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RE:PUBLICA. FAST FORWARD.

Alright. Today’s the second day, that I’m at the re:publica. It’s hard to say how well-known this event is, at least outside of this specific subculture. Here, especially if you live in Berlin, there’s a certain awareness about the fact that a couple of nerds (really, it’s more than a couple by now, but compared to similar events on other subjects the number is quite insignificant) meet to discuss, socialise and take part in workshops. The subject, in its vaguest description, is ‘the internets’ and ‘new media’.
But from what I’ve seen so far, the convention has changed drastically. I participated at the re:publica five years ago, and there were about 200 people at space fit for about a hundred, people who didn’t even consider themselves an avantgarde, much less a movement. I remember talking to a couple of guys who, at that point were about to start an organisation that would eventually become the AK Vorrat, an NGO lobbying for the rights of data privacy.

Be that as it may, the re:publica has evolved. More than half of the sessions, the ‘tracks’ as they are called, deal with problems of an emerging, global and networked society. It’s not just about tech – it’s about people. There are talks on how to deal with negative side effects of activism, on the dark corners of social media, on the disillusionment after the Arab Spring. It’s international and it’s focussing on the impact of networked communications on the society we live in. And, of course, on how not only the “nerds” but general society perceives and deals with these changes.

But there’s also another side. re:publica also develops, albeit slowly, into a commercial event. There are a couple of companies who started to realise that an event like this, with loads of people interested in what’s generally known as the next revolution of society, in people they call the ‘digital avantgarde’, they are able to put out a considerable amount of influence. And they’re all here: industrial giants like Daimler, Vodafone, .comdirect and Google, media organisations such as the ARD and Deutsche Welle, Spiegel Online but also Wikimedia, Aktion Mensch and the Federal Agency for Political Education (bpb). It’s an indicator that, while society in general doesn’t exactly show an interest in subjects, they perceive as either technical or secondary, major players in Germany see the need to influence the discourse that’s emerging from the patchwork interest groups they perceive as experts on this field.

Certainly this has been one of the most intellectually inspiring conventions I’ve been at. The fact that there are entities relevant to our society which seem to recognise this as well makes this even more relevant.
It’s going to be interesting to see in which direction the re:publica will develop in the following years.

COPY RIGHT.

Alright, mates: This time it’s a post in German. Actually it’s a slightly altered comment that stood at the end of a lengthy discussion on copyright and related rights. It’s a bit complicated over here in Germany. Copyright is actually not the right to copy but the right to claim the right on first creation. Than there’s rights you can sell, for example the right to make money with what originally your idea. And then theres patents.

Long story short: I’m going to translate this eventually, but at this point, you’ll have to deal with my German rant.

Urheberrecht ist eine feine Sache. Unglücklicherweise lautet eines der Argumente, das am häufigsten für seine Erhaltung vorgebracht wird, “Die Künstler müssen aber doch von was leben! Wenn alle den Film kostenlos herunterladen, dann gibt es halt irgendwann keine Filme mehr!” – oder so ähnlich.

Aber was zahlst man denn, wenn man eine DVD kauft? Das “Urheberrecht auf den Kameramann, der eine Kamera hält”, das “Urheberrecht auf die Leistung des Gaffers, der die Kabel so und nicht anders verlegt”? Eben. Man zahlt die Löhne der entsprechenden Leute. Die Verwertungsfirma aka Produktionsfirma hat ja auch kein Recht auf die Methoden und Arten, mit denen die Leute arbeiten. Sie hat ein Recht auf das Produkt, das dabei entsteht, denn sie hat es ja auch finanziert.

Das Problem ist nicht das Urheberrecht selbst (wobei, ich mir da manchmal gar nicht so sicher bin), sondern die spezifische Umsetzung in den meisten westlichen Staaten (woanders kenn ich mich nicht aus – ich beziehe mich hier ganz grob auf Marktwirtschaften in Europa und Amerika).
Klar können und wollen Urheber nicht immer alles selbst verwerten, sei es wegen mangelnder Expertise, aus Zeitmangel oder schlicht aus Faulheit. Deswegen verkaufen sie die *Verwertungsrechte* (nicht die Urheberrechte) und bekommen dafür je nach Vertrag einen kleinen oder noch kleineren cut des Gewinns, den die Verwertungsgesellschaften mit diesen Rechten erwirtschaften. Logischerweise ist dieser cut recht klein, denn die Verwertung kostet ja auch Geld und immerhin zahlt der Urheber quasi einen (automatisch vom Gewinn abgezogenen) Betrag für die Dienstleistung. So weit so gut.

Was passiert aber nun, wenn ich einen Teil des so vervielfältigten Werkes nehme – sei es der Ausschnitt eines Filmes, die Grundmelodie eines Liedes oder einen Absatz aus einem Buch, vielleicht auch nur einen Grundgedanken wie: “Hey, wie wärs, wenn die beiden sich Liebenden am Ende des Stücks umbringen, die eine, weil sie keinen Ausweg weiss und der andere aus Liebeskummer” – und daraus etwas Neues mache. Neue Geschichte, neuer Gesang und Instrumente, neuer Plot. Warum sollte ich dann etwas dafür an den Urheber zahlen? Sicher, er hatte ne tolle Idee. Aber meine Idee ist erstens noch toller und zweitens nicht seine, sondern meine.

Das Problem, das ich hier kurz versucht habe zu beschreiben, besteht darin, dass das Urheberrecht Ideen schützen soll, aber Ideen immer wieder neu verwertet werden. Weil keine Idee wirklich “neu” ist.

Wenn ich den Film rippe, brenne und verkaufe – dann ist das Produktpiraterie. Wenn ich einen neuen Fim mache, aber ihn in einer Schachtel verkaufe, die aussieht wie die von “Independence Day”, dann ist das Irreführung des Käufers.
Aber wenn ich etwas Neues draus mache – dann ist das Bruch des Urheberrechts. Und das ist absurd. Weil, wer verklagt denn bitte den Musiker für das Gitarrenriff, dass schon Tausende vor ihm verwendet haben? Wer den Autor für die Idiome und Witze – oder den Plot, den er bei Shakespeare geklaut hat?
Wer verklagt den den Produzenten dafür, dass er eine Kamera verwendet, die auf dem grundlegenden Design der Camera Obscura basiert? Niemand, genau. Weil diese Dinge sind dann plötzlich “Allgemeingut”. Warum?

Ganz einfach: Urheberrecht erlischt. Die Frage ist nur wann. Es gibt Staaten, zum Beispiel die Vereinigten, in denen kann eine Firma die Verwertungsrechte eines Autors, der sein Werk vor 120 Jahre veröffentlicht hat, weiter lizensieren solange das Orginalprodukt als “Marke” eingetragen ist. Projekt Gutenberg (ohne Doppel-T) – undenkbar.

Deswegen ist auch die Argumentation der meisten Verwertungsfirmen (und der Kreativen, die sich auf deren Seite stellen) so absurd: erhaltet das Urheberrecht, sonst können die Künstler nicht überleben. Das Problem ist aber nicht, dass die Künstler nicht überleben können, denn die meisten “Downloads”, um das hier mal so abstrakt zu beschreiben, sind nicht das Ergebnis von Geizhälsen sondern von Mangelnder Verfügbarkeit. Anders ist es schwer zu erklären warum Geschäftsmodelle wie Spotify (im Prinzip eine Kulturflatrate auf Musik) oder der iTunes Store so gut funktionieren.
Die Frage lautet also: Warum brauchen wir die Möglichkeit die Nutzung von Gedankengut einzuschränken, auch wenn a) der Produzent längst tot ist b) das neue Produkt nur Teile des alten verwendet?

Und da scheint mir die Logik recht klar: der Autor hat keinen Gewinn davon, wenn beispielsweise Künstler Y sich von Künstler X inspirieren lässt, und dann Geld mit etwas macht, was aber dem Stil von Künstler X überhaupt nicht entspricht. Will Künstler X mit Künstler Y assoziert werden – vermutlich nicht. Verdient er weniger? Nein, Künstler Y hat eine andere Zielgruppe. Die Verwerter haben aber Gewinn davon. Sie könnten nämlich sagen “Du hast etwas gemacht, was eigentlich Künstler X gehört, und weil Künstler X alle Verwertungsrechte uns verkauft hat, gehört das, was du gemacht hast, auch uns. Equals: More cash für die Verwerter.

Es geht bei dieser Diskussion eben um mehr, als nur um die Frage, wem gehört mein Gedanke. Es geht vor allem darum, wer damit Geld verdient.

IRENE.

Soundtrack: Evan P. Donohue – Irene

Alright. We survived Irene. Well, as a matter of fact, surviving isn’t exactly the correct term. It practically blew over. The media (media in general, of course, there’s definitely nothing better than trying to generalise something so abundantly diverse as the mainstream media business) proved their necessity once again by covering the storm excessively, but as far as I am concerned last Sunday was a lost day.
In fact I was as skittish as an old women wondering were her beloved pet might be after not hearing it yelp for more then ten minutes. The motel felt like a giant mausoleum for unimaginative post-menopausal women dragging their duckling daughters behind them just to let them rot in their room after 8pm. Built in the late 70s it was one of those architectural abominations that feature huge windows which will never open and a slowly meandering vent trying to move the damp and air-conditionally frozen air from one end of the room to the the other.
I have never understood the ida of having a pool inside. Water, I my opinion, is something that belongs to the outside world. I love it as long it stays in the confinement of my shower tub and the general area of the bathroom (I’m not overly concerned with the cleanliness of my daily morning routine), however, everything exceeding one litre makes me slightly uncomfortable. This pool was not only several cubic metres larger, it also started to loose the inherent qualities of water: transparency, odorlessness and fluidity. Generations of children, unwashed underwear and the frequent use of chemicals to counter the inevitable results had given the water a texture close to cold vodka.
The atrium enclosing this horribly failed experiment of sanitized fun didn’t make in any better – it may have just been me, but the percentage of chlorine which mixed with the water may have matched that in the surrounding air.

In spite of all this, there was still life. Similar to the volcanic swamps covering this planet in the beginning of time which for all the sulfur and heat didn’t stop the first cellular structures from merrily zipping around this pool virtually seemed to breed mothers and children.
Since I don’t mind children I was happily letting the more voyeuristic side of my character take over (always carefully staying behind a closed glass veranda to avoid contact with the possibly irritating substances in the pool) while reading a seemingly never ending fantasy novel.
While I’m at it: let me tell you that having a long novel with you does not distract you from a rainy day that you’re spending in a impossibly ugly motel, as long as you’re trying to use it as a matter of distraction. It’s Murphy’s Law of Boring Hotel Rooms – the longer the time a person has to spend in a ridiculously confined space the longer the time stretches. Thus a long story becomes an endless story and consequently time stops. Ingenious, isn’t it?

I have to admit this logic might be a bit flawed but then again: logic never has been one of my strong suits.

PLEASE DON’T LOOK.

I thought the jet lag should have vanished by today. It didn’t. Only my proudly earned experience in dealing with less-to-no-sleep environments could attribute to me being  still up and running despite the fact that I still miss about half a day of solid sleep. Which isn’t completely my fault, of course. But apparently my adamant discipline is everything but ubiquitous, so my mum and aunt decided that walking around a sleeping head would certainly not wake my sleeping beauty.

It took us nearly four hours to leave the flat.

Ellis Island, though only seen from afar was quite nice. So was the ride on the amazingly free ferry to Staten Island, which, however proved to be a ride to, guess what, Staten Island, which in turn made us taking the ferry back to Manhattan more or less immediately. Fortunately I had really nice view on my way back. Manhattan bridge is quite long and marvellous, but there were two legs with the same attributes which easily outshone her. Since they were attached to a quite intelligent looking and classically beautiful top (and head) I didn’t mind the detour.

However, MOMA was what really made my day. Don’t get me wrong, me luvs me pair of legs, but even those don’t stand a chance against 10 square metres of water lilies. At first, I tried to rightfully uphold my long lasting principle of not caring about hyped originals. But Monet’s lilies gave the final push to my over-confndent self-conciousness. I’m not good at describing art. The two elder ladies who asked my about my grinning face when I faced a version of Braque’s violin probably are the only thing I could reiterate in a coherent manner. They might have been a bit  surprised about the fact that I suddenly started rambling about Braque’s way of seeing things and the general idea of cubism, but I think they quite enjoyed the talk.
The one thing that really put me off where the visitors. First there were shit-loads of them, which isn’t that problematic in it self, there’s always a way to shuh people from the piece you just want to enjoy for yourself. Still, who in for Christ’s fuckin’ sake shoots a photo of a piece of art instead of just quietly marveling it? At the end I was seriously grumpy and considered setting them on fire for their obvious idiocy.
I might just have been craving a fag though.

After that I was fairly exhausted. But somehow I had to do something. News York has a certain pull to it. Sitting on the ledge of my the window and watching the passers-by is all nice and fine, but I wanted to mingle. So I packed my stuff and set off for a jazz bar I read about.
To be honest: it was a bit underwhelming. The live music wasn’t that bad and considering the free entry I had a really nice evening but: to be listed as a jazz bar I’d expect a little bit more than just some easy listening jazz which is barely audible over the chatter of a room full of wanna-be intellectuals. Still, I enjoyed the food and the waitress, which made up for the presumptuous who fancied himself the owner of the establishment. Rarely have I had the unpleasant occasion to meet such an excellent embodiment of the stereotypical French waiter. With a front all nice and easy and a back revealing more than just a long stick up his ass.

If you wanna experience it for your self: www.julesbistro.com

NEW YORK. NEW YORK.


Well, apparently this is New York. I must say: I quite like it. Currently I’m suffering from a massive jet lag and honestly, I don’t even know how I keep my eyes open. Everything is a dizzy haze and the humming of passing cars mixes with the chatter of the people passing under the fire escape I lodged myself upon.

Went for a small walk to the times square. Too many people for my taste. The radiant aura (auras? aurae?) of the neon signs, dipping the texture of everything around them in shades ranging from deep purple to ice-cold blue. It felt like a huge swirling festival of consumerism. It felt alive, however, like the fast pulse of an animal half asleep.

Walked down back to 8th avenue. As far as I can tell this is rather the slower veins of the city. Reminds me a lot of Edinburgh. Shop after shop nested into four story buildings with a huge front ant not a lot behind. And man, these girls. Honestly, this city doesn’t have enough lamp posts to run against. I digress. The view is positively extravagant and my bourgeois self is pleased with wriggling its toes in the lukewarm summer air while high heels do their click clack on the street below the my suspiciously small bottle of beer assimilates to the general atmosphere.

Apart from that I actually enjoy my lukewarm beer, though I probably should have shared it in a pub instead of sitting here on my own. I’ll try that tomorrow then.

Twitterolution.

OR: WHY WE WON’T CHANGE THE WORLD.

When Martin Luther started the first world-wide (euro-centric view, yes I know) public press-war with the pope, publications really read a lot like tweets from today. Luther himself used a language that was everything but a language fit to discuss problems objectively. He provoked using in his sermons the public language everyone would use but in an official context, which is one of the reasons he was so popular at his time.

Let’s make a leap forward in time. 400 years later, publishing works using a printing press as well your own mother tongue has been institutionalised. There are newspapers, a rich amount of literature in several European languages as well as translations to choose from, and of course, there is a slight amount of censorship in most of the young European states, which haven’t switched to the new political system to come: democracy.

Surprisingly though, democracy developed its own form of censorship: it’s called public opinion. It isn’t something that was invented and put into use by a central government utilising force, it gradually emerged out of a mayhem of publications. The press and with it its role as the “fourth pillar of democracy” had emerged.

Fast forward 150 years. We should have arrived roughly after WW II and shortly before the wild 1968 flower-power eruption. The Watergate-Scandal is still to come and the public press is at it’s all-time high of acceptance: the only way to actually get access to any kind of information goes through the almighty hands of publishers and editors, and the only way to get it voiced is the same. That’s the time publishers like Murdoch’s News Corperation want to go back to.

Why? Because it meant power, an extraordinary amount of power, yes. But I believe there might be more to it: The 1960s and the following ten to twenty years were the time, when publishing was for a short time not completely constricted by public opinion and – even worse – monetary power.
If an editor wants to publish a newspaper today or a publisher has to choose a manuscript to publish, in today’s world he has to follow two laws: will it be accepted and can it be sold. It’s obvious the the latter may depend on the first, but that aside, it still has one outcome: if it is not scandalous enough to be sold anyways it’s public opinion that will decide about the fate of it’s revenue.

This is a hard thing to swallow for most of the quite intelligent middle management in publishing. They consider themselves an intellectual elite of their society, but they are pulled down by the dumb masses which they vowed to surpass.

Why is this important for Twitter? Or Wikileaks? Or me? Because, as sixtus put it quite neatly over there Twitter, Blogs and Wikis, in short: publishing electronically on what is known as the world wide web, will change our society eventually.

The only thing I’m not so sure of, is: will it change for the better. Publishing in general brought out a huge amount of creativity, political change and millions of ideas which could be discussed in an open forum. But it didn’t really change the way man or woman works. We still have the underlying problem of a society that is ruled by few and change is a slow and anguishing process.

Public press didn’t solve the problem of transparency, it just masked it very well. And I highly doubt that, what ever modes of government may follow, it will change our first-hand experience of society in a relevant way.

Further reading and inspiration:

links for 2010-06-10

links for 2010-05-15

links for 2010-01-16

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