David Newhoff, Author at The Illusion of More

Carrie Goldberg’s “Nobody’s Victim”: Cyber-Policy is Not an Abstraction

During an exchange on this blog in 2014 with an individual named Anonymous—it must have been a very popular baby name at some point—I was told, “Yes, yes, David, show us on the doll where the Internet touched you, because we all know that all evil comes from there.” That discussion was in context to the internet industry’s anti-copyright agenda, but the smugness of the response, lurking behind a concealed identity while making an eye-rolling allusion to sexual assault, is characteristic of the tech-bro culture that dismisses any conversation about the darker aspects of digital life. In fact, I am fairly sure it was the same Anonymous who decided that I had “failed the free speech test” because I wrote encouragingly about the prospect of making the conduct generally referred to as “revenge porn” a federal crime.

Those old exchanges, conducted in the safety of the abstract, came rushing into the foreground while I read attorney Carrie Goldberg’s book Nobody’s Victim: Fighting Psychos, Stalkers, Pervs, and Trolls (Plume 2019). Because Goldberg and her colleagues do not address conduct like “revenge porn” in the abstract, they deal with it as a tangible and terrifying reality. It is at her Brooklyn law firm where the victims of that crime (and other forms of harassment and abuse) arrive shattered, frightened and suicidally desperate to escape the hell their lives have become—often with the push of a button. These are people who can show us exactly how and where the “internet touched” them, and Goldberg’s book is a harrowing tutorial in the various ways online platforms provide opportunity, motive, sanctuary, and even profit for individuals who purposely choose to destroy other human beings.

Nobody’s Victim reads like an anthology of short thriller/horror stories but for the fact that each of the terrorized protagonists is a real person, and far too many of them are children. These infuriating anecdotes are interwoven with the story of Goldberg’s own transformation from a young woman nearly destroyed by predatory men to become, as she puts it, the attorney she needed when she was in trouble. The result is both an inspiring narrative of personal triumph over adversity and a rigorous critique of our inadequate legal framework, which needlessly exacerbates the suffering of people targeted by life-threatening attacks—attacks that were simply not possible before the internet as we know it.

Covering a lot of ground—from stalking to sextortion—Goldberg tells the stories of her archetypal clients, along with her own jaw-dropping experiences, in a voice that pairs the discipline of a lawyer with the passion of a crusader. “We can be the army to take these motherfuckers down,” her introduction concludes, and “What happened to you matters,” is the mantra of her epilogue. It is clear that the central message she wants to convey is one of empowerment for the constituency she represents, but the details are chilling to say the least.

Anyone anywhere can have his or her life torn apart by remote control—i.e. via the web. All the malefactor really needs is basic computer skills, a little too much time on his hands, and a profoundly broken moral compass. Psychos, stalkers, pervs, trolls, and assholes are all specific types of criminals in the “Carrie Goldberg Taxonomy of Offenders.” For instance, the ex-boyfriend who uploads non-consensual intimate images to a revenge-porn site is a psycho, while the site operator, profiting off the misery of others, is an asshole.

As Goldberg notes in Chapter 6, by the year 2014, there were about 3,000 websites dedicated to hosting revenge porn. That is a hell of a lot of guys willing to expose their ex-girlfriends to a range of potential trauma—these include public humiliation, job loss, relationship damage, sexual assault, PTSD, and suicide—simply because the girl/woman broke off the relationship. This volume of men engaging revenge porn does seem to imply that the existence of the technology itself becomes a motive or rationale for the conduct, but that is perhaps a subject to explore in a future post.

One theme that comes through loud and clear for me in Nobody’s Victim—particularly in context to the editorial scope of this blog—is that the individual conduct of the psychos, et al is only slightly less maddening than our systemic failure to protect the victims. As a cyber-policy matter, that means the chronic misinterpretation of Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act as a speech-right protection and a blanket liability shield for online service providers.

Taking on Section 230

Goldberg’s most high-profile client Matthew Herrick was the target of a disgruntled ex-boyfriend named Juan Carlos Gutierrez, who tried, via the gay dating app Grindr, to get Herrick at least raped, if not murdered. By creating several Grindr accounts designed to impersonate Herrick, Gutierrez posted invitations to seek him out for rough, “rape-fantasy” sex, including messages that any protests to stop should be taken as “part of the game.” Hundreds of men swarmed into Herrick’s life for more than a year—appearing at his home and work, often becoming verbally or physically aggressive upon discovering that he was not offering what they were looking for.

With Goldberg’s help, Herrick succeeded in getting Gutierrez convicted on felony charges, but what they could never obtain was even the most basic form of assistance from Grindr. You might think it would be at least common courtesy for an internet business to remove accounts that falsely claim to be you—particularly when those accounts are being used to facilitate criminal threats to your safety and livelihood. In fact, the smaller dating app Gutierrez had been using called Scruff eagerly and sympathetically complied with Herrick’s plea for help. But Grindr told him to fuck off by saying, “There’s nothing we can do.”

Herrick, through Goldberg, sued Grindr for “negligence, deceptive business practices and false advertising, intentional and negligent infliction of emotional distress, failure to warn, and negligent misrepresentation.” They lost in both the District Court and in the Second Circuit Court of Appeals, principally because most courts continue to read Section 230 of the CDA as absolute immunity for online service providers. This cognitive dissonance, which chooses to ignore the fact that a matter like Herrick’s plight is wholly unrelated to free speech, is emphasized in the Electronic Frontier Foundation’s amicus brief filed in the appeal on behalf of Grindr…

“Intermediaries allow Internet users to connect easily with family and friends, follow the news, share opinions and personal experiences, create and share art, and debate politics. Appellant’s efforts to circumvent Section 230’s protections undermine Congress’s goal of encouraging open platforms and robust online speech.“

Isn’t that pretty? But what the fuck has any of it got to do with using internet technologies to impersonate someone; to commit libel, slander, or defamation in his/her name; to deploy violent people (or in some cases SWAT teams) against a private individual; or to get someone fired or arrested—and all for the perpetrator’s amusement, vengeance, or profit? None of that conduct is remotely protected by the speech right, and all of it—all of it—infringes the speech rights and other civil liberties of the victims. Perhaps most absurdly, organizations like EFF choose to overlook the fact that the first right being denied to someone in Herrick’s predicament is the right to safely access all those invaluable activities enabled by online “intermediaries.”

No, Grindr did not commit those crimes, but let’s be real. What was Herrick asking Grindr to do? Remove the conduits through which crimes were being committed against him—online accounts pretending to be him. Scruff complied, and I didn’t feel a tremor in the free speech right, did you? If we truly cannot make a legal distinction between Herrick’s circumstances and all that frilly bullshit the EFF likes to repeat ad nauseum, then, we are clearly too stupid to reap the benefits of the internet while mitigating its harms.

Suffice to say, a fight over Section 230 is indeed brewing. As it heats up, Silicon Valley will marshal its seemingly endless resources to defend the status quo, and they will carpet bomb the public with messages that any change to this law will be an existential threat to the internet as we know it. There is some truth to that, of course, but the internet as we know it needs a lot of work. Meanwhile, if anyone is going to win against Big Tech’s juggernaut on this issue, it will be thanks to the leadership of (mostly women) like Carrie Goldberg, her colleagues, and her clients.

It is an unfortunate axiom that policy rarely changes without some constituency suffering harm for a period of time; and those are exactly the people whose stories Goldberg is in a position to tell—in court, in Congress, and to the public. If you read Nobody’s Victim and still insist, like my friend Anonymous, this is all a theoretical debate about anomalous cases, largely mooted by the speech right, there’s a pretty good chance you’re an asshole—if not a psycho, stalker, perv, or troll. And that clock you hear ticking is actually the sound of Carrie Goldberg’s signature high heels heading your way.

Google-Funded Groups Determined to Sink the CASE Act

A recent anti-CASE Act post by Daniel Takash of the Niskanen Center once again demonstrates why the tentacles of Google-funded “think tanks,” are the informational equivalent of “tobacco industry biologist” or “oil industry climatologist.” Not only does Takash lead with the unfounded prediction that CASE provides a rich framework for copyright trolls, his post comprises a handful of talking points that are clear misstatements of fact. Here are my faves…

TAKASH: Though it is tempting to streamline the process for compensating creators’ whose work has been infringed, this legislation would make it far easier to abuse a copyright system designed to “promote the progress of science and useful arts.”

REALITY: This opening statement contains two lies, albeit subtle ones. The first is an implication that the parties now opposing CASE believe in its purpose and remain open to some revised version of the bill (more on this below). But the most important omission in that statement is that the CASE provisions would make it easier for claimants AND defendants to find relief in copyright conflicts—including a defendant who, for instance, receives a wrongful DMCA takedown notice. Don’t believe me? Watch this long video by attorney/YouTuber Leonard French explaining why he sees CASE as a solution for indie creators like his fellow YouTubers.

TAKASH: First introduced in the last Congress, not even one hearing has been held on the bill.

REALITY: Here’s a link to the announcement of the hearing held by the House Judiciary Committee on September 27, 2018. But in addition to this blunt misstatement, Takash doubles-down by alluding to Representatives Lofgren (D-CA) and Buck (R-CO) as “identifying serious issues” with CASE that were “dismissed” by Chairman Nadler (D-NY) and Ranking Member Collins (R-GA). I would love to know whence this claim comes. Because, in his paragraph, Takash only links to a letter addressed to the Senate Judiciary Committee subscribed by the usual Google-funded cabal of anti-copyright organizations,* in which there is no mention of Rep. Lofgren or Buck.

In that hearing of last September (when the Chairman was actually still Rep. Goodlatte), Lofgren’s position can fairly be described as favorable toward CASE with a few lingering questions, and I honestly do not remember any objections of note coming from Rep. Buck. As of today, neither Representative has any statement about CASE on his/her website, and they clearly did not raise any objections strong enough to keep the bill from sailing out of committee with strong bi-partisan support.

TAKASH: This is why it’s critical that we hit the brakes and subject the CASE Act to some much-needed scrutiny.

REALITY: The early conversations about a small claim copyright provision are more than a decade old. The CASE bill itself ramped up as a legislative process a little over two years ago; and it has been crafted and debated in the open, inviting testimony and input from multiple sources, including several of the anti-copyright parties named in the list below. The difference this time is that, for the most part, Congress is not buying Big Tech’s bullshit that the industry cares about “innocent users.”

In fact, this “what about the poor users?” argument was presented in that mythical hearing of last September by lobbyists for the Communications and Computer Industry Association and the Internet Association, and both Reps. Jeffries and Collins were highly skeptical that these industries care about users at all. To Matt Schruers of CCIA, Jeffries responded, “… with respect to many of the companies that you represent, you have these contracts of adhesion [TOS] where the same internet users that you say you’re here before the committee to defend are waiving their rights to participate in the Article III federal court system.”

In short, the multi-billion-dollar internet company that is supposedly worried about you being sued by an independent copyright owner has indemnified itself against you ever claiming some form of harm by a major web platform. This is emblematic of the most pernicious lie of the digital age—that the internet industry has lulled tens of millions of people into believing that these platforms empower individuals. As my friend Neil Turkewitz put it on Twitter the other day, “the illusion of human agency.”

TAKASH: It is unreasonable to expect someone who unknowingly posts a copyrighted photo on their blog, for example, to be familiar with the nuances of fair use. …Post someone else’s picture – or even forward an email without permission – and you are automatically a copyright infringer.

REALITY: Is it unreasonable to expect people to follow a basic rule they probably learned as very young children? Do not take what is not yours. Because by following this simple (no-law-degree-required) guideline, it is not actually possible to “unknowingly post a copyrighted photo on a blog.” At a minimum, one must execute about a half-dozen mouse clicks to publish a photo on a blog, and unless you are a somnambulist blogger, these conscious steps are what the legal folks call “volitional conduct.”

Alternatively, if you elect to use photos (or other works) that are not yours and cannot be bothered to learn a little something about licensing, permission, and fair use, then yeah, you’re vulnerable to litigation; and better to be subject to the small-claim tribunal than a federal lawsuit. Plus, if you have a valid fair use defense, it will be much easier and cheaper to file that defense with the Copyright Claims Board (CCB) than with a district court.

Also, that concern about sending an email, which results in a claim is just plain bullshit. But if such an anomaly were to happen, the receiver can simply opt out of the CCB proceeding, and that will be the end of the matter.

TAKASH: Under the CASE Act, however, someone may be found guilty of infringement for a work not yet registered, and find themselves on the hook for $7,500.

REALITY: Nope. It’s right there in the statute, which Takash is either too lazy to read or too dishonest to represent accurately. A complainant may file a claim with the CCB concurrent with an application for registration with the Copyright Office; but the small claim infringement matter will not be considered “active” until the USCO approves the registration. That application process will take about three months on average.

Further, Takash is guilty of portraying the CCB as a damages-awarding body rather than an adjudicatory body that must, by law, weigh both complaints and responses. The provisions called for in the statutes entirely reject the portrayal of CASE as mechanism that solely favors copyright owners with infringement claims. Likewise, Takash pulled $7,500 out of thin air given that each claim, defense, and potential damage award will be assessed on a case-by-case basis just as they would be in an Article III court.

TAKASH: The CASE Act won’t eliminate these trolls – but it will embolden them, and make their business models more lucrative.

REALITY: By wrongly describing CASE as a one-sided, damage-award processing unit, this chronic allusion to copyright trolls has been the lead talking point among CASE antagonists. But the fact is the math just does not add up. Unlike filing a claim in a federal court as a mechanism to leverage (in trolling cases unwarranted) settlements, the CASE statutes contain anti-troll provisions, including a $5,000 fine and barring access to the CCB for claims made for “harassing or other improper purpose, or without a reasonable basis in law or fact.”

Couple those barriers with fact that any subject of a claim can simply opt out by checking a box on a form, and the would-be troll will easily deduce that the CCB would not be a fertile hunting ground. Making real money as a copyright troll (why else would one do it?) depends on volume, and the CCB will, by design, be a hostile venue for filing a volume of meritorious claims, let alone dubious ones. The Register of Copyrights has the authority to limit the number of complaints a given claimant may file in a year, which means that a large volume of claims filed by a single law firm will raise a red flag.

Being an effective copyright troll also depends on walking the edge of legality. So, it is curious that Takash cites the trolling scheme called Prenda Law as a scare tactic for his readers, despite linking to the ArsTechnica story describing how the “masterminds” of that plot were disbarred and sentenced to prison for their conduct. But that’s the kind of logic we live with today—the reasoning that says, “Look how dangerous copyright trolls are,” and then points to a couple of trolls who were convicted of fraud and money laundering. As if that story is not going to have a chilling effect on attorneys who might consider trolling as a line of business.

Of course, who better to serve up such blazing cognitive dissonance than the internet industry itself? Takash’s post is another perfect metaphor for the “information age,” replete with false statements that one could—ironically enough—look up on the internet. Meanwhile, the simple reality is this: copyright is an individual right, and nearly every citizen in America is a copyright owner.

So, it is no coincidence that the industry with the financial muscle, political influence, and vested interest in weakening copyright is the same industry that shows contempt for privacy, labor rights, competition, journalism, anti-harassment measures, and basic decency. But that’s what comes from business models designed to monetize everything—which is the real reason these companies are opposed to the CASE Act.

*Association of College and Research Libraries Association of Research Libraries, Center for Democracy and Technology, Copia, Electronic Frontier Foundation, Engine, Innovation Defense Foundation, Medical Library Association, Organization for Transformative Works, Public Knowledge, Re:Create, R Street

Copyright and the Speech Right: Are They in Conflict?

It remains a popular talking point among copyright skeptics to say that copyright limits free speech. When this refrain was played a little over a week ago on Twitter by ReCreate’s Joshua Lamel, I responded that those who keep saying it are “hair-splitting to the point of pedantry.” Lamel replied with the assertion that everyone agrees with this trope—all copyright scholars across the spectrum of views, the ACLU, and the American Framers. Responding to that allegation in order, there are definitely copyright scholars (I know some personally) who do not subscribe to the copyright-limits-speech premise; it is not worth anyone’s time to excavate what the ACLU allegedly thinks about this topic; and the Framers said nothing of the kind.

In fact, the Constitution’s authors leave behind a record so thin on the subject of intellectual property that one can hardly support any generalization beyond the clear, if broad, intent of the “IP clause” in Article I. More specifically, it is absurd to engage in a 21^st century debate about the relationship between copyright and the speech right by alluding to what the Framers allegedly thought during the Constitutional Convention—five years before the Bill of Rights was even ratified.

What the Framers mostly thought during those tense, sweaty days in Philadelphia was “Holy shit, I hope this works,” meaning the Republic itself. That many of those men also dreamed that the new nation might one day produce great authors and inventors is evident in the record, but the contours of copyright law, especially as we know them today, would only come to exist in a future the Founding Fathers could not possibly imagine. This does not overlook the fact that the speech and press rights in particular were ratified with a clear understanding that our fragile democracy requires a literate, informed, and engaged electorate; and this fundamental principle certainly implicates a need to access works of authorship.

But if we are going to talk about copyright and free speech, it is only sensible to have that discussion in context to the current law (the 1976 Copyright Act) and to contemporary speech rights doctrine, which is far more liberal than the Framers could have foreseen—or many would have thought prudent. It took lot of time and struggle, well into the 20^thcentury, for the rights enumerated in the First Amendment to apply to all Americans; and it is worth noting that, for instance, long before a woman could avail herself of those rights as a full citizen, she could own copyrights in works of authorship. So, perhaps copyright and speech are more historically intertwined than the critics like to portray.

The copyright-limits-speech theme persists because we generally agree that any limit on speech is bad, and thanks largely to the existence of internet platforms, many people subscribe to a very expansive definition of speech. It is only in the last two years that many have begun to see the folly in defining all online conduct as a form of speech, let alone protected speech. And while that is a very big topic on its own, it is necessary to consider, whenever someone identifies a limit on speech, exactly how expansively he or she defines speech. With that in mind, what does copyright actually protect?

The copyright act vests three general types of rights in the author: the right to make copies of a work; the right to make derivative works based on an original work; and four different means by which works can be made available to the public.

§106(1) – The Reproduction Right

The right to copy, known generally as the “reproduction” right, is the oldest protection under copyright; and in order to argue that restricting verbatim copying of a whole work is a limit on free speech, one must embrace a concept of speech so broad that it encompasses plagiarism or outright piracy. In what example could such conduct be considered speech, let alone protected or meaningful speech? If I were to type out the entirety of Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye and put my name on it, you can bet that “copyright infringer” would be the least of the pejoratives I would justifiably be called.

Long before the existence of modern copyright law, we have a cultural tradition of recognizing an ethical code which demands that a speaker either present some measure of originality in his speech; or that he make a limited use, with attribution, of the works of a prior speaker. If breaking this rule can get a student kicked out of college without abridging speech rights, how does granting authors the right of “reproduction” chill those rights? In this context, copying is cheating, and cheating is not speech.

Alternatively, if I were to print 10,000 bootleg copies of Morrison’s novel and sell them out of my car, this could only be an exercise in speech if the State were to ban the book and systematically destroy other copies? There are those who say that unlicensed copying (piracy) expands access to works, and that this is a form of expanding the purpose of speech. But in addition to the fact that the speech right does not extend to a right of free access to all content, this circular reasoning also presumes the existence of works without vesting copyright in authors in the first place.

§106(2) – The Derivative Works Right

It does seem, at least anecdotally, that many examples cited by those who believe that copyright limits speech tend to implicate the derivative works right. I suppose one is free to opine that the author should not be granted the exclusive right to license spin-offs, sequels, translations, merchandise, etc., but I doubt this view would be popular as a matter of fairness, and guarantee it would vary dramatically according to circumstance. Suppose, for instance, that White Supremacist Dude tried to publish a sequel to the aforementioned The Bluest Eye …

Many reasonable people would be quite justifiably outraged if a court held that WSD’s speech right to publish a story about the great-granddaughter of Cholly Breedlove supersedes the right of the Morrison estate to prohibit this derivative work. Yes, I am being provocative on purpose by including the element of race, but only to emphasize the original point that to call this prohibition a limit on White Dude’s speech right would almost certainly be an exercise in pedantry.

Yes, as a quibbling matter, some amount of WSD’s speech would be proscribed; but what would in fact be limited by copyright would be his ability to both capitalize upon, and revise, the speech of Toni Morrison. To come to the opposite conclusion would potentially amount to coerced speech if Morrison’s estate were forced to tolerate a use of her inventions in a form anathema to their meaning or purpose. And copyright still cannot stop WSD from his right to evangelize racism by way of criticizing Morrison’s literature, if he were so inclined.

But what about thoughtful, respectful, or meaningful derivatives that may not be licensed? In fact, there was a real litigation involving a kind of reverse example of the one I just invented. When the case settled in 2002, Alice Randall’s novel Wind Done Gone was advancing a pretty solid claim as a parodic fair use—rather than an infringing derivative work—of Gone With the Wind. In Randall’s favor was the fact that she commented upon Mitchell’s too-idyllic portrayal of slavery in her famous, mythmaking story. So, limits like fair use, which are baked into the copyright law, do promote the progress of creative expression and free speech.

In response to the generalization that copyright limits speech, I would counter that copyright law often helps to separate the meaningful speaker from the lazy, crass opportunist or plagiarist. The important point here is that such distinctions are always nuanced and can only be considered on a case-by-case basis. For instance, one consideration in Randall’s favor is the historic setting of Gone With the Wind and the cultural influence of that particuar book as a kind of revisionist history, despite its being a work of fiction. All of those factors would not be present in my hypothetical derivative work of The Bluest Eye.

§106(3)(4)(5)(6) Making Works Available

The individual statutes here relate to the mechanisms by which different types of work can be made available. I will not enumerate all four, but for instance, a stage play can be distributed in book form (§106(3)), and it can be performed on stage or as filmed public performance (§106(4)). This bundle of rights can be thought of as the wholesale end of copyright, protecting the author’s right to enter into agreements to make her work available through various channels.

How protecting the exclusivity of those distribution channels is a limit on speech rights is a mystery. Few reasonable people would support the idea, for example, that if a teleplay author licenses her series exclusively to Netflix that this infringes the speech rights of other parties who might want to perform the show via their platforms or networks. Show me an accused infringer of making available rights, and I’ll show you a vested interest looking to exploit a work without paying for it—not someone exercising the speech right.

‘twas ever thus. In the days leading up to the 1909 Copyright Act, the newspaper publishers tried (and failed) to argue before Congress that they should not have to pay to publish photographs, despite the fact that photographic works were protected by copyright. Users of resources, especially commercial users, would rather not pay for materials if they can avoid it. Today, it will be some tech company vying to exploit music, video, images, books, etc. without paying license fees, often cobbling together some convoluted legal defense to bob and weave through the copyright statutes; but those particulars aside, these users are no more speakers than a guy selling a trunk load of stolen whiskey is a distiller.

If you saw the movie Yesterday, you’ll know that the tension for the protagonist hinges on the fact that, although he can get away with performing Beatles songs as though they are his own expressions, he feels like a thief. In other words, even if we remove the copyright component, the ethical underpinnings of its boundaries remain. And so does the speech right.

Author: David Newhoff