++UPDATE++
I opted out.
I also got asked – basically because of this post – to go on a bunch of news shows on Friday to try to explain the Settlement and why I though it was a bad thing. That’s not very easy to do in four minute slots, but I took a swing at it.
I’ve never done live TV before. Not only did I do live TV, I did what was supposed to be a live debate with an MP, Tom Watson. I was, naturally, scared as hell, but I shouldn’t have been; Tom’s a nice, internet-savvy guy I’ve corresponded with a couple of times in the past, and he’d written an article in the Guardian talking about copyright reform. Since we basically agree on the surrounding issues, the massive all-out brawl took the form: “Well, Tom’s right about XYZ, but I think,” and “Look, Nick’s one hundred percent right about ABC, but,” and so on. (Incidentally, Tom is also really interesting on reform of the voting system.)
Anyway, you can see our vicious, below-the-belt catfight here… *grin* – oh, and World At One is available until Friday (the Google Books part is about 24 minutes in). I did BBC News and 5 Drive as well, but I can’t find ‘em.
Bits and bobs…
One thing I didn’t mention in my initial post: Privacy. I stayed clear of this because it struck me as a US issue, and one which is already well-represented in the argument. Of course, if Google manages to expand the library to give access to the rest of the world, then it becomes very much our problem too. There should be some basic protection of the privacy of users. What you browse, what you search, what you eventually read or buy… that information should be strongly ring-fenced from corporate and government use without cause etc.
Finally, before I get down off my soap box…
Gutenberg. Tom Watson mentions the invention of the printing press in his piece, and it’s a comparison which has been made a lot. In fact, I sort of made it myself. I would just say one thing about that – Gutenberg’s invention led to a massive decentralisation of information, as the Church was no longer able to control what was written down and read. This is actually the opposite: broad access to a single resource through one entity – Google. That’s a very narrow bottleneck.
Worst case. People kept saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” I have no idea. My least favourite scenario right now – and I have no idea whether it’s realistic or not – is some variant on the following: Google gets the Settlement; the Settlement provokes an anti-trust suit; the Books part of Google is broken off as a solo entity, XYZ Books (and maybe immediately bought by some other large media company). Aggressive pricing ensues, raising tumult and provoking defensive lawsuits as the legitimacy of XYZ’s claim to the rights of all those books is challenged, complicating the Orphan Works issue even further and leaving the copyright situation still tattered and unexamined. Other media giants contemplate related rights schemes in music and art. Copyright shifts further away from the public domain. No one really wins except media shareholders and execs.
Oh, and just for fun: other nations get in on the act; developing countries nationalise some IP rights; local industries ignore the Berne Convention. Because “if America does it, it must be okay”.
So, how do I feel?
I feel… released from the decision-making process. Alarmed, because I’m on the outside of something looking in, and it’s something enormous. Worried, because I think this will go ahead and I don’t believe it should. Comforted, because so many people seem to agree with at least some of what I’ve said. And not regretful. I informed myself, made a choice on what I thought was important, and didn’t back down when the choice scared me. Hardly the greatest example of moral courage ever, but you have to start somewhere.
I’m a bit freaked out that I was the best person they could find to talk about this on the national news. I’ve spent, what, a couple of days looking at it in March, maybe a few more over the last month? That hardly makes me an expert. There are people out there who should have had an opinion on this, and seemingly didn’t. The British Government, actually, should have had an opinion on this. A US court deciding copyright issues which affect the entire world, including the UK, muddling the Berne Convention, and no one from the government has anything to say? A US company appropriating thousands of UK citizens’ Intellectual Property assets overseas and imposing an arbitrary compensation scheme? And you have nothing to say about that? How about you, Mr Cameron? Nothing? Really? Because, you know, the German government has plenty.
It was fun meeting Krishnan and everyone else and being Mrs Harkaway for a day (she’s always onna telly) but I’m just really glad to be back at my desk, writing.
I’m not a pundit or a campaigner. I’m a novelist. And I love it.
Oh, by the way…
As an appendix, and only because someone asked if I would tell this story with ninjas in it, and on the strict understanding that no one will think of me as a less than very serious person… a quick bit of real life, pulped for fun – and dedicated with genuine affection to Google: you guys rock. But you’re wrong on this one.
Mrs Harkaway put the car into sixth gear and keyed the NOS, and the five ninja warriors vanished in the rearview mirror.
“I’m telling you, honey,” she said, brushing a stray curl of flaxen hair from her brow and settling into the acceleration couch, “this kind of thing only ever happens when you go on the TV.”
“Don’t be ludicrous,” I said, “it’s clearly the Archimandrate of Surbiton and his dastardly plot to steal Professor Stafford Smith’s Justice Ray!”
“I love you,” Mrs Harkaway informed me, “but you are an idiot. They all had Google jumpers on under their body armour.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Now get back there and sort out the damage to the Ironymobile before the pleonastic drive flames out and we have to walk to Brighton.”
I was saved from this irksome chore by the Harkaphone, our multispectrum short-burst Skype variant. A vigorous, silver-haired man with a piercing eye grinned at us from the screen.
“Professor Stafford Smith,” I cried, for it was he.
“Harkaway,” the Professor said, “have you been stirring up trouble?”
“No,” I said innocently, “why?”
“Ninjas assassinated our postman,” he replied, “and I had to fight them off with chainsaws. Naturally, I thought of you.”
“Nuffinadowimeatallatall,” I said, a Gaelic swearword I learned at my father’s knee.
Professor Stafford Smith sighed, but I was unable to remonstrate with him because a roadmine went off beneath the front wheels.
“Damn!” cried the gorgeous Mrs H, as the car spiralled into a ditch, and the pawns of the world’s most powerful search engine surrounded us.
I thought we were all done. I had visions of my own obituary; handsome yet modest author and adventurer dies in mysterious circs, will be missed by lovers of the deranged and various wine merchants, leaves a legacy of orphaned novels… Mrs H took my hand and smiled.
And then, salvation! From all around us, a terrible darkness, cold and sharp. It cut through the shadowmen like broken glass, chitonous and insectoid. Grue sprayed and men howled. Through the foetid and disgusting muck (a new paintjob for the Ironymobile, and damn, I so loved the two-tone floral pattern we put on it last year) a mighty figure composed of vile, non-euclidian shapes made itself known, three eyes gleaming with a nacreous light.
“Weeez comez to zave youz…” buzzed the hive sergeant of the Microsoft Drone Army.
“Bugger,” Mrs Harkaway said after a moment. “Are you absolutely sure we’re on the right side of this one?”
“Yes,” I said. “More’s the pity, I’m pretty sure we are…”
