The "library economy" is a proposed socio-economic model that expands the traditional library concept to encompass a collectively organized system for sharing a wide range of goods and resources within a community, emphasizing usufruct, shared responsibility, and cooperation over individual ownership and competition.
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Imagine walking out of your local library with a tent, a telephoto lens for your camera,
and the keys to an offroader. Or if camping isn’t your style, what if you could check out
a breadmaker, a fancy teapot, and a few lawn chairs to host some friends for tea time? Or
maybe you’re taking an extended trip to visit some family in a colder region and you could
just borrow a winter jacket and a set of luggage? This is the library economy in action. The library
economy is a collectively organised system of several different commons which catalogues
and provides access to a collection of goods and resources to all members of a society. It derives
its namesake from the libraries we all know and love; venerable institutions that now act in many
places to uphold the principles of inclusivity and accessibility and provide a space for learning and
being for all. However, the library economy is not limited to the expectations and restrictions
of present-day libraries. It is not simply a library with more than just books. It is not
a single building or a straightforward lending system. It is the bridge to an entirely new world
of human flourishing that merely begins with the familiar concept of the library. Since I first
introduced it on the channel in 2022, I’ve been meaning to expand on what the library economy is,
what may and may not be included, and what it might take to bring it to life.
To do so, we must first understand the basics. The library economy is guided by three simple
concepts that form its underlying philosophy: 1. a freedom, usufruct;
2. a responsibility, the irreducible minimum; 3. and an orientation, complementarity.
Usufruct refers to the freedom of individuals and groups in a society to access and use,
but not destroy, common resources to supply their needs. This is tied to the first of the five laws
of library science, conceived in 1931 by Indian librarian S. R. Ranganathan—that books are for
use. In other words, things are meant to be used, not hoarded. So one type of library might be a
furniture exchange network for people who love to update their homes with new looks. Furniture
is for use. Or maybe a park is used as a modular space for picnics, sports events, music festivals,
and art exhibitions; that can also fit into the library economy. Spaces are for use. These
sorts of libraries can reduce both demand and waste by creating a sense of abundance without
creating excess. And it goes without saying that such libraries would prioritise quality,
durability, and ease of maintenance and repair. The irreducible minimum is the responsibility of
a society to guarantee provision of the means necessary to sustain life, the level of living
that no one should ever fall below, regardless of the size of their individual contribution to the
community. This includes access to adequate food, water, shelter, clothing, education,
and healthcare. Our actualisation relies upon this foundation. Everybody has to eat
before anybody can get seconds, as the principle goes. We can also tie this to the second and third
laws of library science—that every person has their book and every book has its reader. Applied
more broadly, this means that we should strive to develop a broad collection of stuff to serve the
variety of needs and wants, no matter how niche, understanding that those sorts of accommodations
are generative of an abundant life. Complementarity is a way of seeing
non-hierarchical differences within a society as something generative, where each person
contributes a small part to an outcome greater than the sum of its parts. Complementarity is
a recognition that no one person or group has a right to our collective force and each person is
free to contribute in their own way to the whole. This social orientation turns our focus away
from capital and competition toward humanity and cooperation. Regardless of a person’s interests,
skills, or abilities, we must all be free to labour and leisure; to find ways to
solve our conflicts and meet our shared needs; and to co-create a thriving social ecology.
The library economy is a network of commons, so we should adapt the key principles for organising
successful commons that American economist Elenor Ostrom devised in her book Governing the Commons
(1990). The commons, simply defined, is the land or resources belonging to or affecting the whole
of a community. They’re based on a common-pool resource, or CPR, which is a natural or man-made
resource system that benefits a group of people, but which provides diminished benefits to everyone
if each person pursues their own self-interest. We’re led to believe that nearly every person on
Earth is a vicious, selfish competitor out to get one over everyone else, but contrary to the famous
“tragedy of the commons” thought experiment, millenia of real human existence and more recent
studies of ongoing commons can thoroughly dismiss such a cynical fairytale for what it truly is: a
bamboozling justification by the rich and powerful for their continuous theft and exploitation
of what should be our common wealth. People who share a CPR are mutually interdependent and
stand to benefit from organising to coordinate their activity, obtain higher shared benefits,
and reduce shared harm. Current commons have persevered in spite of the State and the global
capitalist status quo because they’ve figured out how to organise themselves in ways that work
for them in the long term. We can do the same. Across continents where commons have succeeded*,
Ostrom observed that they shared seven, and in some cases eight, key principles:
1. clear boundaries for both system and users; 2. social-ecological compatibility;
3. collective organisation; 4. a monitoring system;
5. a graduated sanctions system; 6. conflict resolution mechanisms;
7. the freedom to organise; 8. and, where applicable, nested
federation across commons in a region or beyond. In the context of the kind of world I’d like to
help build, the organisation of the library economy will probably be undertaken by multiple
overlapping freely-organised groups formed of varying interests who will have to come
together in spaces of encounter to resolve their conflicts and develop norms surrounding
the uses of the CPRs in question. A space of encounter, by the way,
is simply anywhere that respects the principle of free association, so that equal people of diverse
interests are able to connect, coordinate, negotiate, and compromise with others of both
common and conflicting concern. Community centres, cafes, parks, warehouses, streets, and, yes,
even libraries, can all become spaces of encounter under the right conditions.
Not everything falls under the purview of the library economy. Library economies will
need some clearly defined boundaries, so that everyone involved knows who and what is part of
each specific CPR. This doesn’t mean we bring country club Karen energy though. Even if some
libraries of things might organise themselves through something akin to “membership” for ease
of coordination, the freedom of usufruct must not be constrained.* People visiting an area
should be able to access their libraries once they’re not jeopardising the
sustainability of the system as a whole. Where monitoring the CPR is concerned,
I’m not talking about having snitches walking around with a notepad. Instead,
this is where I think the concept of consultative associations provides benefit,
as they are simply groups organised to gather and disseminate information so that interested and
affected individuals and groups can easily access everything they need to make informed decisions.
So a consultative association might organise around gathering feedback on accessibility or
documenting energy use on a particular block or measuring the limits of the ecology or tracking
the demand for certain tools compared to others. And as for sanctions, naturally, I think
people who return their books late should be hanged, drawn, and quartered. But seriously,
I think we will end up developing a variety of disincentives for harmful behaviour that don’t
immediately default to punitive measures. Our responses need to be proportional to
the level of harm—so there probably wouldn’t be any disembowelment—as disproportionate reactions
can lead to rather unproductive, needlessly escalating cycles of conflict. Ostrom herself
recognised that simply banning people who abused the system didn’t work very well. What does work
is clear communication of expectations and an understanding of the social and material
consequences that will inevitably arise if a person continues to act in a harmful manner.
Some people develop tendencies toward inconsiderate behaviour as children due
their environments, so that may take time, or even generations, to work through. Some mental
health issues may also contribute to a person’s difficulty with putting themselves in another’s
shoes. Obviously no system or solution will universally and eternally solve every harm,
and of course we may fall short of the “conflict resolution ideal,” but I think
that empathetically addressing the potential motivations behind harmful behaviour on a
case-by-case basis can help to resolve a lot of the issues that may arise in the day-to-day
organisation of the library economy. Also keep in mind that our current socioeconomic
system incentivises the exploitation of others for one’s personal gain. The work required to
build library economies and undo that kind of conditioning is no less than revolutionary.
A few people have asked me for examples of what sorts of things can be included in the
library economy. This isn’t an exhaustive list of possibilities, but I can imagine raw resources,
