Under the proposed settlement, the owners of copyrights in books would need to opt out of the project to prevent Google from including those books in its Library database, which is being compiled by scanning the libraries of several major insitutions around the world. As Shankland points out, “that means essentially that Google would be permitted to show content from in-copyright, out-of-print books and sell online copies of those books even without an explicit agreement with the books’ rightsholders.” Copyrighted, out-of-print books constitute approximately 70 percent of the books in the library collections Google is scanning, and that 70 percent includes the vast majority of “orphan works” in those libraries. Orphan works are works whose copyright holders cannot be identified, a common problem because there is no registry of copyrights and the authors of the books are not necessarily the copyright holders. Rather, the copyright holders might include unidentifiable heirs or even corporate entities that have gone through mergers, dissolutions, or other forms of corporate reorganization that make it difficult or impossible to identify the entity that currently owns the copyright.

Nevertheless, some authors continue to oppose the Google Library Project:

“Under the actual law, it is Google’s burden and not yours to ask you for permission and then fairly negotiate terms of contract acceptable to you personally, not jam some monstrosity down your throat,” said Lynn Chu, a literary agent with Writers’ Reps who also called the proposed settlement a “ripoff for authors” in a Wall Street Journal opinion piece.

As a business matter, I don’t understand the view Chu expresses, as I’ve previously written. Why would someone whose work is out-of-print not want that work accessible to the general public? And if that someone wants to keep his work in the obscurity resulting from being out-of-print and available only at some far off insitution’s library, he can always opt out. Chu says that the “actual law” requires Google to ask permission first, not for the copyright holder to deny permission, but the wonderful thing about contracts (and a settlement is a contract) is that they can be a means parties have of altering the rules that govern their relationships in the absence of agreement.

I’ve been a fan of the Google Library Project since it was announced in 2003. It promises to make available for search the collections of many of the greatest libraries in the world. Google will only be able to display brief snippets of works that are in print and under copyright, but even that access will make known to researchers the availability of sources they never otherwise would have been able to find. The Project is one of those endeavors that make the internet and the digitization of information truly revolutionary and magical. It would be a shame if copyright law founded on old technologies and the unfounded knee-jerk reactions of copyright holders (it’s mine, and that means you can’t do anything with it without my permission!) were to end up preventing the realization of revolutionary magic.

Finally, Shankland points out that there is concern over the settlement because it would give Google an advantage over competitors: “Microsoft, Amazon, or the Internet Archive . . . –without their own handy class-action settlement [--] would be have to try to seek such permission in advance from each rightsholder or risk copyright infringement litigation.” But if copyright holders and their representatives are willing to reach this settlement with Google there’s no reason to suppose they wouldn’t with Microsoft, Amazon, or the Internet Archive. Google’s competitive advantage is the result of its initiative and daring in starting the Project in the first place and developing technology (including new scanning technology) to make it truly possible. Advantages gained by daring and initiative should be rewarded by the law, not stymied.

But who knew the 1909 Copyright Act (in effect until the current one was enacted and signed into law in 1976) was a response to the threat posed by . . . yes, PLAYER PIANOS!

Music publishers, who had secured their rights in sheet music, were freaked out at the thought there might be mechanical reproductions of their music they wouldn’t be paid for. As Mike Masnick explains it at Techdirt

The big innovation of the 1909 copyright [Act] was compulsory licensing on mechanical rights. This was put into place for one reason: fear about player pianos and how they would dominate the market and destroy the need for musicians. Within a matter of decades, the player piano market was effectively gone… and yet, these massive changes designed solely to deal with the player piano have stuck around ever since. Now apply that same story to basically every other technological innovation, and that gets you copyright law.

You don’t have to look far to find a current example that proves Mike’s point.  Amazon’s Kindle2 ebook hit the market with the capacity to read the electronic texts loaded into it aloud in a computer-generated voice. As afterdawn reports, “the Author’s Guild saw this feature as a“performance” when used and pressured Amazon to allow publishers to decide on an eBook-by-eBook basis whether to enable the feature or not.” Whether this new technology represents a genuine threat to the existing financial interests of publishers and/or authors is pure speculation, but the Author’s Guild is adamant:

 We will not . . .  surrender our members’ economic rights to Amazon or anyone else. The leap to digital has been brutal for print media generally, and the economics of the transition from print to e-books do not look as promising as many assume. Authors can’t afford to start this transition to digital by abandoning rights.”  

Of course, the Authors Guild was the lead plaintiff in the lawsuit directed at shutting down a much vaster and more revolutionary technological advance, the Google Library Project.  As I have written, I never understood what good they possibly have been doing themselves if they’d stopped that project.  Nor can I understand their efforts to stifle the transition we plainly are going through into electronic books.  

But now I know: you see a machine that can reproduce your “property,” and all you can think is you’ve got to stop that machine.  Even if it is just a player piano.