Of Lawnmowers and Copylefting

This article is going to be printed at the Internet Review of Books. 

Spring has finally come, and with it all of the aggravations and annoyances that are part and parcel of that horrid season. As one typing from the perspective of an allergy sufferer, I can tell you that Eliot had it wrong by about thirty days - May is the cruelest month, breeding green pollen from angry buds. 

Nevertheless, I'd like to take the opportunity to tell a story. As my students are reading "The Once and Future King" right now, I'll even go one step further and suggest that this has elements of parable, and satire (and if one of my students is actually ever reading this, you'd better know what those two words mean). It begins as you look out and see the grass rising like a tide up your outside walls.

You decide that you want to go out and purchase for yourself a brand new lawnmower. Not for you is the dull drudgery of the push-along lawnmower, nor do you particularly fancy another rider in the ubiquitous green, red or orange. You are at a point in your life where you require the very best lawncare appliance that money can buy. Arriving at the gardening center, you inform the overjoyed assistants of your new resolutions. They show you an immaculate creation, the lawn mower that the archangels themselves might ride as they mow the lawns of the heavens. A chrome and polished exterior that would look more at home in the pages of the "lifestyles of the appallingly rich" section of...well, the whole magazine would probably bear that title, frankly. This is no mere lawnmower. This is the grass exterminator, the template from which all other mowers are seen, as through a glass darkly. Enthralled, hypnotized even, you hand over "your money" (I will comment on my punctuation later) and cart your lawn starship home.

Using it, you are aware of the jealous, envious, and covetous eyes upon you and your new purchase. You ride slightly higher in the plush seat, setting your iced coffee into the cupholder (one of ten, conveniently placed!) and think, "I have indeed made it to the promised land."

Later on that week, your neighbour and best of friends, Cory (I use this name as homage) asks if he might borrow your conveyance. He wishes, if even for a moment, to experience the good life. As he is your nearest and dearest friend you agree. Smiling like a child being given not only candy, but the virtual golden ticket to the factory, Cory begins to ascend to the seat; a modern day Hilary scaling that mountain of luxury.

He is stopped, however. From seemingly nowhere, a van that is as green as the trees it passes tears down the road, and up the lawn towards you both, tearing up large swathes of grass in the process. Men climb out of the van, wearing green windbreakers, blazoned with the initials "LIAA" in large capital letters. One of them, marked as the leader by his speaking while the others remained silent, removes mirrored sunglasses and announces the party to be representatives of the "Lawnmower Industry of American Agriculture." 

"What madness, this?" he shouts, upon seeing Cory mere inches away from positioning himself upon that mountain of comfort and opulence. "Do you not know that one, and only one, may sit upon that seat, from now until the end of days? We, the beneficent lawnmower industry have licensed this vehicle unto you, and you alone."

Taken aback not only by the sudden appearance of the before unknown group, but the strangeness of their speech, you respond calmly assured of some mistake, and respond in kind for reasons known only to yourself. "Nay, for surely I paid for this with mine own money, that I earned toiling day after day. I am entitled to do as I see fit with it. I am sorry you were misinformed."

The LIAA clad gentleman smiles avuncularly, in a patronizing manner that is able to simultaneously tell you that you are the largest fool ever to grace this earth, and that he bears a secret intelligence far superior to your own. "No, sir, you see, that is where you are mistaken. You merely have a license to possess that machine. It is a common enough mistake. You do not own this machine, no no no. You just have our permission to use it."

"Ah! Now I see the problem. You think this was leased, or rented. No, I signed not an agreement of that nature, but rather a bill of sale. This is mine as surely as the seed that created the lawn below us, or the hose I water it with. If my friend wishes to ride it, that is my own concern."

His grandfatherly visage cracking under such terror as irrefutable logic, the man says annoyedly, "Well well! How are we to ever sell lawnmowers again if you are lending them? Soon you shall be fruitful, and loan your fine machine to any and all who ask of it!"

Suddenly wondering exactly when it was that your local pharmacy ran out of antipsychotic medication, you look askance at the gentleman. "Surely you cannot be serious. If Cory likes this tractor, he will buy one of his own. Then, through my lending, you will have made a sale. How could you argue with such trade?"

The green clothed man looked as though he would momentarily dissolve into apoplexy. "Do you not know that this," he points menacingly at Cory, as if his finger alone were capable of delivering the death blow he desired, "abomination is an ENGINEER? The lowest of the low. My God, man, he will look at your mower, hear the purr of its engine, feel the slickness of its movement and he will make his own. He will copy it, steal it, indeed, make it belong to him!"

Upset at hearing your comrade maligned so, and being done with the conversation as it stood, you said "Could not anyone with enough time do so? This grows ridiculous, and you are no longer welcome here to continue."

At this, the LIAA man hears a chirp from his mobile which hangs upon his belt like a weapon. He answers it, listening, a smile of such pure and utter malevolence it drips like infernal syrup spreading across his lips. "Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all. Now, feel free to share your mower as much and as far as you please with the blessing of the LIAA."

All concerned departed to their respective locations. You on foot, Cory upon the borrowed machine, and the LIAA men in their van. The next day, you are awakened by a resounding explosion. A bedraggled Cory limps from the remains of what was his garage. 

"Good Gods above!" he cries. "You'll never believe it. The damnedest thing just happened. Every lawncare appliance in my garage just exploded! Even the rake!"

"Your mower is fine, though."

Here, if this were a parable from "The Once and Future King", Merlyn would stop and act as explicator for the parable that was told. I'll don my wizard's hat for a moment (don't doubt that I have one!) and do some illuminating. The concept of licensing for a product that you yourself own is a a new reality, but not neccessarily a new concept. DRM, or Digital Rights Management, is the computer form of the idea of protection of the ever elusive "intellectual property." 

Today, there are stark dividing lines between warriors on either side of the divide, and I have to confess there are some members of the hard and fast intellectual property advocate crowd who are marking me down on blacklists as you read these words, ready to come at me brandishing copies of relevant litigation and the dreaded (damned, even!) "Digital Millenium Copyright Act." As writers in the age of technology we are not marketing our words. We're marketing ourselves as writers of these words. 

Frankly (relevant people, do not try to slay me for this, I'm making a point) I don't care if you copy this, click an ad, or call a friend over to read it. I don't care if you send this to every friend you've ever had, or would like to have (Don't spam though; cats are lovely but...God help me if I see another). The only thing I really care about is that you say that I wrote it, and that you continue to keep this version, and all others that are created from it, absolutely free to distribute. Sounds like a really cool idea, doesn't it? Here, go read this link, then come back; I'll wait.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copyleft

People really can do it, and make money doing it! I'll talk about that if the powers that be let me come back another time.

You're pretty far in this article now, which means you've spent a few minutes just listening to me. And there's a chance by the time that this gets on the internet, that I've never met you before. That, to me, is awesome. I won't get "high and mighty" and suggest some sort of intrinsic integrity as an artist here. I just think it's neat that someone wants to hear from me, and it makes me feel good.

Now what in all creation does this have to do with lawnmowers, you ask yourself. Here it is. You own a book. You're reading this (I presume) on the Internet Review of Books site, so I'm guessing you own a few of them. You've probably copied lines or passages of a few of them into your little moleskine notebooks, as I have. You've probably lent them to friends. And you've probably done the same with vinyl albums, CDs, Movies, etc. How, pray tell, does that change when you put the exact same media on a computer? Why? I still own the book. I still own the CD (in conceptual form). Who in this country would tell me I can't do whatever I want with my own property?

I've stopped feeling like Merlyn, and my hat is starting to become more like a stereotypical cowboy hat. I've become an extra in a Western, demanding the rights to my own property in the frontier. I'd best let you make your own decisions while I mosey on off into the sunset.

A few footnotes that I believe you may find relevant.

- In case it wasn't clear from the parable above, lawnmowers are media files (music, movies, even books) and the LIAA is...well...I leave you to your own devices there.

- The money that you're spending isn't even your own. It is the property of the government, and it's only really worth something because "they promise" it is.

- The name Cory is in reference to author Cory Doctorow who would and has said what I just did, only much better. His website is http://craphound.com

- I do credit Apple with the removal of DRM, but the industry is vicious and will find another way around this freedom to do what we want with our property.

- I have heard of programs that do exactly what my fictional lawnmower did (destroy other songs/movies/media files on your computer).

- I know nothing practical of lawncare