Smart Contracts… or Dumb Software

The role of smart contracts in blockchain technology is creating an emerging area of jurisprudence which largely overlaps with computer programming. However, one of the first comments I heard about smart contracts when I started working in the blockchain and crypto industry was that they are “neither smart, nor legal”. What does this paradox mean in practice?

First, smart contracts are not “smart”, because they still largely rely on human coders. While self-replicating and self-executing software programs exist, a smart contact contains human-defined parameters or conditions that will trigger the performance of the contract terms once those conditions have been met. The simplest example might be coded as a type of  “if this, then that” function. For example, I could create a smart contract so that every time the temperature drops below 15 degrees, the heating comes on in my house, provided that there is sufficient credit in the digital wallet connected to my utilities billing account.

Second, smart contracts are not “legal”, unless they comprise the necessary elements that form a legally binding agreement: intent, offer, acceptance, consideration, capacity, certainty and legality. They must be capable of being enforceable in the event that one party defaults, but they must not be contrary to public policy, and parties must not have been placed under any form of duress to enter into a contract. Furthermore, there must be an agreed governing law, especially if the parties are in different jurisdictions, and the parties must agree to be subject to a legal venue capable of enforcing or adjudicating the contract in the event of a breach or dispute.

Some legal contacts still need to be in a prescribed form, or in hard copy with a wet signature. A few may need to be under seal or attract stamp duty. Most consumer contracts (and many commercial contracts) are governed by rules relating to unfair contract terms and unconscionable conduct. But assuming a smart contract is capable of being created, notarised and executed entirely on the blockchain, what other legal principles may need to be considered when it comes to capacity and enforcement?

We are all familiar with the process of clicking “Agree” buttons every time we sign up for a social media account, download software or subscribe to digital content. Let’s assume that even with a “free” social media account, there is consideration (i.e., there’s something in it for the consumer in return for providing some personal details), and both parties have the capacity (e.g., they are old enough) and the intent to enter into a contract, the agreement is usually no more than a non-transferable and non-exclusive license granted to the consumer. The license may be revoked at any time, and may even attract penalties in the event of a breach by the end user. There is rarely a transfer of title or ownership to the consumer (if anything, social media platforms effectively acquire the rights to the users’ content), and there is nothing to say that the license will continue into perpetuity. But think how many of these on-line agreements we enter into each day, every time we log into a service or run a piece of software. Soon, those “Agree” buttons could represent individual smart contracts.

When we interact with on-line content, we are generally dealing with a recognised brand or service provider, which represents a known legal entity (a company or corporation). In turn, that entity is capable of entering into a contract, and is also capable of suing/being sued. Legal entities still need to be directed by natural persons (humans) in the form of owners, directors, officers, employees, authorised agents and appointed representatives, who act and perform tasks on behalf of the entity. Where a service provider comprises a highly centralised entity, identifying the responsible party is relatively easy, even if it may require a detailed company search in the case of complex ownership structures and subsidiaries. So what would be the outcome if you entered into a contract with what you thought was an actual person or real company, but it turned out to be an autonmous bot or an instance of disembodied AI – who or what is the counter-party to be held liable in the event something goes awry?

Until DAOs (Decentralised Autonomous Organisations) are given formal legal recognition (including the ability to be sued), it is a grey area as to who may or may not be responsible for the actions of a DAO-based project, and which may be the counter-party to a smart contract. More importantly, who will be responsible for the consequences of the DAO’s actions, once the project is in the community and functioning according to its decentralised rules of self-governance? Some jurisdictions are already drafting laws that will recognise certain DAOs as formal legal entities, which could take the form of a limited liability partnership model or perhaps a particular type of special purpose vehicle. Establishing authority, responsibility and liability will focus on the DAO governance structure: who controls the consensus mechanism, and how do they exercise that control? Is voting to amend the DAO constitution based on proof of stake?

Despite these emerging uncertainties, and the limitations inherent in smart contracts, it’s clear that these programs, where code is increasingly the law, will govern more and more areas of our lives. I see huge potential for smart contracts to be deployed in long-dated agreements such as life insurance policies, home mortgages, pension plans, trusts, wills and estates. These types of legal documents should be capable of evolving dynamically (and programmatically) as our personal circumstances, financial needs and living arrangements also change over time. Hopefully, these smart contracts will also bring greater certainty, clarity and efficiency in the drafting, performance, execution and modification of their terms and conditions.

Next week: Free speech up for sale

 

Making Creeping Assumptions

Even if the recent Board of Inquiry into Victorian Hotel Quarantine Program does not reveal who actually made the now fatal decision to engage private security companies, it will have at least added a new phrase to the lexicon of public discourse – the notion of “creeping assumptions”.

To recap, based on the evidence presented during the public hearings, we have been led to believe that no single person, department or government agency made the all-important decision. Instead, we are left to conclude that this was a decision made by default, based on a series of “creeping assumptions”.

What this suggests is that rather than a conscious or affirmative decision, the parties relied on their own interpretation of unfolding events and information flows to conclude that someone else had made the call to outsource hotel security, and as a consequence everyone involved simply went along with it. As I have pointed out before, the decision to engage private contractors is not the issue. But it does beggar belief that even if nobody could recall who made the decision, they could not point to the information that informed their assumptions, nor could they specify who instructed the drawing up of the commercial contracts. As a result, the Victorian Government has spent $6m to find out who signed off on $30m of expenditure.

Anyway, one of the consequences of these so-called creeping assumptions is that the decision-making was deeply flawed because it lacked process, scrutiny and accountability:

  • Process was clearly missing (unless the Inquiry finds otherwise), because of the absence of documented minutes or formal note-taking.
  • There was no scrutiny of the “decision”, to confirm the various dependencies and delegated authorities that initiated the contracts issued to private contractors.
  • And the fact that no-one can be identified as being responsible for the decision, could mean that no-one can be held accountable.

If nothing else, this will become a case study for students of politics, public administration, and corporate governance.

Next week: Bread & Circuses

Startup Governance

The recent debacle involving LaunchVic and 500 Startups comes at a time when startups and entrepreneurs are facing increased public scrutiny over their ethical behaviour. Having a great idea, building an innovative or disruptive business, and attracting investors is not carte blanche to disregard corporate governance and social responsibility obligations. So how do we instil a better “moral compass” among startups and their founders?

The TV sitcom, “Silicon Valley”, is drawn from experience of the software industry, but it also reveals much that ails the startup economy. As funny as it is, the series also highlights some painful truths. Scenes where founders “trade” equity in their non-existent companies are just one aspect of how startups can develop an over-inflated sense of their own worth. These interactions also reveal how startups can reward inappropriate behaviour – if sweat equity is the only way founders can “pay” their team, it can lead to distorted thinking and impaired judgement, because the incentive to go along with poor decision-making is greater than the threat of any immediate sanction.

A key challenge for any startup is knowing when to seek external advice – not just legal, tax or accounting services, but an independent viewpoint. Many startups don’t bother (or need) to establish a board of directors – and if they do, they normally consist of only the founders and key shareholders. The role of independent, non-executive directors is probably under-valued by startups. But even an advisory board (including mentors who may already be guiding the business) would allow for some more formal and impartial debate.

Another challenge for startups is that in needing to attract funding, they can find themselves swimming with the sharks, so doing due diligence on potential investors is a critical task in building a sustainable cap table that will benefit the longer term aims of the business.

Equally, if startup founders are motivated to “do their own thing”, because they are driven by purpose or a higher cause, or they simply want to make a difference, they can risk having to compromise their values in order to engage with bigger, more-established companies. So they may end up emulating the very behaviours they sought to change or challenge. Neither startups nor big corporations have a monopoly on unethical behaviour, but if founders stray from their original founding principles, they will soon alienate their stakeholders.

Finally, nurturing the “conscience” of a startup is not something that should be left to the founder(s) alone. The vision has to be shared with, and owned by everyone involved, especially as the business scales. Everything should be measured or tested against this criteria – “does it stay true to or enhance our reason for being here?” Without a clear sense of what is important to a startup, it will also struggle to convey its core value proposition.

Next week: Digital Richmond

 

Corporate Governance – exercising a “duty of awareness” in the age of social media

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Do we need a new theory of Corporate Governance? Is it time to look at a new model that reflects the current environment in which businesses operate, an era characterised by:

  • social media,
  • corporate and social responsibility,
  • shareholder and consumer activism,
  • increased market connectivity, and
  • rapid generational change?

Has the law fallen behind in being able to regulate and oversee contemporary corporate behaviour – where compliance with and adherence to the letter of the law may no longer be enough to meet community standards or satisfy shareholder expectations?

The question arose during a roundtable discussion I attended recently, comprising non-executive directors, entrepreneurs, corporate advisers and governance experts. Some of the issues we kicked around included:

  • the efficacy of running more frequent board interaction via the use of technology (as opposed to the standard face-to-face monthly board meeting);
  • the ethics of minimising cross-border taxation by multinational companies (even though it may be legal under international tax law);
  • the imperative to develop more inclusive and diversified boards (including networking into broader stakeholder groups);
  • the perils of ill-considered public comments made by CEOs (and the resulting social media backlash); and
  • the risk of harking back to some “golden age” of corporate behaviour (assuming such an era actually existed)

Our current perspectives on Corporate Governance largely derive from the late 1980s and early 1990s when a series of authoritative studies and reports led to new Codes of Practice and updated corporations laws – I’m referring to the work done by and in the name of Tricker, Carver, Monks, Cadbury, Greenbury, Hilmer and Hempel. And while in recent years we have seen increased scrutiny on CSR, directors’ remuneration and financial oversight by boards (plus Sarbanes-Oxley, Dodd-Frank and IFRS), the reality is that most of the earlier Corporate Governance reforms were introduced just as the internet went public and just as financial markets were being deregulated. So it could be argued that the reforms were ill-equipped for, or could not have anticipated, the changes to come – witness for example, the SEC’s recent approval of social media as an appropriate platform for corporate disclosure.

In Australia, Corporate Governance is described simply as “good decisions being made by the right person”, and the obligations of company directors are summarised as follows:

  • your primary duty is to the shareholders;
  • you must act with appropriate due care and diligence;
  • you must not allow the company to trade while insolvent;
  • you must exercise your powers in good faith and in the best interests of the company;
  • you must not improperly use your position of (or information obtained as) a director to benefit yourself or another person, or to cause detriment to the company.

On one level, the test of whether an organization has exercised good judgement in making a decision is, “would you be embarrassed if this was reported on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper?” At another, Corporate Governance is reduced to a compliance checklist of risk mitigation measures.

The Australian courts (in the OneTel and Centro cases) have expanded and reinforced the duty of care (particularly in relation to the business judgement rule) to place greater accountability on individual directors to consider what a reasonable person would do in exercising their duty of care and diligence:

  • To understand the fundamentals of the business
  • To keep themselves informed of the company’s activities
  • To monitor the company’s activities (e.g., through active questioning)

The question we should be addressing is: “Does imposing a broad duty of care and specific fiduciary obligations ensure an appropriate level of Corporate Governance?” I would argue that in light of a rapidly changing operating environment, we would be well-advised to exercise a “duty of awareness” in respect of our Corporate Governance standards. In my view, directors need to take a wider perspective in understanding and monitoring the business fundamentals and the company’s activities. Some may argue that this is not a new duty, it has simply been forgotten in recent times – and in the era of social media, when it is far easier to “get caught out”, it would be prudent to have more regard for the broader context.

A “duty of awareness” offers an appropriate counter-balance to the numerous areas of self-regulation by industry sectors and by individual companies. It provides an objective test for assessing “if not, why not” explanations required under both voluntary and mandatory Codes of Practice – i.e., did the respondent take into account all relevant factors, and did the respondent adopt a sufficient level of awareness in evaluating its options under a chosen course of action?

The “duty of awareness” means that at an individual level, directors would be obliged to reflect on their contribution to and participation in board decisions; boards would need to consider the likely impact of their decisions on the company’s performance and on wider stakeholders; and companies would be expected to have regard to their standing as a good corporate citizen, not merely a compliant one.

Acknowledgements: I am grateful to Andrew Donovan of Thoughtpost Governance and Dale Simpson of Bravo Consulting Group for their invaluable contributions to this article.