Category: Law & Policy

Professor Citron Proposes Civil Remedies for Violations of Intimate Privacy

At a panel hosted by The Reykjavik Dialogue,[1] during a discussion about law enforcement, justice, and sex discrimination, Mary Anne Franks, co-founder of the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative noted that when her organization asked perpetrators who had engaged in revenge porn what would have stopped them from doing it, the answer was almost universally, “If I thought I could go to jail for it.”

The act of distributing intimate, private images via the internet without permission of the persons depicted is a crime—one that causes ongoing harm to victims, including harassment and violence, destruction of interpersonal relationships, loss of employment opportunities, psychological disorder, and suicide. And thanks substantially to the efforts of Franks and her colleague at CCRI, Danielle Keats Citron, nearly every state has criminalized the act of nonconsensual distribution of intimate images; and a federal bill to do likewise, the SHIELD Act, passed the House in March as part of H.R. 1620.

But while these laws pave the way for prosecution of the individuals who engage in this conduct, they do nothing about removing these violations of intimate privacy from the websites hosing the material. And to make matters more complicated, “deepfakes” technologies make it relatively easy to depict just about anyone in intimate or sexually explicit material for which they were never actually photographed.

Citron Proposes Privacy Injunctions

In a new paper that addresses the nonconsensual distribution of both real and manufactured images, Citron proposes two interdependent legal mechanisms to overcome the hurdles to removing this kind of content from the internet, and she also discusses the First Amendment questions raised as both a constitutional and a cultural matter.

First, Citron argues that courts must be empowered with “clear legislative permission” to provide plaintiffs with injunctive relief by ordering sites “to remove, delete, or otherwise make unavailable intimate images, real or fake, hosted without written permission.” One might think this is common sense, or simply a matter of basic decency, but court orders to remove material of any kind have been assiduously opposed by internet platforms large and small, and with considerable legal and PR support from “digital rights” activists like the Electronic Frontier Foundation. (See post here and here about Google v. Equustek & Hassell v. Bird.)

The rationale usually argued in the blogosphere and the courts for refusal to remove any content is the First Amendment—a fallacy that now roils the public debate—but the legal foundation that has given the platforms the swagger to distort the speech and press rights has been the courts’ over-broad interpretation of Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act as a blanket immunity. Not only have platforms been shielded against being named parties to civil litigation, but 230 has been invoked as the reason to shield them even from injunctions that do nothing more than order the removal of harmful material. Naturally, when a web company cannot be held liable for anything, it’s very easy for its operators to call all content “speech” and tell the public that all platforms are inherently engines of free expression.

Thus, in order for the above-mentioned legislative permission to be effective, Citron argues, as she and Franks have in earlier papers, that, “Congress should amend Section 230 to make clear that platforms and search engines can be sued in cases seeking injunctive relief and attorney’s fees related to the removal of intimate images hosted without written consent.”

Citron acknowledges that the solution is not perfect, particularly because litigation directed at one incident on one platform does not address the likelihood that intimate images will be distributed across multiple sites; but she writes, “Victims need to know that society recognizes the damage to the dignity and intimate privacy of victims, that law can help mitigate the damage, that sites are not law-free zones, and that lawyers will represent them.”

If that sounds like Citron’s proposed remedies are more symbolic than remedial, I will echo her comparison to civil rights legislation and argue that we should not underestimate even the symbolism of law to effect widespread remedies by fostering cultural and behavioral change. Presumably, most people do believe the act of distributing intimate images without permission is wrong, whether for revenge or any other motive. So, it helps when the law says it’s wrong, too. But at the same time, Citron addresses a broader cultural phenomenon in which Americans in particular struggle with our brand of the speech right and the distinction between access to information and prurient curiosity.

As a constitutional question, when a law intersects rights like those enumerated in the First Amendment, it must be held to the standard known as strict scrutiny. This means that a statute must serve a compelling public interest and must achieve a narrow purpose that cannot be achieved through less restrictive means. Here, Citron notes that the state laws criminalizing the nonconsensual distribution of intimate images have already held up to constitutional challenges in Vermont, Illinois, and Minnesota, but she also discusses that gray area where the public’s right to know is often too easily conflated with general interest.”By my lights, there can be a vast difference between learning about a public official’s intimate information and seeing photographs or videos documenting it. That distinction is worth careful consideration,” Citron writes.

Agreed. Specifically, did the American public have a right to know that Rep. Katie Hill was intimately involved with a member of her staff and, allegedly, using marijuana? Yes. Even though I personally do not care much what an elected official does in her private life unless it directly intersects with the official role, those allegations are certainly news that voters have a right to know. But I agree with Citron that there is a moral line—I would say a chasm—between a news report about Hill’s conduct and the publication of her intimate images (albeit semi-redacted) on the site RedState.

Hill sued RedState owner Salem Media,[2] and the publisher was granted a motion to dismiss the complaint under California’s anti-SLAPP law,[3] with the court finding, in Citron’s words, that “the photos shed light on Hill’s fitness for office.” The hell they did. How the information about Hill’s conduct sheds light on her fitness for office is up to the voters, but the leaked photos were nothing more than RedState’s opportunity to earn revenue by pandering to the worst impulses of the electorate, which increasingly cannot distinguish between political discourse and tribal brutality. RedState’s publication of the photos is barely distinguishable from revenge porn disguised as political reportage.[4] And to add insult to injury, Hill had to pay $200,000 for Salem’s legal fees.

As Citron notes, “Most cases involving the nonconsensual disclosure of intimate images will not present close calls about the boundaries of the public’s legitimate interest.” And, of course, this is correct. Most individuals who engage in this kind of behavior are not even propaganda mongers, let alone journalists. But I do suspect the techbro culture of the internet, where perhaps the blurry lines we see on a RedState re. Hill or a Gawker re. Hulk Hogan, imply to those other bros who violate intimate privacy that what they are doing is not criminal. It is. And it is time for the laws to catch up to that reality.

[1] Renewing Activism to End Violence Against Women www.rekjavikdialogue.is

[2] Hill’s counsel is Carrie Goldberg, leading specialist in this area.

[3] Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation.

[4] To be clear, I would say the same thing about the publication of similar photos of Reps. Boebert or Greene for whom I have nothing but contempt.

NC Court Grants Motion in Allen v. Cooper to Reconsider Takings Claim

On March 23, 2020, the Supreme Court remorsefully found in Allen v. Cooper that its own precedents obligated it to affirm that states are immune from federal litigation in claims of copyright infringement. On September 4, 2020, plaintiff Rick Allen filed a motion to reconsider the North Carolina district court’s 2017 dismissal of his takings claim under the Fifth Amendment for that state’s unlicensed use of his audio-visual works documenting the recovery of Blackbeard’s ship Queen Anne’s Revenge. On August 18, 2021, the court granted Allen’s motion.

Anyone who has followed the matter of sovereign immunity and state infringement of copyrighted works is aware of the byzantine, Heller-esque logic at the heart of this mess in which no reasonable party believes that justice is being served. Still, here’s the general reasoning in plain terms:

The Eleventh Amendment bars persons from bringing federal lawsuits against state or state actors …

BUT Congress, believing (perhaps naively) in its Article I powers to make laws, passed a trio of IP remedy statutes, clearly articulating its intent to abrogate sovereign immunity in cases where the state, or state actors, infringe trademarks, patents, or copyrights.

BUT in a series of cases in the late 1990s and culminating in 2000, the Supreme Court decided that Congress does not have the right under Article I to abrogate Eleventh Amendment immunity, and thus, held the three IP remedy laws to be unconstitutional.

BUT in Allen v. Cooper, although the Supreme Court affirmed those 90s-era decisions under the principle of stare decisis, the justices seemed pretty sad about it, even calling the state of North Carolina et al “pirates” for their conduct toward Mr. Allen et al. Thus, the Court also provided a roadmap for Congress to validly abrogate sovereign immunity in the future.

NOW, one of the principles supporting Eleventh Amendment immunity is that a plaintiff who has a beef with a state is presumed to have recourse to due process in that state’s courts. BUT there is no mechanism for bringing a copyright infringement claim in state courts. SO, that’s a head-scratcher.

MEANWHILE, the Fifth Amendment prohibits the state from taking private property for public use without due process, and the Fifth Amendment naturally carries more weight than a few pesky statutes written by Congress.

BUT at the time that Mr. Allen initially filed a takings claim against North Carolina in 2017, the legal precedent held that before a party may file a claim in federal court, he must first try to remedy his complaint in state court.

BUT when the complaint is an unconstitutional taking of an intangible form of property protected by federal statute, devising a state complaint is dubious at best. AND even if a plaintiff does file a claim in state court and loses, he is then barred from filing a claim in federal court.

MEANWHILE, just to be total dicks about this particular case, North Carolina passed a statute colloquially called “Blackbeard’s Law” which asserts state ownership of any AV material captured of any historic vessel found in North Carolina waters.

THEN, in 2019, the Supreme Court held in a municipal takings case, Knick v. Township of Scott, that a plaintiff need not exhaust state remedies prior to appealing to a federal forum for a claim of “unconstitutional treatment.”

SO, the decision in Knick created the foundation for Allen’s motion to reconsider his takings claim, and the District Court for the Eastern District of North Carolina agreed.

PLUS, because the Supreme Court held that the copyright remedy law was invalid as a prophylactic abrogation of immunity, the district court will now reconsider Allen’s case in light of United States v. Georgia (2006), which allows for case-by-case abrogation, if there is both a violation of federal statute and constitutional rights.

NOW, this will be interesting to watch. For one thing, if Rick Allen finally achieves justice and compensation, other rightsholders with infringement claims against state actors may also find remedies.

More broadly, though, when the Supreme Court ruled in Allen, it invited Congress to have another go at writing statutes to abrogate state immunity in IP infringement claims against states.[1] But in doing so, the Court drew a very narrow roadmap through the Fourteenth Amendment §5, which grants Congress authority to pass laws that bar state deprivation of property without due process under §1 of that amendment. So, with that in mind, this quote from the district court’s decision to grant Allen’s motion for reconsideration seemed worthy of highlight:

“Even though Knick was not a sovereign immunity case, its conclusion that a compensatory remedy is constitutionally-required was necessary to its decision and is contrary to [the precedent] conclusion that state sovereign immunity can bar takings claims brought under the Fourteenth Amendment.”

What that suggests to this lay reader is that if Allen prevails in his takings claim, and Congress does write new IP remedy laws, the statutes are likely to hold up to a constitutional challenge predicated on sovereign immunity. In fact, in granting this motion, the district court also reiterated its own interpretation on the limits of Eleventh Amendment immunity, writing:

“…this Court stated that the position that the Eleventh Amendment was intended to constitutionalize a broad principle of sovereign immunity contradicts both the historical evidence and the plain meaning of the Amendment that the founders wrote a Constitution upon the sovereignty of the people, rather than that of the States.”

Meanwhile, any state actors who interpret the SCOTUS outcome in Allen as a license to steal intellectual property, may want to reconsider adding to the body of evidence showing that state infringement is rampant, because that evidence will be the foundation on which Congress writes new laws abrogating sovereign immunity in IP cases.

This all seems like a long way to go to right an obvious wrong, and kudos to Rick Allen and his counsel for continuing this fight, even after defeat in the Supreme Court. Assuming this issue will one day be resolved, rightsholders will owe Allen and others in this fight a tremendous debt of gratitude.

[1] With the exception of Justice Thomas, who stated in his concurring opinion that the Court has no business directing Congress to do anything at all.

Rare Books Publisher Valancourt Versus The Deposit Requirement

On July 23, the District Court for the District of Columbia denied publisher Valancourt’s claims that the requirement to provide deposit copies of U.S. published works to the Library of Congress constitutes an unlawful taking under the Fifth Amendment and/or an infringement of speech under the First Amendment. Although many legal experts are likely to agree with the outcome, some may also find the reasoning a little tortured, while at the same time, rightsholders may be made aware of an obscure but significant hypocrisy in the Library’s authority to demand deposit copies. Namely, that in certain cases, the copyright owner receives no benefit in return for compliance.

There is nothing new, of course, about the general requirement that copyright owners submit deposit copies in order to participate in the copyright system. Or to put it more philosophically, the tradition of supplying deposit copies, dating back to England’s Statute of Anne (1710), is grounded in copyright’s modern purpose to incentivize the creation and dissemination of cultural works. In the United States, this principle was most expansively adopted in the 1870 revision to the copyright law, which consolidated the registration process at the Library of Congress with the clear purpose of growing that collection.

Today, the Library of Congress contains the largest collection of works in the world, thanks in no small part to its statutory authority to demand deposit copies of any work published in the United States. And in most cases, the deposit copy requirement is not terribly burdensome for authors or publishers, especially when submitting digital copies along with a registration application to the Copyright Office.

Nevertheless, §407 of the copyright law, which empowers the Library, via the Copyright Office, to demand copies, and even penalize scofflaws, contains an inherent conflict because the mandate is not explicitly a condition for the rightsholder to avail himself of full copyright protection. For this reason, Valancourt Books’s complaint against the Copyright Office, while perhaps strained on constitutional grounds, highlights an uncommon, but significant question of justice.

Background

The niche publisher Valancourt Books was founded by James Jenkins in 2015 and is today operated solely by Jenkins and his husband Ryan Cagle. Together they edit or oversee the production of books from old, rare, and hard-to-find manuscripts—some dating back to the 18th century—which are printed on-demand for customers, including educational institutions. Although many of the works they republish are long in the public domain, the companion material in the Valancourt editions, like scholarly introductions and footnotes, are subjects of copyright; and some of the books they print are still under copyright protection and are, therefore, used by permission of authors or their estates.

Valancourt does not register its books with the Copyright Office—or at least it did not register the 240 titles at issue in this litigation—but it does voluntarily place notices of copyright in the front material. The reason for the notices appears principally to let readers know that either the underlying manuscript and/or supporting elements in the book are protected by copyright. Particularly in a case in which Valancourt has obtained permission for limited, on-demand publication of an out-of-print book, they would reasonably not acquire a traditional publisher’s license but would need to notify readers that the author or her estate still owns the copyright.

In 2018, Valancourt began receiving letters from Copyright Acquisitions Division (CAD) of the Copyright Office demanding deposit copies (the “two copies of best editions” as articulated by statute) of all 341 titles in its catalog. Requiring a print-on-demand niche publisher to supply 682 books at its own expense is a substantial burden, which the Copyright Office has discretion to limit upon a request for “special relief.” However, it was only after Valancourt challenged the demand through legal counsel that the USCO eventually reduced the number of titles to 240 and amended the deposit format it would accept to electronic copies.

Valancourt averred that even the demand for electronic copies was too burdensome for a small operation to access and, in some cases, update older files into compatible deposit formats. Whether this claim is reasonable—files dating back to 2015 should generally work today—Valancourt elected to go big by filing a lawsuit against the Copyright Office and the DOJ, alleging that the deposit demand itself, as codified in §407 of the copyright act, is unconstitutional.

The First Amendment Claim

With regard to Valancourt’s First Amendment claim, the publisher is probably out on a legal limb when it argues that “because only those publishers that receive a demand letter from the Copyright Office can be fined for noncompliance, and because the letters are not sent out at random, the deposit requirement is also a content-based restriction in practice.”

Here, the court finds that there is nothing in the record to indicate that the discretionary practices of the CAD makes content-based decisions as to which publishers it contacts to demand compliance with the deposit requirement. As such, nothing about the nature of Valancourt’s claim appears to implicate an infringement of the speech right. Nevertheless, Valancourt is probably justified in feeling somewhat picked on due to the fact that the LOC/USCO rarely make deposit demands relative to the volume of works produced in the U.S.

The Fifth Amendment Claim

Under the Fifth Amendment, the state may not take private property without due process, which most commonly applies to real property and compensation for the taking of same. But here the court leans on Ninth Circuit precedent in response to another deposit demand case, reiterating, “[t]here is no question but that the materials are private property and that deposit with the Library is for public use,” but “Congress can reasonably place conditions on the grant of a statutory benefit.”

That may sound reasonable on its face because we are accustomed to complying with certain conditions when accessing various services provided by a state or federal agency. But copyright is a funny animal in this regard, and especially tricky in Valancourt’s unusual circumstance. The first problem is that copyright is not a conditional “statutory benefit,” but rather a statutory bundle of rights that attach automatically to any subject matter work fixed in the U.S. after January 1, 1978. The next problem is that although copyright notices are not required by law or administrative function of the Copyright Office, Valancourt’s placement of notices was the factor on which the court’s opinion turned in rejecting the takings claim. Here, it agreed with defendants that the notices constitute “receiving the benefits of copyright,” which obligates plaintiffs to comply with the deposit copy condition. But what benefits does Valancourt receive?

The big condition with which most creators are familiar is registration, which is not mandatory, but is a prerequisite to filing a claim of infringement in federal court. And, of course, submitting deposit copies is a condition of registration, which is reasonable enough as a bargain, but here’s the rub …

Section 407 of the copyright act, which gives the Copyright Office the authority to demand copies (and solely for the benefit of the Library) has nothing to do with the registration formality, which avails the owner of the full opportunity to enforce a copyright in federal court. Simply put, the Library has the authority to demand copies of works published in the U.S. (or levy fines for failure to do so), regardless of the rightsholder’s choice to avail himself of the benefits of registration. And while this disconnect may rarely be a conflict, and may not ultimately be found to rise to the standard of an unconstitutional taking, the Valancourt example reveals that it isn’t exactly equitable either.

Especially in this circumstance, in which this niche, on-demand publisher is responsibly providing rare books that comprise a mix of public domain and copyrighted materials, it is not unreasonable for Valancourt to feel it is trapped between a rock and a hard place. Its modest operation unquestionably supports copyright’s purpose to promote the progress of science, arts, and culture, which is the foundational principle on which the Library is authorized to demand copies in the first place.

A Case Worth Watching

Whether Valancourt’s complaint that providing the electronic copies is too burdensome is a question of fact that may yet be determined, and the publisher seems likely to appeal for a few reasons. For one thing, although the district court responded generally that the government may make services and privileges conditional within constitutional bounds, it did not directly address the underlying evidence that Valancourt arguably receives no benefit for compliance with the deposit demand. And there are certainly legal minds who may be inclined to call this a taking.

Further, if the publisher can show that even the electronic deposit burden is greater than de minimis (i.e. that it would be profoundly detrimental to the business), this may bolster a taking allegation and also animate an argument that, in this case, enforcement of §407 undermines the purpose of copyright. Simply put, if Valancourt can show that it cannot operate—and by extension other small publishers to which it alludes in its filings—that would clearly defeat the purpose to promote.

Photo by: jannoon028