In Remix, Lawrence Lessig distinguishes between commercial, sharing, and hybrid economies. The distinction is essential for the thesis of his book: unreasonably criminalizing copyright infringement leads to societal degradation by branding an entire generation of young people “thieves” (or, in Jack Valenti’s unsubtle designation, “terrorists”). Following is a useful example of the way these economies operate in my own life.

I am a house rabbit enthusiast or nerd or geek or fanatic or whatever you want to call it. I dearly love my two adopted bunnies and spend a good deal of time and money ensuring their contentment (and, vicariously, my own). In this effort, I have benefited mightily from the house rabbit community—a noncommercial economy centered around rabbit rescue charities and online communities. Rabbit rescue charities take care of abandoned animals and ensure they are adopted to suitable homes; they also conduct continuing educational and social events. Online communities offer information (www.rabbit.org, www.bunnybunch.org) or entertainment (www.dailybunny.com). No one is making money from these rabbit rescue charities or online communities, as they’re staffed by volunteers or enthusiasts. The benefits they offer are therefore noncommercial.

There are commercial elements to my existence as a rabbit enthusiast. I spend about $40-60 per month on Timothy hay and pellets from Oxbow Animal Health, a small company in Nebraska that specializes in feed and supplies for small animals. I do not expect Oxbow to send me informational brochures on rabbit health (as I receive from rabbit rescue organizations) or cute pictures of bunnies (as I get from the aforementioned Daily Bunny). Moreover, the reason behind my loyalty to this particular brand is its products’ high quality and lack of unhealthy and possibly dangerous filler ingredients. I frequent Oxbow not because of any noncommercial, intangible benefits but because they produce the best product on the market. My purchases operate, therefore, in the context of a purely commercial economy.

Where I buy my Oxbow products, however, is indicative of a hybrid economy. I will, on occasion, buy from a pet store; but under normal circumstances I buy all my rabbit feed and products from BunnyLuv, a rabbit rescue charity shop (www.bunnyluv.com). The transaction is clearly commercial: I am paying market prices in exchange for commercialized goods. BunnyLuv gets to keep all of the money I give them minus sales tax, but they put it toward keeping their rabbit rescue operation going. No one at the organization is paid a salary. The staff of the rescue and shop is entirely volunteer. The commercial and noncommercial aspects of BunnyLuv make it a hybrid economy. Also, my intentions in frequenting BunnyLuv are demonstrative of its hybrid nature. First, I go there because they always have the products I want for the aforementioned commercial reasons. Second, I go there to support a cause I believe in—animal adoption instead of sales. And third, I go there because I want to interact with other rabbit enthusiasts. I can’t banter and brag about my bunnies to some high school Petsmart cashier, but I can with the volunteers at BunnyLuv. The conversation is not included in the price, and it would be abhorrent if they charged me before allowing me to speak. Not only is BunnyLuv a hybrid, my reasoning for going there is hybrid.