Why I Hate Software Licences

You see them every time you install a piece of software - the End User Licence Agreement (EULA). Most people, I imagine, don't take the time the read the things, and just hit the "I Agree" button to continue with the installation process. But I actually take the time to read them (and trust me, that can take a while for some licences) because, like another form of Fine Print, one really ought to pay attention to what sort of rights you're signing away.

So why do I find EULAs so onerous and offensive? Here's why:

There's no option for negotiation: EULAs are what are known as "Clickwrap Licences" or "Shrinkwrap Contracts" because the only time you're presented with the licence terms is when you've already opened the software, at which point it may be impossible to return or exchange the software. And given that you cannot install the software without accepting the licence, it's essentially "take it or leave it" with absolutely no power on your part to bargain or re-negotiate the terms. I don't know about you, but there's something inherently ethical about selling someone a piece of software, and only presenting them with restrictive licence terms after the transaction.

Secondly, I am not a lawyer, but isn't there something legally dubious about a contract wherein the company has absolutely no evidence that the person using the software actually agreed to the contract. Someone could claim that their 13-year-old child installed the software (or someone else incapable of entering into a legally-binding contract). Or that their cat walked across the keyboard and hit the "Enter" key while the mouse pointer was over the "I Agree" button.

They're written in incomprehensible legalese: I've always found it amusing that EULAs ask the user to "please read carefully" and then present them with a list of terms that seem to be written so as to actively discourage people from reading them! With few exceptions, EULAs appear to be on a mission to mangle the English language into something unrecognisable. Consider this portion of the GOG.com EULA:

"Company’s failure to enforce at any time any of the provisions of this Agreement shall in no way be construed to be a present or future waiver of such provisions, nor in any way affect the right of any party to enforce each and every such provision thereafter. The express waiver by Company of any provision, condition or requirement of this Agreement shall not constitute a waiver of any future obligation to comply with such provision, condition or requirement. This Agreement shall be governed by the laws of the State of California and the United States without regard to its conflicts of laws rules and you consent to the exclusive jurisdiction of the courts in Los Angeles County, California. The United Nations Convention on Contracts for the International Sale of Goods shall not apply to this Agreement. This Agreement represents the complete agreement concerning this License Agreement between you and Company."

All right, hands up, who here actually understood all that on their first try? Anyone?

Sadly, this sort of impenetrable language is all too common with EULAs. It's positively riddled with endless run-on sentences and countless modifying clauses that cause the language processing centre of my brain to shut down and makes me simply skim over the text without actually understanding what the terms mean. This isn't user-friendly language, this is lawyer-friendly language. If software companies want to ensure that consumers know what they can and cannot do with their software, then they ought to present the licence terms in comprehensible language, full stop.

And could someone tell me why the warranty terms are always presented in ALLCAPS? Way to make the licence terms even more difficult read, people!

They're way too long: I copied and pasted the EULA for Unreal Tournament 3 into LibreOffice Writer, and the entire document was 22,000 words long! That's long enough to be considered a novella by Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, which demands the question of just who the hell wants to read a goddamn novella-length document just to install a game? Can anyone blame users for just skipping over the bloody thing?

And that isn't the worst of it. PayPal's service agreement is just over 36,000 words long, longer than Shakespeare's Hamlet. Do they really expect users to dig through all that?

The terms are onerous and unenforceable: A ubiquitous term in any software licence is that you may disassemble, decompile, or reverse engineer the program.

Isn't that ridiculous? I copy some bits on to my computer, and they tell me I can't rearrange those bits in a certain way? They have the gall to say what I can cannot do with some piece of software in the isolated environment of my own computer? And furthermore, how would they even know if I *did* decompile the software? The only way a software company could ever obtain that knowledge was if I emailed them and said "YO I TOTALLY JUST DECOMPILED UR CODE, BITCHES!!!"

And it gets worse. Some EULAs demand that you do not release any benchmarks of the software (because it might make them look bad). Some prohibit the user from taking part in a class-action suit against the company, severely limiting their ability to punish a corporation for wrong-doing. Some notify the user that the terms of the licence agreement can change at any time without notice. A great many absolve the company of responsibility for any damage their software does to your computer, even if they were aware of the possibility. Essentially, a typical EULA can be read as litany of rights that the company wants to take away from you, written in a smug, condescending tone that seems to say, "We have all the power, pitiful consumer! Do what we say or else!"

So the next time you're confronted with one of those damnable EULAs, get your cat to agree to it.