Tag: copyright

Angels and Monkeys at Appeals Court

Photo sources by artush & prudkov

 

 

 

 

 

Readers can be forgiven for focusing on court news other than copyright stories these days, but lest you think all the fun is emanating from the White House, here are two items of note this week…

VidAngel Appeals Injunction

The Ninth Circuit, in the spotlight for ruling against Trump’s executive order known as the travel ban, heard oral arguments on June 8 in the Disney v. VidAngel case. As described in this post, VidAngel’s business model is effectively a Video On Demand (VOD) service that provides filtering for consumers who want to see mainstream fare without “objectionable” scenes that might include sex, nudity, profanity, blasphemy, and (I don’t know) rainbows?

The studios sued on the grounds that VidAngel’s model violates the rights of reproduction and public performance under Section 106 of the Copyright Act as well as prohibitions against “ripping” DVDs under Section 1201 of the DMCA. VidAngel has tried to argue that its business model is legal because its customers have the right to “filter” under the provisions of the Family Home Movie Act (2005). In December of 2016, the District Court for the Central District of California granted an injunction, pausing VidAngel’s activity, holding that the studios would be expected to prevail on the merits across all triable issues. VidAngel then appealed that injunction to the Ninth Circuit.

As Ashley Cullins reports for The Hollywood Reporter, a hot mic captured Judge Carlos T. Bea whisper to his colleague Andrew D. Hurwitz, “I think this one’s a lot easier,” meaning, of course, in contrast to the travel ban debacle, but quite possibly indicating that the District Court’s injunction will be allowed to stand. Attorney Donald Verrilli, counsel for the studios, stated, “What they’re essentially saying is ‘if we filter, we can stream without a license.’” And that about sums it up. Meanwhile, he also was clear to state that his clients are not opposed to filtering as permitted by the FMA, adding that technology provider ClearPlay, which enables home filtering, filed an amicus brief on behalf of the studios.

Assuming the injunction is sustained and the case is remanded for trial, it will be interesting to see if VidAngel’s executives decide that their evangelical mission is more important than a return on investment. Because it seems quite clear that there is nothing legal about their business model.

Who Knew Copyright for Monkeys Was Still in Play?

In a more extreme example of ideologically-charged litigation, also on appeal at the Ninth Circuit, it turns out that the organization PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) is still ape over the idea that a primate can own a copyright. For anyone who missed it, the animal rights organization, in September of 2015, sued British photographer David Slater and US publisher Blurb on the grounds that both had infringed the copyrights of a Sulawesi black crested macaque who apparently snapped her own photograph with Slater’s camera. Under the circumstances, Slater’s copyright ownership of the image was called into question by the Wikimedia Foundation and was debated online—in good faith and bad—by various constituencies.

In my view, Slater’s claim has merit if, as described on his blog, he purposely set up the camera and used what he’d learned about the monkeys’ curiosity to create the conditions for the selfie to be made. He writes …

“I put my camera on a tripod with a very wide angle lens, settings configured such as predictive autofocus, motorwind, even a flashgun, to give me a chance of a facial close up if they were to approach again for a play.  I duly moved away and bingo, they moved in, fingering the toy, pressing the buttons and fingering the lens.  I was then to witness one of the funniest things ever as they grinned, grimaced and bared teeth at themselves in the reflection of the large glassy lens.”

Based on American case law to date, this non-attorney thinks that should be sufficient to hold that Slater owns the copyright, whereas if the camera were in fact picked up serendipitously by the macaque and snapped—conditions that would almost never produce the image in question, by the way—Slater’s claim would probably be very weak under U.S. law. Regardless, only PETA would think to argue that the monkey herself can own a copyright; and in their complaint, they relied on the testimony of primatologist Dr. Antje Englehardt as a “next friend” of the monkey plaintiff.

As of last week, however, counsel for the defendants have stated that PETA should be viewed by the court as lacking the standing to represent the macaque’s interests in light of the fact that Dr. Englehardt was recently arrested for harassing PETA’s lead counsel. “Regardless of the merits or outcome of the criminal case against Dr. Engelhardt,” write Slater’s attorneys, “its very existence is a relevant consideration on whether PETA can adequately represent the interests of Naruto,* notwithstanding the documented animosity that has developed between PETA and Dr. Engelhardt.” Okay but…

A “next friend” in common law is a person who represents another person because the latter is either a minor or has been deemed incompetent—not because he/she has been deemed a monkey! While pundits like Mike Masnick at Techdirt focus attention on the non-existence of any copyright in the “monkey selfie” (which is debatable as described), what is unquestionably non-existent in this case is any animal’s standing to enforce a copyright in U.S. court.

This was made quite clear when Judge Orrick of the California District Court for the Northern District stated that he could find no evidence in the statute that animals are entitled to own a copyright in the United States. That ought to about settle the matter. Because, frankly, whether one takes a utilitarian view of IP, a natural rights view, or some combination of the two, Orrick’s holding should seem forbiddingly tautological for most plaintiffs, even those with the anthropomorphic zeal of PETA.

*PETA has named the macaque “Naruto,” though Slater states that the monkey is a female others have named “Ella.”

Does Google Claim Some Invalid Copyrights?

Photo by Harrisr

I assume it’s well understood by now that the biggest, corporate antagonist to intellectual property rights is Google. The company has backed an impressive array of academia, press, lobbying, and activism, all generally evangelizing the message worldwide that IP is fundamentally anachronistic in the digital age.  In response to this juggernaut, many a pro-IP advocate likes to underscore the hypocrisy that, despite all their PR on this issue, Google is no less a vigilant steward of its own intellectual property.  A favorite refrain, for instance, is the observation that the company isn’t about to “share” its proprietary, patented search algorithm even while its spokespeople continue to promote “openness” and other crunchy values.

I don’t personally begrudge Google protecting its intellectual property; I think they should.  But it’s hard not to get a bit heated when the assorted pundits, who either directly or indirectly help promote Google’s interests, take so much pleasure in displaying anecdotal evidence of alleged copyright abuse and overreach as though this problem is so rampant that we’re all just one litigation away from losing our right to use the internet.  But what if Google itself is making some dubious claims of copyright in some of its most widely-used works?

The next time you’re using Google Maps, Street View, or Google Earth, take a look in the lower right hand corner.  You will see a declaration of copyright, either for Google, for one of its partners, or both.  While these parties may absolutely claim copyright in the software, it’s not entirely clear that they can claim a copyright—at least in the US and Europe—in much of the imagery produced by these applications.  This is because the photo and satellite images appear to lack the modicum of “originality” required for protection.  In fairness, it must be noted that Google’s terms of use for these apps are quite liberal, mostly mandating attribution.

Maps & Charts

Maps and charts were two of three types of works (books being the other) protected by the first copyright act of 1790.  Near as I can tell, this is indicative of two things:  1) that American copyright doctrine had yet to evolve; and 2) that maps and charts were badly needed and very hard to make in the 18th century.   This utilitarian/incentive predicate to get cartographers and surveyors out into the water-moccasin-and-mosquito-filled wilderness does, with the hindsight of history, create a bit of a dichotomy with respect to the way copyright doctrine evolved by the end of America’s first century. In other words, until technology really began to shape the contours of the law.

For roughly the first half of the 19th century, it took a few cases for the courts to begin to draw lines separating copyright from its twin, patent law; and over time, jurisprudence on copyright increasingly coalesced around the principle of “originality of expression” rather than “sweat of the brow” to qualify for protection. Put simply, a work may take substantial labor and/or capital investment, but if it lacks at least some measure of human, creative expression, then it doesn’t generally qualify for copyright.  This principle was most recently solidified in the 1991 case Feist Publications v. Rural Telephone, which held that the compilation of a phone book, though laborious, did not meet the minimum standard of “originality” to be eligible for a copyright.

The question of how much creativity is required met its first major challenge when copyright confronted photography in the case of Sarony v. Burrow-Giles (1884) involving a portrait of Oscar Wilde taken by New York photographer Napoleon Sarony in 1882. In a time when the prevailing sentiment considered photos to be merely a mechanical means to record facts, the Supreme Court ultimately had to consider what made Sarony’s image the expressive work of its author.

In that case, the Court held that Sarony’s choices of background, arrangement, pose, etc. to achieve a look that was purposely designed (i.e. not capturing a fleeting moment of independent reality) was sufficiently “creative” to sustain copyright in at least some photographs. The issue of copyright in photographs that do capture fleeting moments of reality (e.g. street photography or photojournalism) recognizes choices like position, focal length, timing, and framing as representing the minimum amount of human creativity required.

Fast-forward to the present, and cameras are everywhere, from satellites miles above the Earth to cellphones in the hands billions of people on the Earth, to specially-designed Google cars roaming the streets and taking 360˚ views of nearly every traversable corner of every town, city, and hamlet.  The app is impressive and extremely useful. I’m sure many of us have planned trips to places we’ve never been by using Street View.  But are the images copyrightable?  Probably not. At least not in the United States or any country where copyright doctrine evolved on the principle of “originality” to make a work eligible.

Loyola Law School Professor Justin Hughes, whose paper The Photographer’s Copyright I’ve cited before, discusses the legal distinctions that many of us intuitively assume—namely that functional imagery like surveillance and security photos, police crime-scene pictures, and satellite imaging are inherently different from the kind of works captured by photojournalists, art photographers, and even many amateur photographers with an eye for distinctive compositions.  Hughes opines, for instance, that most of the photographs museums take of their public-domain paintings to sell as postcards and posters are not legitimately protected by copyright because they are precise representations (copies) of the original that do not contain—indeed are not meant to contain—any original expression of the photographer. Hughes writes …

“With all these photographs — photographs of museum paintings, images captured at ATMs and by immigration officials stamping your passport, Google Maps Street View, aerial reconnaissance photographs—there is no originality to give rise to copyright. These images may have copyright in the few countries that still base copyright protection on ‘sweat of the brow,’ but not in the United States or most countries in the European Union.”

With regard to Google Maps, Hughes suggests that when we use the tool in map view, Google at least has some statutory/historical claim to protection of maps, and there is precedent for human choices—colors, line thickness, shading, etc.—in the rendering of maps to qualify for copyright.  But when we use the application in Satellite view with all the markings turned off, Hughes is somewhat doubtful about the claim of copyright made by Google and partner TerraMetrics.

In his analysis, he describes the amount of human and computational labor required to composite various photo assets and data in order to present the satellite images we see in the app, but the question of copyrightability would turn on the extent to which any of that labor constitutes original, human expression rather than “garden-variety choices” made for the purpose of rendering the best possible representation of a factual image. Or as Hughes puts it, “what a perfect satellite would see on a perfect day with absolute fidelity.”

At the same time, Arizona State University Professor Dennis S. Karjala, in his 1995 paper Copyright in Electronic Maps suggests that the rejection of the “sweat of the brow” theory after Feist could, as he puts it, “deny copyright protection to a variety of works whose optimal production, as a matter of social policy, may require some form of intellectual property right as an incentive.”  In other words, perhaps Google’s claim of copyright in some, or all, of these apps rests on the more utilitarian rationale we can assume was present in 1790 when maps and charts were first given protection.

Of course, the chance that anyone will challenge Google on any of these copyright claims seems about as as likely as a camel passing through the eye of a needle, but that’s about corporate power, not tested theory of copyright law.  Suffice to say, that considering what a daunting adversary to the copyright interests of millions of creators Google remains, it’s at least interesting to consider that its own copyright claims in this case might prove very weak if they were in a legal dispute with an entity that treated their IP exactly as they have treated the IP of others.

Khloe Kardashian’s Instagram Copyright Mistake

Lens photo by mrbrainous

For all the attention paid to music and motion picture piracy, the most chronically infringed works via the internet has got to be photographs.  The speed and volume with which photos are uploaded and redistributed by both commercial and non-commercial users is so constant that it occasionally results in some amusing—if not infuriating—mistakes.  Like the time in February of 2013 when the Fox News site posted a photo of newlyweds kissing atop the Empire State Building above a headline that read:  To be happy, we must admit that men and women aren’t ‘equal.’ In response, the forces of the internet had a blast letting Fox know that the pair depicted in the image are both women—the first same-sex couple to wed after New York State legalized these unions.

Such gaffes are not limited to people espousing uptight social values, of course; but this kind of mistake says a lot about the use of images today because such a dumb error, presumably made in haste, implies that nobody involved with the Fox story bothered to seek—or probably even consider—permission to use the image.  It was taken by photographer Richard Drew and is registered with AP along with a standard description on its web page, so it would be pretty hard to legally license the photo without realizing that it depicts a same-sex couple.

It is an understatement and a half to say that social media platforms have fuzzed-up general understanding of permission to use photographs today, even for certain professionals who should know better.  When photography collides with celebrity and social media, though, I guess we should not be surprised that Khloe Kardashian (or someone who works for her) didn’t know that she needed to obtain a license from the rights holder, even to display an photo of herself on Instagram.

The photo, taken by Manual Muñoz, is a fairly typical, professional-quality paparazzo’s capture of Kardashian walking toward camera in 1/4 profile, reportedly heading into a trendy Miami restaurant.  The copyright in the image is owned by Xposure Photos UK LTD, which had sold a limited license to the Daily Mail, whence it is alleged that Kardashian copied the photo to her Instagram account without permission and, in the process, removed the rights management information from the image. Thus, Kardashian is potentially on the hook for violating three sections of the U.S. Copyright Act—the right of reproduction (§106(1)), the right to publicly display a pictorial work (§106(5)), and removal of copyright management information (§1202(b)).

The complaint filed by Xposure specifically notes the commercial nature of Kardashian’s use, alleging that “…every one of Kardashian’s Instagram posts is fundamentally promoting something to her 67 million followers.”  While commercial vs non-commercial use is not dispositive in determining whether or not an infringement exists, it can factor considerably in the kind of relief a plaintiff may be granted by the court.

Khloe Kardashian is a business, what marketing professionals call an influencer—someone whose social media following is so large that they earn fashion shoots, paid appearances, and endorsement opportunities worth millions of dollars.  As such, Xposure would seem to be on solid ground in pursuing the upper limits of relief for damages. Their argument that “every photo promotes something,” should carry considerable weight, even if that something is Khloe Kardashian herself.

The distinction between personal and professional use of a platform like Instagram is something any user, not just celebrities, should more carefully consider.  I suspect it’s become so habitual at this point to share images as rapidly as they’re made that even public figures with professional management teams forget that they have the same legal considerations to make before publishing on social media as if they were proposing to publish an old-school print campaign.

Additionally, because platforms like Instagram provide the opportunity for people to create their own celebrity by blurring the line between “private” and “public” moments—for instance, displaying provocative selfies alongside professional fashion photos—mistakes like Kardashian’s are almost inevitable.  According to the Wikipedia entry for Kendall Jenner, Vogue dubbed the crossover between social media self-promotion and the world of professional fashion modeling as the “instagirl era.” And as Vanessa Friedman recently noted in The New York Times, being this kind of influencer can come with unanticipated liabilities, like the possibility that the models who helped promote the disastrous Frye Festival may be named in the class-action lawsuit against event organizers.

All prospective instagirls and instaboys, especially those who don’t have Kardashian resources, should remember to consider the rights and implications of a photo before publishing.  Anyone using, or hoping to use, social media to grow their own brand as influencers or creators, should be wary of the anti-copyright messages suggesting that these legal considerations are obviated by the relative ease of distribution via digital platforms.  The authors of those opinions will not be defending you in a litigation.

Don’t Confuse Copyright With Publicity, News, & Commentary

I caught a piece of a conversation on The Talk about this story, with the celebrity panel largely focusing on the lack of rights enjoyed by public figures.  The discussion segued rather quickly from copyright to privacy, commenting on the fact that Kardashian is not allowed to use this image without permission, but then contrasting this fact with the apparent contradiction that she also would have a hard time removing invasive or embarrassing images captured by the types of paparazzi who trade in wardrobe malfunctions and other salacious forms of “news.”

While I personally sympathize with public figures when they’re the targets of cheap, gimmicky invasions that serve only puerile social interest, the fact remains that one price of celebrity is an abandonment of privacy because public figures are—in a first amendment context—always news. Just about any image of a public figure that is legally obtained counts as reportage, protected by the first amendment—even wardrobe malfunctions and other moments of human folly.  One may also lampoon or otherwise comment upon a public figure by altering their images, as long as that alteration doesn’t implicate libel.  Such alteration could violate a copyright, but it will not have anything to do with the publicity right of the person in the image.

The right of publicity is protected at the state level, hence varying statutes, but the general principle is that no individual or entity may use the likeness of either a private person or a public figure for the purposes of endorsement of a business, a political message, a social agenda, etc. without that individual’s permission.  Even users of stock photos should note that there are often separate model releases requiring that licensees get permission from the models for any use that would be considered endorsement.

When it comes to violating the publicity right, the same factor that makes Kardashian’s alleged copyright infringement (i.e. that she’s a famous brand) potentially more expensive would also give her claim more heft if she were to seek damages for unauthorized use of her likeness for the purposes of endorsement.  In short, the fact that she is news gives the paparazzo’s photo a market value that she has no right to control or infringe; but at the same time, her likeness is also valuable to advertisers, which she has every right to control and protect.   General discussion of theses stories occasionally conflates these principles.