Google's Total Library: Putting The World's Books On The Web
Part 2: Creating a Digital Utopia
Google doesn't seem bothered by legal challenges either. The company invokes the "fair use" doctrine of American copyright law and is unperturbed over the lawsuit the Association of American Publishers (AAP) and a number of large publishing houses have sought to launch. The plaintiffs claim that Google is infringing copyrights by not obtaining permission to scan the enormous library holdings, including many books that may still be copyright-protected.
Google co-founders Sergey Brin (l) and Larry Page want to index the world's information.
However, the search engine only shows excerpts and a link to buy the book -- in effect, free advertising for the publishing houses. In any case, the suit only applies to American libraries -- in Oxford and Munich, Google is only digitizing books that are out of copyright.
If it comes to a settlement, Google could pay the publishing houses more than they would be awarded if they won their case in court, thereby creating a precedent that could deter competitors without Google's deep pockets. Given its current market value of well over $130 billion, even a generous compensation package would be practically petty cash for the California-based company.
This is not the first time Google has received negative press. The once-idealistic startup turned into a powerful corporation long ago. And power quickly arouses suspicion among Internet users, as the example of Microsoft shows. Google is everything but shy when marketing interests are at stake. The company's lawyers have already contacted the editors of the definitive German dictionary, the Duden, in an effort to change the entry for "googeln," the German verb meaning "to google." In response, say sources at the publishers, Duden made it clear to Google that changing the entry wasn't exactly on the agenda.
A powerful ally
The fundamental question remains: Isn't it a bit risky to entrust the universal wisdom stored in libraries to a private company? Can a company that has a virtual monopoly in the search engine market and guards the details of its search algorithms the way Coca-Cola protects its recipe be expected to democratize knowledge?
For the time being, at least, Google is indispensable as a powerful ally in creating a great utopia: the digital university library of the future, making humanity's entire body of knowledge accessible to everyone.
This library would represent the culmination of a democratization of knowledge that began with the invention of printing. The little Google search window would be the gateway to the content of the 32 million books, 750 million articles, 25 million songs, 500 million images, 500,000 films, 3 million television programs and 100 billion public Web pages that Wired writer Kevin Kelly estimates humanity has published since the days of Sumerian clay tablets. To store all of this gigantic volume of data -- estimated at 50 petabytes -- would still require a building the size of a small town's library, Kelly wrote in a 2006 article for the New York Times. But in the future, all of that knowledge will be only a mouse click away -- and will fit on a single iPod.
The practical aspect of the system would be that millions of Internet users could achieve what a handful of librarians would never manage -- the networking of book information through links and tags on the Internet. This digital library would be a giant collection of relationships, in which anyone could communicate with anyone else, and in which books could be disassembled into their components, linked to one another, reassembled, marked, analyzed, referenced and criticized.
But the system could also turn into an indiscriminate jumble of information. Instead of leading us into enlightenment, the random barrage of data could end in digital decadence, or what Friedrich Nietzsche called the "anarchy of atoms." In "The Case of Wagner," Nietzsche criticized the "literary decadence" of his day: "The word becomes sovereign and leaps out of the sentence, the sentence reaches out and obscures the meaning of the page, and the page gains life at the expense of the whole." The whole, Nietzsche complained, is no longer a whole. His words sound like a foreshadowing of hypertext on the Internet.
And what happens to books when the last text has been scanned, the last word stored? Will the great libraries become disembodied, empty cathedrals of knowledge where computers hum away and the pale light of monitors illuminates the faces of readers?
Munich librarian Ceynowa says that although he would never want to read Immanuel Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason" on a computer screen, today's young people are different: "If they can't find it on the Internet, they think it doesn't exist."
But Sarah Thomas thinks it's too soon to write off the book yet. "The book is a long-lived technology," she says, pointing to the massive walls of Oxford's old library. "For centuries people have gathered here to do research and exchange opinions. In the future the library will continue to be a place where a community meets -- just more open than it was before."
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
- Part 1: Putting The World's Books On The Web
- Part 2: Creating a Digital Utopia
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