Category: Copyright

Excitement over Librarian nominee is not an excuse to mislead.

The February nomination of Dr. Carla Hayden by President Obama to the position of Librarian of Congress was apparently cause for excitement among many of the usual suspects who write in opposition to copyright.  Because the Copyright Office operates within the purview of the Library of Congress, and the Librarian has final say in key proceedings, some pundits are anticipating that Dr. Hayden’s views on issues like open access and privacy suggest that they can count her as an ally in their ideological camp on copyright issues.

Historically, the Librarian will defer to the Register of Copyrights on most copyright proceedings for the simple reason that the Register is a copyright expert and the Librarian is not.  While both figures play important policy roles, the significant differences in their areas of expertise has led various interested parties to call for a separation between the Library of Congress and the Copyright Office.  That discussion aside, though, the ebullience of certain voices over the prospect of Dr. Hayden as Librarian seems typically glib and even potentially self-defeating.

For instance, longtime copyright critic Cory Doctorow set off this flash-bang of a comment in Boing Boing immediately following the nomination. Yet, despite his proclaimed passion for these issues,Doctorow could not be bothered to contribute more than 160 of his own words on the subject, 65 of which state the following:

“Next up: watch for a move to rip the US Copyright Office (which now gets to make rules on things like whether the DMCA prohibits you from using generic insulin in your insulin pump) out of the Library of Congress, relocating it in Congress where it can be directly overseen by the Congressjerks who have been on the entertainment industry’s take since their first campaign.”

Forget which side of an issue you’re on for a moment, how is that kind of statement not just divisive and meaningless?  As a thinker and author, Doctorow apparently has no qualms about conflating diabetes, the DMCA, Congress, and the entertainment industry in a single head-spinning sentence designed to trigger a purely emotional reaction while conveying neither information nor an idea of any kind. But then, this is the world we live in today—one in which people make snap, political judgments based on narratives that read like this:  Hollywood is paying Congress, so the Copyright Office will use DMCA to prevent diabetics from gaining access to generic insulin.  See how if we organize Doctorow’s implications into a clear declarative like that, it sounds totally crazypants?  Yet, the number of questions begged by his inflammatory statement will not stop plenty of people from sharing his “article” on social media. And we wonder why our political process today is so ugly.

Access to generic insulin is—as I understand it—a serious issue, but not one that is directly related to the DMCA.  In this regard, Doctorow is casually referring to Section 1201 of the law, which is currently under review by the Copyright Office. This section of DMCA prohibits the circumvention of Technological Protection Measures (TPM) used to control access to copyrighted works (including operating software) and prohibits trafficking in tools used for circumvention.  Advocates of open access and the “right” to jail-break cellphones, etc. view TPM as exclusively restrictive to both innovation and civil liberties, though this view, as it is presented in the public debate, can often be narrow in its perspective and overstated in its significance.  For instance, arguing for the “right” to jailbreak cellphones makes good bloggery, but the extent to which it is a real practical concern among the billions of cellphone users in the world is another question.

Bringing this back to Doctorow’s comments, though, the closest thing I can find to a an actual story related to DMCA and insulin is a 2014 class of petitioners who sought exemptions to the anti-circumvention prohibitions in 1201, largely for the purpose of conducting research into consumer products whose software might be susceptible to dangerous hacking.  Included among the classes considered was the software security research of Jerome Radcliffe, who discovered vulnerabilities in the operating software in certain insulin pumps. This type of exemption is exactly the kind of ruling over which the Librarian has final say but will typically defer to the judgement of the Register.

The class of petitions in this case were granted the exemptions being sought, and it is worth noting that the Register provided 400 pages worth of analysis, including an acknowledgement that some of the considerations presented by the class of petitions are not properly the purview of the Copyright Office.  From the recommendations …

“The rules that should govern such research hardly seem the province of copyright, since the considerations of how safely to encourage such investigation are fairly far afield from copyright’s core purpose of promoting the creation and dissemination of creative works. Rather, the rules that should govern are best considered by those responsible for our national security and for regulating the consumer products and services at issue. That said, it is inescapable that the anticircumvention prohibition in section 1201(a)(1) plays a role in the debate.”

This doesn’t mean that all of these considerations are best determined by the Librarian of Congress either—only that the Register acknowledges that several of the classes considered in this particular review—which included voting machines, nuclear power plants, and air-traffic control systems–seems more reasonably to belong in the hands of Congress and other federal agencies. Indeed, as our world becomes increasingly driven by software, we should expect federal agencies to review how these works of code affect consumer safety, security, privacy, etc., and it is probably correct that many of these concerns are well outside the scope of either the Library of Congress or the Copyright Office.  But what any of this has to do with patient access to a generic drug is a mystery; and it is irresponsible for pundits like Doctorow to carelessly invoke an emotionally-charged reference—let alone point a finger at the entertainment industry in this context.

Furthermore, the detailed analysis made by the Register of the petitioners’ and their opponents’ arguments indicate precisely why these considerations are best weighed by experts in copyright law. And no reading of the Register’s recommendations could rationally be labeled “maximalist” or failing to consider the public benefits implicated by the petitioners’ goals. In fact, the degree of attention the Register gives to the petitioners in this case suggests that it could be potentially detrimental to the very purpose of these exemptions to have them considered by a party other than the nation’s copyright authority.  In other words, the Register came to the conclusions that observers like Doctorow would want to see, but the rationale applied in considering the role of copyright actually does matter.  Or to paraphrase a colleague of mine, “You don’t put the EPA in charge of the military just because the military has an environmental impact.”

Meanwhile, the exemption process in this case functioned as it is meant to, though some critics have cited the triennial review of petitions for exemptions as unduly burdensome on researchers like Radcliffe.  And, in fact, the Copyright Office review of  Section 1201 has asked for comments with a view toward making both the review and renewal process for exemptions more efficient.  Suffice to say, though, review of Section 1201 is not a discussion that can or should be boiled down to a tweet, and neither is a discussion about the proper relationship between the Librarian and the Register.

The 15-page comment by Copyright Alliance submitted last week to the Copyright Office regarding Section 1201 review further points out—at least insofar as creative works are concerned—that the section provides a legal framework for the development of diverse distribution channels for all the creative media we like to consume.  Netflix, iTunes, eReaders, streaming live TV on multiple devices, etc. all rely on both the circumvention and trafficking prohibitions in Section 1201 to build business models that allow for the continued production and distribution of the creative works.  “These provisions have served authors and audiences of creative works well by ushering in a vast variety of both new work and innumerable new technology platforms for distributing creative works in innovative ways,” writes Terry Hart, Director of Legal Policy for the organization.

While review of these, or any provisions, is an essential part of sound policymaking, we should recognize that turning all this digital innovation into new forms of commerce typically relies on some form of Technical Protection Measures and that there are many interrelated aspects to reviewing both the form and function of Section 1201. In the meantime, comments like Cory Doctorow’s are needlessly divisive and do nothing to further the public’s understanding of the issues.  In fact, it seems to me that those who champion the values of free and open access to information, should always make an effort to say something informative.

Phoenix Center Responds to Singapore Fair Use Study

In 2012, a report was published in the online journal LAWS entitled A Counterfactual Impact Analysis of Fair Use Policy on Copyright Related Industries in Singapore.  I know. Sounds like a real page-turner for the general reader, right? To be sure, most of us are not schooled in the arcana of statistical economic analysis, but suffice to say the report, written by Roya Ghafele and Benjamin Gibert, concluded (or at least implied) that expansion of the fair use doctrine in the Singapore Copyright Law in 2005 resulted in economic growth in what the researchers identified as the “copying technology industries” (e.g. disk drives, CDs, etc.) and with no detrimental impact to the copyright industries.  When the report was published, it was predictably seized upon by Mike Masnick as proof of one of Techdirt’s core tenets, namely that “less copyright is always economically beneficial”.

But an analysis published yesterday by George S. Ford, PhD at the Phoenix Center for Advanced Legal & Economic Public Policy Studies, has called the Singapore Study a work of “stunningly poor quality”. Citing numerous flaws in methodology, he insists that the report’s conclusions should not be considered instructive to copyright law in Singapore or anywhere else.  In fact, the reason I qualified the study’s conclusion in the previous paragraph is that apparently Ghafele and Gibert themselves do not claim to identify a causal relationship between Singapore’s revised fair use doctrine and an increase in sales in “copying devices”. Ford argues this flaw alone is sufficient to label the entire study as “worthless to policymakers”. Naturally, one must be careful about taking sides among economists, whose stock and trade is critiquing one another’s methods that the rest of us don’t really understand.  Nevertheless, Ford’s critiques ought to at least raise questions among us laymen when he says unequivocally …

“While evidence on fair use policies is welcome and critical to informed policy reform, Ghafele and Gibert’s empirical analysis is so poorly done that it fails to shed any light on copyright laws. Governments reviewing their copyright laws should dismiss the Singapore Study as junk science.”

Ford’s criticisms include Ghafele and Gibert’s failure to employ a proper control group, to account for differences in scale among the technology businesses aggregated into the study, and to exclude from their analysis catalytic factors other than changes to fair use—not the least of which were other 2005 amendments to Singapore’s Copyright Law. As stated, I cannot presume either to critique or defend the computations applied by Ford, but what I can comment on is this aspect of his conclusion:

“… the expanded fair use policy was incorrectly interpreted by consumers as a license to pirate and distribute intellectual property without consequence. Less than a decade after the new fair use policy was implemented, Singapore amended its copyright law to address widespread digital piracy.”

Indeed. Fair use has been so chronically misrepresented in the public dialogue that the principle has been broadly interpreted as the antithesis of copyright, which is simply incorrect. In fact, this issue points to one of the reasons I find the hypothesis of the Singapore Study a bit odd in the first place. An attempt to quantify the extent to which Singapore’s fair use revisions acted as a market catalyst at all seems to treat the doctrine as though it were a universal exception to copyright rather than a narrowly defined, case-by-case, limitation—one that is in fact expected to spawn some portion of new copyrightable works. For instance, if 100 fair uses are made and half are for new works that have their own copyrights, that’s 50 new copyrights supported by fair use doctrine. So, would that be a net win for copyright or for fair use?  The question is absurd because fair use is a part of copyright law. If fair use were indeed the opposite of copyright and without reasonable limitations, then it would simply nullify copyright, taking the concept of fair use with it across the event horizon into irrelevance.

More specifically, fair uses in Singapore, which they call fair dealing, are conditional just like they are in the US. The first four of five factors Singaporean courts consider in a fair dealing defense are modeled almost verbatim on the four factors applied in our courts. Like our Copyright Act, Singapore’s fair dealing statutes seek to define the specific conditions under which there are limitations on exclusive rights; and most encouragingly, those statutes appear to have the same intent to protect free speech, which was the original reason we codified fair use in the 1976 law. So, the decision to examine the effect of Singapore’s fair dealing doctrine on the market for devices and media used for data storage seems inscrutably haphazard.

After all, any number of factors may increase the sale of disk drives, recordable CDs and DVDs, etc., including rampant piracy itself, which is outright infringement and not a fair dealing.  More acutely, as Ford mentions, 95% of Singapore’s electronics production is exported. Singapore is a tiny market (pop. 5.5 million) whose economy includes a robust wholesale and retail sector shipping to foreign markets and catering to a very large volume of tourist/shoppers from the region. In other words, Australians traveling to Orchard Street to buy hard drives tells us nothing at all about Singapore’s fair dealing statutes in its copyright law. So, if Ford and other critics are right that the Singapore Study does not account for this, that is a considerable flaw in the research.

Additionally, an analysis in the sales of electronic hardware used for copying and storing digital media does not appear to address any of the questions being asked about fair use doctrine in the age of the Internet. If there is merit to that conversation, it would rationally involve—and in fact does involve—a discussion of platform-based uses like YouTube, blogs, or fanfic sites that encourage remix; or we may consider the casual sharing of content via social media; but this line of investigation would seem to consider fair use’s initial intent to protect free speech more than an inquiry into broader economic benefits. I am skeptical that new, platform-based uses—however common and ubiquitous they may be—provide a rationale for “expanding” our own doctrine; but at least these types of uses do represent changes in the nature of how works are used, which is not the case with regard to storage media.

Meanwhile, the general consumer in our market appears to be moving away from a paradigm of storing media at all, thanks to the convenience and low cost of streaming and the availability of cloud-based options in lieu of local devices. (Note the lack of disk drive in your new computer.) So, if sales of certain recordable media were to decline over the next five years, what would that tell us about our fair use doctrine, which has been law for 40 years?  Not much, I think.  It’s simply an odd metric to examine—a bit like measuring bottled water sales in order to determine how many Americans are going to the gym and then to draw conclusions about our overall cardio-vascular health.

While limitations on copyright’s exclusivity, including fair use, can produce market benefits, it is always necessary to seek a balance. As the market evolves, the contours of fair use may indeed shift, though the more those contours cease to define boundaries at all, the more the doctrine is stripped of its significance.  As such, neither professional nor amateur analysis should confuse the policy discussion by asking the wrong questions.

What Exactly Does the EFF Want?

As stated in my post announcing a voluntary agreement between MPAA and domain-name service Donuts, both rights holders and digital rights proponents should applaud this kind of B2B approach to mitigating online piracy.  That doesn’t mean I thought the latter parties actually would applaud it. And with the stalwart predictability of a honey badger, Mitch Stoltz of the Electronic Frontier Foundation fired off this missive, eager to criticize the agreement just hours after it came out of the shrink wrap.  The conditions of the agreement are so straightforward that it seems to me any honest acknowledgment of its terms might have stayed Stoltz’s hyperbolic pen before describing Donuts in this context as the “copyright police” or before beginning his post as follows:

“The companies and organizations that run the Internet’s domain name system shouldn’t be in the business of policing the contents of websites, or enforcing laws that can impinge on free speech.”

Right off the bat, Stoltz misrepresents the process as described in the agreement.  Donuts will not be “policing” any content at all.  Instead, the agreement outlines very specific conditions under which the MPAA may send a referral, backed by evidence, to Donuts regarding a domain that is “clearly and pervasively” engaged in large-scale piracy. At that point, Donuts has full discretion to choose to investigate further and to consider taking mitigating action consistent with its own Terms of Service.  That’s not quite the same as engaging a private company to “enforce the law” as Stoltz states. It is a voluntary effort by a company to uphold or comply with the law in its practices, which is consistent with the internal policies of corporations all over the world.  So, why is the broader rationale different with a domain name service provider? I know.  Because the Internet is special.

Meanwhile, shutting down, delisting, or blocking sites dedicated to enterprise-scale piracy via court-ordered injunction has occurred repeatedly for at least 15 years, and yet free speech has endured. So, it is hard to imagine how the free speech calculus changes if a private company—which has a clear, vested interest in keeping domains online—decides to not support a specific enterprise engaged large-scale infringement. But as we’ve seen in other contexts, the EFF is a place where imaginations run wild.  For instance, Stoltz writes:

“Taking away a website’s domain name means interrupting all of the speech that takes place on that site. It creates a much greater danger of censorship than suppressing individual pages or files. And the domain name system only works so long as most Internet users trust it to direct them to the websites they ask for, not only those that politically connected companies and repressive governments want them to see. That’s why domain registries and registrars shouldn’t take part in policing the contents of websites and services. And that’s why we’ll continue to fight the website-blocking power grab.”

So, here’s the bottom line of the agreement vis-a-vis Donuts’s role, with some important words in bold:

If Donuts is satisfied that the domain clearly is devoted to clear and pervasive copyright infringement, Donuts may, in its discretion and as permitted under its Acceptable Use and Anti-Abuse Policy, suspend, terminate, or place the domain on registry lock, hold, or similar status as it determines necessary to mitigate the infringement.

I have to admit the ability to translate that into “interrupting speech” or to invoke “repressive governments” is actually something of an art-form.  The EFF should probably give an award for Best Post Making a Mountain out of a Molehill (of course, I’ve never been invited to one of their dinners, so maybe they do).  Anyway, is Stoltz actually suggesting that if Donuts—and by extension other services—were to suspend domains under these types of guidelines, that this is a slippery slope toward censorship by order of a repressive government?  Why? How? Which repressive government?  China?  The Web is already massively censored in China, which is a human rights issue that has nothing to do with the mechanisms in this type of voluntary, anti-piracy initiative.

Here’s a news flash:  free speech doesn’t exist in several other countries.  And where free speech doesn’t exist, it cannot be infringed or chilled; it is instead a right yet to be won—a struggle largely separate from the exigencies of either Hollywood studios or Silicon Valley Internet companies, though both industries have a vested interest in a world where speech ultimately prevails. Meanwhile, in this country, there can be consequences for actually stifling someone’s speech, so Donuts has legal and financial incentive to proceed with due diligence in regard to any referral it receives. Moreover, it will be the case that any domain meeting the standards for referral by the MPAA will be an enterprise-scale infringer operating in a foreign country–not somebody’s blog.

Speech simply does not belong in this discussion, but since it is the perennial excuse for piracy, I think it’s worth mentioning, that piracy champions love to say that no measure can stop the major infringing sites because they will always move around the Web; but this same observation is never made about free speech itself, which is considerably more agile and infinitely larger in scope. The EFF might notice that there are trillions of expressions made every hour on the Internet, and no legislative or private-industry measure—at least in this country—is likely ever going to stop that.

At the same time, we might also keep in mind that the platforms we use for most of this speech–like the one I’m using right now–belong to corporations, and corporations sometimes fail.  In this regard, the EFF might consider that the Internet it so staunchly defends can be corrupted by piracy, which has been linked to malware and other scams that harm users and weaken the faith of advertisers in the digital ecosystem. After all, the major Internet companies don’t have hundred-million-dollar valuations because they’re platforms for free speech; they’re valued in the stratosphere because they are advertising and data mining businesses. And that’s fine, I guess, but let’s shed the illusion that these sites are run on principle.  Wall Street doesn’t invest in principle. They like money.

In this regard, I have to call particular attention to Stoltz’s statement that “the domain name system only works so long as most Internet users trust it to direct them to the websites they ask for ….” Indeed. But it’s disappointing that the EFF does not acknowledge the loss of trust in the system that occurs when search for quality information or legitimate resources yield top results that include piracy and SPAM.  At the very least, the user’s time is wasted; and at most, clicking on these links can expose him to malware leading to identity theft and other hazards. Perhaps more benignly, we know that in walled gardens like Facebook, our feeds are no longer chronological but rather represent what that company’s algorithm has determined we “want” to see.  And similar manipulation of results in Google search “tailored” to our apparent preferences continues to be studied as a means to influence political debate or effect the outcome of an election.  If the EFF wants to fuss about free speech, these seem like far more acute areas of focus than the hypothetical shutting down of a handful of criminal operations.

And so, I return to my lead question:  What in blazes does the EFF want?  They don’t like law-enforcement remedies for online piracy, and they apparently don’t want to see voluntary cooperation between OSPs and rights holders either.  At a certain point, it seems we have to conclude that what they want most of all is to maintain their relevance by constantly finding a problem for every solution.