Legislators, law enforcement and the judiciary all need technical help when it comes to dealing with Internet communications. Being frugal as well as professional, they naturally want to get this help from people who will respond quickly, proficiently and at no cost to the taxpayer. So whom do they seek out? As it turns out, they don’t need to seek at all. People will come to them and offer the advice free of charge. These people are called lobbyists. The successful ones seem to all share certain traits, such as money, public influence, and political connections.

In California, the prominent actuality of the MPAA, et al., gives them an inherent standing to let the politicians know what needs to be done for the good of the people and their state’s tax revenue. And if it should do themselves some good as well, that’s the cost of the advice. They certainly paid enough for the right to give it. It’s the way of things, and will be not be changing soon. What can be changed is who gets to be the lobbyists with the loudest, clearest voices.

Suppose it was revealed by the MPAA that the Attorney General of California had collaborated with the Electronic Frontier Foundation in drafting a letter to be presented to the annual meeting of state attorneys general. The letter would inform copyright infringement investigators that they believed a reasonable expectation of privacy attached to personal activities on the Internet, and that while logging shared files was acceptable, logging IP addresses in connection with those files was not.

Would we still feel troubled at the thought of government working hand-in-hand with private (albeit non-profit) entities? No. Would we be glad the good guys were going to win one? Yes. Government has always collaborated with business on drafting laws, policy, and decisions. This isn’t the first time a sharp-eyed quarry has pointed out the handshake behind the curtain, and it isn’t the first time the response has been, “So what?” Thirty years ago, an eager young reporter might have told his editor how the peculiar impressions present on a letter signed by the Governor revealed its true origin to be a typewriter in the office of the state’s largest real estate developer. And the editor would have replied, “All right, son, call and ask about it. And if they deny it, that’s a story. But they won’t deny it, and it won’t be a story.”