He gave away bifocals and the lightning rod—who chose zero patents?

The Inventions

Benjamin Franklin's refusal to patent his inventions stands as one of the most principled decisions in the history of innovation. Between the 1740s and 1780s, he developed bifocal lenses to correct both near and distance vision, the lightning rod to protect buildings from electrical strikes, the Franklin stove for more efficient home heating, swim fins for faster propulsion in water, and the glass armonica musical instrument. Each invention solved a real problem he or someone he knew had encountered. The bifocals emerged from his own aging eyes' inability to focus at multiple distances; the lightning rod from his experiments proving that lightning was electrical in nature. The Franklin stove addressed the wasteful open fireplaces common in colonial homes, directing more heat into rooms while using less wood. Every invention worked, and every one could have made him wealthy. Patent law existed in the colonies, and Franklin knew it well — he had witnessed other inventors securing exclusive rights and reaping financial rewards.

The Philosophy

Franklin articulated his reasoning in his 1791 autobiography, published posthumously. 'As we enjoy great advantages from the inventions of others,' he wrote, 'we should be glad of an opportunity to serve others by any invention of ours; and this we should do freely and generously.' This was not mere rhetoric. In 1753, when he published details of the lightning rod in Poor Richard's Almanack, he included precise specifications: a pointed iron rod eight to ten feet long, connected by wire to the ground. Within a decade, lightning rods appeared on buildings across Philadelphia, Boston, and London. When Pennsylvania's governor offered to secure him exclusive manufacturing rights, Franklin declined. He saw knowledge as a commons, not a commodity. His stove faced similar offers — ironmongers wanted to pay him for the sole right to produce it, but he published the design openly in a 1744 pamphlet. The result was immediate widespread adoption and adaptation, with blacksmiths across the colonies building their own versions. Franklin believed that the public benefit of rapid dissemination far outweighed any private profit he might extract.

The Human Cost

Franklin's generosity had personal consequences he never discussed publicly. He was not a wealthy man for most of his life. His printing business provided a comfortable income, but he retired from it in 1748 at age 42 to pursue science and public service — neither of which paid well. His electrical experiments, including the famous kite experiment of 1752, cost him money. Equipment, materials, and time all came from his own pocket. Had he patented the lightning rod, historians estimate he could have earned the equivalent of several million dollars in today's money, given the device's rapid adoption across Europe and America. His son William, who assisted in some experiments, later broke with him over politics, siding with the British during the Revolution. Franklin spent years in diplomatic service in France, often funding his mission from personal resources when Congressional payments lagged. In 1776, at age 70, he sailed to France to secure an alliance, leaving behind the comforts he might have bought with patent income. Friends and fellow scientists admired his principle but privately questioned whether he was being foolish. Yet Franklin never wavered, never expressed regret, never sought retrospective compensation.

The Legacy Today

Franklin's open-source philosophy anticipated modern debates over intellectual property by more than two centuries. His approach resembles the logic behind the internet, open-source software, and Creative Commons licenses — that shared knowledge accelerates progress more than monopolized knowledge enriches individuals. The lightning rod's free availability meant that by 1782, the device protected churches, homes, and powder magazines throughout the Atlantic world. Bifocals became standard eyewear by the 1800s because no one needed permission to grind the lenses. In 2024, historians and legal scholars point to Franklin when arguing for patent reform, shorter protection periods, or public-domain drug formulas. His inventions are still in use: modern eyeglasses descend directly from his bifocal design, and lightning rods remain essential building safety equipment, largely unchanged in principle from his 1752 specifications. The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, founded in 1824, honors him not by collecting royalties but by promoting science education — exactly the outcome he would have wanted. His decision cost him money but bought the world a model of how invention can serve humanity without the friction of ownership.