Last week Mike wrote about a new patent from Intellectual Ventures that seeks to assert ownership of the idea of DRM for 3D printing. The article in Technology Review that Techdirt linked to explains how things would work:
There's plenty of breathless writing about the imminent 3D-printing revolution, but realistically, what is it likely to mean for most people? They probably won't all be printing out their own planes, but they may well be printing out small replacement parts for goods they own. Here's an early example of that from the world of electronics, spotted by the Shapeways site:
In a post last week, I wrote about the current obsession with “IP”, and noted some moves to make it more suitable for the digital age. In this post, I want to look at the other main class of “IP”, patents. Surprisingly, perhaps, I won't be talking about software patents, not least because I've written plenty on the topic. Instead, I want to consider patents on analogue - that is, purely physical - objects.
On Open Enterprise blog.
As my occasional postings on the subject indicate, one area that fascinates me is that of fabbers, aka 3D printers. One reason is that they effectively make our analogue world digital, in the sense that they allow 3D objects to be captured as digital representations, and then printed out. The other reason - a consequence of the first - is that by producing these representations, they transport many of the trickiest digital issues into the analogue domain. But more of that anon.
Of course, I'm not the only person to have noticed that the world of fabbers has the potential to bring the same kind of disruption to the analogue world that computers and the Internet have brought to the digital sphere. One benefit of this growing appreciation is that there are more resources available about 3D printers and related areas, and that they are becoming richer as the field grows.
A good example is a new report commissioned by the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy [freely available as pdf]. Indeed, I'd say that it probably represents the best single introduction to this whole field.
One virtue is comprehensiveness. As well as covering areas like fabbers (my own personal interest), it also discusses desktop milling machines; laser cutters and engravers; sewing and embroidering machines; and desktop circuit makers. It has a handy run-down of the main companies active in this area, including makers, aggregators and designers; and a detailed examination of the advantages and uses of desktop personal manufacturing devices. It is particular strong on the importance of educating the younger generation in these technologies - rightly so, since these will be the tools with which they will shape and build their world.
But for me, the most interesting part - because most problematic - is that which touches on the legal issues surrounding this rapprochement of the analogue and digital ways:
In our long tail world of media and information, files containing digital music, content, video, artwork, and data are easily copied. As a result, chasing down copyright violators of digital works has become as unproductive as chasing after a cloud of gnats. Preventing copyright and patent violations in the world of electronic blueprints and small-scale manufacturing machines will be equally challenging. The personal fabrication process spans both the digital and physical worlds and involves two components that involve intellectual property issues: the electronic blueprints and the resulting physical object. While one can protect a digital blueprint using digital rights management, this approach offers only a partial solution, since once the electronic blueprint is put to work fabricating physical objects, it can be used to produce as many objects as the maker wants to make. The resulting physical objects, unlike a music file, cannot be digital signed.
The report boldly suggests a way of handling some of these problems, encapsulated as one of its recommendations:13. Explore micropatents as a smaller, simpler, and more agile unit of intellectual property
Here's its explanation of the concept:
An inventor would submit, for a few hundred dollars, a document describing their invention to a centralized government micro-patent repository. The document would be time-stamped and immediately publicly released, without having to be subject to the traditional tests of novelty, utility and non-obviousness. The inventor’s micro-patent application would claim very few fields of use, perhaps there could even be a mandatory limit on scope to qualify as a micro-patent. By filing this document, the inventor would immediately be granted an implicit, short-term (say 5 year) exclusive right to her new disclosed idea, as long as the idea was not already disclosed publicly earlier. Only in the case of alleged infringement, would intellectual property experts, lawyers, and the judicial system be brought to bear on the case with all the costs, time and complexities involved.
The key idea here is to offer "simple, agile and cost-effective intellectual property protection"; that is, making it easier to obtain patents, albeit lightweight ones. But in doing so, it will remove one of the few remaining barriers to patent applications, which inevitably will mean that every patent troll in the world will file thousands of trivial claims, since it will take so little effort or money to do so. It will give rise to the equivalent of patent spam.
Worse, these patent spammers will then proceed to sue huge numbers of inventors - and users - of objects made using fabbers. In fact it will become exactly like the world of copyright today, where tens of thousands of letters are sent out to alleged infringers, threatening to sue them but offering them a special "low-cost" way of settling.
Even more damaging, such a lightweight system will create a patent thicket around objects made with personal manufacturing systems that even nanotechnology will be unable to pierce. Again, we already have an all-too concrete example of what happens when it is easy to obtain patents for key ideas that are often indispensable for all users, in the world of software.
Before software could be patented, programmers wrote software by drawing on the commons of software techniques - and adding to that commons themselves. They didn't need to worry about "infringing" on someone's idea, because you couldn't get patents on ideas - just copyright on implementations of those ideas.
Now, with software patents being awarded in increasing numbers, things are so bad that it is probably impossible to write any non-trivial program without nominally infringing on someone's patent. That proliferation has led to dense software patent thickets, most notably in the world of mobile phones, where multiple companies are suing each other, wasting valuable resources that could have been devoted to creating more innovative products, not paying lawyers' bills.
The example of software shows us that patents simply do not work when applied to the digital realm. Indeed, the software industry spends far more money litigating software patents than it actually earns from licensing them. The fascinating book “Patent Failure: How Judges, Bureaucrats, and Lawyers Put Innovators at Risk” by James Bessen and Michael Meurer (Princeton University Press, 2008) quantifies this: the aggregate annual patent profits for software in the US were $100 million for the years 1996-9; the aggregate litigation costs for the same period were $3,880 million. There is no evidence that things are any better now.
It would be utter folly to import the worst features of the existing digital world into the new one that is emerging. Micro-patents will not foster progress and innovation: they will actually make things worse than the current situation, hard though that may be to believe.
The only solution is to have not "micro"-patents, but the limiting case where the size of the patent tends to zero - that is, none at all. Then, companies and inventors would compete not on the underlying ideas (which patents try to capture and monopolise), but on their *implementation* of them.
As well as avoiding patent gridlock, this also addresses issues of copying and counterfeiting, since people will pay more for otherwise identical products when they come provably from a trusted supplier, and also of safety, since it rewards better-quality products (not just patented ones).
As such, it's patently better than "solutions" based on intellectual monopolies that won't ever work (as proved by copyright and its attendant legislation, which have failed to stem the flood of shared music and video files in the slightest) and will actually lead to a net loss for companies forced to deploy them (as software patents and their thickets demonstrate). (Via Shapeways.)
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I recently wrote about the latest iteration of the Open Source Hardware Definition, which provides a framework for crafting open hardware licences. It's a necessary and important step on the road towards creating a vibrant open source hardware movement. But the kind of open hardware that is commonly being made today – things like the hugely-popular Arduino - is only the beginning.
On Open Enterprise blog.
Last week I wrote a piece about analogue copying. Specifically, it centred on the 3D scanning and copying of an Aston Martin – because that was how somebody framed the question to me. This provoked plenty of thoughtful comment, which I encouraged people to post over on my other blog, since a slightly longer format was needed than this blog could accommodate. However, because the original piece was posted here, I've decided to reply to them here (sorry if this bloggy to-ing and fro-ing causes digital travel sickness.)
On Open Enterprise blog.
I write a lot about copyright, and the right to share stuff. In particular, I think that for digital artefacts – text, music, video etc. - free software has shown us that there is no contradiction between allowing these to be copied freely and creating profitable businesses that are powered by that abundance. What has to change, though, is the nature of the business models that underlie them.
The parallel between digital content and software is obvious enough, which makes it relatively easy to see how media companies might function against a background of unrestricted sharing. But we are fast approaching the point where it is possible to make copies of *analogue* objects, using 3D printers like the open source RepRap system. This raises some interesting questions about what might be permitted in that situation if businesses are still to thrive.
On Open Enterprise blog.
The recent battle over the Digital Economy Bill has focussed renewed attention on the area of copying digital artefacts – music and films, for example. It's a subject I've started writing and speaking about more and more; for example, here are some thoughts on why free software's success is crucially important in this area.
But I have confession to make: that article is a bit of a cop-out. I didn't address the even bigger issue of what happens when we can copy *analogue* artefacts. Yup, you read that aright: the time is fast approaching when we will be able to download a chair or a bicycle and just print it out. Clearly, this will make the idea of *analogue* scarcity rather more complex (although energy concerns will always place a lower bound on the cost of making such copies).
People have only just begun thinking about the implications of this shift – not least because it's so mind-boggling, and will make the current brouhaha over digital copying look like the proverbial vicar's tea party. But the first works grappling with this have started emerging; here's one of them:Throughout recorded history most people who have wanted a household article have bought or bartered it from someone else – in past times an artisan or trader, more recently a seller of mass-produced products. With few exceptions (such as some clothing) it is rare that any of us make such articles for ourselves these days. That may soon change. Thirty years ago only dedicated enthusiasts would print their own photographs or edit and reproduce their own newsletters. The advent of the home computer, and in particular of low-cost high-quality printers, has now made such things simple and commonplace. Recent developments in producing affordable and hobbyist-friendly printers that can reproduce three-dimensional rather than just flat objects may mean that printing a toast-rack or a comb becomes as easy as printing a birthday card.
Any lawyer familiar with copyright and trade mark law can see, however, that printing one’s own birthday cards could, depending on the source and nature of the images used, infringe a number of intellectual property (IP) rights. Tempting as it may be to copy and use a picture of a well-known cartoon character, the resulting cards would very likely be an infringement of the copyright and perhaps trade marks owned by the relevant rights holder. But what if someone uses a printer capable of producing a mobile phone cover bearing such an image? Or reproducing a distinctively-styled piece of kitchenware? What about printing out a spare wing-mirror mount for your car? Do these uses infringe IP rights?
In the first part of this paper, we review the history of 3D printing and describe recent developments, including a project initiated by one of the authors to bring such printers into the home. We then examine the IP implications of personal 3D printing with particular reference to the bundle of rights that would typically be associated with a product that might be copied.
It finishes with the following interesting observations:rights holders are likely to be concerned if personal 3D printers become widespread and effective enough to impinge on commercial exploitation of their IP rights. Indications as to how they might react can be seen from the recent history of music copyright infringement via the Internet. Both technical and legal responses have been tried, including the use of Digital Rights Management (DRM) technology and proposals to strengthen legislative measures. Will these be applied to restrict low-cost 3D printing?
Technical measures would quickly founder on the problem that, unlike music file-sharing, personal 3D printing does not produce an exact copy that can be digitally signed or protected with DRM. It is the sharing of (as seen, legitimately) reverse-engineered designs that is the issue, not original design documents. Although scanners and printers have incorporated anti-forgery measures to detect attempts to duplicate banknotes, such techniques are very specifically targeted at one well-defined item.1 Whist commercially-produced low-cost 3D printers might be configured to only use authorised DRM-protected 3DPDFs digitally signed by the rights holder, such measures would seriously constrain their usefulness and make them unattractive compared to open-source 3D printers.
It is worth noting, however, that this same point indicates that it may be some time before the level of detail and accuracy attainable by personal 3D printers becomes sufficient to seriously impinge upon the market for quality products, as distinct from utilitarian goods or spare parts (the reproduction of which, as has been noted, is in any case less likely to infringe IP rights.) Unlike digital audio and video copying, which produces perfect copies, copying of articles via 3D printing will be readily distinguishable from the original.
It concludes:The most optimistic evangelist of low-cost 3D printing would probably admit that the household domestic 3D printer is years, if not decades, from widespread use. Its impact will be gradual, as unlike file-shared MP3s it will not immediately provide for the reproduction of faithful copies. Rather, as its ease-of-use, fidelity and range of materials increases, so will its attractiveness and range of applications. This should, at least, allow for a more measured consideration of the legal issues that will arise from such use. In the longer term, personal 3D printers may conceivably lead to radical changes in the nature of the manufacturing economy; the IP implications of such further developments have so far been imagined only in science fiction.
But make no mistake: it's coming....
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Why does open source succeed? Apart, that is, from the fact that it is created by huge numbers of amazingly clever and generous people? Or, put another way, what is a key ingredient that must be present for the open source methodology to be applicable to other spheres?
Modularity.
If the stuff to hand isn't modular, you can't really share, because your stuff isn't compatible with other people's stuff. If it isn't modular, you can't share out tasks and scale. If you can't share out tasks, you can't have people working independently, at their own pace and in their own way, which means the project isn't really open. If it isn't modular, you can't swap in some new elements while leaving everything else untouched, which means no "release early, release often", no experimentation, no rapid evolution. Modularity is indispensable.
I think that's why open source hardware has singularly failed to take off. It's difficult to make bunches of atoms modular in the way that bunches of bits are (at least until we have general 3D printers, in which case we're done...)
But could there be a way of introducing that modularity at a higher level so as to enjoy the benefits outlined above? I do believe there is, and with hindsight, it was pretty obvious (er, so why didn't I think of it?). It's called OpenStructures:The OS (OpenStructures) project explores the possibility of a modular construction model where everyone designs for everyone on the basis of one shared geometrical grid. It initiates a kind of collaborative Meccano to which everybody can contribute parts, components and structures.
As you can see, the clever people behind this project have the magic word "modular" in there. Specifically, they have devised a very simple grid system that ensures that things fit together, even when they're made by different people at different times and for different purposes. Significantly, the grid is based on binary multiples and subdivisions:If you choose to apply the OS grid for the dimensions of a part, at least one of the measurements of this part (length, wideness and thickness or height) should correspond to either 0,125cm / 0,25cm / 0,5cm / 1cm / 2cm and multiples of 2cm in order to be compatible with other parts. (see part examples)
What's really impressive about this project is not just this insight into the modularity of elements, but the completeness of the vision that results. For example, there is an explicit hierarchy of elements, starting from OS Parts, which combine to form OS Components, from which are made OS Structures, and finally OS Superstructures.
It's an amazing vision, and I think it could have a major impact on the world of open source hardware, at least of this particular construction-set type. If you want to see some of the exciting objects that have already been created, don't miss the fab photos on the project's blog. (Via @opensourcerer.)
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I've written a fair amount about open source fabbers, but here's someone addressing another important aspect: open sourcing how to make the basic material used by 3D printers:About five years ago, Mark Ganter, a UW mechanical engineering professor and longtime practitioner of 3-D printing, became frustrated with the high cost of commercial materials and began experimenting with his own formulas. He and his students gradually developed a home-brew approach, replacing a proprietary mix with artists' ceramic powder blended with sugar and maltodextrin, a nutritional supplement. The results are printed in a recent issue of Ceramics Monthly. Co-authors are Duane Storti, UW associate professor of mechanical engineering, and Ben Utela, a former UW doctoral student.
"Normally these supplies cost $30 to $50 a pound. Our materials cost less than a dollar a pound," said Ganter. He said he wants to distribute the free recipes in order to democratize 3-D printing and expand the range of printable objects.
(Via Boing Boing.)
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I've written before about open fabbers - effectively 3D printers that can make anything - and how it's crucial for there to be open versions of this important technology. But openness isn't enough: a design that was open but still cost millions to implement wouldn't have much practical impact. What are needed are open designs that are low-cost and relatively easy to construct.
A hint of the kind of thing that may be possible can be found in this video. It shows a mini-fabber that produces cars - Lego cars to be precise. But what's really interesting is that the fabber itself is made largely out of Lego. There's more on this project and on related issues in a fascinating post at Open the Future.
I wrote about an open source fabber recently, and now here's another one, the RepRap:The difference with RepRap, which is the size of a fridge, is that the ideas behind it are not owned by anyone. Dr Bowyer's vision is a machine that can be made, adapted and improved by its users. "I did not want an individual, company or country to make money from this," he said.
If Dr Bowyer's vision is realised there could be profound implications for the global economy. Instead of large companies manufacturing large numbers of consumer goods and distributing them to shops, consumers would buy or share designs on the internet, manufacturing items on their own replication machines.
If you want the code, Matthew Aslett has dug it out, as well as the RepRap's home page. One of the coolest aspects of the RepRap is that it can make its own parts.
Think about it.
People whose opinion I respect think that 3D printing machines, which allow you to "print" an object in layers, just as ordinary printers allow you to output images a dot at a time, are going to be big. As in enormous. So clearly it's important that such "fabbers", as they are also known, are available to all and sundry, to use in any way they want. Which also means, by implication, that we must have open source fabbers.
Happily, there's already such a project:Fab@Home is a website dedicated to making and using fabbers - machines that can make almost anything, right on your desktop. This website provides an open source kit that lets you make your own simple fabber, and use it to print three dimensional objects. You can download and print various items, try out new materials, or upload and share your own projects. Advanced users can modify and improve the fabber itself.
Fabbers (a.k.a 3D Printers or rapid prototyping machines) are a relatively new form of manufacturing that builds 3D objects by carefuly depositing materials drop by drop, layer by layer. Slowly but surely, with the right set of materials and a geometric blueprint, you can fabricate complex objects that would normally take special resources, tools and skills if produced using conventional manufacturing techniques. A fabber can allow you explore new designs, email physical objects to other fabber owners, and most importantly - set your ideas free. Just like MP3s, iPods and the Internet have freed musical talent, we hope that blueprints and fabbers will democratize innovation.
While several commercial systems are available, their price range - tens of thousands, to hundreds of thousands of dollars - is typically well beyond what an average home user can afford. Furthermore, commercial systems do not usually allow or encourage experimentation with new materials and processes. But more importantly, most - if not all - commercial system are geared towards making passive parts out of a single material. Our goal is to explore the potential of universal fabrication: Machines that can use multiple materials to fabricate complete, active systems.
Sounds positively, er, fab. (Via Open the Future.)
First cars, then trains, now planes. New Scientist is reporting that it is now possible to create almost an entire plane by "printing" the components:In rapid prototyping, a three-dimensional design for a part - a wing strut, say - is fed from a computer-aided design (CAD) system to a microwave-oven-sized chamber dubbed a 3D printer. Inside the chamber, a computer steers two finely focussed, powerful laser beams at a polymer or metal powder, sintering it and fusing it layer by layer to form complex, solid 3D shapes.
Two things are interesting here. First, this is precisely what Michael Hart, the founder of Project Gutenberg, has been predicting for years. Indeed, he sees Project Gutenberg, which essentially lets you print your own books, as just the first, quite small step in the next industrial revolution, where physical objects will be printed routinely.
Secondly, note that the parts are printed under the control of a software program. So if the program and the data are open, this means that effectively the physical object will also be open. As usual, openness brings with it all the usual advantages of speed and lack of redundancy - you can re-use parts or parts of parts in other designs to create quickly entirely new objects.
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