I partially revoke what I wrote earlier: Rather than use this blog for my class on writing a nonfiction book, I will create a new, linked blog for it. You, my reader, will still be able to access it, but this blog will stay focused on issues related to biography in particular, and writing in general.
One of the biggest issues, of course, is the impact of the Internet. What are the implications, for writers, of digital technology—of the profoundly easier and cheaper reproduction and distribution of data? Should information be free? Or should we prosecute every illegal downloader? Or, perhaps, is it not so simple?
One of the frustrating things for me is the reductionism so prevalent in this debate. The fact is, there are important public interests on both sides that must be reconciled—and reconciliation is not easy.
Here's what I think, in brief: I like free information as much as the next guy. In many areas, I want content to be completely free and universally accessible. But I also want the creation of new content. The catch is to provide incentives for content creators—in my case, writers—while acknowledging and even embracing the power of digital technology.
I know writers who resist the digital revolution, who refuse to even publish e-books because they are so angry at piracy. On the other hand, from the Information-Wants-To-Be-Free crowd (I'll call them IWTBFs), I hear absolutely no acknowledgment of the need to encourage the creation of new works. And here's another, related point: Not all information is the same.
I believe in the mass availability of public data, of government records and information from public companies. In the good old days, the nineteenth century, Congress used to publish all the raw material from its committee investigations in the Congressional Serial Set. It would ask the presidential administration for, say, all diplomatic cables relating to Panama. Then, within a year, it would publish them. No need for Wikileaks, and no harm done. As for markets, they work best when as much information is available to as many people as possible. Steve Jobs disagrees with me, but having as many people know as much as possible about businesses allows investors to place money wisely, forcing all corporations to be more efficient and successful.
Of course, books are not just data. They are the deliberate products of solitary minds; they are works of creative research, synthesis, invention, and art. Each is the unique creation of a unique individual. That's why we give literary prizes even to nonfiction; it's a recognition that there is artistic value in research-driven books as much as in novels, plays, and poetry.
The question is, How do we reward the creators of such works, so we keep getting more? I've yet to hear of an explanation from the IWTBFs of how piracy answers the question.
Don't get me wrong: I love Google Books when I'm looking up some nineteenth-century tome. With public-domain works, I benefit from mass availability as much as, perhaps even more than, the next guy. And I agree that copyright law has been gravely distorted by the lobbying of deep-pocketed corporations, namely Mickey Mouse's master. It's absurd that a work should be copyrighted fifty years (or is it more?) beyond the life of the creator. That's an intellectual-property land grab, not a reasonable incentive for the creation of artistic works.
But the abuses of a large corporation don't negate the necessities facing me, the humble individual writer. Economists have examined the problems posed by piracy. Let's take one model, called the Tragedy of the Commons. If a village has a common pasture, for which no one individual is responsible, then everyone in the village has an incentive to graze as many heads of livestock as possible. Soon the commons is destroyed by overuse, because no one pays the cost of this public good. If digital piracy runs rampant—if no one pays the cost of my works—then I frankly cannot continue to write. It's a passion, yes, but I can't put in the time and effort required by my books if they don't pay. They pay poorly enough as it is.
Of course, villages historically avoided the Tragedy of the Commons through strong community values, a sense of shared interest in the preservation of a mutual trust. It may be that such values will be the best remedy for digital piracy. But how do we get there? Again, I fail to see how we create those values through self-righteous denunciations of copyright holders for being Luddites, or by wholesale copying and distribution of copyrighted works.
Copyright law needs reform, no doubt. I've argued that for a long time. But it exists for a reason; indeed, the reason is written into Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution itself: "To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries."
If anyone comes up with an alternative method of promoting the progress of science and the useful arts, I'm all ears. Perhaps a government stipend for serious authors, rather than exclusive rights to their respective writings? But then would we trust the government to choose who qualifies? And how do we jibe that with international copyright law? A real alternative is hard to come by.
So here we are: Not with an all-or-nothing world, but with a need to find a reasonable compromise, the very thing that seems hardest to attain in our world today. I say, let's make the most out of digital technology. Let's embrace the way it makes content more available. But we must reconcile the new technology for distributing content with incentives for the creation of content. Let's not pretend that the purpose, and necessity, of copyright law is obsolete—or that it's no longer the law of the land.
One of the biggest issues, of course, is the impact of the Internet. What are the implications, for writers, of digital technology—of the profoundly easier and cheaper reproduction and distribution of data? Should information be free? Or should we prosecute every illegal downloader? Or, perhaps, is it not so simple?
One of the frustrating things for me is the reductionism so prevalent in this debate. The fact is, there are important public interests on both sides that must be reconciled—and reconciliation is not easy.
Here's what I think, in brief: I like free information as much as the next guy. In many areas, I want content to be completely free and universally accessible. But I also want the creation of new content. The catch is to provide incentives for content creators—in my case, writers—while acknowledging and even embracing the power of digital technology.
I know writers who resist the digital revolution, who refuse to even publish e-books because they are so angry at piracy. On the other hand, from the Information-Wants-To-Be-Free crowd (I'll call them IWTBFs), I hear absolutely no acknowledgment of the need to encourage the creation of new works. And here's another, related point: Not all information is the same.
I believe in the mass availability of public data, of government records and information from public companies. In the good old days, the nineteenth century, Congress used to publish all the raw material from its committee investigations in the Congressional Serial Set. It would ask the presidential administration for, say, all diplomatic cables relating to Panama. Then, within a year, it would publish them. No need for Wikileaks, and no harm done. As for markets, they work best when as much information is available to as many people as possible. Steve Jobs disagrees with me, but having as many people know as much as possible about businesses allows investors to place money wisely, forcing all corporations to be more efficient and successful.
Of course, books are not just data. They are the deliberate products of solitary minds; they are works of creative research, synthesis, invention, and art. Each is the unique creation of a unique individual. That's why we give literary prizes even to nonfiction; it's a recognition that there is artistic value in research-driven books as much as in novels, plays, and poetry.
The question is, How do we reward the creators of such works, so we keep getting more? I've yet to hear of an explanation from the IWTBFs of how piracy answers the question.
Don't get me wrong: I love Google Books when I'm looking up some nineteenth-century tome. With public-domain works, I benefit from mass availability as much as, perhaps even more than, the next guy. And I agree that copyright law has been gravely distorted by the lobbying of deep-pocketed corporations, namely Mickey Mouse's master. It's absurd that a work should be copyrighted fifty years (or is it more?) beyond the life of the creator. That's an intellectual-property land grab, not a reasonable incentive for the creation of artistic works.
But the abuses of a large corporation don't negate the necessities facing me, the humble individual writer. Economists have examined the problems posed by piracy. Let's take one model, called the Tragedy of the Commons. If a village has a common pasture, for which no one individual is responsible, then everyone in the village has an incentive to graze as many heads of livestock as possible. Soon the commons is destroyed by overuse, because no one pays the cost of this public good. If digital piracy runs rampant—if no one pays the cost of my works—then I frankly cannot continue to write. It's a passion, yes, but I can't put in the time and effort required by my books if they don't pay. They pay poorly enough as it is.
Of course, villages historically avoided the Tragedy of the Commons through strong community values, a sense of shared interest in the preservation of a mutual trust. It may be that such values will be the best remedy for digital piracy. But how do we get there? Again, I fail to see how we create those values through self-righteous denunciations of copyright holders for being Luddites, or by wholesale copying and distribution of copyrighted works.
Copyright law needs reform, no doubt. I've argued that for a long time. But it exists for a reason; indeed, the reason is written into Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution itself: "To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries."
If anyone comes up with an alternative method of promoting the progress of science and the useful arts, I'm all ears. Perhaps a government stipend for serious authors, rather than exclusive rights to their respective writings? But then would we trust the government to choose who qualifies? And how do we jibe that with international copyright law? A real alternative is hard to come by.
So here we are: Not with an all-or-nothing world, but with a need to find a reasonable compromise, the very thing that seems hardest to attain in our world today. I say, let's make the most out of digital technology. Let's embrace the way it makes content more available. But we must reconcile the new technology for distributing content with incentives for the creation of content. Let's not pretend that the purpose, and necessity, of copyright law is obsolete—or that it's no longer the law of the land.
No comments:
Post a Comment