My local library has started taking photographs of all cardholders. My husband says that when he updated his recently expired card, they took a quick photo right at the circulation desk; now, whenever he checks out books at the library (or views his account online), the picture of him holding Emmy's hand appears onscreen. He is pleased that they have a system to prevent "fraudulent use of a library card."
I have surprisingly mixed feelings about the new policy. I've always regarded my public library as a kind of social utopia. Sure, patrons bother staff or other patrons or deface books, but most of the time, people come to the library and leave happy, getting whatever materials they needed for free! (Unless they owe fines, of course, but even the fines are reasonable.) And surely I'm not the only academic who has fantasized about accidentally getting locked in a library, able to spread out and leisurely read whatever I wanted in the whole darned place.
One of my favorite memories is from my library days. I worked for my local library from when I was 15 until I graduated from college. At the time, my local library was the Maitland Public Library, and we served Eatonville as well as Maitland. (Yes, the Eatonville of Zora Neale Hurston fame.) One evening, a little girl from Eatonville dragged her daddy through the door; they asked where the children's books where. About an hour later, they appeared again at the circulation desk. The dad's arms were piled high with books and the little girl was practically floating through the air, she was so happy. She said, "Daddy, you need to get a library card now." The librarian walked up to make sure that he lived in our service area, and the dad leaned over the counter and whispered, "How much is this going to cost?" When the librarian told him the service was already paid by his taxes, he was visibly relieved. It still moves me to tears to think about that man, wanting his bright little girl to have all the opportunities available to her, yet worrying about whether he could afford to bring them her way. She was unfazed by the no-fee service, though; "I told you, Daddy," she said, "We learned about libraries in school!"
Another time, one of our regular patrons (apparently) changed sexes. We tried not to pry into people's lives, but we got to know our regulars pretty well, so it was obvious when this patron began changing shape and wearing women's clothing, using the women's restroom instead of the men's, etc. At some point, this patron asked to to change the name on her library card, and of course the librarian was happy to do it. Though I'd been sheltered enough to be somewhat boggled to learn that it was possible to change from a man to a woman, I also remember being proud to work in a place where people were accepted for who they were.
And who can forget that Barney Miller episode where one character insists on using a number instead of a name, and the only id he can show is his library card because the library was the only place that would call him by what he wanted to be called?
(As I write this, I'm starting to wonder why the HECK I didn't just go to library school? It would have been quicker than a Ph.D. I think at the time I didn't realize just how many ways there were to be a librarian. I figured every city would have two, maybe three librarian jobs, tops, just like the library where I worked. Even now that I have my Ph.D., I sometimes daydream about getting an M.L.S. and switching careers, though it would be pretty silly to do that now that I have tenure.)
Anyway, I'm sad that we now need "fraud-proof" library cards. (Assuming that fraud prevention is the reason for the photo.) Have we really come to such a pass that we can't just rely on the old-fashioned "revoke the card" method? And what does the photo record mean in light of the Patriot Act--can the FBI seize it without our knowledge? What if the patron has a religious objection to the photograph (as some Muslim women do); will those citizens have to forego using the library? What's next--a fingerprint scan to determine who ripped the pages? A "threat warning level" light in the library lobby?
Don't get me wrong; I love my local library. The last time we moved, I insisted on staying in this county just so we could keep using the same library. If my library decided to do this, I'm sure it was the right decision. It just seems like we've lost something as a society when even the library has to keep patron photographs on file.
Update: Just learned about another new library policy--no adults allowed in the children's section, unless they are accompanied by a child. Adults unaccompanied by children must be escorted by a librarian; they can't loiter or read in the children's section. I agree with the Orlando Sentinel that while they policy may be a good one, it's a shame it has come to this. (Don't know how long that link will live.)
Library use is tracked by government now, so the photo ID is probably one of those things that plays into that area. The government wants to know if you're reading about certain subjects.
This is one of the multitude of reasons why I want the Republicans out of charge. =\
Posted by: sara | December 04, 2004 at 07:54 PM
We should all go out of our way to check out things that will befuddle the minds of FBI tracking everywhere. I'm going to check out "The Joy of Sex", "Catcher in the Rye", "Mein Kampf" and the entire collection of Dr. Seuss.
Oh, and something from Harelequin, but that's just for personal reading.
Posted by: Dylan | December 04, 2004 at 11:19 PM