MATH YOU CAN'T USE
by Ben Klemens
pp. 181, Brookings Institution Press, Washington D.C., 2005
It is the ideas of inventors that drive the continuous technological progress in our societies. It then becomes important to ask if these inventors are getting the right incentives to innovate. What rights should an inventor be allowed to have over his invention/idea? Is his idea his alone? or is the idea anyone's who understands it? What does it mean to own an idea? The question of whether the "fugitive fermentation of an individual brain*" is a public good or the justifiably exclusive property of the individual brain is clearly an urgent one given the value we place on technological progress.
The subtleties of what constitutes an intellectual's excludable property and what constitutes the general public's property are usually outside the grasp of the general non-specialist crowd. Even amongst specialists (economists, computer people and so on) the discussions on the subject remain constrained by disciplinary boundaries and jargon in the blind men and elephant sort of way. Economists shy away from conversations with computer scientists who generously return the favour. Stated differently, the problem is that few economists write video games and even fewer video game writers would like to be spotted reading economics texts. This is a pity because if economists and software writers could talk to each other what else but the market for intellectual property in computer software would they talk about? The good news is that Klemens is at least, an economist and as he points out several times, he did write a video game.
To adequately understand the dynamics of the regulation of the market for software innovation, one needs to be a jack of several trades like, economics, computer science, law and even mathematics. In 'Math You Can't Use' Klemens brings this scarce combination of skills to bear upon this debate. His training as an economist as well as his facility with the arcane world of software programming puts him at a unique vantage point to survey the world of software patents. Add to this a knack for gentle humor and brevity of language and what you get is an immensely readable book that lays bare the economics, the math, the code and the legalese that underlie the mess that the world of patenting intellectual property in the software market involves.
Judging the book by its cover I expected the book to be a collection of mathematical theorems based on some abstract models of the software patenting business. I assumed that the theorems represented math I could not use simply because it was based on models that relied on unrealistic assumptions. Hence I expected the book to be the author's labor of love to mathematical reasoning that was in the end quite use-less for solving real world problems.
I was way off the mark there. The book's central claim is that there is a lot of math out there (theorems, lemmas, propositions, algorithms and so on) that you can't use because someone else came up with that math before you and now insists that the said math is his and his alone to cherish, protect and profit from. The main theorem that drives the ideas in this book is the Church Turing Thesis which allows us to show that a lot of software code is actually just a bunch of mathematical statements. Klemens creatively uses this thesis to argue his main points in the book.
'Math You Can't Use' actually reads like a generously embellished academic article which is a good thing as far as the pace at which ideas are presented in the book is concerned. For people interested in the area of software patents, this book will serve as a self-contained, down and dirty introduction to this area. From how computers work (for instance, how does a keystroke translate to text on the screen) to reporting rigorous economic theory, Klemens does an elegant job of walking the tightrope between academic rigour and readability. This book will be useful to students of the economics of innovation, computer scientists who read and policy makers.
(C)2005 ViSa