Over at The Dispatch, AEI Senior Fellow Jonah Goldberg recently praised Frédéric Bastiat’s classic essay, “That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen.” Goldberg cited the piece to critique the Trump administration’s seemingly-attractive-but-deeply-flawed approach to trade. I’ve found that this short 1850 treatise is equally illuminating when assessing 21st century tech policy.
As the title suggests, Bastiat’s core insight is that people fixate on immediate, visible outcomes while ignoring hidden costs. He illustrates this with a parable: A baker’s son breaks a shop window. Spectators chide the baker’s anger, arguing that the broken window benefits the economy by providing employment for the repairman. But Bastiat notes that this analysis is incomplete: The six francs spent to replace the window could have bought something else—a new pair of shoes, or a new book for his library. Assessing the broken window requires consideration both of what is seen—the glazier who blesses the careless child—and also the unseen cost to the baker (who must forgo the shoes) and the shoemaker (who lost a sale). As Goldberg notes, Bastiat’s simple parable provides an excellent introduction to the economic concept of opportunity costs and the importance of thinking through unintended consequences.
Bastiat’s framework helps explain the rise and fall of the Fairness Doctrine, a 1949 Federal Communications Commission rule requiring broadcasters to present both sides of controversial issues. Proponents focused on what was seen: When broadcasters discussed important issues, viewers were better informed by balanced coverage. But over time, the Commission became increasingly aware of what was not seen: Broadcasters increasingly chose not to discuss important issues at all, out of fear of triggering the rule’s burdens. This concern—that the doctrine chilled broadcaster speech—caused the Commission to repeal the rule in 1987.
In tech policy, “what is not seen” often involves stifled innovation—products or services that never emerge due to regulation. Net neutrality offers a clear example. Advocates celebrated its visible effects: Bans on blocking, throttling, and paid prioritization preserved existing network management practices, allowing competition among internet-based edge providers. But these rules prevented broadband companies from experimenting with alternative business models. For example, in 2014, Sprint sought to offer a wireless plan with unlimited talk, text, and one social media app of your choice at a lower price than its unlimited broadband plan. But it scrapped the idea when critics complained it violated net neutrality by favoring one service over others. Such plans thrived abroad but remained unseen in US markets, to the detriment of budget-conscious American consumers. In 2024, similar concerns arose that net neutrality could hinder network slicing, a 5G innovation enabling customized network performance but which potentially violated prioritization rules.
The Broadband Equity, Access, and Deployment (BEAD) Program faces parallel issues. BEAD is Congress’s $42.5 billion initiative to expand broadband to unserved areas. In 2021, the National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA), which administers the program, adopted rules prioritizing fiber-optic cable over other types of broadband networks. One could see the benefits of this approach: Fiber is fast and reliable, and certainly the best broadband delivery vehicle when the program was established in 2021. But since then, advancements in fixed wireless access and especially low-earth-orbit satellite service have made other options more feasible at a fraction of fiber’s cost. Recognition of what was not seen in 2021 has prompted discussion about revisiting NTIA’s rules.
As Goldberg explains, the political process disproportionately focuses on what is seen, particularly when the visible benefits fall on a small number of people or a politically-connected group of constituents. Yet sound policy demands a broader, more holistic view. In modern tech policy debates, Bastiat’s nineteenth-century wisdom holds:
I am sorry to disturb these ingenious calculations, as far as their spirit has been introduced into our legislation; but I beg [you] to begin them again, by taking into the account that which is not seen, and placing it alongside of that which is seen. (Emphasis added).