Category: Art

Jonathan Band Flogs Fair Use

Recently, on the CCIA’s Project DISCO blog, Jonathan Band wrote a post that could make a person spit out the ol’ ball gag, if you know what I mean. He tells readers that the best-selling, S&M trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey, with film adaptation opening this weekend, exists thanks to the principle of fair use, a component of U.S. copyright law.  While one must submit to the truth that Fifty Shades’s started as a work of fan fiction, derived from the source material for Stephanie Meyers’s Twilight series, one must also bristle at the manner in which Band is trying to insert fair use where it doesn’t belong.  Specifically, there cannot be a question of a fair use if there is no use in the first place; and author E.L. James (Erika Mitchell) did not use any works protected under copyrights belonging to Stephanie Meyers. To the contrary, James specifically revised her original fanfic into what became Fifty Shades in order to avoid any content that might infringe, and this stands to reason because publishers aren’t that stupid.  So why is Jonathan Band fetishizing the principle of fair use here?  And is there a safety word one can utter that will get him to stop?

In fact, now that I’ve gone there, perhaps this is the central point of this rebuttal:  fair use is not a safety word. It is not a term one can just incant in order to stop all potential claims of copyright infringement.  Even a use that is allowed by a rights holder does not become “fair” by virtue of that permission.  Fair use doctrine is a very important, but very specific, aspect of copyright law, and it’s worth noting that the United States has the most liberal application of the principle among nations that maintain strong copyrights.

In simple examples, fair use wants to protect the right of one speaker who may use a work in order to criticize, comment upon, or parody that work.  These are not the only applications of fair use, and there are four criteria applied by judges when hearing a fair use claim as a defense against an infringement claim. But absent an actual dispute over infringement, fair use is often patently obvious or utterly irrelevant. And the case of Fifty Shades of Grey, the fact that there is no conflict between Meyers and James has nothing to do with the doctrine. These authors, and authors everywhere, professional or amateur, are free to remix the beauty and the beast theme to their hearts’ content. The elements which can be copyrighted in the individual expressions are easy enough to avoid plagiarizing, which is why James can begin with a derivative fanfic of Twilight and then revise to create an original work that does not infringe.

But fair use is just one concept that the dungeon masters of the tech industry like to dress up and parade around the blogosphere in order to seduce the public to believe that certain popular works only exist in spite of copyright. Interestingly, Band’s omission of the central fact that E.L. James did not use any protected works by Stephanie Meyers means that he isn’t actually writing a defense of fair use doctrine at all. Like so many blogs and articles of its kind, this seems to be another attempt to broaden one of copyright’s exceptions into some all-purpose answer to all manner of uses where the doctrine may not apply. This can be effective based on the safe assumption that most of us are not attorneys and don’t really know how the law functions.  Hence, as a PR move, Band’s editorial aligns with the tech industry’s interest in selling the idea that all fanfic should ultimately be defined as fair use so that the activity can more easily be monetized without permission of any original authors.

To be clear, this reply to Band’s assertion about fair use is in no way an indictment of fan fiction itself. Many authors welcome the trend and even personally curate sites hosting fan fiction.  It can be a great way to interact with avid readers and fans, particularly of popular series that contain many characters and complex plots and subplots.  But fanfic enthusiasts should not be enslaved to the tech industry’s interests.  Fanfic can and does coexist with copyright law without rewriting the meaning of core doctrine.

There are plenty of great examples of fair use doctrine available, and readers should be at least a bit skeptical when the tech industry picks a particularly weak example like this one to highlight. But I get it. This story wears stiletto heels, has a whip in one hand, and a multimillion-dollar franchise in the other. It’s flashy and alluring.  But editorials like Band’s continue to overuse this false role play in which creativity is blindfolded, bound, and gagged by copyrights.  Quite the contrary.  In fact, copyright is a bit like S&M in this one regard:  if the person being “used” doesn’t grant permission and can’t set limits, it’s called aggravated rape.

ADDENDUM:  I cannot say that I am surprised Twitter lit up a bit because some readers were offended by this final paragraph in which I appear literally to be comparing copyright infringement to rape.  I would never belittle a violent and disturbing crime by equating it with a non-violent one, and I hope readers understand that the S&M theme of this story is what sparked this reference to permission.  I will add that, throughout literature, movies, TV, and journalism, authors have used the word rape metaphorically, including some months ago when Madonna actually said that piracy of her works was “like being raped.” I didn’t even agree with that simile as I thought it was making too direct a comparison.  Take that all for what it’s worth.

More © critics who don’t get the creative process.

It often seems as though each time an artist, let alone a legend, pays homage to the past, some pundit with an axe to grind on copyright seizes the moment to declare the contemporary law restrictive to creative development.  Variations on the theme of “artists could never do that today” have been trotted out in essays, some thoughtful, others not so much.  In this latter category, Ed Krayewski, writing for reason.com, picked up a few themes from Bob Dylan’s 20-minute Grammy Award acceptance speech when he was named Person of the Year by the Recording Academy’s philanthropic program MusicCares.

Dylan pays homage to his well-known roots in folk music and offers tribute to artists who performed his work in the early days. Dylan says, “I also have to mention some of the early artists who recorded my songs very, very early, without having to be asked.”  Krayewski offers this quote referring to Peter, Paul, & Mary as evidence that having other artists play a songwriter’s music has value, as though this some sort of revelation.  Not only does this come under the professional column labeled “No Shit,” but Dylan isn’t even saying what Krayewski seems to think he’s saying.  “Early artists…recorded….without having to be asked” means Dylan didn’t ask them to play his songs, but he was delighted they did.  And nothing in copyright law today prevents this from happening artist-to-artist in the same nascent environment Dylan is describing about his early career and that of Peter, Paul and Mary. In fact, once a song is published, the songwriter cannot prevent a cover from being recorded, even if he wants to, as long as the performing artist pays a fee.  But this licensing process hardly “locks up cultural heritage,” as IT policy consultant Steve Worona tweeted and was quoted in the article by Krayewski.

Dylan has spoken and written so much about his process, his inspirations and derivations, that his words have frequently been served up as proof that copyright kills creativity.  The problem is the argument is so often based on an assumption that the exception proves the rule.  For instance, there is this quote pulled by Krayewski from Dylan’s speech:

I learned lyrics and how to write them from listening to folk songs. And I played them, and I met other people that played them back when nobody was doing it. Sang nothing but these folk songs, and they gave me the code for everything that’s fair game, that everything belongs to everyone.

Ah, ha!  There we have it!  Proof from the master’s mouth himself that work is derivative and, therefore, we can conclude that copyright stands in the way of the creative process!  Except, no.  Again, for an author of, well,…anything this quote also kinda sits in the “No shit” column.  Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger might say essentially the same thing; certainly they’ve said similar things, but can you tell these artists apart?  Can you tell the differences among Dylan and Guthrie and Seeger and Guthrie the Younger?  In those differences is the work that becomes copyrightable, yet none stifles one another or anyone who has come since to break out of those famous shadows.  Krayewski suggests Dylan’s generation is more litigious than its predecessors, which implies that the present generation of musicians has been left gnawing on musical table scraps because all the damn boomers locked away the prime cuts under copyright.  How then, did that generation produce so much music without spending their lives in court? And where the hell did some wonderfully innovative works I just heard by The Punch Brothers come from?  For that matter, where did all of Dylan’s post 1976 works come from (except the Christmas album), if the “copyright environment” is so toxic? Because there are infinite variations, and artists know this.

The only thing that’s really changed about the copyright environment is that there are tech-industry interests aligned against it.  As such, perhaps the supposedly free-market libertarians at reason.com should look at the economic pressures on contemporary artists as a threat to culture rather than copyrights.  But most especially, they should stop presuming to know anything about the creative process and the ways in which artists draw from one another and still manage to create their own works.  There’s a reason the ability to do this is called a gift.  It’s special, it’s rare, and not everybody gets it.

Zoë Keating Ponders YouTube Service

I have to direct readers’ attention to this blog post by composer and cellist Zoë Keating.  It is the clearest articulation I have yet read about the rock-and-hard-place terms demanded of artists who are considering participation in YouTube’s paid streaming service Music Key.  Keating outlines some of the non-negotiable terms she doesn’t like, for instance that her entire catalog becomes fair game anywhere on YouTube and that she must release new work on Music Key simultaneous with any other release. And if Keating or any other artist does not wish to participate in Music Key, no problem, Google will simply throw your work to the wolves.

What does that mean?

Presently, Keating and other artists participate in YouTube’s Content ID program. The way it works is when someone uploads a video with Keating’s music on it, robots identify the track and send her a notice giving her options, including an option to monetize the video.  Many artists, Keating included, choose either to let the video remain without ads, or choose to monetize it with ads; and they typically only seek removal of offensive or unlicensed commercial uses.  But for all the noise people like to make about “new business models,” the Content ID program cannot generally be called an opportunity for artists, so much as it is a band-aid applied long after the bleeding of music’s value had begun.  It’s YouTube saying, “Well, people are going to use your music online and we’re going to monetize that, and there’s not much you can do about it, so here’s a slice of the pie.”  But nobody should think for a minute that Content ID is a revenue stream that most artists consider a portion of sustainable income. Still, it does provide artists a view of where their music is being used on the service, and this certainly has value.

But along comes Music Key with terms artists don’t like — last year there were several reports about the meager revenue shares in the offer — but an artist who declines to participate in Music Key will automatically lose his/her Content ID account.  As Zoë Keating describes, this puts her in the unfortunate position of potentially removing almost 10,000 videos and upsetting thousands of fans, or gritting her teeth and accepting YouTube’s exploitative terms for Music Key. But, the implication here is actually worse…

If an artist were to decline the Music Key deal, and next month there were 40,000 videos using her music, she could neither participate in the revenue nor very effectively remove those videos due to the slow and cumbersome DMCA notice-and-takedown process. Plus, Google’s bots are no longer identifying her music for her because she’s had that account revoked.  And if she did avail herself of DMCA for removal of any videos, YouTube will show users its frowny face icon, and the EFF will catalog the removal with the Chilling Effects database, making the artist look like she’s being a greedy, mean, censor.  See, it’s not so much a new model as it is a very old model coming back into vogue.

But Zoë Keating makes a very important point in her article about copyright itself.  If you pay attention to the facts she lays out — and she’s much friendlier about it than others, including me — you will notice that the central conflict she has with the YouTube predicament is the limiting of her choices as an artist.  This is something people continue to overlook:  that in most cases, what the artist wants is to retain his or her right to decide how works are used — by whom, for compensation or not, the timing and manner of presentation and distribution, etc.  People talk about copyright as though its last remaining use is for big media corporations to scrape every nickel out of a property it bought forty years ago. And they like to make generalizations like, “the labels have screwed artists for years.” But no label was ever able to say, “Hey, take this deal, or I’ll just give your music away and sell ads to the crowds I draw.” Here’s Keating on the comparison between the old boss and the new boss:

“But I want to decide what to do when. That is a major reason why I decided in 2005 to self-publish rather than chase after a record deal. I am independent because I didn’t want a bunch of men in suits deciding how I should release my music. For 10 years I have managed to bushwhack a circuitous path around them but now I’ve got to find a away around the men in hoodies and crocs . . .”

Others have said it before, and Keating is saying it again. The new boss wears a new uniform, but he’s just another boss. Only this time he has a worse deal in one pocket and a rock in the other.  Or as Keating puts it, having been an early evangelist of the Internet’s cultural potential, “the revolution has been corporatized.”