit corporation, no dividends are ever paid to shareholders. If the Packers ever dissolve, their assets will be transferred to another nonprofit organization. Shares cannot be sold, only transferred to immediate family members. If anyone tries to sell their shares the Packers have the automatic right of repurchase at 2.5 cents per share. The only rights shareholders have are to elect the Packers’ board of directors and approve any future stock sales or amendments to the corporation’s bylaws.

Of course, despite lacking most of the traditional benefits of “ownership,” all shareholders must still consent to Roger Goodell’s universal jurisdiction:

The NFL Rules prohibit conduct by shareholders of NFL member clubs that is detrimental to the NFL, including, among other things, owning a financial interest in any other NFL member club or other professional football organization; loaning money to other NFL member clubs or any player, coach or employee thereof or any football official employed by the NFL; acting as an agent for any NFL player; publicly criticizing any NFL member club or its management, employees or coaches or any football official employed by the NFL; or paying an NFL player or coach. If the Commissioner of the NFL (the “Commissioner”) decides that a shareholder of an NFL member club has been guilty of conduct detrimental to the welfare of the NFL then, among other things, the Commissioner has the authority to fine such shareholder in an amount not in excess of $500,000 and/or require such shareholder to sell his or her stock. In addition, if the Commissioner determines that a shareholder has bet on the outcome or score of any game played in the NFL, among other things, then the Commissioner may fine such shareholder in an amount not in excess of $5,000 and/or require such shareholder to sell his or her stock. (Italics added)

So read literally, the Packers shareholders — all of whom are Packers fans, I’d assume — are not allowed to ever publicly criticize the team or the league. That means a negative Tweet or message board post could cost you your shares and up to $500,000.Now, I don’t think Goodell has ever fined a Packers shareholder, and I’d be somewhat surprised if he ever did. Still, it highlights the absurdity of the NFL bylaws, which give the commissioner a broad, non-reviewable power to fine the very owners who employ him.

On the other hand, I wonder if the Packers’ unique ownership structure might not be a working model for organizing a local government along more libertarian lines. Imagine a city where you sold shares to raise revenue for capital projects — building roads, fire stations, et al. — and limited the number of shares any one person could purchase at a time. Shareholders could vote for directors (city councilors) and for or against charter revisions (bylaws), but they could not sell the shares for profit or otherwise enjoy any special privileges. And when you needed to raise money for another capital project, you could just sell more shares. Operating expenses would then be paid through user fees — after all, Packers shareholders still have to buy tickets to actually attend games.

The Packers board of directors has about 40 members elected by approximately 112,000 individual shareholders. That’s far more representative than most city councils. The Packers board elects a CEO and an executive committee to oversee day-to-day operations, which isn’t substantially different than a city manager.

The eternal criticism of any form of voluntary government is, “What if people don’t support it and free-ride off the ones who do?” I think the Packers present a solid response. Thikn about it. Everyone knows the Packers shares don’t confer any substantial decision-making power over the team. The shares have no economic value. Yet people still line up to buy them every time there’s an offering. If you build and sustain a good product, be it a football team or local government services, people will support it. Call it civic or team pride, but clearly there’s a market for voluntarily pledging support to a community-based corporation.

I should add here when I speak of “local government services,” I mean only those common services that would otherwise exist in the market. I am not referring to regulatory schemes that cannot exist without the use of force, e.g. zoning. And I’m not suggesting a Packers-style model is the only one that could work. But we should also not be blinded into thinking that the for-profit, publicly traded stock corporation is the only valid method of aggregating capital and administering multiple-ownership property. One of my key criticisms of the NFL has been its strict adherence, the Packers notwithstanding, to an ownership model that promotes poor management and aggression against local taxpayers. Like government services, the NFL would benefit from competition among different governance models.

Today, I am adhering to what I’ve said since this bill was first introduced – an issue of this magnitude and importance, which requires a constitutional amendment, should be left to the people of New Jersey to decide. I continue to encourage the Legislature to trust the people of New Jersey and seek their input by allowing our citizens to vote on a question that represents a profoundly significant societal change. This is the only path to amend our State Constitution and the best way to resolve the issue of same-sex marriage in our state.

I don’t find this argument persuasive. As the text of the bill notes, the New Jersey Supreme Court previously held “that denying rights and benefits to committed same-sex couples that are statutorily given to their heterosexual counterparts violates the equal protection guarantee of Article I, paragraph 1 of the New Jersey Constitution.” That paragraph states,

All persons are by nature free and independent, and have certain natural and unalienable rights, among which are those of enjoying and defending life and liberty, of acquiring, possessing, and protecting property, and of pursuing and obtaining safety and happiness.

In other words, individuals already have the right to enter into marital relationships with the person of their choosing. New Jersey failed to respect that right as it pertains to same-sex couples. The Supreme Court ordered the legislature to remedy this. Initially, the state tried civil unions. The legislature has now concluded that didn’t work. Now they’ve agreed to eliminate the legal distinction between opposite-sex and same-sex couples.

All of this is well within the legislative prerogative. I can find no grounds to support Christie’s argument that the situation “requires” a constitutional amendment. Why would one need to amend the Constitution to say something it already says?

Christie says “an issue of this magnitude and importance” requires a vote since it “represents a profoundly significant societal change.” I would say the fact that same-sex couples have organized to assert themselves indicates that change has already occurred. A vote is unnecessary. Nor is “societal change” the proper subject of an amendment to the New Jersey Constitution. Let’s consider the other amendments that have recently been put to the voters:

• In 2011, voters approved an amendment “to allow wagering on sports events at Atlantic City casinos and horse racetracks”;
• In 2010, voters approved an amendment “to dedicate assessments on wages by the state to the payment of employee benefits”;
• In 2008, voters rejected a proposed amendment that would have changed the method of selecting certain municipal court judges; and
• In 2007, voters rejected a proposed amendment that would have dedicated “annual revenue of an amount equal to a tax rate of 1% under the state sales tax for property tax reform.”

None of these subjects strike me as questions of fundamental social change. Although I suppose one could compare same-sex marriage to sports wagering — both have been practiced for years despite a puritanical minority’s use of the state to discourage it. Still, the 2011 referendum was about whether the state would extend the privilege of sports wagering to existing state-licensed institutions; it was not a question of individual rights.

And that’s what we’re talking about here. I am loathe to invoke the rhetoric of “civil rights” when discussing same-sex marriage, because I believe that civil rights should be reserved to those privileges and immunities arising from the political concept of citizenship. Marriage is an individual right that predates the state and exists outside of its commandments. Marriage also takes different forms in different human societies. It is an ever-changing institution.

“Societal change” is not a function of democracy, but of voluntary exchange. You can no more put the question of same-sex marriage up to a public vote than you could whether the Internet should exist. The free acts of millions of individuals produce change. All an election can do is try and thwart that change through the use of force — in this case, mob rule.

[T]he Eagles get to have it both ways. They don’t have to think enough of Jackson to commit to him with a multiyear contract, while at the same time they think too much of him to allow him to leave town. So the club is expected to place the dreaded franchise tag on him, keeping him in Philadelphia for one more season.

Jackson will receive big money, probably about $10 million for the 2012 season. As a franchise player, he’ll be one of the highest-paid receivers in football. But the lack of an opportunity for him to be an unrestricted free agent is exactly what the players should have been fighting against during last year’s lockout. Unrestricted free agency should have been the line in the sand for them then, and they should still be after it like the holy grail now.

[ ... ]

Outside of the military, it is difficult to think of an industry other than professional football in which an individual is not afforded the right, after some reasonable amount of time, to change jobs within his or her given field. Being able to choose a place to live and work is a simple American concept — this isn’t Cuba … except in the NFL. There are a number of factors in Jackson’s situation that are particularly galling: a club’s immense power to control player movement, even for players it doesn’t seem to like very much; the public’s comfort level with that system; the owners’ false insistence that the league can’t thrive without it; and, worst of all, the players’ refusal to make true, unrestricted free agency the core issue of their union.

I maintain the labor system itself is the problem. Federal law allowed the NFL clubs to publicly breach their existing player contracts — i.e., the lockout — without any fear of legal reprisal. The law also coerced individual players into assigning their negotiating rights to a collective entity, the NFLPA, ran by a former federal prosecutor with his own agenda. Players like DeSean Jackson never had a meaningful voice in the collective bargaining talks — and the resulting “agreement” further restricted his rights to negotiate with individual teams. The entire labor regime is fraudulent.

More specifically, the “franchise tag” Bryant rails against so eloquently should be considered a textbook case of fraud. The word “fraud” is admittedly overused to condemn any business practice a person doesn’t like. So let’s narrow things down a bit. A good starting point is the argument made by libertarian legal scholar Stephan Kinsella, who places fraud in the context of contract theory:

The theory of contract espoused here demonstrates that fraud is properly viewed as a type of theft. Suppose Karen buys a bucket of apples from Ethan for $20. Ethan represents the things in the bucket as being apples, in fact, as apples of a certain nature, that is, as being fit for their normal purpose of being eaten. Karen conditions the transfer of title to her $20 on Ethan’s not knowingly engaging in ‘fraudulent’ activities, like pawning off rotten apples. If the apples are indeed rotten and Ethan knows this, then he knows that he does not
receive ownership of or permission to use the $20, because the condition ‘no fraud’ is not satisfied. He is knowingly in possession of Karen’s $20 without her consent, and is, therefore, a thief.

DeSean Jackson is not a bucket of apples, rotten or otherwise. He’s selling his labor (or his time, if you prefer). The Eagles agreed to pay a certain price for that labor over a stated period. But that period is now expired. Both sides have fulfilled the terms of their agreement.

But now the Eagles can point to Article 10 of the 2011 Collective Bargaining Agreement. Section 2 of that article says the Eagles may designate one player whose contract expired after the previous season as a “franchise player.” This designation grants the Eagles exclusive rights to contract with Jackson for the following season. He is no longer allowed to negotiate with other clubs without the Eagles’ permission. In exchange, the Eagles must offer him a one-year guaranteed contract at a certain minimum rate. And in theory, the Eagles could do this to Jackson again next year after the one-year contract expires.

We know the law permits this under the theory that collective bargaining agreements are sacrosanct. But taking a more objective, Kinsellan approach, is the “franchise tag” Kosher? I certainly think it’s debatable.

Let’s look at the procedural history. The Eagles drafted Jackson in 2008. At that time, the NFL clubs were governed under the 2006 Collective Bargaining Agreement between the NFL Players Association and the NFL Management Council. Jackson was not a party to this agreement, as he was not a professional player at the time. Nonetheless, federal law required him to abide by the CBA’s terms, which permitted the NFL to allocate new players via a draft. Jackson either had to sign a contract with the Eagles — the terms of which were further restricted by the 2006 CBA — or not play in the NFL at all in 2008. He signed a four-year contract that expired after the 2011 season.

After the 2010 season, the NFLMC terminated the 2006 CBA and “locked out” Jackson and the other players, ignoring the fact he remained under personal contract with the Eagles. The NFLMC’s actions were expressly designed to coerce the NFLPA into signing a new CBA more favorable to the NFLMC. The NFLPA initially responded by disclaiming its status as a federally recognized labor union. A group of players, in concert with NFLPA leaders, then filed an antitrust lawsuit, arguing the league’s business practices were no longer immune from the Sherman Act absent a collective bargaining process.

Despite the legal fiction the NFLPA no longer functioned as a union, lawyers working at their direction negotiated a “settlement” to the antitrust lawsuit that included a new CBA. The NFLMC then imposed the 2011 CBA terms on existing contracts, including Jackson’s, negotiated under the now-defunct 2006 CBA. That included the franchise tag (which also existed under the 2006 CBA).

At any point, it’s not clear how Jackson could have granted “consent” to the Eagles’ ability to unilaterally prevent him from seeking employment elsewhere after his contract expired. Even before he joined the NFL, the NFLPA assumed the “right” to negotiate on his behalf without his express consent. The Eagles and the NFL were allowed to blatantly ignore their own player contracts when they imposed a lockout after voluntarily and prematurely terminating the 2006 CBA. And there’s little reason to believe Jackson had any meaningful role in negotiating the 2011 CBA. The lawyers drafted the agreement and then quickly organized a mass player vote where a simple majority could legally bind any dissenters.

And most egregiously, the “franchise player” provision of the CBA is, by definition, selectively enforced. It’s not as if all players whose contracts expired after 2011 are subject to it. A club can only designate one such player each season. Even conceding the entire CBA process is legitimate, if the provisions don’t equally apply to every person covered, that’s inherently suspect from the standpoint of ascertaining consent.

It would be one thing if Jackson signed a player contract that expressly said there was a team option to extend the term for one year. That would demonstrate a clear “meeting of the minds” in the course of negotiations. But here, the contract provided for an express term that ended after 2011, and the Eagles are now claiming a right, that wasn’t directly negotiated with Jackson, to extend the agreement against his will. On the surface, that looks like fraud to me.

The counter-argument, of course, is that the 2011 CBA is the law of the land and it binds Jackson because he, at a minimum, implicitly agreed to its terms by supporting the union and returning to work. I don’t think that’s enough to overcome the presumption of fraud. Again, I’ll rely on Stephan Kinsella, who discusses the problem of relying solely on written rules in “one-click” and “shrink-wrap” terms of service agreements:

So one problem with click-wrap agreements, for example, is that there is (arguably) often no “meeting of the minds” on the fine print–and the vendor is fully aware of this. If the customers routinely just click the “I have read and agree to these terms” box but never do read it, and the vendor knows this, then it’s a sort of fiction to assume both sides have actually agreed on these terms. For example supposed buried in fine print for a contract for sale of a $20 software program is the provision, “Buyer agrees to give 50% of his income to Vendor for life.” Is this enforceable? Of course not. Why not? Because there was no agreement to this. So the “hidden” terms have to be in some sense reasonable, at the least. (Here, too, “inalienability” concerns may kick in–even if the party is fully aware he is signing away his life income, or his kidney, or life, say, this may not be enforceable for inalienability concerns–see, on this, the contract article noted above, plus my article Inalienability and Punishment.)

I am not saying that clickwrap and fine print is not enforceable–I’m just saying that the libertarian view on property rights and contracts does not require that we formalistically equate “the contract” with “the writing,” and it does not require we figure all this out from our armchairs. The libertarian view can recognize that contracts about consensual, intentional transfers of title; that manifesting such consent is a matter of communication; that making determinations about the nature of a contract, or title transfer, is necessarily a fact-specific, context-bound inquiry.

So to follow Kinsella’s thinking, the proper question is whether or not Jackson, when he signed his 2008 contract, granted meaningful consent to the “franchise tag” that may now involuntarily extend his employment with the Eagles. If he didn’t grant such consent, then I think the Eagles and the NFL are guilty of fraud, at least in the Kinsellan-libertarian sense.

Remember, the NFL player contract is a standard form created by the CBA. Aside from compensation and number of years, there’s no room for negotiating or altering the terms. It’s very much like the “clickwrap” agreements Kinsella talks about above. And it’s not as if Jackson could have asked the Eagles in 2008, “Do you plan to use the franchise tag on me in 2011?” He signed a contract that said one thing — this is a four-year agreement — but actually meant something else.

In talking with others about the NFL, I have also found surprise when explaining the NFL’s “not-for-profit” status. Article 2.2 of the NFL’s Constitution states, “The League is not organized nor to be operated for profit.” This refers to the NFL itself and not the individual member clubs or other joint ventures owned by the clubs, such as the NFL Network. The NFL is nothing more than a trade association or “business league” recognized as a tax-exempt organization under Section 501(c)(6) of the Internal Revenue Code.

When we commonly think of non-profit organizations, we think of groups exempt under Section 501(c)(3), which covers educational, charitable and scientific organizations. (It also covers amateur sports organizations, like the NCAA, but not professional sports leagues.) Many 501(c)(3) groups are publicly supported charities, which means donors may contribute to these organizations and deduct the contributions from their personal income taxes.

A 501(c)(6) group, in contrast, is not a publicly supported charity. Here is how the IRS defines organizations under this section:

Section 501(c)(6) of the Internal Revenue Code provides for the exemption of business leagues, chambers of commerce, real estate boards, boards of trade and professional football leagues, which are not organized for profit and no part of the net earnings of which inures to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual.

A business league is an association of persons having some common business interest, the purpose of which is to promote such common interest and not to engage in a regular business of a kind ordinarily carried on for profit. Trade associations and professional associations are business leagues. To be exempt, a business league’s activities must be devoted to improving business conditions of one or more lines of business as distinguished from performing particular services for individual persons. No part of a business league’s net earnings may inure to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual and it may not be organized for profit to engage in an activity ordinarily carried on for profit (even if the business is operated on a cooperative basis or produces only enough income to be self-sustaining).  The term line of business generally refers either to an entire industry or to all components of an industry within a geographic area.  It does not include a group composed of businesses that market a particular brand within an industry.

So as far as the IRS is concerned, the NFL is a chamber of commerce. Individual member clubs are still for-profit businesses subject to normal corporate tax laws. And any business run directly by the NFL is still a for-profit business. But the league itself is not.

The only notable difference between a 501(c)(6) like the NFL and a public charity under 501(c)(3) is that a 501(c)(6) has greater freedom to engage in political activity. A public charity may only engage in “insubstantial” lobbying activity without risking its exemption. A business league can engage in all the lobbying it wants, provided it “furthers the exempt purpose” of the group. (The NFL still can’t engage in direct political activity, i.e. contributing to campaigns.)

And the one advantage, from the public’s standpoint, of 501(c)(6) status is that the NFL’s annual tax return, Form 990, must be made available for public inspection. However, unlike a 501(c)(3), a 501(c)(6) does not have to let the public see any returns filed for any “unrelated business income.” In other words, the NFL will show you its return for the trade association part of its operation, but not necessarily that of its for-profit subsidiaries.

So how much money are we talking here? According to the NFL’s 2008 return (the last one I have on file), the NFL reported over $204 million in program service revenue plus about another $2.5 million in investment income and $470,000 in miscellaneous revenue. That’s against over $240 million in expenses, meaning the league reported a loss in 2008 of just over $33 million. The NFL also reported about $994 million in assets against $1.1 billion in liabilities.

The biggest chunk of the NFL’s assets are “notes and loans receivable,” about $800 million, which is primarily loans to individual clubs for stadium construction. This is where the NFL skirts the traditional bounds of a tax-exempt organization. Remember, to obtain a tax exemption, an organization’s revenues must be used for the exempt purposes and not “inure” to the benefit of individual members. But the NFL is using its exempt revenues to finance stadium construction that directly benefits individual owners—that is, the for-profit companies that run the actual NFL teams. According to the NFL’s 2008 return, there’s over $700 million in “loans” at zero-percent interest outstanding for stadium construction. Yet somehow the NFL retains its tax-exempt status.

1. This isn’t about Goodell’s subjective value as an executive. During the lockout, we learned Goodell’s value in that sense is $1. There’s no competition for Goodell’s services and he’s publicly maintained he’s never wanted to work anywhere but the NFL.

2. This contract is primarily about the owners’ validating their prior decision to elect Goodell commissioner.

3. This contract further proves my contention that the league isn’t about profitability, but maximizing consumption for its own sake. “Hey, we can spend $20 million on this guy who adds little to our product!” Think of Roger as a very tiny stadium.

4. Goodell does provide one valuable service to the league. He consistently sells fans on the idea that players aren’t valuable as individuals. He breeds resentment among the customers against the product, yet does so in a manner that (for now) hasn’t damaged demand for the product. He’s almost like a Super Skip Bayless—a troll that keeps you interested.

I suspect this debate will change over time. In the here and now, most observers continue to view Peyton as the more valuable quarterback. This is based not only on his statistical performance at a high level for a greater period than Eli, but also the Colts’ shockingly poor performance this past season when Peyton was unavailable. Empirically, the case for Peyton is overwhelming.

But as time passes, Eli will likely surpass his brother in perceived value. Call it the Namath Effect. Joe Namath was an average quarterback elevated to an elite perception based solely on the New York Jets’ victory in Super Bowl III. It wasn’t just that Namath’s team won the game. It was that he played for a team from the country’s largest media market and he beat a perceived juggernaut in the Baltimore Colts. Similarly, Eli has won two Super Bowls playing in the same media market, with both victories coming against the most successful team of the past 12 years.

By the numbers, Peyton will likely always be the better quarterback. But numbers tend to get lost in history. (They even get lost in the present; see Tebow, Tim). Time has a way of stripping historical events down to their mythological roots. And 20 years from now, we’re likely to see a mythology that regards Eli as the greater — that is, more valuable — quarterback.

The use of this “time allocation” motion — roughly akin to the U.S. Senate’s cloture — is supposed to be reserved for occasions when the various parties can’t agree on time limits for debate. Since the Conservatives won a majority last year, however, they’ve been much quicker to demand time allocation. This was the second such motion passed just this week.

Peter Van Loan, the Government’s floor leader in the House, defended time allocation as appropriate given the importance of copyright reform and blamed the opposition New Democratic Party for being obstructionists:

Mr. Speaker, after months of the NDP delaying and obstructing important legislation, it has actually revealed its true agenda. It intends to delay all legislation as long as it possibly can. That explains why the NDP has almost never agreed to hold a vote on any piece of legislation in this House.

Last week, I issued an invitation to come to an agreement on moving forward with legislation. The NDP member for Acadie—Bathurst [Yvon Godin] revealed the NDP plan to delay and obstruct all legislation by putting up every speaker possible. He justified this by saying the rules allow that every member has the right to speak. Indeed, that is the case. It is called “a filibuster” when parties put up every single speaker. The normal practice is not to do that.

The bill that we are talking about today has already been the subject of 75 speeches in this House and an opposition to block it from even getting to second reading.

By contrast, the identical bill, word for word, was sent to committee in 2010 after only seven hours of constructive debate in this place so that it could be reviewed in detail and improved through amendments.

If the NDP members had their way, Canada would go the way of other countries, such as the United States and countries in Europe, that have faced a political gridlock in a decision that caused economic uncertainty that threatened the world economy.

That is not what we want from our government. That is not what Canadians want. We are going to continue to have a productive, hard-working, orderly government that makes decisions and does the work that Canadians sent us here to do.

The crux of Van Loan’s argument is that the NDP is somehow being unreasonable by insisting that every member has a right to speak on a bill at every stage of consideration. Under the House’s standing orders, absent time allocation each member could speak once for up to 10 minutes at the current stage, second reading. There’s still committee and third reading stages.

There are 141 MPs representing opposition parties. If everyone spoke for the maximum 10 minutes, debate would take just under 24 hours. It would be repetitive and probably counter-productive, but it wouldn’t create gridlock as Van Loan suggests. Ultimately, his side has the numbers to wait out any opposition stalling. This isn’t the U.S. Senate where someone can hold the floor indefinitely.

The NDP’s counter-argument boils down to, “Every member has a right to speak.” I can’t argue with that, especially with a bill of this importance. The Conservatives reply is that they’ve already debated and considered this subject exhaustively, in this and earlier parliaments, and that they can’t debate this forever. To which I say, Why not? If you can’t fully debate the boundaries of free speech on the Internet — which is really what C-11 is all about — then what can you fully debate?

It’s interesting to see the system and how the live-action system works. It’s based on a lot of things that maybe made sense in the day or decades ago or are holdovers from the studio system. It’s unionized and there’s a lot of rules that don’t make a lot of sense logically. Pixar has none of that. I realize that one of the reasons it’s Nirvana is that we didn’t realize how a movie was made and just used — god forbid — logic. We figured that if we made a movie the way it should be made, that was the way they were being made. Our system is very logical and we keep improving upon it. We criticize ourselves and we have post-mortems every movie to improve the system. Out here, nobody questions the system. It’s just the way it is with all its faults and everything. We don’t have unions. Steve [Jobs] was very smart. He said, “Let’s give them why there was unions. Let’s give them great healthcare. Let’s treat them extra special and there’s no reason to have that.” There aren’t these weird byproduct rules that actually cause problems in one area when they think they’re helping another. We have a very clean system, Pixar. After you’ve worked in that, it becomes very obvious how things should work and very obvious how things don’t work the right way here. I get a little frustrated at the haphazardness of it.

The world of moviemaking, since the studio system broke down — and this is my guess — lives and breathes off of triage. It lives off disaster planning. People feel comfortable in the disaster. “Oh! I know how to deal with this. This is chaos. Somebody’s on fire. Let’s run and get an extinguisher.” That is not Pixar. Pixar is planning to avoid every disaster possible. It’s a very opposite experience to the extreme and that took my awhile to get used to, the embracing of the chaos. There’s a certain level of it that I feel is necessary. I feel like a parent having their first kid and I can’t wait to have to the second one because I’m going to do the parenting a bit differently. I’m somewhat half observer and half participant in watching how this whole things happens.

I think this helps explain the ongoing copyright wars between the studios and, well, everyone else. It’s not about some Randian ideological commitment to copyright or a genuine belief that “piracy” is a menace on par with terrorism. It’s about the studios not wanting to take a hard look at how they do business from top to bottom.

The “anti-piracy” crusade is rooted in the Hollywood union-guild system where, as Stanton observed, “there’s a lot of rules that don’t make a lot of sense logically.” It’s a defensive, inward-looking system. Any new technology, be it VHS in the 1980s or Internet streaming today, is a crisis that has to be managed. That’s why every political debate over copyright resorts to panic over “lost jobs.” No studio wants to plan ahead and look at how technology might help them. They’d rather just stand up and say “no!” to change.