Preventing Discrimination at Airbnb

In January 2014, Mike Luca and I posted a study finding that black hosts on Airbnb face discrimination: by all indications, guests are less willing to stay at their properties, forcing them to lower their prices to attract guests. More recently, Mike Luca, Dan Svirsky, and I contacted hosts using test guest accounts that were white and black, male and female, showing that black guests are less likely to be accepted by hosts. Both findings are troubling: The Internet has the power to make markets fairer and more inclusive, but Airbnb designed its platform to make race needlessly prominent, all but inviting discrimination.

Initially Airbnb responded to our research by framing discrimination as a problem that has "plagued societies for centuries" and emphasizing that the company "can’t control all the biases" of its users. After a barrage of media coverage, Airbnb CEO Brian Chesky this month admitted that discrimination is a "huge issue" and said the company "will be revisiting the design of our site from end to end to see how we can create a more inclusive platform." Indeed, today Airbnb convenes an invitation-only summit in Washington to discuss the situation and, perhaps, design improvements.

While I applaud Airbnb’s new interest in fighting discrimination on its platform, I can’t agree with Chesky’s subsequent claim that preventing discrimination on Airbnb is "really, really hard." Quite the contrary, the solution is apparent and has been known for years. In today’s piece, I renew my longstanding proposal that would substantially fix the problem, then offer two smaller adjustments that are appropriate under the circumstances.

The solution: Limit the distribution of irrelevant information that facilitates discrimination

Online environments make it easy to limit the information that guests and hosts reveal. If certain information causes discrimination, the natural remedy is to conceal that information so customers do not consider it when making booking and acceptance decisions.

Names and photos typically indicate the races of Airbnb guests and hosts. But names and photos are not necessary for guests and hosts to do business. Hosts and guests can amply assess one anothers’ trustworthiness using the significant other information Airbnb already collects and presents. For these reasons, I contend that the Airbnb site should not reveal sensitive race information until a transaction is confirmed. If guests and hosts don’t see names and photos in advance, they simply won’t be able to discriminate on that basis.

The proposal is a smaller change than it might at first appear. In fact, Airbnb has long limited information flows to advance its business interests. Airbnb’s revenue depends not just on introducing hosts to guests, and vice versa, but on transactions actually flowing through Airbnb’s platform so Airbnb can charge booking fees. Airbnb’s revenue would drop if guests and hosts could contact each other directly and agree to pay via Paypal, cash on arrival, or similar. To prevent hosts and guests from going around Airbnb, the company withholds email addresses and phone numbers while the users are still discussing a possible stay — letting each user examine the other’s profile, reviews, verifications, and more, but intentionally withholding the two pieces of information that would undermine Airbnb’s revenue. But Airbnb doesn’t just limit information presented in profiles and request templates; it also affirmatively filters messages between guests and hosts. Airbnb provides a text message system to let users ask questions and share more details, but it doesn’t want the messages to be used to cut Airbnb out of the transaction. So Airbnb’s servers examine each message and blocksanything that looks like an email address or a phone number. In short, there’s ample precedent for Airbnb withholding information — when it wants to.

I anticipate several objections to the proposed change:

  • Trust and safety. Certainly trust issues are central to Airbnb’s business — letting strangers stay in your home when you’re not there to supervise; staying in a stranger’s home when you’re at your most vulnerable (asleep). In that context, some might argue that every possible piece of additional information is important and should be provided. But I question what information the names and photos truly add. Airbnb already validates users’ identities, including checking driver’s license photographs and asking identity verification questions that impostors would struggle to answer. Airbnb reports linked Facebook and LinkedIn profiles, and Airbnb presents and tabulates reviews from prior transactions. Plus, all Airbnb transactions are prepaid. As a result, a host considering a guest’s request learns that the prospective guest has (say) a verified phone number and email, verified identity, verified Facebook and LinkedIn profiles with two hundred connections in total, and five favorable reviews from other Airbnb stays within the last year. A name and photo reveal race, gender, and age, but they provide little information about genuine trustworthiness. Whatever information the name and photo provide, that information comes more from (potentially inaccurate) stereotypes than from the name and photo themselves.
  • Perhaps users would be confused by communications without names. But "Airbnb Guest" and "Airbnb Host" make fine placeholders. Alternatively, Airbnb could move to a username system, letting users choose their own nicknames to use before a transaction is confirmed. eBay follows exactly that approach, and it works just fine. Airbnb would still organize a host’s messages with a given guest into a single page, and vice versa.
  • Some hosts want to see guest photos before accepting a request, and vice versa for guests choosing hosts. But if a homeowner is particularly concerned about strangers visiting his property, perhaps he shouldn’t be running a de facto hotel.
  • Photos help guests and hosts recognize each other. Airbnb’s David King, Director of Diversity and Belonging, in April 2016 told NPR: "The photos are on the platform for a reason. … You want to make sure that that guest that shows up at your door is the person that you’ve been communicating with." But nothing in the proposed change would prevent a host and guest from recognizing each other. After a booking is confirmed, they’d still see names and photos just as they do now. The change is to timing — revealing names and photos only after the booking is final.

In principle, Airbnb’s approach to names and photos could vary based on the type of listing. For example, names and photos might be viewed with special skepticism when a guest is renting the entire property. After all, when a guest occupies a property exclusively, the guest and host will have limited interaction. Indeed, they may never meet in person at all, exchanging keys via a doorman or lockbox. Then the specific identity of guest and host are all the less important. Conversely, it’s somewhat easier to see a proper role for photos and names when a host is truly "sharing" a property with a guest, jointly using common property facilities (perhaps a shared kitchen) or otherwise interacting with each other.

Allow testing

After our study, several users ran their own tests to assess possible discrimination. For example, after being rejected by a host, a black guest might create a new account with a "white-sounding" name and a photo of a white person — then use that new account to reapply to the same host. Multiple users have tested for discrimination via this methodology. (Examples: 1, 2)

Crucially, Airbnb prohibits such testing. Airbnb’s compulsory Terms of Service forbids all test accounts, instead requiring that users "agree to provide accurate, current and complete information during the registration process." Furthermore, Airbnb specifically insists that each user "may not have more than one (1) active Airbnb Account," and Airbnb claims the right to entirely eject any person who creates multiple accounts. But if each a user is limited to a single account, in the user’s true name, most testing procedures are unworkable.

Airbnb rigorously enforces its prohibitions on test accounts and follows through on its threats to exclude users with multiple accounts. Indeed, during the testing for my second article about Airbnb discrimination, the company closed my personal account — even removing my reputation and reviews accumulated from prior stays. I requested that Airbnb reopen my account but have received no reply, and my account remains disabled to this day.

Airbnb has no proper reason to penalize those who test its services. It would be intolerable for a car dealership to post a sign saying "No testers allowed" in hopes of concealing prices that vary prices based on a buyer’s race. Nor should Airbnb be able to conceal discrimination on its platform through contractual restrictions and penalties.

Normalize dispute resolution

The standard American approach to dispute resolution is the legal system — judge and jury. Dissatisfied hosts and guests — such as those who think they’ve faced discrimination — ordinarily could go to court to explain the problem and try to articulate a violation of applicable law. But Airbnb specifically prohibits users from filing a standard lawsuit. In particular, Airbnb’s Terms of Service instead demand that "any dispute, claim or controversy arising out of or relating to … the Services or use of the Site … will be settled by binding arbitration."

For guests and hosts, arbitration presents several key problems. For one, Airbnb chose the arbitration service, so anyone pursuing a grievance might naturally worry that the arbitrator will favor Airbnb. Furthermore, arbitration results are confidential — so even if some users prevail against Airbnb, the interested public would never find out. Arbitration also provides little to no ability for complainants to get the documents they need to prove their case, for example by searching Airbnb’s records to learn what the company knew, who else complained, and what alternatives it considered. Nor does arbitration provide an appeals process appropriate for exploring new or complex questions of law. Most of all, Airbnb requires that each dispute proceed solely on an individual basis, and "the arbitrator may not consolidate more than one person’s claims." But individual complaints are inevitably small, with value too low to justify the top-notch attorneys and experts who would be needed to prove discrimination and explore Airbnb’s responsibility.

Courts, not arbitrations, are the proper way to resolve these important disputes. The appearance of legitimacy would be much improved if decisions were rendered by a judge and jury chosen through formal government processes. With access to Airbnb documents and records as provided by law, aggrieved users would be able to search for information to support their claims — giving them a fair chance to assemble the evidence they need. With appeals, a series of judges would assess the situation and correct any errors in legal reasoning. And with a single case assessing the rights of a group of similar users, economies of scale would allow users to get the specialized assistance they need to have a real shot.

I don’t know that aggrieved guests or hosts would prevail against Airbnb on matters of discrimination. In some respects, such a case would break new ground, and Airbnb would forcefully argue that it is individual hosts, not Airbnb itself, whose actions are out of line. But Airbnb should face such complaints on the merits, not hide behind a contract that prevents users from bringing suit.

Airbnb told the New York Times that "these [arbitration] provisions are common." Certainly many companies require that customers arbitrate any disputes. But Airbnb’s service is special, raising persistent and serious concerns about discrimination (among other issues). These heightened sensitivities call for a different approach to dispute resolution — and a dispute system that works for credit cards and cell phone plans may not be right for questions of race, equality, and justice.

Airbnb also told the Times that "we believe ours [our arbitration agreement] is balanced and protects consumers." But it’s hard to see the balance in a contract that only takes rights away from users. Were the contract silent on dispute resolution, users could sue in any court authorized by law to hear the dispute, but instead Airbnb insists that not a single court, in any jurisdiction nationwide, can adjudicate any dispute pertaining to users’ relationships with Airbnb.

The incomplete benefits of Instant Book

Airbnb hosts are able to discriminate against disfavored guests because Airbnb’s standard process gives hosts discretion as to which guests to accept. Airbnb’s Instant Book feature thus offers a potential mechanism to reduce discrimination: When hosts pre-promise to accept any interested guest who agrees to pay, there’s much less opportunity to discriminate. Nonetheless, Instant Book addresses only a portion of the problem.

The biggest weakness of Instant Book is that only a fraction of properties offer this feature. A guest who wants to use Instant Book to avoid discrimination is thus accepting a much narrower range of properties. Airbnb periodically encourages hosts to try Instant Book, and it seems the proportion of properties with Instant Book is increasing, but slowly. That’s unsatisfactory: Guests shouldn’t have to choose between fair treatment and a full range of properties.

A second problem with Instant Book is that it serves only to protect guests from discrimination by hosts, but not to protect hosts from discrimination by guests. My research indicates that both problems are real, and Instant Book does nothing about the second.

A final concern is the prospect of cancellations that undo the anti-discrimination benefits of Instant Book. In principle a host could invoke Airbnb’s cancellation feature to reject a disfavored guest whose request was automatically confirmed by Instant Book. That’s exceptionally disruptive to the guest, taking away a booking which had already been paid in full and presented, to the guest and in Airbnb records, as confirmed. These problems are more than speculative; among others, the racist North Carolina host who canceled a black guest’s confirmed reservation had initially accepted that reservation via Instant Book.

To its credit, Airbnb requires a host to provide a reason when cancelling an Instant Book reservation, and Airbnb limits such cancellation to three per year. But the cancellations are penalty-free without any charge to hosts or any indication on a host’s profile page. (In contrast, when non-Instant Book hosts cancel reservations, they are charged fees and are penalized in profiles and on search results.) Moreover, three cancellations may suffice for many hosts to implement discriminatory preferences. If a host receives only occasional requests from the guests it seeks to discriminate against, the host could cancel those guests’ Instant Book stays with relative impunity.

Looking forward

Airbnb co-founder Joe Gebbia recently explained the site’s widespread use of photos of guests and hosts: "[A]nytime we could show a face in our service, we would … – in search results, on profiles, on the actual homepage.” Certainly photos are visually appealing and add some information. But the risk of discrimination appears to be unavoidable when photos are presented before a transaction is confirmed. No one would tolerate a hotel that required prospective guests to submit photos — nor a traditional bed-and-breakfast that did so. Nor should this approach be used online. The risk of discrimination is just too great relative to any benefit the photos may provide.

In January 2014, Mike Luca and I suggested the changes Airbnb should make to prevent discrimination:

[T]here is no fundamental reason why a guest need s see a host’s picture in advance of making a booking — nor does a guest necessarily even need to know a host’s name (from which race may be infered…). Indeed, Airbnb itself prohibits (and run s software to prevent) hosts and guests from sharing email addresses or phone numbers before a booking is made, lest this information exchange let parties contract directly and avoid Airbnb fees. Given Airbnb’s careful consideration of what information is available to guests and hosts, Airbnb might consider eliminating or reducing the prominence of host photos: It is not immediately obvious what beneficial information these photos provide, while they risk facilitating discrimination by guests. Particularly when a guest will be renting an entire property, the guest’s interaction with the host will be quite limited, and we see no real need for Airbnb to highlight the host’s picture.

Two and a half years later, the proposal remains appropriate, easy, and effective. Airbnb CEO Brian Chesky says the company "needs help solving" discrimination on Airbnb . Perhaps our longstanding proposal can be of assistance.

Uber Overcharges, Spring 2016

While claiming price advantages over taxis, Uber overcharges consumers by withholding promised discounts and credits. In today’s post, I examine a set of Uber pricing guffaws — each, a breach of the company’s own unambiguous written commitments — that have overcharged consumers for months on end. Taken together, these practices call into question Uber’s treatment of consumers, the company’s legal and compliance processes, and its approach to customer service and dispute resolution.

A "free ride" or a $15 discount?

Uber offers 'free rides' when users refer friends. Uber offers "free rides" when users refer friends.

Uber specifically confirms that the friend's 'first ride' is free, while the existing user gets 'a free ride (up to $15).'Uber specifically confirms that the friend’s "first ride" is free, while the existing user gets "a free ride (up to $15)."

Uber asks existing users to refer friends — promising significant sign up bonuses to both new and existing users for each referral. First, the existing user activates the Free Rides function in the Uber app, revealing the offer and a code that the new user must enter so Uber can track the referral. Quoting from the first screenshot at right (emphasis added):

Share your invite code [placeholder]. Send friends free rides and you’ll get one too, worth $15! Details. INVITE FRIENDS.

A user who taps "Details" sees two additional sentences (quoting from the second screenshot at right):

Share your promo code with friends and they’ll get their first ride free. Once they’ve tried Uber, you’ll automatically get a free ride (up to $15) the next time you use Uber. CLOSE.

Neither screen provides any menu, link, button, or other command offering more details about other requirements or conditions. The text quoted above is the entirety of Uber’s offer.

Uber’s promise is clear — a "first ride free" for the new user, and a "free ride (up to $15)" for the existing user. But Uber’s actual practice is quite different. Most notably, the new user’s "free ride" is also limited to a $15 discount. One might ask whether the "worth $15" in the first screen applies to the friend’s free ride or to the existing user’s free ride or perhaps both. But the Details screen leaves no doubt that this limitation applies only to the existing user. Notice the placement of the "up to $15" parenthetical only in the sentence describing the existing user’s free ride. In contrast, the separate sentence about the new user’s ride promises "their first ride free" with no indication of any maximum value.

These discrepancies create unfortunate surprises for typical Uber customers. Consider the standard workflow. An existing Uber user tells a friend about Uber and, in person, helps the new user install the app and create an account, including entering the existing user’s referral code when prompted. "You’ll get a free ride," the existing user explains, guided by Uber’s simple on-screen offer. The new user then takes an expensive ride; expecting the ride to be free (as promised), the new user might choose Uber for a distance that would otherwise have been a better fit for a train or bus, or the new user might accept a high surge multiplier. Only later does the new user learn that according to Uber, "free" actually meant a $15 discount. The user would have no written evidence of Uber’s "free ride" promise, which was conveyed orally by the existing user. So the new user is unlikely to complain — and my experience (detailed below) indicates that a request to Uber is unlikely to get satisfaction.

I know about these problems because of an experience referring a friend — call her my cousin — in January 2016. I told her she’d get a free ride, but her receipt showed no such benefit. In fact she took her first ride in another country, which prompted me to check for other discrepancies between Uber’s marketing statements and its actual practice.

Piecing together statements from Uber’s support staff and the various disclosures in Uber’s Android, iOS, and mobile web apps, I found five separate restrictions that were not mentioned mentioned anywhere in Uber’s new user offer as presented to existing Android users:

  • The new user’s credit only applies to a ride in the country that Uber designates as the new user’s home country or the currency that Uber designates as the new user’s home currency. But Uber’s signup page doesn’t ask about a user’s home country or currency. As best I can tell, Uber automatically sets a user’s home country based on the user’s IP address or location at the time of signup. (Source: Uber staff indicated that "the promo is currency specific" in explaining why my cousin received no discount on her first ride.)
  • The existing user’s credit can only be redeemed towards a ride in the country that Uber designates as the existing user’s home country. (Source: Uber’s iOS app, GET FREE RIDES offer, secondary disclosure screen, stating that "discounts apply automatically in your country," emphasis added.)
  • The new user’s maximum ride value varies by country. Not only is there a maximum value (contrary to the simple "first ride free" in Uber’s second screen above), but the maximum value is not mentioned to the existing user. (Source: Uber’s iOS app, GET FREE RIDES offer, secondary disclosure screen; and mobile web, new user offer, page footer.)
  • All discounts expire three months from issue date. (Source: Uber’s iOS app, GET FREE RIDES offer, secondary disclosure screen.)
  • Offer is not valid for UberTaxi. (Source: Uber’s iOS app, GET FREE RIDES offer, secondary disclosure screen; and mobile web, GET FREE RIDES offer, page footer.)

The table below presents the Uber’s marketing offers in all three platforms, along with the errors I see in each:

  Android iOS Mobile Web
Primary disclosure FREE RIDES. Share your invite code [placeholder]. Send friends free rides and you’ll get one too, worth $15! Details. INVITE FRIENDS. GET FREE RIDES. They get a free ride and you will too (worth up to $15), after their first ride. Details. GET FREE RIDES. Sign up now to claim your free gift from [placeholder] ($15 off first ride)*.
Secondary disclosure Share your promo code with friends and they’ll get their first ride free. Once they’ve tried Uber, you’ll automatically get a free ride (up to $15) the next time you use Uber. CLOSE.

Every time a new Uber user signs up with your invite code, they’ll get their first ride free (value amounts vary by location).

Once they take their first ride, you’ll automatically get your next ride free (worth up to $15).

Discounts apply automatically in your country and expire 3 months from their issue date. Offer not valid for uberTAXI.

Every time a friend signs up with your invite code, they’ll get their first ride free (value amounts vary by country). Once they use it, you’ll automatically get a free ride to use the next time you Uber (worth up to $15). Offer not valid for UberTaxi.
Errors

New user’s ride is actually limited to $15 (or other amounts in other countries). In contrast, both disclosures indicate that there is no limit to the value of the new user’s ride.

Discount only applies to a new user’s first ride in the user’s home country as determined by Uber.

Existing user’s discount can only be redeemed in existing user’s home country.

Discounts for both the new and existing user expire three months from issue date.

Offer is not valid for UberTaxi.

Secondary disclosure plausibly contradicts primary disclosure: Primary disclosure promised "a free ride" for the new user, while secondary disclosure retracts "free ride" and instead offers only a discount. In contrast, FTC rules allow secondary disclosures only to clarify, not to contradict prior statements.

Discount only applies to a new user’s first ride in the user’s home country as determined by Uber.

Discount only applies to a new user’s first ride in the user’s home country as determined by Uber.

Existing user’s discount can only be redeemed in existing user’s home country.

Discounts for both the new and existing user expire three months from issue date.

I first alerted Uber staff to these discrepancies in January 2016. It was a difficult discussion: My inquiries were bounced among four different support representatives, with a different person replying every time and no one addressing the substance of my messages. So I reluctantly gave up.

Six weeks later, a different Uber rep replied out of the blue. He seemed to better understand the problem, and I managed to get two separate replies from him. At my request, he committed to "pass this along to the appropriate team." That said, he did not respond to my repeated suggestion that Uber needed to refund affected consumers.

Eight weeks after my final correspondence with the fifth Uber representative and sixteen weeks after I first alerted Uber to the problem, I see no improvement. Uber’s Android app still makes the same incorrect statements about promotion benefits, verbatim identical to what I observed in January.

Credit on your "next trip" — or later, or not at all

Uber claimed I'd get a 'credit' on my 'next trip.' Uber claimed I’d get a "credit" on my "next trip." In fact, the credit seems to apply only to a future trip in the same country where the problem occurred.

In a variety of circumstances, Uber responds to customer complaints by issuing credits towards a customer’s "next trip." For example, during a recent attempt to ride with Uber in Mexico, I was unable to find or contact the driver. (I was where the on-screen pushpin told me to be, and GPS seemingly told the driver he was where he was supposed to be, but we just couldn’t find each other.) I later received an email receipt showing that I had been charged a cancellation fee. In Uber’s "Help" area, I used Uber’s "I was charged a cancellation fee" feature, and I was immediately advised (emphasis added):

We’ve credited your Uber account. Thanks for letting us know what happened. A credit has been added to your Uber account. This credit will apply to your next trip.

Imagine my surprise when, upon returning to the US a few hours later, I took another Uber ride but received no such credit.

It seems Uber’s notion of credits is in fact country-specific or currency-specific. My problem resulted from difficulty finding a driver in Mexico, where I don’t live and rarely travel. Far from applying the credit on my "next trip," it seems Uber’s systems will carry the credit forward to my next journey in Mexico. (See Uber’s Payment screen, "Credit Balances" section, showing the amount of the cancellation fee as a credit in the currency associated with the country where that fee was charged.) But this is much less useful to users traveling internationally. For example, Uber might impose a time limit on the credit — analogous to Uber’s undisclosed three month limit for use of a "free ride" credit (as revealed in the preceding section). And some users may never return to (or never again take Uber rides in) certain countries or currencies. The plain language of "your next trip" of course purports to protect users against all these contingencies; "your next trip" means a trip denominated in any currency, perhaps soon but perhaps indefinitely in the future. Uber’s actual practice is plainly less favorable to consumers.

Here too, predictable consumer responses increase the harm from Uber’s approach. If a consumer was charged improperly and felt Uber’s response was out of line, the consumer might pursue a credit card chargeback. But when Uber tells the consumer "We’ve credited your Uber account" and "This credit will apply to your next trip," there’s every reason to think the problem is completely fixed. Then the consumer may forget about the problem; certainly the consumer is less likely to diligently check future Uber receipts for a credit that was slated to be automatic and guaranteed. In addition, consumers are vulnerable to the passing of time: If a consumer rides with Uber only occasionally, the permissible time for a chargeback may have elapsed by the time the consumer’s next ride.

Update (May 25, 2016): Four weeks after I reported this discrepancy to Uber, I received a reply from an Uber representative. He confirmed that I did not receive the promised credit for the general reason I described above — a credit provided in one currency, while my next trips was in a different currency. I reminded him that Uber’s statements to users say nothing of any such restriction. I also pointed out that Uber is capable of converting currencies, and I encouraged him to assure that other users, similarly situated, are appropriately refunded. So far as I know, Uber has not done so.

Others’ reports

Checking with friends and colleagues, and receiving further reports from strangers, I’ve learned about a fair number of other Uber billing errata. For example, one user confidently reported that when a driver cancels a ride — perhaps seeing a surge in another app, getting lost, learning that the passenger’s destination is inconvenient, or just changing his or her mind — Uber still charges the passenger a cancellation fee. I haven’t been able to verify this, as I don’t have an easy way to cause a driver to cancel. But in the Uber help tool, the "I was charged a cancellation fee" menu offers as one of its preset reasons for complaint "My driver cancelled" — confirming that Uber’s systems charge cancellation fees to passengers when drivers cancel. Of course Uber’s systems can distinguish who pressed the cancel button, plus Uber could ask a driver the reason for cancellation. I see no proper reason for Uber ever to charge a passenger a cancelation fee if it is the driver who elected to cancel.

Users with experience with this problem, or other Uber contracting or billing errata, should feel free to contact me. I’ll add their experiences here or in a follow-up.

Update (June 4): Readers alerted me to UberPool drivers repeatedly charging for two passengers purportedly riding, when only one passenger was actually present, increasing the charge to passengers.

Update (June 4): In federal litigation against Uber, blind passenger Tiffany Jolliff reports that not only did multiple Uber drivers refuse to transport her and her service dog, but Uber charged her a cancellation fee each time a driver refused to transport her.

Lessons from Uber’s billing errors

I see four distinct takeaways from these billing errors. First, Uber’s engineering, testing, and legal teams need to sharpen their focus on billing, promotions, and credits. The coding of a promotional offer is inextricably linked to the marketing text that describes the offer. Similarly, the coding of a customer service benefit must match the text that explains the benefit to users. Both should be checked by attorneys who specialize in advertising law and consumer protection. Instead, in the problems I described here, Uber’s billing logic seems to be entirely separate from the text presented to consumers. It is particularly striking to see Uber’s three separate textual descriptions of the new user promotion — all three of them incorrect, yet in three different ways. Even a basic attorney review would have flagged the discrepancies and identified the need to inquire further. An advanced attorney review, fully attuned to FTC disclosure rules, might also question what appears in the primary disclosure versus the secondary disclosure. Attorneys might reasonably caution Uber against repeatedly and prominently promising "FREE RIDES" when the company’s actual offer is a discount.

Second, Uber’s overcharging is both large and long-lasting. I reported the new user promotion problems in January 2016, although they probably began considerably earlier. (Perhaps Uber will respond to this article by determining, and telling the public, when the problems began.) In response to this article, I expect that Uber will fix these specific problems promptly. But given Uber’s massive operations — many thousands of new users per month — the aggregate harm is plausibly well into the millions of dollars.

Third, my experience calls into question whether Uber’s customer service staff are up to the task of investigating or resolving these problems. Writing in to customer service is fruitless; even with screenshots proving the discrepancy in the new user promotion, Uber was slow to promise a refund to match the marketing commitment. (It took five separate messages over eight weeks!) In fact, even after promising the refund in a message of March 16, 2016, that refund never actually occurred. Similarly, I promptly alerted Uber to the "next ride" credit not provided — but ten days later, I have received neither the promised credit nor any reply. Others have reported the shortfalls of Uber’s customer service staff including ineffective responses, a focus on response speed rather than correctness, and insufficient training. My experience suggests that these problems are genuine and ongoing. Users with the most complicated problems — Uber system flaws, discrepancies between records, billing errors — appear to be particularly unlikely to achieve resolution.

Finally, users lack meaningful recourse in responding to Uber’s overcharges. In each of the problems I found, Uber is overcharging a modest amount to each of many thousands of customers. Ordinarily, this would be a natural context for class action litigation, which would allow a single judge and a single set of lawyers to figure out what happened and how to set things right. But Uber’s Terms and Conditions purport to disallow users to sue Uber at all, instead requiring arbitration. Furthermore, Uber claims to disallow group arbitration, instead requiring that each consumer bring a separate claim. That’s inefficient and uneconomical. Uber’s arbitration clause thus provides a de facto free pass against litigation and legal remedies. Of course many companies use arbitration to similarly immunize themselves against consumer claims. But Uber’s controversial activities, including the overbilling described here among many other disputes, give consumers extra reason to seek judicial oversight.

Next steps

Just last week, Uber formed a paid advisory board of ex-regulators, most with competition and consumer protection expertise. These experts should exercise independent judgment in looking into the full breadth of Uber’s problems. I doubt overbilling was previously on their agenda, but my experience suggests it should be. To investigate, they might review all customer service threads with five or more messages, plus look for all messages attaching screenshots or mentioning "overcharge" or "promised" or "contract." Tthey shouldn’t rely merely on Uber staff summaries of customer experience; with an advisory board of superstars, the group should bring independent judgment to assessing and improving the company’s approach.

Meanwhile, Uber’s response should include a full refund to each and every user who was overcharged. For example, when Uber promised a "free ride" to an Android user who in turn referred a friend, Uber should provide the friend with a refund to achieve exactly that — not just the $15 discount that may be what Uber intended but isn’t what the offer actually said. Since Uber may be disinclined to offer these refunds voluntarily, I’m alerting consumer protection and transportation regulators in appropriate jurisdictions to help push to get users what they were promised.

Discrimination Against Airbnb Guests with Michael Luca and Dan Svirsky

To facilitate trust, many online platforms encourage sellers to provide personal profiles and even to post pictures of themselves. However, these features may also facilitate discrimination based on sellers’ race, gender, age, or other characteristics.

In an article posted today, Michael Luca, Dan Svirsky, and I present results of a field experiment on Airbnb. Using guest accounts that are identical save for names indicating varying races, we submitted requests to more than 6,000 hosts. Requests from guests with distinctively African-American names are roughly 16% less likely to be accepted than identical guests with distinctively White names. The difference persists whether the host is African American or White, male or female. The difference also persists whether the host shares the property with the guest or not, and whether the property is cheap or expensive.

Discrimination is costly for hosts who indulge in it. Hosts who reject African-American guests are able to find a replacement guest only 35% of the time.

On the whole, our analysis suggests a need for caution. While information can facilitate transactions, it also facilitates discrimination. Airbnb’s site carefully shrouds information Airbnb wants to conceal, such as hosts’ email addresses and phones numbers, so guests can’t contact hosts directly and circumvent Airbnb’s fees. But when it comes to information that facilitates discrimination, including name and photo, Airbnb offers no such precaution.

Our working paper:

Racial Discrimination in the Sharing Economy: Evidence from a Field Experiment.

What to do? Our draft suggests several ways Airbnb could change its site to reduce or prevent discrimination, including concealing guest names, concealing or deprioritizing guest photos, and increasing instant bookings. In the short run, we’re offering a browser plugin to let interested Airbnb users experience the site without information that may facilitate discrimination. Using our plugin, a host can view a guest’s request without having to see the guest’s face or name. Our plugin:

Debias Yourself.

This article extends and continues the research in my January 2014 working paper (with Michael Luca) as to discrimination against Airbnb hosts: Digital Discrimination: The Case of Airbnb.com.

Assessing Uber: Competition and Regulation in Transportation Networks

For consumers, it’s easy to applaud Uber, Lyft, and kin (transportation network companies or TNCs). Faster service, usually more reliable, often in nicer vehicles—all at lower prices. What’s to dislike?

Look behind the curtain and things are not so clear. TNCs cut corners on issues from insurance to inspections to background checks, thereby pushing costs from their customers to the general public—while also delivering a service that plausibly falls short of generally-applicable requirements duly established by law and, sometimes, their own marketing promises.

In a forthcoming article in Competition Policy International, Whither Uber?: Competitive Dynamics in Transportation Networks, I look at a range of concerns in this area, focusing on market dynamics and enforcement practices that have invited TNC to play fast-and-loose. This page offers excerpts and some further thoughts.

Corners cut

My article enumerates a variety of concerns resulting from prevailing TNC practices:

In most jurisdictions, a “for hire” livery driver needs a commercial driver’s license, a background check and criminal records check, and a vehicle with commercial plates, which often means a more detailed and/or more frequent inspection. Using ordinary drivers in noncommercial vehicles, TNCs skip most of these requirements, and where they take such steps (such as some efforts towards a background check), they do importantly less than what is required for other commercial drivers (as discussed further below). One might reasonably ask whether the standard commercial requirements in fact increase safety or advance other important policy objectives. On one hand, detailed and frequent vehicle inspections seem bound to help, and seem reasonable for vehicles in more frequent use. TNCs typically counter that such requirements are unduly burdensome, especially for casual drivers who may provide just a few hours of commercial activity per month. Nonetheless, applicable legal rules offer no “de minimis” exception and little support for TNCs’ position.

Differing standards for background checks raise similar questions. TNCs typically use standard commercial background check services which suffer from predictable weaknesses. For one, TNC verifications are predicated on a prospective driver submitting his correct name and verification details, but drivers with poor records have every incentive to use a friend’s information. (Online instructions tell drivers how to do it.) In contrast, other commercial drivers are typically subject to fingerprint verification. Furthermore, TNC verifications typically only check for recent violations—a technique far less comprehensive than the law allows. (For example, Uber admits checking only convictions within the last seven years, which the company claims is the maximum duration permitted by law. But federal law has no such limitation, and California law allows reporting of any crime for which release or parole was at most seven years earlier.) In People of the State of California v. Uber, these concerns were revealed to be more than speculative, including 25 different Uber drivers who passed Uber’s verifications but would have failed the more comprehensive checks permitted by law.

Relatedly, TNC representations to consumers at best gloss over potential risks, but in some areas appear to misstate what the company does and what assurances it can provide. For example, Uber claimed its service offered “best in class safety and accountability” and “the safest rides on the road” which “far exceedÂ… what’s expected of taxis”—but taxis, with fingerprint verification of driver identity, offer improved assurances that the person being verified is the same person whose information is checked. Moreover, Uber has claimed to be “working diligently to ensure we’re doing everything we can to make Uber the safest experience on the road” at the same time that the company lobbies against legislation requiring greater verifications and higher safety standards.

Passengers with disabilities offer additional complaints about TNCs. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and many state laws, passengers with disabilities are broadly entitled to use transportation services, and passengers cannot be denied transport on the basis of disability. Yet myriad disabled passengers report being denied transport by TNCs. Blind passengers traveling with guide dogs repeatedly report that TNC drivers sometimes reject them. In litigation Uber argued that its service falls beyond the scope of the ADA and thus need not serve passengers with disabilities, an argument that a federal court promptly rejected. Nonetheless, as of November 2015, Uber’s “Drivers” page continues to tell drivers they can “choose who you pick up,” with no mention of ADA obligations, nor of prohibitions on discrimination on the basis of race, gender, or other prohibited factors.

I offer my sharpest criticism for certain TNC practices as to insurance:

TNCs encourage drivers to carry personal insurance rather than commercial insurance —anticipating, no doubt correctly, that drivers might be put off by the higher cost of commercial coverage. But TNC drivers are likely to have more frequent and more costly accidents than ordinary drivers: they drive more often, longer distances, with passengers, in unfamiliar locations, primarily in congested areas, and while using mobile apps. To the extent that drivers make claims on their personal insurance, they distort the market in two different ways: First, they push up premiums for other drivers. Second, the cost of their TNC accidents are not borne by TNC customers; by pushing the cost to drivers in general, TNCs appear to be cheaper than they really are.

In a notable twist, certain TNC policies not only encourage drivers to make claims on their personal policies, but further encourage drivers to commit insurance fraud. Consider a driver who has an accident during the so-called “period 1” in which the driver is running a TNC app, but no passenger has yet requested a ride from the driver. If the driver gets into an accident in this period, TNCs historically would deny both liability and collision coverage, claiming the driver was not yet providing service through the TNC. An affected driver might instead claim from his personal insurance, but if the driver admits that he was acting as a TNC driver—he had left home only to provide TNC services; he had transported several passengers already; he was planning more—the insurer will deny his claim. In fact, in all likelihood, an insurer in that situation would drop the driver’s coverage, and the driver would also be unable to get replacement coverage since any new insurer would learn the reason for the drop. As a practical matter, the driver’s only choices are to forego insurance coverage (a possibility in case of a collision claim, though more difficult after injuring others or damaging others’ property) or, more likely, lie to his insurance issuer. California law AB 2293, effective July 1, 2015, ended this problem as to collision claims in that state, requiring TNCs to provide liability coverage during period 1, but offering nothing elsewhere, nor any assistance on collision claims.

Where TNC practices merely shortchange a company’s own customers, such as providing a level of safety less than customers were led to believe, we might hope that market forces would eventually fix the problem—informing consumers of the benefits they are actually receiving, or compelling TNCs to live up to their promises. But where TNC practices push costs onto third parties, such as raising insurance rates for all drivers, there is no reason to expect market forces to suffice. Regulatory enforcement, discussed below, is the only apparent way forward on such issues.

Competitive dynamics when enforcement is lax

A striking development is the incompleteness of regulation of TNC or, more precisely, the incompleteness of enforcement of existing and plainly-applicable regulation. I explain:

In this environment, competition reflects unusual incentives: Rather than competing on lawful activities permitted under the applicable regulatory environment, TNC operators compete in part to defy the law—to provide a service that, to be sure, passengers want to receive and buyers want to provide, notwithstanding the legal requirements to the contrary.

The brief history of TNCs is instructive. Though Uber today leads the casual driving platforms, it was competing transportation platform Lyft that first invited drivers to provide transportation through their personal vehicles. Initially, Uber only provided service via black cars that were properly licensed, insured, and permitted for that purpose. In an April 2013 posting by CEO Travis Kalanick, Uber summarized the situation, effectively recognizing that competitors’ casual drivers are largely unlawful, calling competitors’ approach “quite aggressive” and “non-licensed.” (Note: After I posted this article, Uber removed that document from its site. But Archive.org kept a copy. I also preserved a screenshot of the first screen of the document, a PDF of the full document, and a print-friendly PDF of the full document.)

Uber’s ultimate decision, to recognize Lyft’s approach as unlawful but nonetheless to follow that same approach, is hard to praise on either substantive or procedural grounds. On substance, it ignores the important externalities discussed above—including safety concerns that sometimes culminate in grave physical injury and, indeed, death. On procedure, it defies the democratic process, ignoring the authority of democratic institutions to impose the will of the majority. Uber has all but styled itself as a modern Rosa Parks defying unjust laws for everyone’s benefit. But Uber challenges purely commercial regulation of business activity, a context where civil disobedience is less likely to resonate. And in a world where anyone dissatisfied with a law can simply ignore it, who’s to say that Uber is on the side of the angels? One might equally remember former Arkansas governor Orville Faubus’ 1957 refusal to desegregate public schools despite a court order.

Notice the impact on competition: Competitors effectively must match Uber’s approach, including ignoring applicable laws and regulation, or suffer a perpetual cost disadvantage.

Consider Hailo’s 2013-2014 attempt to provide taxi-dispatch service in New York City. On paper, Hailo had every advantage: $100 million of funding from A-list investors, a strong track record in the UK, licensed and insured vehicles, and full compliance with every applicable law and regulation. But Uber’s “casual driver” model offered a perpetual cost advantage, and in October 2014 Hailo abandoned the U.S. market. Uber’s lesson to Hailo: Complying with the law is bad business if your competitor doesn’t have to. Facing Uber’s assault in numerous markets in Southeast Asia, transportation app GrabTaxi abandoned its roots providing only lawful commercial vehicles, and began “GrabCar” with casual drivers whose legality is disputed. One can hardly blame them—the alternative is Hailo-style irrelevance. When Uber ignores applicable laws and regulators stand by the wayside, competitors are effectively compelled to follow.

Moreover, the firm that prevails in this type of competition may build a corporate character that creates other problems for consumers and further burdens on the legal system. My assessment:

Notice Uber’s recent scandals: Threatening to hire researchers to “dig up dirt” on reporters who were critical of the company. A “God view” that let Uber staff see any rider’s activity at any time without a bona fide purpose. Analyzing passengers’ rides to and from unfamiliar overnight locations to chronicle and tabulate one-night-stands. Charging passengers a “Logan Massport Surcharge & Toll” for a journey where no such fee was paid, or was even required. A promotion promising service by scantily-clad female drivers. The CEO bragging about his business success yielding frequent sexual exploits. “Knowing and intentional” “obstructive” “recalcitrance” in its “blatant,” “egregious,” “defiant refusal” to produce documents and records when so ordered by administrative law judges.

On one view, these are the unfortunate mishaps of a fast-growing company. But arguably it’s actually something more than that. Rare is the company that can pull off Uber’s strategy—fighting regulators and regulation in scores of markets in parallel, flouting decades of regulation and managing to push past so many legal impediments. Any company attempting this strategy necessarily establishes a corporate culture grounded in a certain disdain for the law. Perhaps some laws are ill-advised and should be revisited. But it may be unrealistic to expect a company to train employees to recognize which laws should be ignored versus which must be followed. Once a company establishes a corporate culture premised on ignoring the law, its employees may feel empowered to ignore many or most laws, not just the (perhaps) outdated laws genuinely impeding its launch. That is the beast we create when we admit a corporate culture grounded in, to put it generously, regulatory arbitrage.

An alternative model

Uber offers one approach to regulation: Ignore any laws the company considers outdated or ill-advised. But in other sectors, firms have chosen a different model to demonstrate their benefits and push for regulatory change. I offer one example as to the launch of Southwest Airilnes:

Planning early low-fare operations in 1967, Southwest leaders realized that the comprehensive regulatory scheme, imposed by the federal Civil Aeronautics Board, required unduly high prices, while simultaneously limiting routes and service in ways that, in Southwest’s view, harmed consumers. Envisioning a world of low-fare transport, Southwest sought to serve routes and schedules CAB would never approve, at prices well below what regulation required.

Had Southwest simply begun its desired service at its desired price, it would have faced immediate company-ending sanctions; though CAB’s rules were increasingly seen as overbearing and ill-advised, CAB would not have allowed an airline to brazenly defy the law. Instead, Southwest managers had to find a way to square its approach with CAB rules. To the company’s credit, they were able to do so. In particular, by providing solely intra-state transport within Texas, Southwest was not subject to CAB rules, letting the company serve whatever routes it chose, at the prices it thought best. Moreover, these advantages predictably lasted beyond the impending end of regulation: After honing its operations in the intra-state Texas market, Southwest was well positioned for future expansion.

In fact Southwest is far from unique in its attention to regulatory matters. Consider the recent experience of AT&T. In October 2015, AT&T sought to offer wifi calling for certain smartphones, but the company noticed that FCC rules required a teletypewriter (TTY) service for deaf users, whereas AT&T envisioned a replacement called real-time text (RTT). Competitors Sprint and T-Mobile pushed ahead without TTY, not bothering to address the unambiguous regulatory shortfall. To AT&T’s credit, it urged the FCC to promptly approve its alternative approach, noting the “asymmetry in the application of federal regulation to AT&T on the one hand and its marketplace competitors on the other hand.” With the issue framed so clearly, FCC leaders saw the need for action, and they did so just days after AT&T’s urgent request.

Knowing that its casual-driver service was unlawful, as effectively admitted in CEO Travis Kalanick’s April 2013 posting Uber could have sought a different approach. (Note: After I posted this article, Uber removed that document from its site. But Archive.org kept a copy. I also preserved a screenshot of the first screen of the document, a PDF of the full document, and a print-friendly PDF of the full document.) I argue that this approach might have worked:

Assuming strict compliance with the law, how might Uber have tried to get its service off the ground? One possibility: Uber could have sought some jurisdiction willing to let the company demonstrate its approach. Consider a municipality with little taxi service or deeply unsatisfactory service, where regulators and legislators would be so desperate for the improvements Uber promised that they would be willing to amend laws to match Uber’s request. Uber need not have sought permanent permission; with great confidence in its offering, even a temporary waiver might have sufficed, as Uber would have anticipated the change becoming permanent once its model took off. Perhaps Uber’s service would have been a huge hit—inspiring other cities to copy the regulatory changes to attract Uber. Indeed, Uber could have flipped the story to make municipalities want its offering, just as cities today vie for Google Fiber and, indeed, make far-reaching commitments to attract that service.

Where’s the enforcement?

Park in front of a fire hydrant, and you can be pretty sure that you’ll get a ticket—even if there’s no fire and even if no one is harmed. TNCs violate laws that are often equally unambiguous, yet often avoid sanction. I discuss Uber’s standard approach to unfavorable regulation:

[Regulators’ findings of unlawfulness] are not self-effectuating, even when backed up with cease and desist letters, notices of violation, or the like. In fact, Uber’s standard response to such notices is to continue operation. Pennsylvania Public Utility Commission prosecutor Michael Swindler summarized his surprise at Uber’s approach: “In my two-plus decades in practice, I have never seen this level of blatant defiance,” noting that Uber continued to operate in despite an unambiguous cease-and-desist order. Pennsylvania Administrative Law Judges were convinced, in November 2015 imposing $49 million of civil penalties, electing to impose “the maximum penalty” because Uber flouted the cease-and-desist order in a “deliberate and calculated” “business decision.”

Nor was this defiance limited to Pennsylvania. Uber similarly continued to provide service at San Francisco International Airport, and affirmatively told passengers “you can request” an Uber at SFO, even after signing a 2013 agreement with the California Public Utilities Commission disallowing transport onto airport property unless the airport granted permission and even after San Francisco International Airport served Uber with a cease-and-desist letter noting the lack of such permission. In some instances, cities ultimately force Uber to cease or suspend operations. But experience in Paris is instructive. There, Uber continued operation despite a series of judicial and police interventions. Only the arrest of two Uber executives compelled the company to suspend its casual driving service in Paris.

While TNCs continue operation in most jurisdictions where they have begun, they nonetheless face a growing onslaught of litigation. PlainSite indexes 77 different dockets involving Uber, including complaints from competitors, regulators, drivers and passengers. (Notably, this is only a small portion of the disputes, omitting all international matters, most state proceedings, and most or all local and regulatory proceedings.) But no decision has gone as far as the Pennsylvania Public Utility Commission docket culminating in the remarkable 57-page November 2015 decision by two administrative law judges. In a July 1, 2014 order, the judges had ordered Uber to cease and desist its UberX service throughout the state for lack of required permits. Uber refused. The judges eviscerate Uber’s response, noting that their prior order “clearly directed Uber to cease its ridesharing service until it received authority from the ion,” and “Uber was acting in defiance … as a calculated business decision” because “Uber simply did not want to comply … so it continued to operate.” Uber then argued that it was justified in continuing to operate because the July 1, 2014 order was subject to further review and appeal. The PUC judges call this argument “incredibl[e],” noting the lack of any legal basis for Uber to refuse to comply with a duly issued order. It’s hard to imagine a decision more thoroughly rejecting Uber’s conduct in this period.

Notably, the Pennsylvania PUC fully engages with Uber’s defenses. In this proceeding and elsewhere, Uber argued that it is “just a software company” and hence not subject to longstanding laws that regulate transportation providers. The PUC picks apart this argument with care, noting Uber’s extensive control over the system. The PUC notes relevant facts demonstrating Uber’s “active role”: Uber screened drivers and ejected some. Uber initially required drivers to use company-owned smartphones. Uber offered and touted an insurance policy which it claimed would cover possible accidents. Uber held the service out to the public as “Uber,” including emails subject lines like “Your first Uber ride” and “Your ride with Uber” as well as message text like “Uber invite code” and “thanks for choosing Uber,” all of which indicate a service that is Uber, with the company providing a full service, not just software. Uber further charges customer credit cards, using a charge descriptor solely referencing Uber. Not mentioned by PUC but equally relevant, Uber attracted both drivers and passengers with subsidies and price adjustments, set compulsory prices that neither side could vary, published drivers whose conduct fell short of Uber’s requirements, and mediated disputes between passengers and drivers. The PUC notes the breadth of conduct requiring license authority: “offering, or undertaking, directly or indirectly, service for compensation to the public for the transportation of passengers” (emphasis added). If the word “indirect” is to have any meaning in this statute, how could it not include Uber?

The PUC imposed a $49 million civil penalty against Uber for its intentional operation in violation of a PUC order. The PUC discussed the purpose of this penalty: “not just to deter Uber, but also [to deter] other entities who may wish to launch … without Commission approval.” Their rationale is compelling: If the legal system requires a permit for Uber’s activity, and if we are to retain that requirement, sizable penalties are required to reestablish the expectation that following the law is indeed compulsory.

Meanwhile, the PUC sets a benchmark for others. Uber flouted a PUC order in Pennsylvania from July 1, 2014 through August 21, 2014. In how many other cities, states, and countries do Uber and Lyft equally violate the law? If each such jurisdiction imposed a similar fine, the total could well reach the billions of dollars—enough to put a dent in even Uber’s sizable balance sheet, and enough to compel future firms to rethink the way they approach law and regulation.

Looking back and looking ahead

Tempting as it may be to think Uber is first of its kind, others have tried this strategy before. I explain:

Take a walk down memory lane for a game of “name that company.” At an entrepreneurial California startup, modern electronic communication systems brought speed and cost savings to a sector that had been slow to adopt new technology. Consumers quickly embraced the company’s new approach, particularly thanks to a major price advantage compared to incumbents’ offerings, as well as higher quality service, faster service, and the avoidance of unwanted impediments and frictions. Incumbents complained that the entrant cut corners and didn’t comply with applicable legal requirements. The entrant knew about the problems but wanted to proceed at full speed in order to serve as many customers as possible, as quickly as possible, both to expand the market and to defend against potential competition. When challenged, the entrant styled its behavior as “sharing” and said this was the new world order.

You might think I’m talking about Uber, and indeed these statements all apply squarely to Uber. But the statements fit just as well with Napster, the “music sharing” service that, during brief operation from 1999 to 2001, transformed the music business like nothing before or since. And we must not understate the benefits Napster brought: It offered convenient music with no need to drive to the record store, a celestial jukebox unconstrained by retail inventory, track-by-track choice unencumbered by any requirement to buy the rest of the album, and mobile-friendly MP3’s without slow “ripping” from a CD.

In fact, copyright litigation soon brought an end to Napster, including Chapter 7 bankruptcy, liquidation of the company’s assets, and zero return to investors. Where does that leave us?

One might worry that Napster’s demise could set society back a decade in technological progress. But subsequent offerings quickly found legal ways to implement Napster’s advances. Consider iTunes, Amazon Music, and Spotify, among so many others.

In fact, the main impact of Napster’s cessation was to clear the way for legal competitors—to increase the likelihood that consumers might pay a negotiated price for music rather than take it for free. When Napster offered easy free music with a major price advantage from foregoing payments to rights-holders, no competitor had a chance. Only the end of Napster let legitimate services take hold.

And what of Napster’s investors? We all now benefit from the company’s innovations, yet investors got nothing for the risk they took. But perhaps that’s the right result: Napster’s major innovations were arguably insufficient to outweigh the obvious and intentional illegalities.

I conclude the comparison:

Uber CEO Travis Kalanick knows the Napster story all too well. Beginning in 1998, he ran a file-sharing service soon sued by the MPAA and RIAA on claims of copyright infringement. Scour entered bankruptcy in response, giving Travis a first-hand view of the impact of flouting the law. Uber today has its share of fans, including many who would never have dared to run Napster. Yet the parallels are deep.

Despite the many concerns raised by TNC practices, I am fundamentally optimistic about the TNC approach:

It is inconceivable that the taxis of 2025 will look like taxis of 2005. Uber has capably demonstrated the benefits of electronic dispatch and electronic record-keeping, and society would be crazy to reject these valuable innovations. But Uber’s efforts don’t guarantee the $50+ billion valuation the company now anticipates—and indeed, the company’s aggressive methods seem to create massive liability for intentional violations in most jurisdictions where Uber operates. If applicable regulators, competitors, and consumers succeed in litigation efforts, they could well bankrupt Uber, arguably rightly so. But as with Napster’s indisputable effect on the music industry, Uber’s core contributions are unstoppable and irreversible. Consumers in the coming decades will no more telephone a taxi dispatcher than buy a $16.99 compact disc at Tower Records. And that much is surely for the best.

Will it be Uber (and perhaps Lyft) that bring us there? Or will their legal violations force a shut down, like Napster before them, to make way for lawful competitors? That, to my eye, is the multi-billion-dollar question.