Creativity, Plagiarism and the Capitalist Conundrum
Rethinking Originality and Individual Creation
Imagine this: you're a student working on a paper, pouring over sources, trying to find the perfect words to express your ideas. But as you write, a nagging fear creeps in – what if someone accuses you of plagiarism? What if, despite your best efforts, you're seen as a thief, a fraud, a mere copycat?
In today's academic and creative landscape, the specter of plagiarism looms large, haunting the minds of students and creators alike. But what if I told you that this fear is a symptom of a much deeper problem – the way that capitalism distorts our understanding of creativity itself?
The Idea Economy and the Commodification of Creativity
In today's world, ideas are the new currency. We live in an age where a clever tweet can launch a thousand thinkpieces, and a viral video can make or break a career. But as any starving artist can tell you, trying to make a living off your creative genius is no easy feat. That's because, under capitalism, creativity isn't just a fun hobby or a way to express yourself – it's a commodity to be bought and sold on the open market.
As anthropologist David Graeber argues in his book Bullshit Jobs, much of what we consider "intellectual property" is really just a way of turning ideas into something that can be owned and traded. And who benefits from this system? Not the poor schlub who came up with the idea in the first place, but the big corporations who have the resources to turn it into a profitable product.
This commodification of creativity has far-reaching consequences. As cultural theorist Mark Fisher argues in his book Capitalist Realism, the logic of the market has infiltrated every aspect of our lives, including our very sense of what is possible. In a world where everything is for sale, the idea of creating something truly original or transformative starts to seem like a pipe dream.
The cultural theorist Angela McRobbie takes this critique even further in her book Be Creative, arguing that the neoliberal imperative to "be creative" is actually a form of self-exploitation, one that traps workers in a cycle of precarity and endless hustle. In this context, accusations of plagiarism start to look less like a matter of individual morality, and more like a symptom of a broken system.
The Myth of Originality and the History of Remix Culture
But what does it really mean to be "original"? The notion of the lone genius, toiling away in solitude to create something entirely new, is a relatively recent invention, born out of the Romantic era's celebration of the individual. But for most of human history, creativity was understood as a fundamentally collective and cumulative process.
Take, for example, the history of music. From folk songs to classical compositions to jazz standards, musicians have always built on the work of those who came before them, borrowing and adapting melodies, rhythms, and lyrics to create something new. The same is true in literature, where authors have drawn on existing stories and archetypes to craft their own tales. And in the visual arts, the practice of copying and remixing has been a fundamental part of the creative process for centuries, from the apprentice system of the Renaissance to the collage and appropriation art of the 20th century.
In fact, as Lawrence Lessig argues in his book Remix, the rise of digital technology has only accelerated this trend, making it easier than ever for people to borrow, remix, and build upon existing works. From memes to mashups to fan fiction, the internet has unleashed a new wave of participatory culture, one that challenges traditional notions of authorship and ownership.
As Lessig puts it, "Remix is an essential act of creativity. It is the expression of a freedom to take 'the songs of the day or the old songs' and create with them." In other words, creativity is not about creating something out of nothing, but about recombining and recontextualizing existing elements in new and surprising ways.
Plagiarism, Power, and the Policing of Appropriation
Of course, not everyone sees this as a positive development. For many in positions of power and privilege, the idea of a more open and participatory culture is seen as a threat to their bottom line. That's why accusations of plagiarism are often wielded as a weapon, used to police the boundaries of acceptable borrowing and maintain control over intellectual property.
We see this play out in high-profile cases like that of Led Zeppelin, who were accused of stealing the opening riff of "Stairway to Heaven" from a lesser-known band called Spirit. Or in the world of academia, where charges of plagiarism can derail careers and ruin reputations, even when the alleged offense is relatively minor.
But as legal scholar Madhavi Sunder argues, these accusations often have more to do with power than with genuine concerns about originality or authenticity. In her book From Goods to a Good Life, Sunder points out that intellectual property law has historically been used to marginalize and exclude certain groups, particularly people of color and those from the Global South.
We see this dynamic play out in cases like that of Australian Aboriginal artists, whose traditional designs have been appropriated by fashion brands and other corporations without permission or compensation. Or in the way that Western museums have long profited from the display of artifacts looted from colonized peoples around the world.
In these cases, accusations of plagiarism and cultural appropriation serve to reinforce existing hierarchies and power structures, rather than to protect the rights of creators. They become a way of policing who has the right to borrow and remix, and who gets to profit from the results.
As media theorist Jonathan Lethem argues in his essay "The Ecstasy of Influence," the very idea of originality is a myth, one that serves the interests of capital rather than creativity. "Appropriation, mimicry, quotation, allusion, and sublimated collaboration consist of a kind of sine qua non of the creative act," Lethem writes. "The kernel, the soul—let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances—is plagiarism."
Towards an Ethics of Influence and Generosity
So what's the solution? How do we create a more equitable and sustainable model for creativity in the age of remix culture? One key, as Lessig and others argue, is to develop a more nuanced understanding of attribution and influence.
Rather than seeing borrowing as a binary choice between theft and originality, we need to recognize that all creative work is inherently influenced by what came before. This doesn't mean that anything goes, or that creators shouldn't be credited and compensated for their work. But it does mean being more open and transparent about our sources and inspirations, and finding ways to acknowledge and celebrate the contributions of others.
We can look to the example of hip-hop, where sampling and remixing are an integral part of the creative process, and where artists often go out of their way to shout out their influences and collaborators. Or to the open-source software movement, where developers build on each other's code and share their work freely for the benefit of the community.
But beyond just attribution, we need to cultivate a spirit of generosity and openness in our creative practices. This means being willing to share our own ideas and insights, even when there's no immediate payoff or recognition. It means being open to feedback and collaboration, and recognizing that our best work often comes from building on the ideas of others.
And it means extending that same generosity and compassion to ourselves, recognizing that the pressure to be "original" can be a heavy burden to bear. As writer Austin Kleon puts it in his book Steal Like an Artist, "What a good artist understands is that nothing comes from nowhere. All creative work builds on what came before. Nothing is completely original."
By embracing this idea, we can start to let go of the shame and fear that often comes with being influenced by others. We can recognize that our worth as creators doesn't come from some mythical ideal of originality, but from our ability to add our own voice and perspective to the ongoing conversation of culture.
This is not to say that self-compassion means giving ourselves a free pass on ethical behavior. As psychologist Christopher Germer notes, "While self-compassion increases our acceptance of the self, it does not result in accepting our immoral behaviors." In other words, we can be kind to ourselves while still holding ourselves accountable for our actions and striving to do better.
But by extending that same compassion and understanding to others, we can start to chip away at the culture of shame and accusation that surrounds issues of plagiarism and appropriation. We can recognize that we are all part of a larger creative community, one that is enriched by the sharing and remixing of ideas.
Towards a More Open and Equitable Creative Future
Ultimately, the debate over plagiarism and originality is about more than just intellectual property law or academic integrity. It's about the way we understand creativity itself, and the role that it plays in our society.
In a world where ideas are increasingly commodified and controlled, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that creativity is fundamentally a collective and cumulative process. But by embracing a more open, collaborative, and generous approach to creative work, we can start to push back against the forces that seek to limit and constrain it.
This means supporting initiatives like Creative Commons, which provide legal frameworks for sharing and remixing creative works. It means advocating for policies that prioritize the public domain and the free exchange of ideas. And it means working to create a more equitable and inclusive creative culture, one that values the contributions of all creators, not just those with the most money or power.
Ultimately, the goal is not to eliminate the concept of originality altogether, but to recognize that it exists on a spectrum, and that all creative work is inherently influenced by what came before. By embracing this reality, and by cultivating a spirit of generosity and openness in our creative practices, we can start to build a world where everyone has the opportunity to participate in the collective project of culture-making.
As we navigate the challenges and opportunities of the remix age, it's important to remember that we are all part of a larger creative community, one that stretches back through history and across cultures. By engaging with that community in a spirit of openness, generosity, and mutual respect, we can create a more vibrant, equitable, and sustainable creative future for us all.
References
Graeber, David. Bullshit Jobs: A Theory. Simon & Schuster, 2018.
Lessig, Lawrence. Remix: Making Art and Commerce Thrive in the Hybrid Economy. Penguin, 2008.
Kleon, Austin. Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative. Workman Publishing Company, 2012.
Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? Zero Books, 2009.
McRobbie, Angela. Be Creative: Making a Living in the New Culture Industries. Polity, 2016.
Lethem, Jonathan. "The Ecstasy of Influence." Harper's Magazine, February 2007.
Germer, Christopher. "The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion." Psychotherapy Networker, May/June 2009.