Category: Law & Policy

Court Demolishes Texas Book “Rating” Law

In the 1980s, the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC), led by Tipper Gore and several other wives of Washington insiders,[1] sought to compel record labels to place stickers on albums warning consumers that the songs within contained “explicit lyrics.” Songwriters, including Frank Zappa, John Denver, and Dee Snider testified in Senate hearings to oppose the label initiative on First Amendment grounds, but in the end, the RIAA agreed to voluntary use of the labels. Predictably, the result was a lot of ridicule of the now defunct PMRC, and the warning labels mostly served to make the albums more attractive to listeners.

Today’s self-appointed defenders of children against “dangerous” cultural material are more aggressive and mean-spirited than the PMRC and, it appears, more incompetent. Both the tenor and the incompetence were recently highlighted in a 59-page opinion handed down by the District Court for the Western District of Texas, eviscerating a law, unironically called READER,[2] that would have required book vendors to engage in a complexly incoherent rating scheme.

The complaint, filed by Book People, Blue Willow Book Shop, American Booksellers Association, Association of American Publishers, Authors Guild, and Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, alleged that, if enforced, the Texas law would violate the First and Fourteenth Amendments. Plaintiffs won a summary judgment on all questions of law, and the state is enjoined from enforcing READER as of the September 18 decision. In sum, Judge Allan D. Albright, a Trump appointee, stated, “READER’s requirements for vendors are so numerous and onerous as to call into question whether the legislature believed any third party could possibly comply.”

That is a sober and sobering assessment of the provisions, which appear to have been designed not to reasonably assess books for age appropriateness in school settings, but to ban the sale of certain books by erecting a thicket of compliance too dense and jagged to navigate. Either that, or the law was pure theater and never meant to be enforced because it is so unwieldy. Judge Albright’s opinion is rich with pull-quotes criticizing a law that would have burdened vendors with extraordinary expense (in the millions of dollars) to analyze their catalogs according to undefined terms and methodologies…

The lack of any blueprint for the Plaintiffs to follow creates a blunt reality that under this scheme it is guaranteed that different book distributors and sellers will arrive at different assessments with respect to hundreds if not thousands of books.

Plus, the inevitably broad range of interpretations and applications of READER would be further exacerbated by the authority of the Texas Education Agency (TEA) to overrule a vendor’s rating without any clear guidance or process for appeal…

There is precious little if any language in the statute to ensure that any decision made by the TEA with respect to the rating of any book will be any more ‘accurate’ (whatever that means) allowing for the enormous possibility if not probability that it will be entirely arbitrary and capricious (at best). In other words, vendors must decide between either accepting the state administrative agency substituted speech as their own or being effectively blacklisted.

Specifically, if READER were to be enforced, book vendors would have been required to rate both their current catalogs and “books in active use” according to new state standards for “sexually explicit” and “sexually relevant” material. Given the current climate flush with politicians who routinely conflate sexual identity with sexual conduct, it takes little imagination to guess at the Texas legislature’s intent with a vague category called “sexually relevant.”

For instance, how might a vendor be expected to rate my friend J. J. Austrian’s book about two earthworms getting married when there is no sex in the story at all? Although Worm Loves Worm may be read as allegorical support for same-sex marriage, does that subjective reading make the book “sexually relevant” in some administrator’s mind? J. J. said during our podcast interview that most kids don’t even pick up on a “gay marriage” metaphor—earthworms are hermaphrodites after all—which suggests that adults who have banned the book are likely poor readers of both the story and the intended audience. Now, imagine being a vendor and trying to rate hundreds or thousands of titles in context to the “community standards” of all the disparate communities across the State of Texas. “It is an open question whether this community standard is based on Austin, Texas, or Onalaska, Texas—or any of the more than 1,200 incorporated municipalities across Texas,” the opinion states.

There are too many moving parts in this judgment to discuss in one post, but I think the bottom line is that laws like READER aren’t about protecting children, or even about notifying parents about content, as the PMRC intended. While any state has a right and authority to erect a system for vetting materials purchased by its schools, sloppy, overbroad, Catch-22 laws like READER, especially in the current climate, are arguably about little more than hating gay and trans people.

I would challenge anyone to find young children’s literature that contains “sexually explicit” material, as defined by law[3] or common sense, let alone find the mythical Anais Nin picture book in a school library. On the other hand, if “sexually explicit” or “sexually relevant” are terms that Texas lawmakers intended to encompass stories in which a character has two dads, or stories about young people struggling with gender identity, those terms are as illiterate as they are constitutionally unworkable.

For as long as I’ve been politically conscious, “conservative” Americans have claimed to oppose the nanny state and to value individual effort. So, maybe parents who don’t want their children reading certain books can stop asking the state to do their parenting for them, read the damn books themselves, and make the individual decisions they deem necessary. Because there is a world of difference between a personal choice to restrict access to a book for one’s own child and demanding that a book disappear from the shelves for all children. Fortunately, the latter can rarely be achieved without violating the Constitution.

[1] Also Susan Baker, Pam Howar, and Sally Nevius.

[2] Restricting Explicit and Adult-Designated Educational Resources Act

[3] “The Miller test [for sexually explicit material] requires the following elements: ‘(a) whether the average person, applying contemporary community standards’ would find that the work, taken as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest, (b) whether the work depicts or describes, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct specifically defined by the applicable state law, and (c) whether the work, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.’”

Photo by: shutter2u

Chabon v. Chatbot:  About those ‘Shadow Libraries’

As many readers already know, another class-action lawsuit was filed on September 8 against OpenAI by book authors Michael Chabon, David Henry Hwang, Matthew Klam, Rachel Louise Snyder, and Ayelet Waldman on behalf of all authors similarly situated. The allegations are almost identical to the complaints in other class-action suits against various AI companies. I won’t repeat what I have already written about each allegation, but once again, I predict that if the court does not find unlawful reproduction in transient copies necessarily made in RAM, Open AI will likely prevail. Once again, this complaint alleges that the GPT model itself is an unlicensed “derivative work” of the entire corpus of books fed into it, but this does not seem to be a well-founded implication of the derivative works right under copyright law.

But one aspect of this complaint (as well as Tremblay et al.) is that Open AI is alleged to have obtained part of its database from known pirate repositories. In reference to one of the datasets used to train Chat GPT, the Chabon complaint states, “the only ‘internet-based books corpora’ that have ever offered that much material are infamous ‘shadow library’ websites, like Library Genesis (“LibGen”), Z-Library, Sci-Hub, and Bibliotik, which host massive collections of pirated books, research papers, and other text-based materials. The materials aggregated by these websites have also been available in bulk through torrent systems.” So, is the act of exploiting illegally obtained materials in this manner a violation of law?

Certainly, the Copyright Act does not address the issue. There is language about “lawfully made” copies in the context of first sale doctrine and certain exceptions for libraries. The only two uses of the words “lawfully obtained” in Title 17 pertain to acquisition of a computer program and permissible circumvention of technical protections for research purposes. So, nothing in the Copyright Act makes Open AI’s scraping “shadow libraries” an infringing act on its own, and there is no language in §107 on fair use that refers to lawfully making or obtaining material(s). This would be anathema since a fair use defense implies an unlicensed use.

Still, it seems wrong (probably because it is) to profit by exploiting another party’s unlawful possession of valuable materials. Under the criminal code (Title 18 §2315), it is a “federal offense to receive, possess, barter, sell, or dispose of stolen property with an aggregate value of $5,000 or more if the property crosses state lines.” The statute refers to physical property and not to exploiting databases full of pirated material. But if an AI developer knowingly exploits repositories replete with unlicensed copies of works, doesn’t that sound like it should be illegal?

This discussion reminds me a little bit of the rationale for the Protecting Lawful Streaming Act of 2020, which elevated the unauthorized public performance of works via streaming from a misdemeanor to a felony. After years of debate—and allegations by anti-copyright groups that felony streaming would be disastrous—Congress recognized that unlawful streaming is effectively a digital-age version of mass bootlegging physical copies, which had long been a felony. In fact, streaming is worse because it can reach a much larger black-market than any bootlegger distributing physical products ever could.

So, under a similar rationale by which Congress recognized that streaming digital repositories of unlicensed works is a felony, perhaps lawmakers might broaden the intent of Title 18 §2315 to prohibit mass exploitation of digital warehouses full of illegal copies of copyrighted works. Certainly, these warehouses contain materials with aggregate values in the tens of millions of dollars. Hence, any party that knowingly exploits these warehouses for financial gain might reasonably be liable under the criminal code.

Authors and artists are justifiably angry that their works are being used without permission to train generative AIs. And the fact that Chat GPT was allegedly trained in part with corpora of literary material acquired and stored by media pirates is salt in the wound to say the least. I don’t know what, if any, legal remedies might be proposed, but I am confident that it is generally wrong to profit from the intentional use of ill-gotten goods.

Photo by: onephoto

The Mugshot Heard ‘round the World

It was no surprise that the mugshot was immediately copied onto tees, hats, coffee mugs, etc. and sold to Americans who see either a martyr or a traitor in the same image. It was also no surprise that Team Trump produced merch of its own to sell for campaign (a.k.a. criminal defense) fundraising purposes. But these and other uses of the photograph have fostered some legal discussions on chat boards and elsewhere as to who, if anyone, has the right to control the exploitation of the mugshot. And so, I offer my own takes for what they’re worth.

Who Owns the Copyrights in the Image?

This is actually two questions:  1) is the Trump mugshot copyrightable at all? and 2) if so, who would be the owner of the copyright? Opinions will vary, but in my view, there are several factors that militate against enforceable copyright in this photograph, which is tantamount to having no copyright at all. If any party could own the copyright, it would logically be the State of Georgia or Fulton County, but aside from the fact that neither entity is likely to file a registration application for the photo with the Copyright Office, there is arguably no basis for finding sufficient originality in the image.

The mugshot photo station at the jailhouse is presumably as static as a surveillance camera—arranged to capture the same, fact-intensive photo for a highly utilitarian, informative purpose. No human (e.g., officer or clerk) can reasonably claim to have made any creative choices to produce original expression in the Trump mugshot, and this militates against copyright rights, which would then automatically transfer to the state or county employer. If there is any expression in the image at all, it is arguably Trump’s “creative” choice to make the angry face. But although I have explored the question of co-authorship by subjects in photographs, this is 1) a thought experiment outside the bounds of case law; and 2) a theory that would likely find less foundation in an image that is more factual than expressive in nature.

For these reasons alone, I believe the image would not be copyrightable, even if the state entity were to try to register the photograph with the Copyright Office. But no matter what, there is no legal authority under which Trump could own the copyright.

Can the Trump Campaign Control the Merch?

On August 29, Trump campaign adviser Chris LaCivita posted on X, “If you are a campaign, PAC, scammer and you try raising money off the mugshot of @realDonaldTrump and you have not received prior permission…WE ARE COMING AFTER YOU…you WILL NOT SCAM DONORS.”

Notwithstanding the tongue-biting irony of Team Trump using the word scam, LaCivita’s message could be read as a valid warning to any parties that might pretend to be the Trump campaign, but that would be an odd statement in regard to the mugshot because this type of fraud has nothing to do with use of the photograph per se. If, instead, LaCivita means to imply that the Trump campaign has an exclusive right to sell “official” mugshot merchandise for commercial purposes—or to prevent use of the image to raise funds in opposition to Trump—then he’s dead wrong on the law, as that crowd so often is.

Trademark Law Does Nothing for Trump

Although it is permissible to register trademarks in certain words or images used in political campaigns (e.g., slogans or logos), there are both administrative and doctrinal reasons why the Trump campaign could not claim the mugshot as a service mark. As a practical matter, the trademark claimant must use the relevant mark in trade when applying for protection and then go through a rather lengthy process to affirm the mark remains in use—and use in a specific class (or classes) of goods and/or services.

But in this case, the instant the mugshot was shared with the world, it conveyed irreconcilably divergent meanings to the public. So, under trademark practice, could Trump assert the exclusive right to use the “mark” in a class called Multiply Indicted, Seditious Former Presidents? Probably not since no such class exists. But that’s generally what the image conveys to millions of Americans, and the purpose of trademark is to protect the earned integrity of brands, not to burnish the reputations of politicians reviled by more than half the population.

What About Trump’s Likeness?

It may not be Trump’s mugshot as IP, but it is certainly his mug, and doesn’t his right of publicity (ROP) allow him to control how his likeness is used? As discussed in context to artificial intelligence, ROP laws are statutory in half the states, common law elsewhere, and there is no federal ROP statute. Most importantly, though, ROP generally applies to commercial use of an individual’s likeness for endorsement or advertising purposes. Thus, Susan Scafidi, founder of the Fashion Law Institute is off the mark, as quoted in the New York Times stating, “Trump could, in theory, attempt to shut down sales of merch with his mug shot, not unlike the way Obama objected to appearing on a Weatherproof Garment Company billboard…”

I believe this is incorrect. Unauthorized use of a likeness (even of a political figure) for commercial advertising is likely to be a paradigmatic violation of ROP. So, if an entity were to use the Trump mugshot to promote its goods or services, Trump should have a strong legal foundation for stopping that use.[1] By contrast, reproducing the mugshot for the purpose of mocking, criticizing, or downright hating any political figure is protected speech at the core of the First Amendment, and Trump would have no legal foundation to enjoin such uses.

But what if the mugshot is reproduced (on merch or elsewhere) without accompanying commentary? If I walk through town wearing a tee shirt with the unaltered mugshot on it, observers who don’t know me would have no idea whether I am celebrating or denouncing the Georgia arraignment. So, does this ambiguity alter the First Amendment consideration such that Trump would have any grounds to stop the production of merchandise that merely reproduces the photo? Again, I would say no if only because the mugshot is a factual statement of extraordinary newsworthy value to the public. Thus, the production and distribution of merchandise bearing no communication other than the image should still be protected by the speech and press rights, even if the right of redress is not implicated.

So, that’s my 50 cents on some of the legal discussion surrounding this image, which may one day be more widely reproduced than Alberto Korda’s photograph of Che Guevara.[2] Of course, this is all nerdy food for thought because it’s hard to imagine that any of these questions will ever be presented in court. Even if Team Trump could show standing, they have bigger sheep to fleece and zero hope of controlling the perception of millions that a mugshot is usually just a photograph of a criminal.

[1] It is of course possible to blur the line between a company’s politics and its marketing, which would result in a fact-intensive inquiry into the matter. Likewise, a not-for-profit could promote a policy message that Trump does not endorse and use the mugshot to illustrate the opposition, and this should not be a violation of ROP.

[2] Ironically, this is actual and rampant infringement of the photographer’s copyright rights.