LibPunk

(I’m a much better writer than public speaker, so here’s the text of my planned opening remarks delivered during AALL2011 Program H4: The Role of Law Libraries in Advancing Law.gov: Open Sourcing America’s Operating System.)

Hi. I’m Sarah. I’m am not supposed to be here today.

One of my favorite filmakers is a man named Kevin Smith.  He was part of the big indie filmaking wave of the 1990s and his first film was a low budget movie called “Clerks.” It took place in a convenience store, not unlike 7/11s that Mr. Malamud suggested law libraries might turn into to last month at Harvard.

If you’ve not seen it, it’s a comedy. The main character – Dante – gets called into work on his day off and you know, hijinks ensue. Through it all, he has a catch phrase…”I’m not supposed to be here today.” I sympathize. I really am not supposed to be here today. I’m a last minute sub for this presentation and I could never fill Erika Wayne’s shoes, but I’ll try.

But that’s actually not why I bring up Clerks and the whole “I am not supposed to be here today” thing. I get the feeling that – when I talk to some other librarians about law.gov (and perhaps this is a feeling shared by some of you here today) that they think “I am not supposed to be here today.” This is not my job. Why are we even talking about this at AALL?

Some actual comments:

• It’s pointless to even worry about it until the state and federal governments step up
• I can barely get my day job done. I don’t have time or money to work on law.gov
• law.gov will never be able to compete with Lexis and Westlaw (so again, why bother)
• will firms even need librarians/research specialists any more if law.gov becomes a reality
• The next time Malaumd tells me to scan something, I’m scanning a picture of my butt and faxing it to public.resource.org

(Okay, that last one might have been me.)

(I was having a bad day.)

(I really do respect Carl Malamud and all the work he has done and continues to do.)

(Really)

It’s absolutely true that library staff and budgets are stretched to the breaking point. And law.gov will never be a complete substitute for commecial providers. But before getting bogged down in the can’ts and won’ts and why things won’t work, I think it’s necessary to step back a moment and realize what law.gov is.

I think when I first heard the concept law.gov I thought it meant that the government would put up all the codes, cases, regs up online with a nice pretty interface that people could easily search. I maybe be moving to Chicago, but deep down I’ll always be a hillbilly from Southern Ohio and I have a strong feeling that this is the Godddman United States of America in the 21st century for god’s sake…there’s no reason that citizens should not be able to access the law via the Internet.

However, the more and more I got into it, I realized that it wasn’t that simple. law.gov isn’t just law.gov and the work that Mr. Malamud does at public.resource.org.  I actually like to refer to it as “Open Law” just so there’s no confusion. it’s authentication, and nccusl, and state surveys and preservation and digitizing collections..  It’s really about the government to release the raw data and information – which we already own, after all – so that others can make it into something useful.

So law.gov is actually a whole host of things and  it actually gets a little overwhelming. One starts to think that yes, this is an impossible task

I mean, don’t get me wrong..it’s going to happen. To deny this fact is to be a heliocentrist in the time of Galileo. It may take a little longer without the assistance of libraries adding to the corpus by digtizing their older holdings or might not be as stable because no one was able to convince a certain state legislature about the proper procedures to take when mounting their laws online. but rest assured, it is going to happen.

And this is a good thing. I’m into it because of the rah rah this is ‘murica goddammit reasons, but other people will tell you that by releasing this data non-profits and smaller information distributors can innovate and come up with exciting new projects and new ways to do research. And there may in fact be  an economic bonus to the legal industry and libraries if primary law is made more open.  Here’s the thing. I don’t care why you get involved, but please get involved.

Okay, so I don’t get all bogged down in language, as I tell my students, here’s the take home message from my opening statement.
1) open law is coming
2) librarians need to be involved because we care about the stuff that everyone else thinks we’re crazy to care about.
3) and remember when I was saying how overwhelming the issues surrounding open law are? well that’s a good thing. Because that means that there are thousands of ways to be involved.. but there’s one thing to note: there’s no real leader. So if you’re waiting for AALL or SLA or the government or Harvard or someone like Carl to say “here’s the plan, gang. you do this and you do this and it will get done.” That’s not going to happen. You have to just sort of jump in.
4) And yes, “just jumping in” is not an easy task.And it’ll be messy and probably not a perfect first (or second or third) attempt.  So if you’ve thought about it and decided that either this issue isn’t important to you for either personal or professional reasons or you really don’t have the time or resources…okay.  That’s fine. You know, I’d rather shoot myself in the face before spending any amount of time talking about RDA.  We all have different things that light our fire.  But nothing is gained and no one is helped by simply pointing out that something is not going to work. I think I saw a tweet saying something similar in an earlier session during this AALL…dont’ say “that’s stupid” but instead “here’s what would work.”

So, basically, I encourage (and beg) you to see where your talents can be applied in the open law movement and join in.  And if you can’t, well…stop your bitching about it.

An addendum about Kevin Smith, the film maker I mentioned at the beginning of my remarks.  He’s actually getting out of the movie business. He likes to make little 2-3 million dollar movies and once you roll in the marketing budgets that studios require the economics just became stupid.

He’s currently promoting what he declares to be his second to last film by travelling around the country in a bus and doing one off meet and greets and showing the movie in independent theaters. Not an easy task. And when he came to Chicago, I jumped at the chance to go see the movie and hear him speak.

He told a story about being at south by southwest in the mid to late 1990s and he was on a panel with Quentin Tarantino, and Robert Roderiquez and some other of the big indy directors. Tarantino asked the audience “how many of you want to be film directors?” and of course almost everyone raised their hand . And then he asked, “how many of you want to be film distributors?” and no one raised their hand. And Quentin said that people need to get into the distribution business because if film and film distribution is taken over by impersonal corporations instead of by the people that love it and respect it as an art form, then the art will be driven out of the industry..it’ll purely be about profits. And that is sort of what happened to Kevin Smith and why he’s no longer going to direct fillm but look into alternate ways of distributing film and other ways of expressing his creativity.

Now, it’s not a perfect parallel between the film industry of the 1990s and the current legal information landscape, but it’s close enough. And as you’ll see, I think we might have to start to get comfortable with the idea of “good enough” and so I bring it up as a way of suggesting that we need to brace ourselves..we (as librarians) may have to get into the content creation and distribution business whether we like it or not and whether or not we feel like it’s our job. There will be no more “I’m not supposed to be here todays.”

Thank you.

Photo credit: http://kevin-smith.wikia.com/wiki/Dante_Hicks

I have this recurring nightmare that one of these days I’m going to hit submit on a blog post and a tweet that says, “Congratulations, Sarah! You have unlocked the RABBLE ROUSER achievement badge on Legal Information Bonanza!” will be auto generated.

I don’t think of myself as a rabble rouser. Or a revolutionary. Or a force of nature. Or a hero. Or a rockstar. Or an obnoxious bitch. Or a petty amateur. Or unprofessional. Or hysterical. Or any of the other labels or names that people have applied to me in the past year or so.

I’m really not angry or confrontational. People always seem surprised when they meet me in person. “YOU’RE Sarah Glassmeyer?” I’ve mostly gotten over my initial inclination to apologize, but I can’t help but feel that people are somewhat disappointed at my countenance and demeanor. Maybe they expect me to whip a WestlawNext t-shirt out of my bag and light it on fire?

Long story short, there’s nothing really extraordinary about me. I just speak my mind. Granted, I have my own website to do it on, but it’s the 21st Century….anyone can have a blog. I guess my question is: why is the mere act of stating one’s opinion about vendors, professional organizations and the profession considered so radical? Why are so many librarians hesitant to speak their mind? It’s not just me wondering it. I spent the first part of this week in Chicago talking to vendors and legal info types and I was asked that very question on more than one occasion.

Sarah Houghton-Jan briefly mentioned some reasons why librarians may not do it. I agree with those reasons, especially the fear of vendors and the disinclination to hurt peoples feelings. Why do I do it? In my more self-deprecating moments I say, “well, I’m almost six feet tall, built like a brick shithouse and I have red hair. Blending quietly into the background was never in the cards for me.” But honestly, why NOT do it?

I reject the idea that dissent automatically equals disrespect. If you are coming from a place of honest belief and have done the due diligence to back your beliefs up with facts, why not state your opinion? Giving and receiving constructive criticism is a baseline professional skill. There’s a poster (often seen in librarian offices!) that says “Your poor planning is not my emergency.” Well, similarly, I think there should be one that says, “Your over-sensitive nature is not my personality problem.” Alternatively, I refer you to LibPunk Mentorship Rule 5.

On the other side of that, being polite doesn’t mean that you are a pushover. We can (and should!) have frank, unemotional and polite conversations amongst ourselves and between the various stops on the information distribution chain (content creators, vendors, publishers, librarians, etc.) about the biz. Because it is a business. And maybe – just maybe – also treat them as colleagues instead of considering them to be enemies. Guess what? I had lunch with a vendor on Monday. And had drinks with another on Monday night. MASS PANDEMONIUM. DOGS AND CATS. LIVING TOGETHER.

I also don’t want to diminish people’s fears about the perceived threat of retaliation from vendors, but can someone (either privately or in a comment here) actually remember an instance of it happening? What form of retaliation is expected? Higher prices? Personal attacks? I had a co-worker who always wanted proof of everything you said. So if you casually mentioned, “Oh, I heard that people are suing Nintendo because they keep throwing their wii controller through their TVs.” He’d say, “Prove it. What’s the case name?” Which was annoying, because I don’t source & cite my casual conversations. But he did sort of have a point that people tend to just accept what they hear without giving it too much careful thought and maybe change behavior when they don’t have to. So I would just like some evidence that vendors do retaliate against librarians that speak out. Otherwise, we might as well be telling each other that if you go into a dark bathroom and chant “Jenny Westlaw” three times, she’ll appear in the mirror and kill you.

One of my favorite movies is the musical 1776. As one might guess from the title, it’s about the writing of the Declaration of Independence. One of the big plot twists is if Congress will even debate the issue of declaring independence from Great Britain. Not actually do it, just talk about it. Stephen Hopkins, the crusty representative from Rhode Island says, “Well, in all my years I ain’t never heard, seen nor smelled an issue that was so dangerous it couldn’t be talked about. Hell yeah! I’m for debating anything.” And that’s sort of how I feel.

Photo credit:http://www.flickr.com/photos/wemeantdemocracy/

I have a very early memory – I couldn’t have been much more than 5 years old or so – of asking my mother to buy me Nestle Quik. “Nestle kills babies. We don’t buy from them.” she replied. End of discussion. (As an aside, I apparently have a reputation amongst my friends as being rather, shall we say, straight forward and direct. All I can say is, “you should really meet my mother sometime.” Heh.) Anyway, except for the occasional Crunch bar, no nestle product crossed my lips while I lived under her roof. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had Nestle Quik now that I think about it.

During Apartheid in South Africa I refused to drink Coca-cola.   Really, once you start consuming consciously, it’s hard to stop. There was a period there in my teen years that I carried around a little guide book called “Shopping for a Better Planet” or some such thing like that and double checked my purchases.  That wasn’t just youthful idealism, by the way… I still vote with my wallet.

• I don’t wear certain brands of shoes because they’re unrepentantly made by 9 year olds in sweatshops.
• I don’t buy certain store brands because they are unfair to farm labor.
• I’ve been driving on past BP gas stations ever since this summer’s gulf oil spill.
• Um, okay, I admit to still shopping at Walmart. Listen, you can take the girl out of Appalachia….

I’m not telling you this to prove I’m a good person. Because believe me, I’m not. I’ve got more skeletons in my closet than Ted Haggard could find pearls to clutch. Nor am I trying to prove my radical bona fides. I don’t worry overmuch about the opinion of others anymore and the older I get, the more I think that the most radical thing a person can do is join the system and change it from within instead of constantly complaining and agitating.

I really wish I was telling you this because my actions helped end Apartheid. Or rehydrated those babies. Or closed those sweatshops. But they didn’t. They don’t. They won’t. This isn’t the Montgomery Bus Boycott where 75% of the riders participated. This is just me. Just me. And the amount I spend on sneakers each year would buy me just about one share of Nike stock.

So why do I bother?

Because even though I’m not part of the solution, I’m not part of the problem. And that little bit is enough. For me, anyway. And on those rare occasions when my shopping habits come up, or someone offers to give me some pirated media, or I refuse to accept vendor swag, I have an opportunity to educate others about issues I care about. Maybe they join in. And do the same. And maybe soon 75% of Nike’s customer base disappears.

Crazier things have happened.

I received a very thoughtful and persuasive email this weekend from a boycott supporter encouraging me to change my stand on the boycott. I still feel like an intruder in these conversations and no one was more surprised than I that my original HCOD math blog post took off like it did. I almost didn’t post it because it was more or less just me thinking out-loud. Hmmm. I wonder how much public libraries really do contribute to the publishing industry bottom line? Oh. That is much less than I thought. Much less. Bummer. A boycott probably is not going to work in this area of libraries either. Back to square one of figuring out solutions, I guess. But, in my tradition of practicing open-notebook science with this blog, I figured that I may as well post it and see if anyone had corrections that would educate me. (And they did. Turns out their numbers were even less than mine.) Who knew that so many people would pay attention to admittedly inaccurate numbers from someone with no first hand knowledge of how public libraries actually work?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I still don’t think a boycott will really impact Harper Collins to a noticeable economic degree. Nor do I think that even if it did (or the political pressure of being mean to libraries becomes a public relations disaster), a “win” of removing the 26 checkout limit would still leave libraries with licensing agreements and eBook format conflicts that are not in their long-term best interest. Nor do I understand why a boycott is limited to Harper Collins…OverDrive seems like it would be a better tactical target for many reasons.

Furthermore, I still think a boycott is overly confrontational at this stage of the game, the eReader User Bill of Rights doesn’t go far enough, and I do think there’s a great danger in “Boycott Harper Collins” becoming about as effectual as people slapping a magnetic ribbon on their car. So if nothing has changed, why am I writing about it again? Well, for one thing, because I could be entirely wrong. Especially because I could be entirely wrong. Like I said, this was a pretty persuasive email written by someone who is much more in the know about these sorts of things than I am. They had many facts and figures showing how a boycott could be effective.  While I am quick to roll my eyes at people who seemingly exist to amp up drama and bring obnoxious rhetoric into a discussion that should remain professional,  I believe that many who are making the decision to boycott don’t fall into this camp.  They are doing so after a long and thoughtful consideration of all the facts and I respect their decision.

Like I said, these facts didn’t convince me, but ultimately, I don’t really have to be convinced. I don’t make purchasing decisions for my library, not that my library uses OverDrive or purchases Harper Collins titles anyway. I don’t actually purchase that many books for my personal use either. I’m not even a fan of Harper Collins’ prize winning author Neil Gaiman. (No, not even Sandman. I know, I know… I tried to like it, I swear!) And I’m really not trying to convince you, Gentle Reader, one way or another what to do with regards to this boycott.

I’m writing about this again – even though I swore I was done – because of one thing that the writer said that absolutely chilled me to the bone. The email posited that librarians were hesitant to join the boycott because it wasn’t a 100% guaranteed win and didn’t solve all the problems with libraries and eBooks. That this was yet another libraryland case of perfect being the enemy of good.

Oh, man, the fear of failure in libraryland is a major burr under my saddle.

My mentor in law school had a framed poster of a quote from Teddy Roosevelt’s “The Man in the Arena” speech hanging in his office. It’s one of my most favorite quotes ever.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

I spent many a sad hour staring at that quote, trying to take it’s message to heart. For those of you have never had the pleasure of attending, law school is primarily about failing. Over and over again. You get knocked down and then pick yourself back up just so you can have someone kick your ass again the next day. Lather, rinse, repeat.  For three years.  Now that I’m a professor, I keep a copy hanging on the wall of my office, both to serve as inspiration to my students and to constantly remind myself that there’s nothing wrong with failing.

That’s true, you know… Failure is never fun but it’s also not the end of the world. The more you do it, the easier it gets. And each time you do it, you learn something new and make your efforts better for the next go-around.

Maybe the Harper Collins boycott is a bad idea. Maybe it’s a good idea. I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that it’s an idea. If it works it works and if it doesn’t, well… then we all know in the future that a boycott is not a viable option.

Join the boycott if you want to. Don’t if you don’t. Do what your personal beliefs tell you is right thing to do. If you can sleep well at night knowing that you spent your libraries’ funds on Harper Collins eBooks, that’s between you and yours. I certainly hold no judgment either way. And you can be angry if you want to as well. But then you must also get active. And whatever you do, don’t sit around waiting for the perfect solution to land our laps before you decide to get involved.

Know this: no matter what, a boycott of Harper Collins will never be enough to solve all problems libraries face when it comes to eResources. When it fails – it could be an if, but I’m pretty sure it’s a when – don’t you be personally defeated. Pick yourself up and then try something new. Learn from your mistakes. Take the energy and allies you’ve gained in this effort and apply it elsewhere. Work to find other solutions. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Harper Collins is just one cog in a huge machine that we need to fix. The only way it will NEVER get fixed is if we all sit on our hands and do nothing.