Category: Culture

Mousetrap: The Copyright Deep Story Behind Today’s Lies

It seems that after Public Knowledge came out, guns blazing, and just plain making things up about copyright extensions in the new round of NAFTA negotiations, they and their supporters tried to tiptoe these statements back on Twitter by blaming the USTR for its lack of clarity. While I have little doubt that such vagueness is present—certainly if the USTR’s own press release is any indication—this does not excuse manufacturing a story and blasting it all over the internet, not least because a moment’s thought was all PK needed to conclude that what they were about to say probably wasn’t true. But once these things are on the internet and spread, well…what was never true in the morning will be true in many minds by five o’clock.

There are only two explanations for someone perpetrating an outright lie: ignorance or corruption. Either one is innocently misinformed and, therefore, unqualified to speak on the given subject; or one is purposely spreading falsehoods and, therefore, undeserving of anyone’s trust. And I suppose we have to acknowledge a hybrid of the two whereby one becomes so entrenched in an ideology (e.g. an anti-copyright agenda) that one remains willfully ignorant in order to feel less corrupt while spreading lies.

And that little sermon brings us to the tweet posted by Public Knowledge’s Senior Vice President Harold Feld, originally written to draw reader attention to the organization’s memo about the invented copyright extension in new NAFTA …

 

This is a fine example of a “deep story” as described by Alice Marwick in her paper about why we share fake news. For some Americans, their deep story is that immigrants are destroying the nation; for others, it’s a vast Jewish conspiracy; for many, it’s that vaccines cause autism; and for the anti-copyright zealot, it’s that Mickey Mouse has long been the primary (if not the sole) reason for term extensions in American copyright law. And because this is a deep story with roots in millions of minds, I’m not calling out Feld personally so much as by example; only he knows whether his tweet is more a manifestation of ignorance or corruption.

So, once again, I feel compelled to clarify a salient point about copyright history; and I apologize if this gets a little technical and arcane, but here it goes: Mickey Mouse had sweet fuck all to do with the current U.S. copyright term.

That’s not an opinion or a counter-narrative or an alternative fact. The Mouse story, while plausible and attractive to many, just ain’t so; and no self-respecting copyright scholar would allow it to be repeated as “history” because they know that the development of copyright term length dates back at least 160 years before Mickey first appeared on screen. Here’s a synopsis …

In Millar v. Taylor (1769), the English court held that a perpetual copyright existed at common law until statutory copyright—the Statute of Anne ratified in 1710—placed a limit (albeit a necessary one) on the duration of the term. By the late 1830s, France already had a posthumous term based on life of the author plus ten years; and England began debating a similar regime predicated on a bill that would have extended the term to life of the author plus 60 years. A version of that bill passed in 1842 with a term of life of the author plus seven years, or 42 years, whichever was the longer.

With the Berne Convention treaty of 1886, England, France, and other signatory nations much smaller than the U.S. continued to extend terms, eventually mandating life of the author plus 50 in 1948. Meanwhile, throughout the 19th century, the United States dragged its feet for about sixty years in ratifying any kind of international copyright law (doing so in 1891) and only codified a life-of-the-author-plus-50 regime in the 1976 Copyright Act—nearly 70 years after those terms were first adopted on a voluntary basis in Berne.

When the U.S. finally joined Berne in 1989 (103 years after its origination), this was just in time to play catch-up once again as Europe was about to coalesce into the EU in 1992. The European Parliament settled on a term of life of the author plus 70 years, thus providing grounds for the Copyright Term Extension Act of 1998, which amended the 1976 law to conform to the terms adopted by the EU and other key trading nations.

That’s a digest version of term length and how it got that way, but suffice to say that Mickey Mouse’s debut performance in Steamboat Willie in 1928 is not even a footnote in the evolution of widely-adopted, international copyright terms to which the U.S. eventually had to adhere if it wanted to join various trade agreements with some of its most important partners.

People are entitled to argue that copyright terms are too long, which is a perfectly valid topic for discussion and debate. But they are not entitled—least of all under the banner of a public-serving organization—to perpetuate conspiratorial nonsense in order to score symbolic social-media “wins” rather than provide substantive contributions. We have enough of the former in our current politics, and if that’s all the folks at Public Knowledge can bring to the table, then they don’t deserve a seat—either because they are unqualified or because they are dishonest.

Also see Brief History of US Copyright Terms at Copyhype.

Platform Responsibility? How about starting with legal content?

It may be hip these day to talk about platform responsibility, but just a couple years ago, there were no mainstream conversations about how the operations and policies of online service providers might be enabling misinformation, hate speech, propaganda, etc. And while mea culpas from Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg and Twitter’s Jack Dorsey make headlines, and Google tries to pitch the general message that “we’re all in this together,” my more cynical self wonders whether these service providers are just waiting out the news cycle. Waiting until we grow weary of this new discussion, which just happens to be focused on some of the most difficult (if not intractable) questions, like where to draw lines on protected speech.

As alluded to in this post, it is my personal theory that if the major service providers do not change their policies, practices, and rhetoric with regard to illegal content—or support of illegal content—then all this chatter about finding balance in the realm of protected speech is just pandering noise that will soon die down. I do not doubt that Zuckerberg, Dorsey, et al feel personally conflicted about the role their platforms have played in elevating rank divisiveness into the mainstream of political discourse; but when these guys, and other representatives of OSPs say things like “We have to do better,” I can’t help but think of the litany of cases in which internet companies have fought against complying with established legal principles at every turn.

I think of Google fighting a Canadian Supreme Court order in Equustek v. Google to delist links to a counterfeit product supplier. Or Yelp in Hassell v. Bird refusing to remove a review that a court held to be libelous. Or the fact pattern in BMG v. Cox Communications which revealed a systemic policy whereby the OSP avoided compliance with the terms of the DMCA. Or even Viacom v. YouTube, which, though settled without trial, revealed a similar fact pattern of knowingly enabling users to infringe copyrights. Or one of my favorite moments in internet hubris: Reddit’s hand-wringing, apologetic rationale for removing a subreddit that was hosting stolen nude photos of celebrities, who happened to be victims of a hacker.

Not one of the cases alluded to above involves protected speech, yet the responses have all been variations on the same theme: that removing anything from the web can only be a slippery slope toward “censorship.” And despite the fact that these, and other examples, generally entail unprotected, illegal content, we are now suddenly expecting the OSPs to grapple with the more complicated matter of monitoring legal speech and to do…something…as a matter of principle. Don’t get me wrong. A change in attitude would be welcome in so many ways. But if the major platforms cannot first amend their practices with regard to illegal material, I am highly doubtful they will come anywhere near striking the balance that everyone who is now having the “responsibility” conversation says is so essential.

In a panel discussion about platform responsibility hosted yesterday by the Technology Policy Institute, Daphne Keller of the Center for Internet and Society said that she “did not want to return to the copyright wars” in context to the discussion now being had. That’s her prerogative, of course, but copyright infringement is probably the vanguard issue that is most instructive to this moment of internal and external consideration of what platform responsibility actually means. Two decades worth of policies adopted by the major OSPs to first profit from copyright infringement and then seek to reshape copyright law itself in the courts, in academia, and in the public sphere reveal the sense of “responsibility” these companies have felt toward the people they have been exploiting. And of course when the exploited complained they were told they were wrong—that they did not understand the future.

In fact, in yesterday’s panel, I believe it was Keller who alluded to the “false dichotomy” that pits technology against rightholders, but let us not forget the origin of that bullshit narrative. Because it didn’t come from the rightholders. Shall we do a search for all the editorials posted by Techdirt, by EFF, by Lessig and Lefsetz—by copyright critics large and small—who have labeled creative rightholders as technology Luddites “clinging to old models”? That’s not the copyright owner’s narrative, it’s Big Tech’s narrative. So, if there is a false dichotomy, which now demands clarification, it ought to be recanted by the liars who wrote it and are still repeating it. That would be taking responsibility.

Interestingly enough, as a former Associate General Counsel for Google, Keller worked on the aforementioned Equustek case, and in June of 2017, she wrote a blog post for CIS in which she labeled the Canadian Court order that Google remove search results globally as an “ominous” proposal. In simple terms, this was a case in which a counterfeit business infringed Equustek’s trade secrets and then sold knock-off products via multiple sites on the web. Equustek sought and won a court order to remove the counterfeiter’s sites globally from Goolge’s search results.

I cite this example because it is comparatively straightforward. The legit company deserves the business earned by its products; consumers deserve to know what they’re buying and from whom; and there is no speech protection for trade in counterfeit goods. Equustek is also instructive because there is a clear parallel between its prayer for injunctive relief and, say, the motion picture industry’s efforts to have Google delist or demote major pirate sites, which are also not protected speech. Yet, in her 2017 post, Keller sums up the “ominous” nature of the Canadian Court order thus:

“Canada’s endorsement of cross-border content removal orders is deeply troubling. It speeds the day when we will see the same kinds of orders from countries with problematic human rights records and oppressive speech laws. And it increases any individual speaker’s vulnerability to laws and state actors elsewhere in the world. Content hosting and distribution are increasingly centralized in the hands of a few multinational companies – Google, Facebook, Apple, Amazon and Microsoft with their web hosting services, etc. Those companies have local presence and vulnerability to formal jurisdiction and real world threats of arrest or asset seizure in scores of countries.”

Apropos that first sentence, Keller asks rhetorically in the same post, “Can Russia use its anti-gay laws to make search results unavailable to Canadians?” I have two responses to this: the first is No, because the hypothetical, Russian court order would violate both Canadian and American law, which is not the case in Canada’s order to Google in Equustek. Keller, who is really citing Canada’s Michael Geist, falsely alleges that the defendant in Equustek is disseminating protected “speech and information,” which is not the case because the content is infringing and misleading in a manner that could be construed as fraudulent.

My second response is to mention that the policy view Keller seems to advocate—that the rule of law just doesn’t work in cyberspace—is exactly how we arrived at the moment in history when the Russian government is in fact exporting its agenda to the U.S. by using our own speech rights against us on social media. The Geist/Keller example of the Russian court order is pure hypothetical hysteria, but the phenomenon in which paid Russian hackers are fomenting anti-gay, and other hateful sentiments, to ratchet up divisiveness in the U.S. is a verified reality. I happen to think this makes pretty compelling evidence that the rule of lawlessness in cyberspace hasn’t worked out so well, but perhaps that’s just my inner Luddite talking.

So, although the topic of platform responsibility may be trending right now, I maintain some doubt that the OSPs can, or even should, try to protect society against the social and political effects of problematic information. That topic may be what sparked the conversation, but the complexity of that challenge, as it is currently framed, may wind up allowing the service providers to revert to the status quo, in which they moderate almost nothing and monetize almost everything.

Instead, taking on the less-challenging task of actually mitigating illegal content—copyright infringement, harassment, counterfeiting, trafficking, libel, etc.—does not require platform administrators to wade into the murky complexities of moderating speech. So, if they really mean it when they say, “We have to do better,” they can certainly start by complying with reasonable court orders and working with—rather than against—key stakeholders seeking a more lawful internet ecosystem.

Photo by David Crockett

Zeynep Tufekci on how the idealism of social media went wrong

In a new, must-read article at MIT Technology review, Professor Zeynep Tufekci at the the University of North Carolina describes How social media took us from Tahrir Square to Donald Trump.  Beginning with the euphoric naivete of just a few years ago that universally assumed Facebook and Twitter would save democracy, Tufekci details the mechanisms by which social media became a weapon aimed at destroying democracy–and not just by Russians.  Advocating that we look beyond the technology–and especially not seek exclusively digital solutions–she places the role of social media in its proper context, I think, as a tool for exacerbating social, political, and economic ills that were already in place well before Mark Zuckerberg began shaving.  Some pull-quotes below, but read the whole article here.

“Digital platforms allowed communities to gather and form in new ways, but they also dispersed existing communities, those that had watched the same TV news and read the same newspapers. Even living on the same street meant less when information was disseminated through algorithms designed to maximize revenue by keeping people glued to screens.”

“Throughout the years of the Obama administration, these platforms grew boisterously and were essentially unregulated. They spent their time solidifying their technical chops for deeply surveilling their users, so as to make advertising on the platforms ever more efficacious.”

“… the weakening of old-style information gatekeepers (such as media, NGOs, and government and academic institutions), while empowering the underdogs, has also, in another way, deeply disempowered underdogs.”