Category: Copyright

A Case for CASE in Brammer v. Violent Hues?

Following up on yesterday’s post about Brammer v. Violent Hues, it occurs to me that this narrative—at least as much as is publicly available—lends itself to a rationale for the proposed CASE Act, which would create a small-claim copyright tribunal at the U.S. Copyright Office. I won’t repeat all the particulars of the bill itself (see post here), but one of the challenges to the efficacy of CASE is that it is a voluntary alternative to federal court.

When copyright critics like EFF malign the CASE Act, they employ standard hyperbole, claiming it will create a cash-cow for every copyright troll in America. This claim obfuscates the actual mechanisms in the proposal, not the least of which is that a defendant has to voluntarily agree to the tribunal as a dispute resolution. This response is then countered by the prediction that if the small claim option is voluntary, it will never be used, thus making it a boondoggle of a proposal. Admittedly, the voluntary aspect does raise this very question, but after learning about the Brammer case, it seemed like a pretty good example as to why both parties might have opted for a small claim alternative had it existed.

A Relatively Simple Matter Complicated by Litigation

Based on the available evidence, Russell Brammer does not appear to be rabidly litigious; and Fernando Mico of Violent Hues does not appear to be ideologically determined to infringe. Mico made a mistake, perhaps an unwise mistake; but the fact that he removed Brammer’s image from his website upon receipt of a C&D letter indicates that he did not firmly believe he had a right to use the photograph. (This should have weighed against his fair use claim, but that’s another matter.)

At the same time, although Brammer is obviously willing and able to litigate, he cannot be expecting a very high damage award in this particular case. I have no idea whether he requested a settlement fee before proceeding to litigation, which would be normal in this kind of circumstance; but whether he took that step or skipped it, both he and Mico could, theoretically, avoid the up-front cost of litigation by mutually agreeing to move the venue to the proposed USCO tribunal. (Note that I make no judgment about Brammer’s motives or whether I think he should have sued. I’m only looking at the legal process based on his right to make a claim and Mico’s right to a defense.)

The Small Claim Tribunal Would Make Short Work of This Case

The fact that the Virginia Court mucked up the ruling so badly—straining against legal doctrine—emphasizes the value of the small claim option for plaintiffs and defendants in this kind of dispute. Not only is Brammer now forced either to drop his claim or appeal at greater legal cost, but Mico is likewise required to defend himself as the case moves up to the appellate court. And this appeal is only necessary because the district court made egregious errors of law—mistakes the USCO would be unlikely to make—on a relatively straightforward case.

One advantage of the small claim tribunal is that the proposed panel is only expert in copyright law, which is not at all true of federal judges. This can be beneficial to defendants as well as claimants, as there will naturally be cases that favor defendants just as plainly as Brammer favors the plaintiff.  So, yes, I would expect that the USCO tribunal to readily find that Violent Hues had infringed, but I also predict the appeals court will come to the same conclusion, only much later and for legal costs that will exceed the amount of an award the USCO tribunal would likely allow in this instance.

So, looking at the available facts, if Brammer had offered Mico the option of resolution via the small claim tribunal, while making clear that he was able to pursue federal litigation, it seems not unreasonable that Mico might voluntarily choose the small claim venue. Since the alternative would be to opt out and wind up exactly where this case is now, why not take a shot at a simpler and cheaper resolution?

I do not presume to truly know the motives or mindsets of other people. And I also admit to interpolating a bit from the data. But at the same time, this kind of infringement—one creator improperly using the work of another creator—is exemplary of “garden variety” copyright cases. And the whole purpose of the CASE Act is to provide one option—in addition to out-of-court settlements, and other resolutions—to more affordably and efficiently address these low-level conflicts.

For sure, the EFF is wrong to claim that the CASE Act will conjure all manner of copyright mischief, which is simply not possible within the provisions of the bill. At worst, the small claim tribunal won’t work; not enough people will use it, and it will be scrapped as a good intention. But even the known particulars of this Brammer case are so familiar to thousands of rights holders and defendants, that it suggests to me the CASE proposal is likely to be more widely applicable than many critics might assume.

Incoherent Copyright Ruling Should Anger Photographers

My colleague Stephen Carlisle at Nova Southeastern University already made short work of the aberration of copyright law and fair use analysis that occurred recently in the District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia. But I wanted to expand on a few elements that caught my attention. In the case Brammer v. Violent Hues Productions, LLC, the court’s deference to the defendant’s appeals to good faith and fair use resulted in an opinion that so dramatically flies in the face of legal doctrine that (as Carlisle notes) it would obliterate copyright in photography altogether.

At issue is a time-lapse photograph of Washington D.C.’s Adams Morgan neighborhood taken by Russell Brammer in 2011 and registered for copyright in 2016. Also in 2016, a cropped version of the image was used without license on a website suggesting “things to do” in Washington as ancillary promotion of the Northern Virginia Film Festival, which is organized by Violent Hues Productions.

Brammer sent a Cease & Desist letter in 2017, and Violent Hues immediately removed the image; but Brammer then sued for copyright infringement, and Violent Hues moved for summary judgment, arguing that it had made a fair use of the photograph. Before we get to that defense, though, we have to note this statement of facts from the opinion:

“Violent Hues’ owner, Fernando Mico, found the photo online. He alleges that he saw no indication that the photo was copyrighted and believed he was making use of a publicly available photograph.”

So, even prior to the court’s fair use analysis, it allows two substantial errors to be dispositive in this case. The first is overlooking the fact that an “indication” of copyright is not required. All works are automatically protected, if they were produced after January 1, 1978; and it’s hard to fathom how any judge would not know this. Hence, Mico’s assumption that a work is “publicly available” because it was found online is plainly invalid as a matter of black-letter law.

Second, even where a court might consider leniency for an unintended infringement made in good faith, then it seems this court did not consider it relevant that Fernando Mico is a professional filmmaker. Violent Hues is a production company offering “Script to Screen” services, and Mico even signed a distribution contract for his indie feature film in 2014. This is not some teenager who might be confused about the use of images in the digital age. This is a professional image-maker and copyright owner, who cannot reasonably claim to be so naive about images he “finds online.”

Transformativeness is Still a Doctrine Without Definition

The truly staggering aspects of this opinion are found in the court’s rationale for finding fair use. The fact that the interpretation of “transformativeness” here negates more than a century of copyright law related to photography should serve as compelling evidence that the doctrine remains incoherent and meddlesome at best. The opinion states:

“Here, Violent Hues’ use of the photograph was transformative in function and purpose. While Brammer’s purpose in capturing and publishing the photograph was promotional and expressive, Violent Hues’ purpose in using the photograph was informational: to provide festival attendees with information regarding the local area.” [Emphasis added]

This confluence of vagueness undermines copyright in photography at its core. By the logic of this opinion, if the makers of a pregnancy test want to make unlicensed use of Annie Leibovitz’s famous portrait of pregnant Demi Moore in a print ad, they’re free to do so because their “purpose” is different from Leibovitz’s original “purpose.”* And we could keep conjuring such examples ad infinitum. Based on this holding, any photograph may be used by any party as long as it can be argued that observers will interpret a meaning that is distinct from the photographer’s original intent.

That reasoning does not even square with the history of creative expression itself—let alone copyright law. It is widely understood in the world of art that the creator’s intent may vary considerably from the viewer’s interpretation, and neither understanding is necessarily “incorrect.” What are we to make, then, of photographs that are simultaneously expressive and informative—images that may be considered both journalism and fine art by one set of viewers, but perhaps scorned for various reasons by a different set of viewers? Unless a court is required to compare and contrast two expressive works (i.e. in a real fair use case), it has no basis for wandering into this semantic and subjective minefield.

Ordinarily, the courts are not expected to concern themselves with the metaphysics of art when straightforward, unlicensed copying of a work occurs, as it did in this case. The court contends that by placing an “expressive” work on an “informational” website, the use was “transformative,” thus tilting toward fair use. As Carlisle notes, however, the broadly-informational nature of the site itself has nothing to do with the fact that Mico selected Brammer’s photograph because it’s a “cool” image. In other words, it was chosen because of its expressive qualities, regardless of the context in which it was used.

This reasoning is supported by the fact that, as a professional image-maker, Mico can be presumed to have judged the difference between Brammer’s expressive work and a more pedestrian, informative, photo of the same neighborhood. In fact, the more expressive a work is, the less we can generally consider it to be informative, and a time-lapse photo of Adams Morgan is hardly a literal representation of the experience the visitor is likely to have (at least while sober). Then, because the photograph was chosen to promote tourism as a feature of attending the film festival, the court erred in finding the use to be non-commercial under the first factor.

Still, even if Brammer’s photo were less “cool,” (i.e. more informative), it should not matter; and the court has no legal grounds for even weighing the amount of expressiveness in this particular case. Exploitation of a copyrighted photograph — even a “pedestrian” image — without a license is an infringement. End of discussion.

Regardless of anyone’s opinion of the original work, the grounds for fair use analysis under the “transformativeness” test are a) if the user alters the original work in a way that creates a truly new expression; or b) if use of the work is essential to the functioning of a new technology or service that is itself transformative to society—and this includes the case (Vanderhye v. iParadigms) cited by the Court to support its application of “transformativeness.”

In Brammer, Violent Hues makes no claim of fair use to create a new expression, and there is nothing transformative—based on either case law or common sense—about using a photograph to boost tourist attractions while promoting an event. Since Violent Hues’s use meets neither standard, “transformativeness” should not have received much consideration, let alone a finding in the defendant’s favor.

Undermining Copyright in Photography

The real hazard in this ruling—the one that should make photographers apoplectic—is that the court contends that Brammer’s photograph is expressive but that Violent Hues made a fair use because Mico somehow used only the informative aspects of the image based on the factual nature of the subject matter. The opinion states…

“The photograph in question contained creative elements (such as lighting and shutter speed choices) but was also a factual depiction of a real-world location: the Adams Morgan neighborhood in Washington, D.C. Violent Hues’ [sic] used the photo purely for its factual content, to provide festival attendees a depiction of the Adams Morgan neighborhood.”

This metaphysical parsing of the expression from the information in Brammer’s photograph inverts 124 years of legal doctrine. Since the mid-19th century, it is well- established law that ideas and facts are not protectable while creative expressions are protectable; and this principle collided with photography near the end of the century because it was plainly understood that a camera always captures whatever “facts” are placed before the lens. Thus, the copyrightability of photographs was challenged in 1882 in Burrow-Giles v. Sarony, and affirmed by the Supreme Court in 1884.

Since then, both copyright law and our understanding of photography have evolved. And in both cases, it is sufficient that a human actor create the photograph, whether he painstakingly arranges every element in front of the lens or makes snap decisions to capture ephemeral chaos on a city street. In neither case do we apportion incremental authorship of a photo relative to the “amount of factual information” it contains. The whole work—expressive and informative together—is protected and the bundle of rights are vested in its creator. Such subtle distinctions are only made when a court must consider whether a subsequent work infringes a prior work, but that is not the circumstance in Brammer.

This may be confused with the doctrine of independent creation, which allows for the fact that two photographers are likely to capture nearly identical images of a given subject (e.g. of Niagara Falls). But this only means that Photographer A may not sue Photographer B for infringement since neither can copyright Niagara Falls itself. But apropos this particular case, both photographers would have copyrights in their individual images, and neither photo may be used to promote a Niagara Falls hotel without license.

To underscore how absurd this ruling is, if it is truly the Virginia Court’s opinion that Brammer’s “expressive” photograph is separately an “informative” photograph, then Brammer should not only appeal, but he should also sue for infringement of his right to prepare derivative works. This is preposterous, of course, because a copy of a work cannot be a “derivative” work; but somehow, by virtue of internet magic and the fog of the transformativeness doctrine, the court here sees a separate image fixed in an identical copy.  Expect this ruling to be appealed and overturned.
______

* I purposely cited the Moore photograph because Leibovitz lost an important fair use case when this image was parodied by Paramount studios in 1998 for the promotion of the film Naked Gun 33 1/3. The distinction is essential to illustrate how far the idea of “transformativeness” has strayed from finding fair use that supports new forms of expression.

Considering Jessica Litman’s Call to Rethink Copyright Doctrine

One of the more popular talking points among copyright critics is that copyright only works for corporations but not for individuals. Thus, debate about copyright’s purpose and legal contours is often an extension of the broader condemnation of corporate power in our democracy, or even capitalism itself. For this reason, when activist groups like EFF or Public Knowledge declare that “only corporations benefit from copyrights,” it’s a dog whistle that triggers a generalized, sympathetic response but which offers little serious thought about the premise itself.

In fact, the policies advocated by these organizations are so consistently and so broadly anti-copyright that they could never honestly claim to care how much or how little copyright does serve individual authors. For instance, recent assertions that the proposed CLASSICS Act is a “handout to labels” may be an easy pitch to sell in this climate, but it isn’t remotely true based on any sensible understanding of what the bill actually does.

Setting a New Tone?

A recent paper by law professor Jessica Litman, at the University of Michigan, recommends that copyright scholars take what she considers a fresh approach to understanding copyright’s benefit to individual authors by first extricating themselves—both personally and professionally—from the macro-debate being waged by very large corporations. She suggests that she and her fellow scholars are too caught up in the business fight between legacy intermediaries (publishers, labels, studios) and new intermediaries (online platforms). “Copyright scholars can safely leave them to work it out without our help,” she writes. “If the core question in that dispute is whether the law ought to favor publishers over platforms or vice versa, the answer is unlikely to significantly change the copyright ecosystem. Neither side has much of a claim to the moral high ground.”

Although this is her preface and not her thesis, it is necessary to interject that while I think the spirit of what she proposes has merit—that academics might look through the fog of big companies battling over turf—that she errs in a very significant way when she portrays traditional publishers and digital platforms as equals from the perspective of authors and their copyrights.

From the authors’ point of view, even the most predatory practices of legacy intermediaries still cannot compare to the outright theft of their rights—to say nothing of evangelizing that theft—by the internet platforms. This is why so many professional creators have offered variations on the theme that it’s their choice to negotiate licensing terms with traditional intermediaries, while the kind of piracy that enriches online platforms gives them no choice whatsoever. I’ll return to that topic, but Litman’s thesis is summed up thus:

“If a legal regime purportedly designed for the benefit of authors systematically short-changes them, why does that happen, and what options might we have to respond? The answer, I’ll suggest, lies in the ways that we, as lawyers, think about property rights.”

At the risk of being kicked out of the pro-copyright club, I think any scholarship that proposes to consider how copyright might better serve individual authors is worth analyzing at face value. Litman’s point deserves consideration inasmuch as she has not produced yet another paper, replete with overtones of collectivist whimsy, about the evils of copyright and the greed of artists. And to me, her paper does not read like thinly-veiled policy proposals designed to benefit Silicon Valley. Instead, she at least appears to ask a perfectly valid question as to why more authors don’t reap more benefit from the system.

The History of a Con Game?

The fulcrum of Litman’s thesis is that the first law to vest copyright in the author, the Statute of Anne ratified by England’s Parliament in 1710, was a maneuver by the publishers of the time to retain a monopoly they were about to lose. By royal charter between 1557 and 1709, the guild known as the Stationers Company, which comprised the trades necessary to book printing, had the exclusive right to publish all books throughout England and her domains. But, faced with the prospect that the charter would not be renewed, the Stationers were at least partly responsible for advocating the Statute of Anne, which, for the first time, vested copyright in authors.

Litman subscribes to the narrative that this was a tactic employed by the Stationers designed to temporarily grant a property-like right to authors, which could then be easily and cheaply acquired by publishers, thus restoring their effective monopoly. To emphasize her point, she compares the Statute of Anne to the U.S. Dawes Act of 1891, which granted tracts of land to native tribes so that they could be easily bought by speculators in transactions that look fair and legal but were really just a mass swindle. “If you are looking to get your hands on some arable land or to regain control of the printing texts, creating new property rights turns out to be an excellent strategy. Sometimes the original recipient of the property benefits, but not always,” Litman writes.

Thus, Litman asserts that the doctrinal practice of treating copyrights as property may be a root cause of the law’s failure to benefit authors relative to the way in which it benefits intermediaries. She writes, “The rest of the world followed that model. In almost every country, authors receive copyright protection as an initial matter, but those copyrights are transferred to and then owned and controlled by publishers and other intermediaries.”

Without writing a five-thousand-word post, it’s worth keeping in mind that the story of the Stationers Company is more complicated than Litman states; that copyrights are not exclusively transferred to intermediaries in ways that are disadvantageous to authors; and that American copyright practice, especially after 1909, diverges substantially from England in 1710.  So, while Litman presents an interesting historic parallel, I would caution against giving it too much weight if her purpose is indeed to examine 20th and 21st century copyright doctrine to the benefit of individual authors.

If Not Property What Then?

With that in mind, my first response to Litman’s proposal that copyright’s weakness lies in the legal doctrine binding copyright to property law, is that perhaps copyright shares more natural rights qualities than many of her colleagues may be willing to admit. If the problem, as she states, begins with the fact that property is alienable and, therefore, designed to be sold, then does this mean scholars are willing to entertain the possibility that copyright is also inalienable? That it functions like a labor right as well as a property right?

Property is alienable, can be sold, transferred, bequeathed, etc. But a labor right is inalienable and does not last beyond the life and physical being of the individual. When an author agrees to a licensing contract with an intermediary, she shares a kinship with any other worker signing a labor contract, but for the fact that the author has sometimes already performed the labor while other workers agree to terms for labor yet to be done. Or, conversely, a musician who signs a multi-album contract is negotiating both property and labor at the same time, and his bargaining position is founded on the copyrights in the creative works yet to be produced.

Individuals are vested with the natural right to negotiate terms for their labor throughout their lifetimes, and this right is never diminished, no matter how many works an author creates or how many jobs another kind of worker holds. Of course, possession of this right does not guarantee that the market will be fair or that intermediaries or employers will not be predatory. But this is comparable to the fact that non-discrimination laws do not eradicate discriminatory feelings or behaviors. In other words, human flaws like bigotry or greed do not mean the rights codified into law are doctrinally flawed, and I am concerned Litman may be straying into this logical fallacy.

At a very basic level, negotiating a licensing contract is not that different from any other contract for the exchange of labor. The more perceived value the laborer or rightholder possess, the better her bargaining position (e.g. an author with a money-making track record is like a job applicant with a great resume). To the extent that an author needs an intermediary—and Litman states that this is necessary—I don’t see how this fundamental rule of investment (i.e. that more perceived value equals greater negotiating power) is going to be altered whether attorneys are trained to think of copyright as property or not.

Economic Forces Are Independent of Copyright

As alluded to above, legacy intermediaries are just one sector within a worldwide consolidation of corporate power in liberal democracies. The forces that continue to fuel this trend—and presumably any potential remedies to these forces—are almost certainly independent from copyright doctrine. So, if a copyright scholar were to examine negotiations among authors and intermediaries across various decades, I would hypothesize that copyright is a universal constant relative to other factors that lead to either more predatory or more symbiotic contractual arrangements.

As a simple example, Hollywood in the late 1980s was marked by a climate of spec-script mania. Writers benefited from a commodities-exchange-like feeding frenzy, with studios paying huge prices for specs. It wasn’t necessarily rational, but this screenplay bazaar had little to do with copyright doctrine and everything to do with various market forces driving studios to behave in this manner. Today, a spec writer is in a much weaker bargaining position than that period, but is simultaneously bolstered by the fact that entities like Netflix are currently spending huge volumes of capital in order to bulk up their programming as quickly as possible. This trend will shift at some point, and, again, will have little to do with copyright doctrine.

Putting Their Own Theories to the Test

In the same way that academics should be mindful of non-copyright-related forces in this context, I think they should also consider some of the non-measurable benefits that authors—correctly or not—perceive when they enter into deals with intermediaries. I am currently writing a non-fiction book and have signed a publishing contract with a university press. As Litman and her colleagues know very well, such an arrangement is basically writing on spec under contract for nothing that anyone would consider real money.

Most academics who publish books do not make much money from the books themselves, yet I suspect the reasons they sign deals with publishers like university presses is that, like me, they recognize various benefits that transcend money. Among these benefits is that writing a book is hard enough without being entirely alone in the editing, production, and marketing of the book; and the imprimatur of a known press is not without value.

So, because many copyright scholars have full-time jobs with tenure, benefits, and PhD after their names (i.e. financial security most authors do not have), I would suggest that any academics who might heed Litman’s call and eventually propose alternative models to distribution should be among the first to test their theories with their own works. (Kinda like the mad scientist with the new drug who injects himself first to see if he’ll turn into Mr. Hyde.)

Many of these scholars can look to their own careers as authors and ask themselves why they enter into contracts with publishers when these deals are not expected to yield a substantial portion of their incomes. The answers to those questions may provide an opportunity to step out of the ivory towers and into the authors’ shoes; and if Litman and colleagues truly want to understand how copyright can better serve individual creators, thinking like creators might be a good place to start.