University sticking it to the man
The fee covers any use of copyrighted material that goes beyond that permitted by the Copyright Act 1997. The Act allows universities to copy up to three percent of any copyrighted work. Critic understands that the licensing agreement permits up to 10 percent or one chapter of a work to be copied, and also allows universities to charge for course packs. The current licensing fee is $20 per student per year, and has been in place since 2007. CLNZ wants to raise it to $26, with yearly adjustments for inflation.
In a totes balanced article on Sunday 10 March, the Otago Daily Times quoted extensively from CLNZ chief executive Paula Browning. Ms Browning accused universities of taking advantage of the system, charging students up to $85 per course reader – as much as $680 a year – while passing on only a minimal amount to authors and publishers. Critic smiled beatifically at Ms Browning’s blatant grasp for students’ sympathies, and wondered whether universities would take the increased licensing fee out of their own bottom line or pass it on to students. A real puzzler, that one.
An Otago lecturer with experience compiling course readers told Critic that “a lot of time, effort, and knowledge” goes into the process. She doubted that the University turns a profit from the readers: “I would never have thought of it as a profiteering thing. Our department certainly doesn’t profit from them.” Asked about the cost to students, Critic’s source said that compared to the price of textbooks, “a well-compiled course reader is extremely good value for money.”
CLNZ claims it filed the case with the Tribunal after a year of fruitless negotiations, during which the universities refused to budge on the $20 figure. However, UNZ apparently denies that this was the case, claiming that CLNZ had filed the case without consultation. This juvenile little game of “he said, she said” left Critic feeling smugly superior, something we hadn’t felt since last year’s Student Press Awards.
Critic contacted Student Services to get the lowdown on the pending tribunal case. However, student services palmed Critic off to some spin doctor in the University’s marketing and communications department. Stung slightly by this rejection, Critic chased down its new lead only to be directed, once again, to a higher-up, this time presumably some kind of spin neurosurgeon or spin hospital administrator. By this point Critic was wistfully reminiscing about childhood birthday games of Treasure Hunt, which, though demeaning, at least held the tantalising promise of chocolate. With a growing sense of pessimism, Critic contacted the spin neurosurgeon and was dealt a crushing blow, the one-line reply redirecting Critic to some hack spin chiropractor from Universities New Zealand. Critic quickly calculated the odds that the chiropractor would refer it to some weed-smoking Wellington spin homeopath, and gave up.
Enjoy your expensive course readers I guess.