The Letter Z

A recent post on the LISNews blog brought my attention to a rally staged last weekend at the Boston Public Library to protest the library’s use of Digital Rights Management (DRM) technology on its electronic materials. DRM restricts the use of electronic files–for example, making it impossible to transfer a file from one computer to another, or limiting the amount of time during which you can open and use a file. DRM is ubiquitous in the media industry, and it is concerning for many reasons. (If you want to find out more, I suggest taking a look at the DefectiveByDesign or Electronic Frontier Foundation websites.) I want to talk about one particularly pernicious aspect of DRM, and other digital technologies: the way in which they limit the devices which you can use to play the protected files.

I work for the Mobile Services branch of an urban public library. Unlike rural bookmobiles, which focus mainly on bringing library services to areas that are geographically isolated, urban bookmobiles bring services to people with other barriers to library use: low-income young children, seniors, and people with disabilities. My work with this program has, among other things, made me more sensitive to the ways in which citizens are commonly excluded from public services.

A co-worker asked me the other day whether I had noticed an increase in the number of new library materials that were available only in downloadable electronic formats. He pointed out that many of our hard-of-hearing or deaf patrons had only bought CD players because of the library’s recent decision to stop buying any new audio cassettes. “Now they have to buy computers and MP3 players?” he asked.

My co-worker’s comment highlights the fact that the limitations imposed by DRM are not new. As one commenter on the LISNews blog wrote:

Maybe it’s a good idea–maybe public libraries should not have any resources that contain DRM–but that does rule out almost all DVD (and, by the way, almost all videocassettes, except that the restrictions weren’t digital), pretty much all subscription audiobook/music/etc. digital resources, Playaway, many (if not most) licensed databases…

Any electronic format, and just about every format besides the printed book, limits use to the owners of the proper devices. But DRM gives producers far more control over the use of materials than other forms of restriction. Companies who produce media players have always tried to make those players obsolete as quickly as possible in order to sell newer models. But DRM gives companies much more control over the obsolescence of the media itself. Witness the Sony ATRAC player, whose recent discontinuation leaves customers without the equipment to play the files they have already purchased. It makes sense for profit-making agencies to engage in this kind of manipulation. But why public libraries?

A public agency which places manipulative restrictions on its use is what Ivan Illich referred to as a “false public utility.” Illich, in Deschooling Society, described the highway as the paradigmatic example:

The highway system does not…become available to someone who merely learns to drive…[T]elephone and postal networks exist to serve those who wish to use them, while the highway system mainly serves as an accessory to the private automobile. The former are true public utilities, whereas the latter is a public service to the owners of cars, trucks, and buses. Public utilities exist for the sake of communication among men; highways…exist for the sake of a product. Auto manufacturers…produce simultaneously both cars and the demand for cars. They also produce the demand for multilane highways, bridges, and oilfields.

The more materials libraries collect in electronic formats, with or without the added restrictions of DRM, the more dubious their status as true public utilities, and the more they resemble a public service to the owners of CD and MP3 players.

(An aside: During a discussion on the collection of various formats in one of my information school classes, I pointed out that library materials in electronic formats are significantly different from books because they require additional equipment to use them, to which the professor replied, “But you need light to read a book.”)

So what should public libraries do? The organizers of the Boston protest have a simple solution: remove all materials with DRM technology from the collection. I agree with this in spirit, but I wonder what the ultimate results would be. If all libraries eliminated DRM-protected materials, would this actually combat the problem, or would it simply mean that even fewer people would have access to the material that is only available in that format?

Perhaps libraries should actively fight aggressive copyright protection of all kinds, including DRM. As DefectiveByDesign argues, the Boston Public Library is legally mandated to “develop, maintain, and preserve comprehensive collections.” DRM precludes maintenance and preservation by libraries because it eliminates ownership of the materials. And unlike books, which can be preserved, DRM-protected materials can only be preserved by preserving the devices used to play them. Libraries could join groups like DefectiveByDesign in arguing that DRM damages libraries’ ability to provide the essential service of archiving and preservation.

Or perhaps libraries should do more to preserve and provide access to the devices needed to play electronic materials. In this sense, my professor’s analogy about books and light is actually helpful. Traditionally, libraries have provided not only books but well-lit reading rooms. This is not only true of books (imagine a research library with microfiche but no microfiche reader). Libraries should remember that they are charged with providing not just access but the means of access. Historically, this has been more common for some formats than others.

The National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped seems like a good model. The library provides each patron not only with talking books but with the player required to play them. Because the cassettes can only be played on the special players, the library can restrict access to people who don’t qualify for the service (a key requirement of copyright law and the reason for DRM), but because the library owns the players, it can include all who do qualify, regardless of their ability to buy the proper equipment. And because the library also owns the cassettes, it has the ability to maintain and preserve them. In fact, this is one important reason why in 2008 the library still uses analog cassettes: they are durable and reparable.

The collection of DRM-protected materials is generally justified in terms of popularity. (This is one of the main points offered by the Boston Public Library in its official response to the protest.) I think the concerns of the protesters, like those of my co-worker, serve as a reminder that there are other ways to measure the value of a library collection.