Slow reading: one piece in a good reader’s arsenal.

I sometimes read very slowly, and sometimes very quickly. It may be that attention spans are shrinking. I often have a difficult time getting my students to simply stop and think about what they’ve read. And so I’m all on board with the “slow reading” movement:

“The idea is not to read everything as slowly as possible, however. As with the slow food movement, the goal is a closer connection between readers and their information, said John Miedema, whose 2009 book Slow Reading explores the movement.

“‘It’s not just about students reading as slowly as possible,’ he said. ‘To me, slow reading is about bringing more of the person to bear on the book.’”

Even my 17 year old son makes fun of how slowly I read the many novels and history books I’m always trudging through, but, as I tell him, I tend to remember almost everything I read in those books. And as I research, I come across articles and books I move very slowly through, trying to make sense of every last word. It drives me particularly crazy when I ask my students what a new legal word means and none of them know. How can they read law — something they’re trying to learn — without a dictionary and without the effort to understand what it is they’re reading?

But sometimes I have to read quickly too. If you research a difficult legal question, you’ll often have to read, literally, hundreds of cases. You don’t engage in “slow reading” to find your way through hundreds of cases to the handful that merit serious study and will genuinely help answer the question you’re researching.

So, slow reading is good. So is fast reading, skimming. What makes a truly good reader is doing both and deploying them effectively.

Research only begins with information: patience, insight, and imagination are the most important parts of it.

Suffering from one of my occasional bouts with insomnia the other night, I came upon a message on the legal writing professors’ listserv from a professor who was seeking advice from students who were wondering what tricks or tools they might use to find the analogies and legal arguments that they were finding so difficult to discover in the course of their legal research. No doubt the hour contributed to the poor quality of my response. In her poem “4 a.m.,” Wislawa Szymborska writes that “No one feels fine at four a.m.” But the passionate rage I felt at the belief that there are simple tips and tricks to effective research of any sort was not purely the product of the feeling Szymborska describes as “Hollow. Vain./Rock bottom of all the other hours.”

We have a serious misunderstanding these days about what constitutes research.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, research is the

Systematic investigation or inquiry aimed at contributing to knowledge of a theory, topic, etc., by careful consideration, observation, or study of a subject.

Let’s assume that the inquiry is into a legal topic. The first element of research is a “systematic investigation or inquiry.” I suppose location of a database or the use of a particular search algorithm could be considered one sort of a systematic investigation, but to suppose that the notion of systematic investigation is exhausted by the location of sources is nonsensical. I can point students to particular treatises I personally find of great value in certain subjects, and of course legal research is filled with secondary sources and finding tools that fill virtually any style one might find useful in such sources. And we live in the age of databases — there are databases for everything.

But systematic investigation is barely begun, if even begun at all, by merely finding a source or set of sources in which answers might lie. The real art of research lies in the second part of that definition of the term: “careful consideration, observation, or study.”

The answers to difficult legal questions don’t lie around waiting to be found as if they are treasure chests left lying on forest floors. They are constructed and created by elements buried within our universe of databases. Thus, research that is genuine research not only requires Sisyphean patience in combing through the sources, it requires also consideration, observation, and study of what one finds within those sources so that one can, first, identify the elements that matter, and, second, put those important, buried, and isolated elements together in some useful and novel way.

Perhaps more importantly, the identification of the elements that matter cannot be done without simultaneously developing ways of putting those elements together in some useful and novel way. How can you know what matters without knowing what purpose you are putting it to? And how can you decide what purpose you are trying to accomplish if you don’t know what elements you’ll have to use?

In short, research, analysis, and theorizing are all a single activity — finding things, making sure they are the right things, and putting them together in the right ways.

To suggest otherwise would be to suggest that finding the historical sources concerning the U.S. Civil War that James McPherson used in writing his brilliant history of that conflict was virtually all the work that had to be done to produce the book. After all, once one has found the sources, the writing is just a matter of stringing the information in those sources together, right?

Of course not. One must find the sources, of course. But the research is inseparable from the perspicacious mind that finds within those sources the elements that the creative and original mind then can mold into a work that educates, entertains, moves, and even convinces.

There is no such thing as research apart from insight and imagination. And an enormous amount of work.

And so, in perhaps the most coherent part of my e-mail the other night, I wrote:

Research is about drawing connections between ideas and words from wildly disparate sources, connections that can only be found by means of painstakingly patient reading of one source after another, tracing connections between sources that might be as seemingly trivial as the bare citation in one case to a another case in connection with a discussion in the first case that strikes the attentive and imaginative reader as potentially relevant to the legal issue he or she is researching. Obviously, tracing such connections (and the myriad of similarly subtle connections effective researchers exploit) requires an enormous amount of concentration, and enormous amount of patience with the continual following up of leads that go nowhere, an enormous amount of imagination to spot connections that courts don’t make explicit (and often don’t even recognize the true significance of), and an abandonment of the idea that engaging in research in this manner is to neglect (in some Luddite fashion) “tools” that can do the job so much more quickly and effectively.

Research is painstaking work that requires enormous imagination and is inextricably intertwined with and develops simultaneously with the development of the legal analysis the research is intended to support. (Which is one reason I go ballistic anytime someone suggests librarians rather than legal writing professors should be teaching research to first year law students, as if legal research is simply a matter of knowing sources and databases and how to develop effective word searches rather than being part and parcel of the writing and analysis.)

I’ve always told my students that law is as requires as much creativity and originality as any human endeavor. I mean it.

One last point: I don’t think Google is making us stupid. Yes, there is more information available to us than ever before. But, again, we can’t confuse information with research. Research is inquiry that contributes to knowledge. Information may be a sine qua non of research, but without attention, insight, and imagination, it isn’t research at all.

Let’s get straight the historically profound benefits of making information available online — Scribd this time.

Two days ago I wrote about the court decision holding that the video hosting service Veoh is protected by the ”safe harbor provisions” of the Digital Protection Millennium Act from liability if any of the service’s users upload videos that infringe existing copyrights. One of the reasons Veoh is entitled to those protections is that it uses adequate technological safeguards to police the content its users upload.

So I don’t expect there is much of a chance that a new lawsuit against Scribd, a web site that hosts documents uploaded by its users, will will succeed or even survive a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim, a procedural device that ends the lawsuit at its very beginning by means of a court determination that even if everything the plaintiff alleges is true she is not entitled to legal relief. As Geek.com reports, the lawsuit alleges copyright infringement by Scribd not because it hosts copyrighted materials but because the software it uses to detect copyrighted materials before they are published on the site allegedly uses copyrighted materials:

A children’s author in Texas has leveled a strange lawsuit against the company, claiming that the company infringes copyright, but not by hosting infringing works on its service.

No, her claim is even weirder: she maintains that Scribd prevents copyrighted material from being placed on the site by copying the text of copyrighted books and other publications into its copyright infringement detection software, which therefore infringes copyright itself!

The claim may not be as weird as Geek.com believes, though it is likely not to survive long. The original legal challenge to the Google Books Project by the Authors Guild and individual authors holding who were identified was premised largely on the contention not that Google was going to make those authors’ copyrighted works available. It wasn’t. It was only going to make those works searchable so that snippets could be brought up by researchers who could thereby identify and by library loan or purchase obtain relevant works they never otherwise would have found without traveling from Palo Alto, California to Ann Arbor, Michigan to Oxford, England. So what was the problem? The authors alleged that the fact Google was copying their works in their entirety to create the database that would yield the snippets constituted copyright infringement.

And in A.V. v. iParadigms, LLC, 544 F. Supp. 2d 473 (E.D. Va. 2008), aff’d in part and remanded, F.3d 630(4th Cir. 2009), plaintiffs were students who alleged that iParadigm’s Turnitin plagiarism detection system — used by schools throughout the country to detect plagiarism committed by students — constituted copyright infringement. Schools that use Turnitin require each student turning in a paper to submit it through Turnitin. Turnitin then compares the paper to its database and prepares a report that rates the similarities of the paper to papers in its database. In addition, Turnitin adds the paper it is rating to the database, thereby constantly growing and increasing the effectiveness of that database.

The students alleged that they owned the copyright in their papers and that IParadigms was infringing those copyrights by copying those papers and using them as part of the Turnitin database. But last March the federal court hearing the lawsuit dismissed it.

There are several interesting points to make about the decision. First, I read the trial court decision (that was later affirmed by the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit) on Scribd (here). Scribd is a tremendous resource for me — a lot of legal documents are not available online, and a lot of valuable ones that are available online are behind paywalls even though they cannot be copyrighted (including a lot of court decisions). Scribd is a solution to this problem, providing a central clearinghouse where lawyers can upload legal documents to make them available to the general public.

The value of resources like Scribd is one of the reasons I find criticisms like that Chris Castle directed at the decision in the Veoh case so maddeningly unhelpful. If one looks at sites like Veoh and Scribd as doing nothing but making available for free works that people would otherwise pay for, then it is much easier to rant and rave that those sites are nothing but distributors of stolen merchandise and to rationalize a stubborn refusal to admit that copyright must be balanced against strong competing interests in free speech and the exchange of ideas. But if you see these sites as profoundly gratifying resources that make the internet the greatest innovation in the history of information technology, the fact that media companies (and even independent writers, artists, and musicians) can readily identify infringing uses that do slip through detection programs does not seem so profoundly troubling. Those copyright owners can quickly employ the DMCA’s notice-and-takedown procedures, which many criticize as too friendly to the copyright holders.

Why would you use copyright to stifle marvelous new innovations? Copyright exists to encourage, not stifle, invention.

So a legal attack on Scribd, even if it is not as “weird” as it might seem on first blush, is something I will scrutinize carefully.

Second, it seems odd that Scribd would be attacked for committing copyright infringement resulting from a mechanism it is employing to minimize copyright infringement by its users and for which it is rewarded by the immunity conferred by the DMCA safe harbor provisions.

Third, a spokesperson for Scribd, as Wired reports, explains that Scribd does not copy works in their entirety as part of its copyright detection system; rather, it “creates a digital fingerprint, or a ‘hash,’ to identify infringing copies.”

Most importantly, even if Scribd did copy the entirety of the copyrighted works only to use those copies to prevent users from uploading and making available to readers those copyrighted works, the decision holding that Turnitin’s similar use of copies copyrighted materials to detect plagiarism is illuminating. The trial court, affirmed in this reasoning by the 4th Circuit Court of Appeals, explained that “iParadigms, through Turnitin, uses the papers for an entirely different purpose [than those the plaintiff did or could], namely, to prevent plagiarism and protect the students’ written works from plagiarism . . . by archiving the students’ works as digital code.” Thus, while the court recognized that iParadigms profits from its use of the student works, the court found that iParadigms’ use of plaintiffs’ works was “highly transformative” because it adds a “further purpose or different character” to the copyrighted works and “provides a substantial public benefit through the network of educational institutions using Turnitin.” Slip op. at 14.

In affirming the trial court’s decision, the 4th Circuit added to this reasoning and described as “clearly misguided” the argument that   Turnitin’s  use of the plaintiff’s copyrighted papers cannot be considered transformative “because the archiving process does not add anything to the work — Turnitin merely stores the work unaltered and in its entirety”:

The use of a copyrighted work need not alter or augment the work to be transformative in nature. Rather, it can be transformative in function or purpose without altering or actually adding to the original work. See, e.g., Perfect 10, Inc. v. Amazon.com, Inc., 508 F.3d 1146, 1165 (9th Cir. 2007) (concluding that Google’s use of copyrighted images in thumbnail search index was “highly transformative” even though the images themselves were not altered, in that the use served a different function than the images served). [Turnitin's] use of plaintiffs’ works had an entirely different function and purpose than the original works; the fact that there was no substantive alteration to the works does not preclude the use from being transformative in nature.

562 F3d at 639.

So let’s get it straight: what Scribd is doing is of tremendous value to society as a whole. It’s use of copyrighted works to minimize the availability on its site of copyrighted works is entirely different than and in no way diminishes the value of the copyrighted works to the owners of the copyrights. A copyright is not ownership of property like title to a car is — it does not give the owner control over any use of that car the owner doesn’t approve. There are a lot of good reasons for these differences. First, if someone else uses your car, you can’t. If someone else uses your copyrighted work, you can still use it too. If they use it for a use you never would have, what’s your problem? And if that other person’s use is doing a lot of good, why should the law confer on you a power to stop it? (Even your ownership of physical property is limited by restrictions imposed for the social good.) Finally, copyrighted works are works of expression, and we have a constitutional right to free expression. The limitation on copyright imposed by fair use is precisely a means of balancing the copyright holder’s interests against this profound social interest in free expression.

It’s an amazing world. In the name of legal rights that exist to promote progress and innovation, people everywhere are trying to stop revolutionary innovations they plainly don’t realize the value of. One of these days I’ll have to talk about the Google Book Project settlement and the fights raging in connection with it. Some are more legitimate than others. But let’s be clear: Google is trying to make available online for research purposes (not in ways that would displace the markets for the works themselves) the contents of major research libraries from around the world. Doesn’t everyone realize what an amazing and unprecedented advance this is for the life of the mind, for anyone anywhere who ever has had an interest in doing research?

The making of a lawyer

Most law schools are odd places.  I suspect most people outside the law believe a law school’s principal mission is to train lawyers.  I am a law professor, and I happen to believe that too.  But I am a very odd duck within law school academia.  Practice for twelve years and partnership in a top nationwide firm is of very little value as a qualifaction to be a law professor.  Rather, the valuable assets among law school faculty are articles published in journals edited by students and rarely read by lawyers.  Most law school classes address theory (or “doctrine”) in a manner remarkably removed from its real world application.  Qualifying for law school rests to a significant degree, perhaps primarily, on an applicant’s score on the LSAT test, which may correlate to success in law school but bears little relationship to one’ effectiveness as a lawyer.  To add to the gap between law school and legal practice, the principal criterion underlying the rankings on which law schools and applicants rely to rate the quality of a law school is the median LSAT score of the school’s students.  Those rankings provide a tremendous incentive for a law school to act in ways intended to accept applicant’s with higher LSAT scores — scores that don’t correlate to effectiveness as a lawyer — at the expense of acting in ways that increase the effectiveness of its graduates as lawyers.

So I am thrilled to read in yesterday’s New York Times that professors at the University of California, Berkeley, have studied what makes lawyers (not law students or law professors) effective and “have come up with a test that they say is better at predicting success in” practicing law than is the LSAT.  The study concluded, as I’ve long been convinced, that “LSAT scores . . . ‘were not particularly useful’ in predicting lawyer effectiveness’. . .”  What does the new test consider factors that contribute to lawyerly effectiveness?

“[T]he ability to write, manage stress, listen, research the law and solve problems.”

I am also not surprised to read that the new test is no better than the LSAT at predicting how well participants would do in law school.  As I wrote above, there is far too great a gap between most law school instruction and the actual practice to consider a test that measures effectiveness in the latter able to test effectiveness in the former.

I wish all my students would read this post.  They’ve been dealing with a considerable degree of stress of late that they blame on me and the problems I’ve given them to try to solve — problems that are down and dirty real life problems lawyers face — and they’ve been complaining a lot.  One student in my Contracts course yesterday complainied that online discussion boards made clear to him that students at other schools were covering a lot more “theory” than I am.  I looked at him a little in surprise.  That’s the whole point of my teaching.  And it’s the whole point of the rather unusual curriculum at the school where I am a visiting professor, the University of Detroit Mercy Law School, where it has been recognized that theory and practice are inextricably intertwined and that each can only be understood in the law in relation to one another.  Thus, the school offers a “revolutionary new curriculum . . . [that] complements traditional theory- and doctrine-based coursework with practical learning, providing a solid transition between law school and a legal career.

But it’s hard to teach students to manage stress, listen, and solve problems.  First, it mean subjecting them to the stress of solving problems they do not know the solutions to in advance because what lawyers do is solve problems they don’t know the solutions to in advance.  No one enjoys stress.  I like to think that the students realize the stress I am subjecting to them is not one intended to or that will break them.  It’s school.  As I’ve always told them, in law school we hurl you into the water to see if you can swim, but the water’s only about 4 feet deep, so when you can’t swim, you just get on your feet, come back, try to figure out what went wrong, and then try again.  It’s when you’re a lawyer trying to solve problems you don’t know the solutions to in advance that the stress can be truly overwhelming, especially if you have not been at all prepared for it.