A Question of Originality

When we speak of originality, we innately assume that some sense of responsibility is attached to it: we feel we have a duty to respect, to admire – or to fear it. Whether bound by the judicial system or by our own personal moral standards, we have traditionally viewed original content and the respect that inevitably follows as being unequivocally revered - almost reaching a sort of sacred status.

Such is the way that our world is currently wired up as. From unabashed plagiarism-shaming, to our continuous search for the "true" or "first" creators, traditional – and contemporary – ways of thought have dictated that, essentially, those who do it first shall gain all the glory. Indeed, it is perhaps the only way in which we value and reward those that contribute to society in a tangible, meaningful manner.

This sort of mentality has served us well. For one, it promotes critical, creative thinking that undoubtedly furthers the boundaries of our collective human understanding. It is a harbinger of original, creative content, and has led to the vast plethora of advancements across all the fields. By guaranteeing success for those who achieve it first, we innately associate fame and glory with those who do society well. Consequently, those who shamelessly copy or plagiarise others' original contents are punished and publicly decried. And: it works!

It is imperative, now, to consider that attributes of such a societal way of thought. Those who achieve something first, who advance society in a meaningful manner first – be it the discovery of antibiotics, the first man on the moon, or the cure to cancer – are rewarded for their contributions. It is not hard to see how such an incentive-based system spurs advancement and development, and it is certainly not hard to see why we subconsciously respect those who do it first. Such a carrot-and-stick scenario has worked for the past, and there is no conscious reason to assume that this will not continue to work in the foreseeable future.

Or should it? Has it ever worked? Perhaps - but it is clear that something is wrong now. Patent law, trademarks and copyrights are a vestige of the 20th century - just look at the variety of "loopholes" that patent trolls exploit in order to indiscriminately sue - and it is not hard to see why: we are protecting an antiquated ideal of what constitutes "original" ideas, and the legal system as it is set up now is hopelessly entangled by this supposedly "privileged" concept of protecting the rights of the first "owner" or "creator".

What caused this model to stop working? One could argue that this honour-based system never worked in actuality, but I prefer to see the reasoning behind it as being far more nuanced. It appears that technology and science has advanced to such a degree of overwhelming complexity that global cooperation and communication is critical to further advance our understanding of the universe. To take a related example, the global antibiotic crisis that we currently face is no longer the simple matter of serendipity that struck Fleming almost a century ago – it requires intensive, laborious investigations and experiments to discover anything as groundbreaking as the discovery of penicillin. In short, we need to cooperate to advance in the 21st century: key words being cooperation and advancement.

But originality, rather from promoting creativity and advancement, stifles it instead. It is, similarly, not hard to see why – we value achievement of an individual entity, and collaboration completely ruins this concept. Competition no longer promotes advancement, but merely shuts everyone off from each other in our continued search for fame, recognition and success. So was this entire model a victim of its own success? I'd like to think of it rather as a symbol of our everchanging world.

The answer, in retrospect, is obvious: we reward those who do something best. Apple, in creating the first iPhone with its revolutionary operating system, made a remarkable accomplishment to society; however, supposed accusations of "plagiarism" and "copying" between iOS, Android, and – over the past few years – Asian knockoffs poses a critical question: what innate meaning, or value, is there in creating something first? Smartphones have developed to such a degree of complexity that even supposed Chinese "knockoffs" such as Xiaomi's MIUI present a compelling, if not comparable experience to that of Apple's iOS. It is no secret that many have taken "inspiration" from iOS, but does it matter? The focus must shift from doing it first to doing it best – in essense, in such a scenario we must instead promote plagiarism and "shameless copying" to ruthlessly improve. The demise of the concept of "originality" instead ushers in a new wave of advancement.

The question here is not the premise of originality – indeed, thesis-level plagiarism is harmful to everyone, and the creation of new, authentic content is the bedrock of all development in our society – but rather, the reward we associate with originality. We have all subconsciously associated success with being the first, doing something that nobody has ever done before. But rather, the focus must pivot from not who does it first, but rather who does it best. There is an important distinction to make here, as this shifts the reward – or carrot, if you will – from a set achievement or goal, to continuous advancement and contribution. Doing it best is a relative achievement, and highlights the noble goal of this entire scheme: to advance humanity in a significant, noteworthy way.

So I pose this question: who cares? In essence – who cares about originality? If we want to improve in our peculiar times, it must be socially acceptable for us to capitalise on the achievements of others, and instead reward those who do something best. Originality, and all the inherent respect and responsibility that we associate with it, cannot exist in this scenario.

I say: originality is dead. Get used to it.