In order to understand the potential problems with providing original real estate records to a communally-owned database, as RPR is suggesting, it’s useful to look at an analogous situation that exists in a similar community: the library world. On July 6, 1967, the Online Computer Library Center (OCLC) was founded as a cooperative effort among libraries to allow standardization and sharing of bibliographic records among libraries who signed up for this service. The records were to remain the property of the library that created them, but would be free to use for any member library, with only a small cost-recovery fee charged for various services. OCLC continued to grow, until today it serves 72,000 libraries all around the world, who participate by creating bibliographic records and sharing them. OCLC is also available for library users to search, allowing them to locate hard-to-find items through its online search options. So, libraries created bibliographic records for books and journals and CDs and DVDs, and users could find information on them through OCLC. And everything was fine, for a while. Then, in 2008 OCLC announced its proposed “Policy for Use and Transfer of WorldCat Records,” which required that all records before and since that appear in OCLC would bear a line granting copyright (license) over the record to OCLC and prohibiting the record’s use in any other service that was similar to OCLC. Essentially, OCLC simply took over the license for those records. OCLC did not make those records, so how could they do this? The answer lies in the way that copyright law is structured. The records stored in OCLC were comprised of facts. Facts cannot be copyrighted. I can’t copyright the fact that a house is located at a certain address or that it is on the market for a specific amount; I can’t copyright that grass is green and the sky is blue. I can, however, copyright the way that I describe the house, the look and feel of my real estate descriptions, and the formatting I use in creating a listing for the house. It’s the last issue, that of formatting and metadata, that created the situation with OCLC. OCLC didn’t claim ownership over the information in its database; it couldn’t. Copyright doesn’t allow for ownership of facts. Instead, OCLC claimed ownership over the format and metadata (descriptions of the books) – the look and feel of the interface – as its justification for claiming the right to license the records. Because the information had to be entered in a format that OCLC set up when the initial database was first put into place, OCLC owned the format. The records in that format were thus the property of OCLC because the format was OCLC’s. Restrictions were outlined that restricted the rights of libraries to use the records, even for records they had created themselves and that logic would dictate those libraries “owned.” Despite public outcry, the provision was implemented in 2009. But OCLC was a consortium of libraries working together, right? So how could they do something that was so clearly at odds with what the majority of the membership wanted? The answer, sadly, is that OCLC’s leadership seems more interested in protecting its own financial interests than in being responsive to its membership. Once OCLC became the standard that most libraries used, it began to derive its own profit-driven agenda; since it essentially had a monopoly on the records that had already been created, it no longer needed to serve the libraries that had created it and built its success. If any of this sounds familiar, it should. Similar situations are arising throughout the intellectual property world. If RPR successfully implements its proposed database, it can make a claim that the records contained belong to it, no matter who originally created the record, because RPR would own the format and metadata. This would allow for a widespread land grab that could end up costing members and others simply to get their own listings back. Don’t think this could ever happen? It already has. Just ask a librarian.