DRM analogy

I've concocted a simple analogy for all those DRM cheerleaders out there in the web-o-sphere, who can't see the forest for the trees.

Let's suppose there is a car manufacturer out there (we'll choose GMC, due to their incredible track record of inane company decisions). Now let's suppose that GMC decided to release all their pending new car models with a special kind of theft security, called DRM (instead of Digital Rights Management, we'll use Richard Stallman's interpretation, and call it Digital Restrictions Management).

This DRM is a computerized form of theft control that is installed in the automobile's electronic assembly, in such a way that trying to defeat it or remove it only results in the car being unable to run. It works by using wireless network communication between it and either satellites or cell phone towers, whichever are more available. As long as the online server successfully "handshakes" with your little electronic chip, all is well.

This DRM is marketed as the safest, most effective, and most "non-invasive" DRM you can have installed in a car. You don't have to worry about key fobs or any other hardware, you simply have to speak a quick code-word into a voice-recognition module mounted on the dashboard.

Now comes the good part, for all you ding dongs who still view DRM as tolerable...

One fine day, you go out to use your car. It really doesn't matter what you're using it for in this analogy, just that it's pretty important to you that you get in and go.

You get in, press the button to start the car, speak the code word...

...and nothing happens.

Now, it doesn't matter to you how easy and invisible the DRM is purported to be, all you know is you just want the car to start and take you where you want to go. Thus you're not entirely thrilled about the spider web of online FAQs, forums and community support pages you must navigate through on the dashboard display in order to troubleshoot the problem.

In this sort of situation, there is no contingency plan X, Y or even Z for starting the car. It doesn't matter to the company who designed the DRM, or the company that bought and implemented the DRM (in this simulated case, GMC) that it may be very important for you to drive your car right now. At one point, you find a page that informs you to call a cab, the police, fire department or an ambulance if you absolutely must go somewhere and the car refuses to respond.

As you endlessly tap at the dash buttons, trying to find an answer to this dilemma, your anger builds as the ugly truth presents itself:

  • You paid thousands of dollars for this car, and should not have to play help-desk bingo just to use it.
  • You begin to realize that although you paid for the car in full, and it sits in your driveway, and you pay for all its gas, insurance and upkeep, you don't actually own it.
  • You start to hate the company that created this car, because you realize they're only in the business of creating users instead of owners. You're like a cow that's being milked with the illusion that your stall is the entire world, or better yet, a hapless drug addict who keeps the drug dealers living in palatial mansions.

So my question to you, reader, is this:

Even though the DRM car is new and looks "really cool", just how long do you think a car company like that would stay in business, when car companies B, C and D still use "archaic technology" like a metal key to start the car?

Answer:

Not very long.

So why would you embrace equivalent DRM technologies in your software?