Opinion
Kansan
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Jodie Chester, Editor
Gerry Doyle, Managing editor
Ryan Koerner, Managing editor
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4A
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Thursday, November 5, 1998
Editorials
University should limit broad-base restrictions on intellectual property
The University's proposed revisions to the Board of Regents' intellectual property policy are supposedly aimed at fostering the creation and dissemination of knowledge among faculty and students. However, in reality, they may stifle creativity and production.
This week, the University will submit a final draft of the proposal, which will be considered at a Nov. 19 Board meeting. The revised policy will determine with whom ownership of works created by University employees and students lies.
Proposed revisions to the existing policy encourage faculty and students to uninhibitedly pursue academic, scholarly and artistic creations, but the proposed changes do not remove any significant restrictions limiting creators' rights of ownership. The proposal only more clearly spells out the rules governing intellectual property by eliminating some of the vagueness plaguing the current policy.
KU's proposal will be considered at the Nov.19 Board of Regents meeting.
Unless they are conducting paid research, students retain ownership of their academic creations, but the University still reserves the right to modify or retain the students' work. The proposal clarifies that self-initiated mediated courseware — software for classes — manuscripts for academic journals, and scholarly and artistic works such as textbooks, scholarly monographs and trade publication=
and their revenues belong to the creat. But there are strings attached.
or a self-initiated mediated course is taught at another institution, for instance, the creator must reimburse the University for the use of its resources from the pay earned for offering the course. But most problematically, any work, such as those mentioned above, automatically belongs to the University if the creator made substantial use of University resources. Substantial use is defined as situations in which the creator receives more than normal support, time or resources specifically for the project. This poses some problems.
First, it is almost impossible to objectively judge what is more than normal support. This aspect of the policy seems like a direct call for confusion, misinterpretation and abuse. Second, almost all works by faculty and students are, to some extent, created through the use of University resources. Conveniently, this clause seemingly provides the University with broad control over a wide range of intellectual property and allows the scope of University ownership rights
to encompass almost all creations.
In addition, the University is explicitly granted ownership of institution-directed mediated courseware and copyrightable software exceeding a $10,000 market value. Although the software's creator is entitled to at least 25 percent of revenues, this concession also is burdened with a catch. In any case in which the creator receives a share of revenues, he or she must forfeit the revenues until the University recoups all costs associated with the creator's use of University equipment and materials. These costs may be difficult to accurately determine.
Perhaps the Board should consider granting the University a share of the revenues instead of outright ownership in some cases. This seems more reasonable and fair than the current policy. Ownership should, for the most part, lie with the creator, even if the University is legitimately entitled to a share of the profits. A policy such as this, although it may rain on the University's parade, would inevitably support more creative academic initiative—the original goal of the policy revision.
Fortunately, the University will be able to draft a more specific version of the Board's final policy and tailor it to the University's academic environment. The University should use this opportunity to limit the broad base of restrictions upon faculty and students in the current proposal.
Nadia Mustafa for the editorial board
Feedback
University doesn't control health care
I write in response to Andrew Gawron's column concerning GRA/GTA health insurance, in which he chastises the University for having "prioritized semantics above fairness." Gawron should be aware that the University had no control over the rules governing eligibility for health insurance.
The Kansas State Health Commission mandated terms for eligibility. Health insurance benefits for University employees are within the purview of the state. We at the University do
not have the power to make any changes in coverage or to change the definition of "employee" to include those students who hold graduate research fellowships.
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Broaden your mind: Today's quote
now to submit letters and guest columns
"Do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door." — Chamfort
Letters: Should be double-spaced typed and fewer than 200 words. Letters must include the author's signature, name, address and telephone number plus class and home-town if a University student. Faculty or staff must identify their positions.
Guest columns? Should be double-
spaced typed with fewer than 700 words. The writer must be willing to be photographed for the column to run.
All letters and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansen newsroom, 111 Stuafier-Flinf Hall. The Kansen reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions. For any questions, call Ann Premer (apremer@kansen.com) or Tim Harrington (tharrington@kansen.com) at 864-4810. If you have general questions or comments, email the page staff (opinion@kansen.com) or call 864-4810.
Kicking up leaf piles evokes fond memories
F all has to be the most enlivening of all seasons.
The heat, humidity and academic onslaught overwhelm us at the beginning of
Perryman
opinion@ kansan.com
Perspective
each school year, and then, finally, that day arrives. We step outside to face yet another set of responsibilities, and instead of feeling reluctant, some of us are inspired, aroused by the cool air and the smell of pine trees and burning leaves.
During the day, crowded pumpkin patches on the side of the road and little kids play tag on their front lawns canvitate us. A
chilling gust of wind confirms that fall has arrived, and as we walk, we hear the brittle leaves swirling around each other and scratching across the asphalt. For a brief moment, our minds clear, and we remember what it was like to be young and careless, without responsibility.
I remember all of the great things associated with the cool days and nights of fall:sweats, jean jackets, diving into mountains of dry leaves and rolling down leaf-covered hills, hay rides, lying on the frigid cement, caramel apples, camp outs, s'mores, hot chocolate, cider, school plays, Halloween parties, costumes and candy, carving pumpkins, haunted houses, scary movies, seasonal cartoon specials - Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin Patch - and Thanksgiving.
I remember running through the neighborhood in my red Kansas Jayhawk sweatpants and my gray hooded sweatshirt on a dark, October r evening. I would antagonize my sisters and play hide-and-seek with my little brothers and the neighborhood kids.
I nebriated by the damp autumn air, we searched frantically for the perfect hiding spot, and once we found it, we would sit and wait for the "ollyollyoxenfree, everyone come out" signal. We sat and talked about mindless things, the things that only mattered back then;
Kid 1: "Katy likes you."
Kid 2: Teen Right.
Kid 1: "She does I heard she did."
Kid 2: "Cut it out. She does not. Hey, have you gotten any Nolan Ryans later?"
you getten any Noah Kays is surely.
I don't recall having a legitimate care in the world. I would go out of my way to kick through a pile of dry, brown leaves that sat
across the street in Mr. Kelley's yard. I never once considered that it took old Mr. Kelley two days to rake those leaves. I never really considered anything.
never really consumed any After school, I would run home, change clothes and then sprint through backyards and jump fences to meet friends. We would spy on neighbors as they worked on their cars, swept their porches and chased squirrels from their yards.
When they spotted us, we would run and hide, only to surface moments later to laugh at the spectacle. We ran and ran from one house to another, gaining one friend here, losing another there to an injury or a dinner call.
My friends and I would build makeshift forts out of fallen branches, and we would use leaves and grass to fill the gaping holes. The forts were weak and stood only two or three feet high, but to us, they seemed indestructible and towering. Our perspectives were distorted, but always hopeful.
Dusk fell and dimmed our vision as we played tackle football, and steam puffed from our mouths and noses as we bent over, hands on our knees, exhausted and wheezing between downs. We would imitate our favorite players, and we would argue endlessly about the fairness of teams. Never tiring, never wanting to stop, we would play until we no longer could see the ball or until our parents called us home.
Simple things caught my attention as I walked home at the end of the day, such as how the sun painted the clouds and sky shades of purple, red and gold as it vanished behind the horizon, how perfectly planted rows of burgundy, green, red, orange, brown and yellow trees colored the sides of the streets, how crickets, which I never could find, chirped all day and all night long, how the distorted notes and drum beats of a high school marching band reached my ears from miles away, and how glowing jack-o-lanterns peered, menacingly, toward me from neighborhood porches.
I am older and, arguably, more mature, but I still love all of these things. I now understand why the clouds and leaves change colors, where the marching band plays and where the chirping crickets hide. And I know that a glowing jack-o-lantern is just a personified fruit. But during the fall, I forget these realizations, and I can't help but experience things innocently and excitedly, as I did when I was young.
Perryman is a Prairie Village senior in journalism. For more Fall reflection see page 6A.
Let respect be the guide of human interactions
out of my private parking ticket, but if it were within my power, you would receive two. Because of your bull-headed, inconsiderate, feeble attempt at parking, you have taken enough room for a 20-mule team, 2 elephants, 1 goat and a safari of pygmies from the African interior. The reason for giving you this is so that in the future you may think of someone else other than yourself. Besides, I don't like domineering, egotistical or simple-minded drivers, and you probably fit into one of these categories.
A few days ago, a friend of mine received this message at his apartment complex: "Dear Jerk, Please stay out of my private parking space. This is not a
Donato
Fhunsu
opinion @ kansan.com
I sign off wishing you an early transmission failure, (on the expressway at about 4:30 p.m.). Also may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits."
This message was certainly written in the spirit of the First Amendment, guaranteeing for all of us the freedoms of religion, of speech, of the press and of association. As a writer, there is nothing I value more, and I encourage others to appreciate this freedom and put it to use in their lives. We need it if we are to grow as individuals, as a nation and as a global community.
This message also is full of hate toward the person to whom it was addressed and full of contempt toward the "safari of pygmies from the African interior." The person to whom this message was addressed happens to be from Africa. He is a person of good will who has come to the University of Kansas to enrich with his knowledge and experience the mental atmosphere of our community.
This person has gone through the trouble of learning English so he could communicate with the KU community. Would it not have been easier and more effective to go to this person and talk with him as intelligent adults should do when trying to solve problems of human relations?
We usually complain that throughout the world, generation after generation of people refuse to talk to one another and prefer to kill each other over a plot of land they call "the land of our fathers." Do we want to do the same thing here in Lawrence for a plot of con-
According to the Law of Love and the workings of the mind, a potent thought-form can act like a boomerang. It can return, charged with increased speed, to the one who sent it on its mission. A strong hatred, clothed in mental matter, can return to its creator charged with the energy of the hated person and can thus work havoc in the life of the sender. Hate always returns where it came from. And so does love. The choice is ours.
But what truly preoccupies me about this hate note is what its author does not seem to realize. I am not going to advocate that KU or the city of Lawrence establish hate laws. There is a higher law that supersedes any hate laws that our legislators might establish in our land; it is the unwritten universal Law of Love. This law does not need law-enforcement officers; it enforces itself. It is, ipso facto, more powerful.
creative we can make it happen.
As for the pygmies, I was born in "the African interior," and the pygmies and I are co-citizens by birth. From Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness to Tarzan to the attitude reflected in this note, the pygmies and other African peoples have been flooded in a deluge of negative stereotypes. So powerful are these stereotypes in the minds of many people in the so-called developed countries that many times I find myself answering questions such as, "You said you were born in Africa? Are you from the capital of Africa? Do you speak African, that dialect of yours, you know? How can you read and write a real language like English? Why do you wear clothes? I know you guys live in trees; who did you leave your tree with?" And when I ask my interlocutors how they found out all these enlightening things about me, they deplore my cultural ignorance with the recommendation, "Boy, you really need to see Tarzan!"
We are not free if we are motivated by hate. True freedom is the freedom of the mind and the heart from the thrall of hate for whatever reason. The soul thus freed can express its true life in our increasingly interdependent world. This is how I understand freedom of speech and of the press.
There is a depth of truth in the ancient aphorism: "Curses, like chickens, come home to roost." Unless this is how we want to live, let's re-examine our attitude toward our fellow human beings.
crete we call "my private parking space?"
1
Phhnsu is a Lawrence graduate student in journalism.