David Newhoff, Author at The Illusion of More

Addressing Fair Use Rhetoric in Debate Over SMART Act

On March 18^th, Senators Tillis and Leahy of the IP Subcommittee introduced the SMART Copyright Act. The major functions of the bill, as codified in a proposed new Section 514, would empower the Librarian of Congress to approve designated technical measures (DTM) for identifying infringing material via a triennial rulemaking process. For a detailed description of the proposed rules and remedies in the bill, see Copyright Alliance CEO Keith Kupferschmid’s post. In this post, I wanted to respond to one criticism of technical measures for copyright enforcement—namely that they cannot account for fair use—but first, a recap of the background.

The SMART Act is a legislative response to the fact that after almost 25 years, the OSPs have rarely held up their end of the bargain under the terms of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), ratified in 1998. The foundation for all of Section 512 was predicated on the argument by the service providers of that period that they needed a liability shield against civil litigation stemming from the inevitability that customers would post copyright infringing material to their platforms. Thus, the statute lays out the conditions under which a platform can maintain the “safe harbor” shield, and as many copyright owners know, the major OSPs since then have not always complied with these conditions in good faith.

For the past quarter century, the major platforms have consistently avoided compliance with the notice-and-takedown process by, for instance, erecting unnecessary roadblocks for copyright owners to submit requests. Or, as a Virginia federal court recently affirmed, COX Communications remains on the hook for a billion-dollar damage award due to its failure to comply with the DMCA condition requiring the removal of repeat infringers.

These and many other examples paint a picture of a service platform industry that has fostered a culture of turning a blind eye to infringement and a reluctant, scattershot compliance with the statues they themselves lobbied to write. But specifically in regard to §512(i), which requires collaboration with copyright owners to develop standard technical measures (STMs) for identifying infringing material, Big Tech straight-up ghosted on the matter.

Remember that when the DMCA was being debated and drafted, it was the OSPs who presented their own technological capabilities as an implied promise that STMs could be developed to identify and remove infringing material. But not only did those service providers, and the bigger ones who followed, never engage with copyright owners to develop technical measures, they also funded a network of organizations (you know their names)[1] to promote the general theme that online copyright enforcement is fundamentally bad for society.

Kevin Madigan, VP, Policy and/ Copyright Counsel at Copyright Alliance, describes in a new post how The Network predictably repeats the same unfounded talking points no matter what proposal is on the table. And they have certainly dragged these orcs out of the mud once again in response to the SMART Act. But even as we examine the pros and cons of the bill itself, we should not lose sight of the fact that SMART is a legislative response to the OSPs’ refusal to comply with the conditions their own industry negotiated in the days of Web 1.0. So, maybe we can put the hyperbole in the drawer and sit down like adults? I wouldn’t hold my breath.

Technical Measures Can Never Account for Fair Use?

One gremlin The Network likes to call upon whenever technical measures are discussed for identifying infringing material is that an algorithm can never identify fair use. It is an oddly defeatist argument coming from representatives for an industry that makes bold promises about AI, and hardly allows the lack of perfection to stop them from experimenting with new products. But even if it is true that no algorithm could ever account for fair use, I’ll be blunt and say that neither can most of the platform users The Network claims to represent.

Let’s be real. The minority of professional creators who endeavor to be informed and engaged on copyright matters struggle with fair use; the experts who have worked in copyright law their entire careers struggle with fair use; and the courts struggle with fair use. Naturally, The Network exploits this uncertain landscape to imply that we could never hope for an algorithm to get fair use right. But this logical leap, which is meant to end discussion, also obscures the fact that the average social platform user doesn’t get fair use right either. That is if he even considers the question at all.

The term fair use is bandied about by The Network to promote the idea that it is the default status of most uses of protected works. It is a rhetorical strategy that, when paired with the message that copyright enforcement is inherently a form of censorship, promotes an ideological agenda seeking to elevate the fair use exception to the status of a civil right. But although it is true that the fair use doctrine evolved in U.S. law partly in support of the speech right, it remains an affirmative defense to a claim of copyright infringement. And the distinction matters.

Not only does The Network consistently ignore the literal First Amendment safeguards in the DMCA (which would not be disturbed by the SMART Act), but when they assert that no AI could ever account for fair use, I suspect they are alluding to a much larger constellation of presumed fair uses than actually exists. In other words, the argument against STMs, on the basis of fair use, almost certainly encompasses the effort to expand the volume and types of uses that copyright critics believe should be excepted under the doctrine.

I cannot prove this assumption and would not claim that, if true, it necessarily simplifies the technological challenge at hand. But it if we are going to take the matter seriously at all, it is important to know which definition of “fair use” is being applied—one grounded in case law, or one which the copyright critics would like to revise as they see fit?

As a practical matter, if the average user of a protected work on a social platform makes a fair use of that work, it is more likely the result of dumb luck than a well-informed and carefully considered decision. This is a common-sense assumption based on the low probability that the average user knows anything about the fair use doctrine. And if that is not correct, then perhaps the entire foundation for the liability shield codified in Section 512 should be reconsidered. Because the premise for this whole conversation was, and remains, that the average user of the internet does not know much of anything about copyright law.

Moreover, we forget that the presumed neutrality of the service provider is in contradiction with the idea that a fair use analysis should be a component of technical measures in the first place. The role of platform management was anticipated by the DMCA to be somewhat deaf and dumb in the process. Infringing material would be removed upon receipt of a valid notice, and if the uploader of the material believed the use to be a fair use, he could file a counter-notice to that effect. The human actors on the two sides of this equation were always anticipated to play active roles, and although The Network insists that the low rate of counter-notice filing is predicated on fear alone, it is also plausible that it is the result of many uses of works that are not defensibly fair uses.

What know for sure is that tens of millions of infringing uses occur every day and that only the large, corporate copyright owners have anything close to the resources necessary to mitigate the scope of piracy online. Large platforms like YouTube have deployed their own technical measures (e. g., Content ID and Copyright Match) insofar as they serve the platform’s bottom line. But these systems do little or nothing for independent and small business creators, and leaving this class of professionals in the digital dust was not the intent of the DMCA. Whether some version of the SMART Act can address the problem remains to be seen. But these rhetorical arguments against even trying are as tedious as they are hollow.

[1] In case you don’t, the Electronic Frontier Foundation, PublicKnowledge, Re:Create Coalition, Fight for the Future, Library Copyright Alliance, Authors Alliance, and a host of legal academics.

Image source by: idaakerblom

What Problem Do Those eBook Bills Address Anyway?

In late December, New York Governor Kathy Hochul vetoed the state’s library ebook bill, acknowledging that the law would be preempted by the Copyright Act. In mid-February, a district court in the State of Maryland, responding to a lawsuit filed by the Association of American Publishers (AAP), ordered a preliminary injunction suspending that state’s ebook law, also on preemption grounds. Recognizing which way the wind was blowing, Kyle Courtney of Library Futures Foundation drafted a letter on February 1 to the House Committee on Corporations of the Rhode Island State legislature proposing amendment to that state’s bill, writing:

…we are advising, based on the current landscape involving litigation and vetoes of similar eBooks laws in other states, that you consider friendly amendments below that will effectuate enough changes in H7113 to help avoid running afoul of the challenges documented below with respect to activities in other states.

What follows is a recommendation that Rhode Island remove one paragraph demanding that publishers license to libraries et al., which the footnote describes as the language in direct conflict with federal law. However, the remaining provisions of the bill still invite a preemption challenge because they presume to dictate terms and pricing models to publishers in conflict with the principle that copyright protects the author/owner’s right to decide the manner in which a work is made available. Hence, the provisions that would remain in the RI bill, as well as nearly identical bills in five other states, may still be construed as unconstitutional state compulsory licenses.

As Courtney’s letter emphasizes, the strategic approach taken by the various lobbying organizations pushing for these bills is to present the subject in the context of state contracts while seeking to remedy a consumer protection problem—namely, the alleged “unconscionability in licensing” practices by the publishers. But so far, the organizations lobbying for these bills have yet to support the accusation that current ebook licensing regimes are extortionate and/or that they are causing a disruption in a library system’s ordinary capacity to serve its community. And that’s to say nothing of presenting a compelling case in every state in which these bills have been introduced.

It is no surprise the American Library Association (ALA) et al. have not presented a thorough argument, because it would be a hell of lot of work. To assess whether a given market is underserved (in any context) requires a considerable amount of research and evidence, including counterfactuals, polling, budget analysis, etc. In this instance, it would be a rather large data-science project to manage and model all the relevant inputs, like overall reading trends, library-use trends, preferences for digital vs. physical materials, and cultural and economic data, to determine whether, and where, the ebook borrowing market is underserved and conclude that the licensing models are the cause.

Instead of doing any of that homework, what associations like LFF and the ALA have done instead is to compare the consumer price of an ebook purchase (e.g., $18) to a library price of an ebook license (e.g., $55 for 2 years), then cry foul and draft legislation to resolve this apparent injustice. But if state lawmakers are going to accuse the publishers of unfair practices to justify a law that flies in the face of the Copyright Act, it should demand more evidence than these two numbers alone. Or if state lawmakers are going to elide all complexity in favor of blunt metrics, then why not simply recognize that three times the price to make an ebook available to fifty times the readers hardly sounds like extortion by any reasonable definition?

The Mid-Hudson Library System

Although I certainly do not have the resources or data-science chops to do the kind of research mentioned above, I did a little digging into the Mid-Hudson Library System (MHLS), which serves my home region, just to see what I could learn.

One of 23 systems in New York State, MHLS comprises 76 small-town and public-school libraries in five counties with a total population of more than 686,000 (~ 258,000 households) earning a median income of about $76,000/year. The 2021 budget for the library system was just under $4 million, a little more than half of which comes from statewide and local taxpayers. In 2021, MHLS spent about $90,000 (2.25% of its budget) on digital lending materials, through a few different marketplaces, and presumably using more than one licensing model.

For example, OverDrive, one of the major marketplace platforms where librarians license digital materials, makes ebooks available under three different licensing models. Through Simultaneous Access, certain publishers offer package deals for multiple titles up to a certain number of loans. In the One Customer One Use model, presumably for back catalog or less popular books, the licenses never expire. And the model most often used by the major publishers for the most popular books is Metered Lending, which offers one or two-year licenses and/or limits the number of loans per license.

In 2021, MHLS ebook circulation was ~ 314,000, and the first three months of 2022 are tracking toward a similar total. Even at the unrealistic frequency of one book per unique patron, that would be less than 1/3 of the total population in the system, which likely says more about demand than it does about supply. In fact, at the national level, although ebooks and audiobooks continue to occupy a greater percentage of a library’s collection, print book borrowing is still 518.92% higher than ebook borrowing as of 2019.

Looking at the catalog, it appears that MHLS offers about 10,000 ebooks (70% fiction/30% nonfiction), presumably under more than one licensing model. But even if all 10,000 were licensed under Metered Lending at a rate of $55 for two years, this amounts to a cost of about $1.07/year per household in the system. Alternatively, we can estimate that a two-year license of $55, at a maximum rate of one loan every two weeks ($55 / 52 readers), is a Cost Per Loan (CPL) of about $1.06.

So, the numbers available do not seem to justify even a hypothesis that ebook licensing is unduly burdensome or is resulting in underserving the MHLS community. And the overall demand nationwide for borrowed ebooks hardly justifies the rhetoric of the lobbyists, who would have us believe that a literature-starved public is suffering on the libraries’ virtual steps at the mercy of the big publishers. When an expenditure is just over two percent of the operating budget, one must step back and look more holistically at the question presented.

Collections Are a Fraction of a Library’s Expense

The data collected in the Institute of Museum and Public Services (IMLS) Public Library Survey reveals that libraries’ costs are increasing for personnel and general operating expenses while costs are trending downward for collection materials—especially the cost of ebooks and audiobooks. Noting that most libraries spend an average 10% of their annual budgets on their collections overall, an article in Wordsrated summarizing the IMLS Survey states, “The drop in price per item is due to library collections becoming increasingly digital. This is because the price per digital item has declined significantly. All while the average cost per book increased 10% since 2003.”

The statistical trends in the IMLS Survey suggest that libraries are going through a lot of transition these days—as collections become more digital, as physical spaces are adapted to provide more programs and services, and as overall reading and borrowing habits continue to shift in the market. Change in any system presents both opportunities and challenges, and it is a safe bet that not every local library will, or can, adapt in the same way. But if the data show that ebooks are, as of 2019, “the cheapest material in a library’s collection,” then why on Earth is this the moment to lobby for these ebook bills in the states?

The answer to that cannot be, “Well, if the prices were even lower, we could do more.” Yeah. That’s how everything in life works. But for one thing, as much as publishers and authors care quite a bit about library patrons, it is not incumbent upon them to outright subsidize the libraries as they navigate the changing landscape—let alone by mandating that the publishers remain bound by old models so that libraries can adapt to new ones. That’s not a symbiotic relationship.

Looking forward, neither the libraries nor the publishers can say what the trends will be in five or ten years, but the libraries should be cautious about putting too many eggs in the ebooks basket. What happens to the relevance of the seventy or so local libraries in MHLS if the system plays an outsized role as a conduit for ebook lending? Don’t at least some taxpayers or prospective donors in each town begin to wonder why they need to keep paying the librarians and maintaining the buildings? Perhaps the local librarians should look at the data and ask whether ALA, LFF et al are doing them any favors.

Of course, knowing the track records of the people behind these ebook bills, it is fair to doubt that they are trying to solve a problem at all but are instead pursuing a broad, anti-copyright agenda. The tone of Courtney’s letter, for instance, makes clear that he (and his colleagues) object to the legal doctrines on which the NY and MD bills were opposed and that his recommendations to RI are a begrudging pivot in strategy to achieve the same ends by a slightly amended rationale.

But to oblige any copyright owner to make a work available under terms mandated by state law invites substantial conflict with federal law and the authority of Congress alone to amend that law. Consequently, no state legislature should embark on such an adventure without a compelling and thorough analysis of the problem allegedly being solved. And so far, the lobbyists for these ebook bills have presented little more than a melodrama barely worth reading at any price.

A Response to Snoop Dogg About Celebrity Photos

Not that I have any delusions about the reach of this blog, but for what it’s worth, here’s a pro-tip for celebrities everywhere about sharing photographs of yourselves on social media: if you don’t own the rights in the image, don’t post it.

This keeps happening. A celebrity posts an image of himself, the photographer who owns the rights in the image sues for copyright infringement; and the celebrity gets an expensive lesson in the difference between publicity rights and copyrights. Most recently, Snoop Dogg, in response to a photographer suing fellow rapper Nas for posting a photo of himself on Instagram, complained, “Photographers shouldn’t own their photographs of celebrities.” In a video shared by PetaPixel, Snoop Dogg sums up his view as follows:

“When you take a picture of a n***a, that picture ain’t yours. That’s a mere likeness-type situation. You’re borrowing my likeness.”

I don’t expect Snoop to know that his opinion has been wrong as a matter of U.S. law since 1884 any more than I expect that he wants to hear me rap. But he put his finger directly on the confusion that persists—namely that the subject of a photograph (famous or otherwise) is not the author/owner of the photograph under copyright law.[1] Likenesses are subjects of publicity rights, which vary from state to state and primarily concerns uses of a likeness to imply that the subject endorses a message or product. Nothing to do with copyright.

Of course, I am not responding to Snoop Dogg because I think he’s about to lead a celebrity revolt to invalidate copyright protection for all photos of famous people (and I am sympathetic to anyone who has to deal with aggressive paparazzi). But I do think the biggest stars in the world should recognize that they are connected to, and beneficiaries of, a copyright ecosystem which includes a vast population of middle-class workers in every field.

Most celebrities are famous and wealthy because the work they produce is protected by copyright law, and while those protections apply (on paper) to all creators great and small, the reality is that most middle-class creators can barely afford to enforce their copyright rights. Photojournalism, whether of celebrities or any other subject, is a job, one mostly paid through licensing fees. When images are posted without permission on platforms like Instagram, this directly cuts into the photographer’s bottom line by diluting the value of the image, thereby, limiting the ability to charge licensing fees throughout the market.

Snoop Dogg and his contemporaries are old enough to remember a world before Instagram and the other multi-billion-dollar social platforms. They probably didn’t know much about copyright back then either, but they didn’t need to. Before social platforms, copyright boundaries were more commonly supported by mutual respect for the idea that, for instance, the photographer owns the rights to his images just like the singer/songwriter owns the rights to his music.

That was before Zuckerberg and Dorsey et al. invented a way for celebrities to promote themselves all day every day. And then, of course, that opportunity became necessity. Today, the celebrity gets to stoke the fire of notoriety at no monetary cost, the social platform makes a fortune from all that activity, and everyone wants to forget that the photographer plays a pivotal role in the mix—often a highly valuable role by capturing something rare.

Sometimes, the celebrity makes the photographer, and sometimes the photographer makes the celebrity. In the aforementioned 1884 Supreme Court decision affirming copyright protection for all photographs, photographer Napoleon Sarony was more famous than the subject in the photograph at issue—a young man who was not yet the Oscar Wilde.

Like rap artists, the best photographers synthesize the world we all see into expressions that say something distinctive beyond the mere facts of the world. It is those expressions which copyright protects, and the reason we use the word ecosystem in copyright advocacy is that we recognize the interdependence among various creators working in different media.

It’s bad enough when naïve teenagers post works without thinking and dilute a creator’s market value. But when it’s done by multimillionaire creators whose careers also depend on the copyright ecosystem, it is especially insulting. If you don’t own it, don’t post it. Or post away and face a lawsuit you deserve to lose.

[1] Notwithstanding a subject hiring a photographer and potentially owning the work under the WMFH doctrine.

Photo by: Cineberg

Author: David Newhoff