In the first part of this blog spot, What
to Share, and How, I suggested that if collaborative Web sites were
designed to accommodate creative works,
rather than mere trees, then it would better accommodate family history, and it
would encourage more sharing by ensuring accreditation and integrity. I now
want to suggest how this might work in practice. I also want to conclude with a
potential sting-in-the-tail for those, like me, who believe that simple trees
cannot be copyrighted.
So what do I mean by a creative
work here? Many of us have had to write up some form of narrative, whether
for a client or for publication in an article, book, or blog. Such work is no
different from an original work of research or fiction in that it is
automatically copyright by virtue of the Berne
Convention. Hence, this would be a prime component of the improved sharing.
STEMMA could take this further since it has the ability to
package an integrated set of data that includes both narrative and
transcriptions, and the entities that they reference such as people, places,
events, and groups. The whole bundle could be indexed by the people (which
includes their lineage), or a timeline, or their locality.
All of these components are cross-linked, thus making it an integrated bundle. The lineage section
connects the people in the normal way, according to their biological lineage,
but there may be multiple, disjoint trees. In other words, the bundle may
represent distinct sets of people.
If such a bundle were uploaded to a collaborative site then
none of it need be undone. Instead, each of the lineage sections would be
anchored to a corresponding person entity in a lineage-based framework. The
overall framework would be constructed based on the lineage of all the uploaded
contributions, thus making it dynamic.
In this ideal world, therefore, there would be no need to
edit or copy other people’s contributions. Multiple contributions could be
associated with a single person entity (and their family) in the overarching
framework. The accreditation and integrity of individual works would be
preserved, and citations (or attribution) used when necessary. This is a
collaborative model far-removed from what we have now, and I’ve glossed over
issues of voting up/down contributions that may disagree, but let me know if
you like the concept.
I want to conclude this post, though, with something a
little unexpected. In the earlier piece of this two-part blog, I explained that
mere collections of facts available in the public domain cannot be copyrighted.
This is true, but does that description include the family trees that we
currently see online? Dick Eastman recently blogged on this subject at Genealogical
Privacy, and he explains the “legal and practical” fallacy of many
researcher’s views that they own the data they’ve collected, and that
publishing it allows others to freely steal it. The premise for this is that
the data is “freely available to everyone in the public domain”. Although he
does add the caveat that this is the case in the US, and so recognises that
someone in the UK, say, may have had to pay for the information they’re
publishing, there are a couple of other issues. Not all data may have been in
the public domain, although this is usually associated more with data related
to recent generations. Also, as we all know, the published details may not be
clearly visible in the public-domain data; meaning that some effort may have
gone into determining someone’s true lineage.
The reason I am picking on these points, and in doing so
questioning my earlier statements, is that legal precedents may exist in
similar, but non-genealogical contexts. One that I am aware of is a case of
copyright that was tried in England in 1868, and due to its unusual nature is
still referenced in many academic books on copyright law. The reason I am aware
of this is that one of my ancestors was on the receiving end, and the judgement
went against him, breaking him in the process.
The case is that of Morris v. Ashbee. William Ashbee, in
order to create a new trade directory of London, took an existing trade
directory, compiled by John Morris, and gave the alphabetical list of names to
his canvassers to check. Although Ashbee didn’t pass-off the earlier directory
as his own, the judgement went against him because Morris had incurred the
labour and expense of getting the information and of making the compilation.
Ashbee had therefore benefitted from Morris’s work and that was considered an infringement
of copyright. Ashbee later went bankrupt and died not long after.
Although this case was never envisaged in the context of
genealogy, the general concept of benefitting from someone else’s labour and
expense being an infringement of copyright must have potential implications for
people who advance their genealogy by “stealing” data from others — even though
it may have been publicly available.
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