The result, Stallman says, is something akin to a third-world city. People move in, hoping to strike it rich or at the very least to take part in a vibrant, open culture, and yet those who hold the true power keep evolving new tricks and strategies-i.e., software patents-to keep the masses out. “You have millions of people moving in and building shantytowns, but nobody’s working on step two: getting them out of those shantytowns. If you think talking about software freedom is a good strategy, please join in doing step two. There are plenty working on step one. We need more people working on step two”.
Working on “step two” means driving home the issue that freedom, not acceptance, is the root issue of the free software movement. Those who hope to reform the proprietary software industry from the inside are on a fool’s errand. “Change from the inside is risky”, Stallman stays. “Unless you’re working at the level of a Gorbachev, you’re going to be neutralized”.
Hands pop up. Stallman points to a member of the golf shirt-wearing contingent. “Without patents, how would you suggest dealing with commercial espionage?”
“Well, those two questions have nothing to do with each other, really”, says Stallman.
“But I mean if someone wants to steal another company’s piece of software”.
Stallman’s recoils as if hit by a poisonous spray. “Wait a second”, Stallman says. “Steal? I’m sorry, there’s so much prejudice in that statement that the only thing I can say is that I reject that prejudice. Companies that develop nonfree software and other things keep lots and lots of trade secrets, and so that’s not really likely to change. In the old days-even in the 1980s-for the most part programmers were not aware that there were even software patents and were paying no attention to them. What happened was that people published the interesting ideas, and if they were not in the free software movement, they kept secret the little details. And now they patent those broad ideas and keep secret the little details. So as far as what you’re describing, patents really make no difference to it one way or another”.
“But if it doesn’t affect their publication”, a new audience member jumps in, his voice trailing off almost as soon as he starts speaking.
“But it does”, Stallman says. “Their publication is telling you that this is an idea that’s off limits to the rest of the community for 20 years. And what the hell good is that? Besides, they’ve written it in such a hard way to read, both to obfuscate the idea and to make the patent as broad as possible, that it’s basically useless looking at the published information to learn anything anyway. The only reason to look at patents is to see the bad news of what you can’t do”.
The audience falls silent. The speech, which began at 3:15, is now nearing the 5:00 whistle, and most listeners are already squirming in their seats, antsy to get a jump start on the weekend. Sensing the fatigue, Stallman glances around the room and hastily shuts things down. “So it looks like we’re done”, he says, following the observation with an auctioneer’s “going, going, gone” to flush out any last-minute questioners. When nobody throws their hand up, Stallman signs off with a traditional exit line.
“Happy hacking”, he says.
Chapter 9. The GNU General Public License
By the spring of 1985, Richard Stallman had settled on the Project’s first milestone-a Lisp-based free software version of Emacs. To meet this goal, however, he faced two challenges. First, he had to rebuild Emacs in a way that made it platform independent. Second, he had to rebuild the Emacs Commune in a similar fashion.
The dispute with UniPress had highlighted a flaw in the Emacs Commune social contract. Where users relied on Stallman’s expert insight, the Commune’s rules held. In areas where Stallman no longer held the position of alpha hacker-pre-1984 Unix systems, for example-individuals and companies were free to make their own rules.
The tension between the freedom to modify and the freedom to exert authorial privilege had been building before GOSMACS. The Copyright Act of 1976 had overhauled U.S. copyright law, extending the legal protection of copyright to software programs. According to Section 102(b) of the Act, individuals and companies now possessed the ability to copyright the “expression” of a software program but not the “actual processes or methods embodied in the program”.[1] Translated, programmers and companies had the ability to treat software programs like a story or song. Other programmers could take inspiration from the work, but to make a direct copy or nonsatirical derivative, they first had to secure permission from the original creator. Although the new law guaranteed that even programs without copyright notices carried copyright protection, programmers quickly asserted their rights, attaching coypright notices to their software programs.
At first, Stallman viewed these notices with alarm. Rare was the software program that didn’t borrow source code from past programs, and yet, with a single stroke of the president’s pen, Congress had given programmers and companies the power to assert individual authorship over communally built programs. It also injected a dose of formality into what had otherwise been an informal system. Even if hackers could demonstrate how a given program’s source-code bloodlines stretched back years, if not decades, the resources and money that went into battling each copyright notice were beyond most hackers’ means. Simply put, disputes that had once been settled hacker-to-hacker were now settled lawyer-to-lawyer. In such a system, companies, not hackers, held the automatic advantage.
Proponents of software copyright had their counter-arguments: without copyright, works might otherwise slip into the public domain. Putting a copyright notice on a work also served as a statement of quality. Programmers or companies who attached their name to the copyright attached their reputations as well. Finally, it was a contract, as well as a statement of ownership. Using copyright as a flexible form of license, an author could give away certain rights in exchange for certain forms of behavior on the part of the user. For example, an author could give away the right to suppress unauthorized copies just so long as the end user agreed not to create a commercial offshoot.
It was this last argument that eventually softened Stallman’s resistance to software copyright notices. Looking back on the years leading up to the GNU Project, Stallman says he began to sense the beneficial nature of copyright sometime around the release of Emacs 15.0, the last significant pre-GNU Project upgrade of Emacs. “I had seen email messages with copyright notices plus simple `verbatim copying permitted’ licenses”, Stallman recalls. “Those definitely were [an] inspiration”.
For Emacs 15, Stallman drafted a copyright that gave users the right to make and distribute copies. It also gave users the right to make modified versions, but not the right to claim sole ownership of those modified versions, as in the case of GOSMACS.
Although helpful in codifying the social contract of the Emacs Commune, the Emacs 15 license remained too “informal” for the purposes of the GNU Project, Stallman says. Soon after starting work on a GNU version of Emacs, Stallman began consulting with the other members of the Free Software Foundation on how to shore up the license’s language. He also consulted with the attorneys who had helped him set up the Free Software Foundation.
Mark Fischer, a Boston attorney specializing in intellectual-property law, recalls discussing the license with Stallman during this period. “Richard had very strong views about how it should work”, Fischer says, “He had two principles. The first was to make the software absolutely as open as possible. The second was to encourage others to adopt the same licensing practices”.
1.
See Hal Abelson, Mike Fischer, and Joanne Costello, “Software and Copyright Law”, updated version (1998).
http://www.swiss.ai.mit.edu/6805/articles/int-prop/software-copyright.html