Last week, we briefly touched on the Library Economy. When first imagining this new social order, one might be confused about how it could possibly work outside of simple theories or curious about a different form of global trade altogether. Here, we’ll either stoke those fears or clarify the process. Only you can decide.
I am by far not the first or only one to advocate for this possible future. The Library Economy movement, championed by the Srsly Wrong Podcast, discusses their imagining of Library Socialism. The YouTuber Andrew Sage (Andrewism) has also been discussing the Library Economy and the intersection with solarpunk and resource-based economy for many years. One of my favorite writers and tech thinkers, Cory Doctorow, also wrote about Library Socialism on Boing Boing in 2019, and in the 2017 science-fiction book Walkaway, he explores the optimistic, utopic struggle this system might encounter.
There's a reason much of the discussion around future survival and exploration of utopia and the resource economy are encased in science fiction writing. As the saying goes, “It's easier to imagine an end of the world than the end of capitalism,” as Fredric Jameson and Slavoj Žižek so eloquently express. My goal is to bring this stuff down to earth, grounding it in connection to transition to make that imagining easier.
Since this is such a vast area of discussion with many angles to tackle, I will begin by sharing a story about my own relationship with libraries. This will allow us to explore further how others have envisioned the principles of library scaling, the pros and cons, and the overall costs of this implementation.
Like many of you reading, I began my love for reading with the library as a wee little baby. The elementary library acted as my connection to culture. In my school of no more than 400 kids, the library was an open space connected to the computer lab, art room, and music room. This was the one place inside the school where creativity and curiosity were widely encouraged.
The library was the one place I went to escape. It was where I was introduced to computers, video games, clip art, and Apple PCs. I picked up my favorite book series at the time, Chicken Soup for the Soul, and discovered a true love for learning. In this place surrounded by words, I found a home. I read books under tables and trees, between piles of other books, on cushions, draped over a chair, nearly falling into the floor with each page turn.
However, and here’s where we start to get a bit spicy, there was a little thing called the Scholastic Book Fair that invaded the library. This was one of my earliest memories of the effects of capitalism, consumerism, and marketing, which shaped my worldview. Kids knew when the book fair was coming up, starry-eyed by all the shiny posters, stickers, bookmarks, and other disposable books and toys. I was made immediately aware of where I stood in relation to my classmates. The book fair was an introduction to the transactional nature of reading. When the barrier went up to separate the book fair and library, it was a clear departure from the communal feeling of the library itself. It was an early lesson in class division.
Not saying I didn’t absolutely love it. What kid didn’t? But the realities aren’t lost on Adult Riley. The early run-in with division and challenges on my love for reading only increased from there. A few years after being introduced to the book fair, a new system called the Accelerated Reader program brought gamification to the equation. We learned how to work the system rather than to center learning and personal growth. Earning enough points by taking quizzes on shorter and shorter books in order to save enough for a mini pizza was my ticket to a night out. In this system, kids who had learning disabilities or couldn’t read as quickly were socially left to the side while others flourished.
I spent my early 20s in the college city of Greensboro, NC, surrounded by the most nerdy friends who were studying library science, gender studies, and English majors. To be honest, I didn’t really understand the appeal of library science at the time, as it seemed that fewer and fewer people were going to their local library for comfort and creativity outside of academics.
Now that we have some ground to stand on why the library is important to me, it’s only fitting that we get into the gritty details of actually implementing what some call library socialism, library economies, or what I’ve been calling the World Library. After all, a world computer should facilitate a world library, should it not?
Besides playing D&D and sitting on stoops, my friends studying Library Science shared some things with me about their work. But that was then, and now we all have new opportunities to imagine new ways to contribute both responsibility for sharing and global wisdom.
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While S.R. Ranganathan's Five Laws of Library Science (Books are for use; Every reader their book; Every book its reader; Save the time of the reader; The library is a growing organism) have guided traditional library science for nearly a century, they take on new dimensions when applied to broader economic and social systems.
In a library economy, these principles extend beyond books to all resources:
All resources are for use, not accumulation or speculation
Every person deserves access to what they need
Every resource should reach those who need it
Systems should be designed for efficiency and accessibility
The commons must continuously evolve to meet changing needs
As fewer people read physical books in the modern age, reimagining the use cases of library science transforms the neighborhood from a place of living separately to one of community functions and wisdom rather than contention.
Peter Gelderloos' analysis in "Worshiping Power" offers a crucial lens for examining how access to resources creates hierarchies. Traditional economic systems distinguish between "citizens" (those with recognized rights to participate) and "inhabitants" (those physically present but lacking full recognition).
Libraries are one of the few existing institutions that resist this distinction by design. While not perfect in practice, their theoretical foundation is built on serving all inhabitants of a community, not just legal citizens or paying customers. This radical inclusivity forms the cornerstone of library economics.
Peter’s work is why I feel so drawn to DAOs, coordination mechanisms, and the like, but not so much the financial aspects of things. However, we have seen the ways power corrupts, and we are seeing in real-time how absolute power corrupts absolutely in the US. This is particularly true when governance fosters inequality and capture by big tech firms (like a16z) to create an imbalance of power.
If you’re looking for a political alignment here, it’s anarcho-socialism.
A country that truly cares for its citizens provides a baseline of care. An act few, if any, nations around the world currently manage to operate under.
The library economy centers around two core concepts:
Irreducible Minimum: Every person is entitled to a baseline of resources needed for a dignified existence—shelter, food, healthcare, education, and culture. Just as a library provides free access to knowledge regardless of one's ability to pay, a library economy extends this principle to all essential resources.
Complementarity: Different systems of provision can coexist, with the commons handling essentials while markets might still function for non-essentials. This isn't an all-or-nothing situation. Only a reimagining of which resources belong to everyone by right.
At the heart of library economics is the concept of usufruct—the right to use and benefit from resources without necessarily owning them. Just as you can borrow a book without needing to purchase it, many resources could function on similar principles:
Tool libraries where expensive equipment is shared among a community
Housing models built on occupancy rights rather than speculative ownership
Seed libraries promoting food sovereignty and biodiversity- take a seed, leave a seed
Skills exchanges where knowledge and labor circulate without monetary mediation
Naturally, these examples eventually expand to include larger warehouse-type buildings in a town or city that then rippled outwards.
For example, I volunteered to be a quartermaster at camp for a couple of summers. This tool-lending library helped me develop skills in tool management and ensured that things were properly returned. It’s not altogether difficult to get folks in your neighborhood to pitch in and rotate duties when incentivized with a weekly good deed as long as basic needs are met.
Our digital spaces demonstrate how abundant resources can be shared without scarcity. Most obvious examples include:
Open-source software
Creative Commons licensing
Knowledge repositories like Wikipedia
Community-maintained datasets
These days, we’re familiar with blockchains, coordination that scales, and the like. Many prominent organizations focus solely on maintaining the digital commons in all its forms.
Practical implementation would require:
Networks of resource libraries beyond just books
Systems for tracking, maintenance, and distribution
Community governance structures
Clear protocols for resolving conflicts and ensuring sustainability
These initial foundations still leave many questions unanswered. In future Kimiya posts, we will explore these questions to better understand how each community can meet such challenges with care.
Critics of such a system might argue that while information can be shared infinitely, physical resources cannot. How would a library economy handle truly limited resources?
Without profit motives, what drives innovation and maintenance of the commons?
How do we get from here to there without catastrophic disruption?
What would it take to move these experiments from niche to mainstream?
Library economics offers a third way that transcends the tired binary of market fundamentalism versus state control. It suggests that many resources are best managed as commons, governed by those who use them, maintained for future generations, and accessible to all inhabitants regardless of status.
The library as an institution has survived for thousands of years across vastly different economic systems because it answers a fundamental human need—access to knowledge. Perhaps the principles that have sustained libraries could sustain us all.
"The Library Economy" by Andrewism (YouTube)
"Governing the Commons" by Elinor Ostrom (free PDF version)
"P2P Foundation" resources on commons-based peer production