Copyright for a digital age

A rethinking of intellectual property law is long overdue.

We live in a digital age and therefore we should have a fully functioning knowledge-based economy. Why then do we remain saddled with a copyright framework more suited to the 19th century than the 21st?

At the British Library we estimate that by 2020 75 per cent of all books and journals will be published in digital form.  Add to that the exponential growth of the internet and the explosion of mobile technology, and we see that the world is a dramatically different place to the 1980s (the era of the Betamax and personal cassette recorder) when the last major change to copyright legislation took place. 

If through modernising UK copyright law, barriers preventing lawful digital access to a wide range of information can be lowered, UK researchers will have a new world of resources opened up to them, and the speed of discoveries and innovation will be accelerated. For example Japanese and American researchers – industrial or academic – can "mine" information lawfully from the internet and scientific journals there, but in spite of the explosion in “big data” in the UK we cannot. 

Previous governments over the past decade failed to cover themselves in glory when it came to updating UK copyright law. We had four reviews in six years and very little progress since. It is in this context that the efforts of the current government should be applauded. Last year’s Hargreaves review of intellectual property and growth, commissioned by the prime minister, has provided a roadmap for updating the UK’s outdated copyright laws.  As a package, it aims to make the most of new opportunities provided by technological advancements.

The Library recognises that many groups have a stake in this debate: from authors and publishers to the creative industries, higher education and the general taxpaying public.  Copyright reform is clearly an issue with many dimensions and many competing views. Yet it must reflect the realities of the day and we believe the benefits of reform would serve the widest interests of society and enable growth.

The British Library is looking at ways not only to increase access to our 20th-century collections, but also increase access in a way that meets the demands of 21st-century users.  Digitisation therefore plays a massive part in the Library’s current thinking.

However while the National Library of Norway is making all 20th-century Norwegian publications available online, and in France similar moves are afoot, due to UK copyright law this sort of ambition is impossible for the UK research sector in 2012. The need to get permission item by item (taking on average 4 hours per book) means that it would take a digitisation project of 500,000 items over a thousand years of rights clearance work. Even at the end of this we estimate over 40 per cent of the works would be “orphan”, that is to say the rightsholder would not have been identified or located.

Parliament is currently considering the Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Bill, which goes some way towards implementing Professor Hargreaves’s recommendations. This includes licensing of orphan works and also introduces Extended Collective Licensing – a way of streamlining rights clearance en masse and a decades old feature of Scandinavian copyright regimes. Both these things are also currently being consulted on by the US Copyright Office. 

The Library has been supporting the legislation with one minor proviso: that in the case of orphan works, we can provide payment to rightsholders if and when they appear, rather than handing money over in advance to a governmental fund that will only rarely be used. 

All this adds up to very good news. It proposes a way forward that clears the path for mass digitisation while providing safeguards and guaranteeing remuneration for copyright holders. 

The government has also promised a future announcement on updating copyright limitations and exceptions – which in the UK are far behind those of other developed nations.  For example, copying sound recordings and film for personal research or preservation reasons is currently not permitted.  Additionally, in the age of “Big Data”, allowing text mining of information you have bought or have legal access to would be hugely beneficial to the research and technology sectors, improving Britain’s international competitiveness greatly.

The Library is hopeful for progress but past experience of delays and derailments means our optimism remains cautious.  By keeping this round of copyright reform alive – and with the level of ambition imagined in Hargreaves – the government could truly unleash the potential of discovery, innovation and growth for everyone.

Benjamin White is head of intellectual property at the British Library.

A young woman reading an e-book (Photograph: Getty Images)
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Why does food taste better when we Instagram it?

Delay leads to increased pleasure when you set up a perfect shot of your dinner.

Been on holiday? Take any snaps? Of course you did – but if you’re anything like me, your friends and family didn’t make it into many of them. Frankly, I can only hope that Mr Whippy and I will still be mates in sixty years, because I’m going to have an awful lot of pictures of him to look back on.

Once a decidedly niche pursuit, photographing food is now almost as popular as eating it, and if you thought that the habit was annoying at home, it is even worse when it intrudes on the sacred peace of a holiday. Buy an ice cream and you’ll find yourself alone with a cone as your companion rushes across a four-lane highway to capture his or hers against the azure sea. Reach for a chip before the bowl has been immortalised on social media and get your hand smacked for your trouble.

It’s a trend that sucks the joy out of every meal – unless, that is, you’re the one behind the camera. A new study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that taking pictures of food enhances our pleasure in it. Diners at the food court of a farmers’ market in Philadelphia were asked either to photograph their meal or to eat “as you normally would”, then were questioned about how they found it. Those in the photography group reported that not only did they enjoy their meal more, but they were “significantly more immersed in the experience” of eating it.

This backs up evidence from previous studies, including one from this year in the Journal of Consumer Marketing, which found that participants who had been asked to photograph a red velvet cake – that bleeding behemoth of American overindulgence – later rated it as significantly tastier than those who had not.

Interestingly, taking a picture of a fruit salad had no effect on its perceived charms, but “when descriptive social norms regarding healthy eating [were] made salient”, photographing these healthier foods did lead to greater enjoyment. In other words, if you see lots of glossy, beautifully lit pictures of chia seed pudding on social media, you are more likely to believe that it’s edible, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
This may seem puzzling. After all, surely anything tastes better fresh from the kitchen rather than a protracted glamour shoot – runny yolks carefully split to capture that golden ooze, strips of bacon arranged just so atop plump hemispheres of avocado, pillowy burger buns posed to give a glimpse of meat beneath. It is hardly surprising that 95 million posts on Instagram, the photo-sharing site, proudly bear the hashtag #foodporn.

However, it is this delay that is apparently responsible for the increase in pleasure: the act of rearranging that parsley garnish, or moving the plate closer to the light, increases our anticipation of what we are about to eat, forcing us to consider how delicious it looks even as we forbid ourselves to take a bite until the perfect shot is in the bag. You could no doubt achieve the same heightened sense of satisfaction by saying grace before tucking in, but you would lose the gratification that comes from imagining other people ogling your grilled Ibizan sardines as they tuck in to an egg mayonnaise at their desk.

Bear in mind, though, that the food that is most successful on Instagram often has a freakish quality – lurid, rainbow-coloured bagel-croissant hybrids that look like something out of Frankenstein’s bakery are particularly popular at the moment – which may lead to some unwise menu choices in pursuit of online acclaim.

On the plus side, if a diet of giant burgers and salted-caramel lattes leaves you feeling queasy, take heart: if there is one thing that social media likes more than #avotoast, it is embarrassing oversharing. After a week of sickening ice-cream shots, a sickbed selfie is guaranteed to cheer up the rest of us. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser