Tag: Featured

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

The CLASSICS Act is Not a Reversal of Copyright Doctrine

As the world mourns the passing of Aretha Franklin, we need no further discussion about the value of recording artists. The anthem of a generation, Franklin’s first hit, “Respect” was not written by her but by Otis Redding, who first recorded the song in 1965. But in 1967, Aretha made that song what it is—“owned it” as we say today—along with the work of producer Jerry Wexler, engineer Tom Dowd, and the studio musicians at Muscle Shoals Sound Studios, including King Curtis, who gave us that instantly-recognizable saxophone solo, and who was murdered in 1971.

We also need no further evidence that the somewhat arbitrary line in copyright law, which places pre-1972 sound recordings in a class separate from those made after February of that year, has little to do with the timelessness of many recorded songs. Who knows how many times Aretha’s records will be played over the coming decades via Sirius XM or Pandora or other non-interactive digital services, but is it truly unreasonable that these corporations should pay a license fee for that privilege? Is it wrong, for instance, that the heirs of engineer Tom Dowd, who passed away in 2002, receive some fraction of a royalty for his contributions to the sounds of Franklin, Coltrane, Mingus, Clapton, Charles, Rod Stewart, et al?

Some critics of the CLASSICS Act seem to think it is wrong on principle—that CLASSICS creates a royalty “windfall” that these authors never expected at the time in which they made these sound recordings. This is how copyright critic and scholar Annemarie Bridy described her antagonism toward CLASSICS via Twitter a couple weeks ago, and it is the reason she calls the bill a reversal of copyright doctrine. “My only dog in this fight is not wanting to see © created retroactively for existing works whose very existence is proof that their creators needed no copyright incentive for their creation. I see no doctrinal justification for it,” Bridy tweeted.

And I wouldn’t pick on one critic alone for her tweets except for the fact that I’m sure Bridy represents the views of many who feel likewise, despite the fact that her position—although posing as a statement of raw principle—is doctrinally unsound, historically inaccurate, just plain mean-spirited, and kinda dangerous as a rationale.

By dangerous, I mean to say that even if CLASSICS does represent a shift in legal doctrine (and I hold that it does not), why should this alone be an argument against its adoption? Doctrinal change is the reason Bridy has advanced degrees and a job at a university instead of being restricted to “women’s work.” Doctrinal change is the reason Aretha’s “Respect” became an anthem that added the essential ingredient of boogie to the civil rights movement. What exactly is wrong with doctrinal change? It’s the only way this country has ever managed to live up to the grand promises in its founding documents.

With regard to copyright law, Bridy’s premise is that because copyright’s purpose is incentive, it is therefore superfluous to establish a new copyright protection for works for which the incentive obviously existed at the time of their authorship. In my view, this is the mean-spirited part of her argument—and it is a view shared by others—which espouses a too-mercenary approach to copyright’s purpose. It is an extension of the sentiment that copyright is a “devil’s bargain” which society makes with artists in order to get them to produce what we want out of them. (And it is a sentiment I find especially unpalatable in context to artists of color.)

But in addition to this being a rather craven way to relate to any artist, it is also historically oversimple—particularly with regard to the public performance right and pre-72 sound recordings, which are technically protected by common-law copyright due to a rather muddled definition of the word “published” in the evolution of statutory copyright. (See new post by copyright historian Zvi Rosen for more details).

Suffice to say that Bridy poses an argument which, to the casual observer looks reasonable, but which the copyright expert recognizes as glossing over the complicated legal status of pre-72 sound recordings. Nobody I know disagrees that the 1972 threshold created a copyright mess, but Bridy’s opinion does little to untie that know when she conflates constitutional copyright (i.e. its foundational purpose) with statutory and common-law copyright in the service of blasting a very narrow, and very simple, amendment to the law.

A Doctrinal Shift?

As a broad rebuttal to Bridy’s premise that CLASSICS represents a dramatic shift in principles, it is neither settled legal doctrine, nor settled history, that copyright’s sole purpose is incentive. While the debate continues as to whether intellectual property rights are indeed grounded in natural rights, there is at least enough scholarship on this subject to reject Bridy’s over-reliance on the assumption that once incentive has been achieved, copyright has fulfilled its only value. (Moreover, even the incentive calculus entails a bundle of rights, enforceable over many years, and includes more than pecuniary transactions.)

But we don’t even need to get into the more theoretical aspects of intellectual property law, or debate the extent to which Lockean principles of property and labor informed the Constitution and the earliest American statutes. Because even without all that, CLASSICS is just a tiny amendment to the Copyright Act that accomplishes more or less what every amendment to copyright law has always done: respond to changes in technology.

Nearly every update to copyright law represents an effort to identify and protect the creative expressions of authors in the context of new technologies, whether these have been new means of producing and distributing works or new means of copying and potentially infringing works. And it is also worth noting that many of the limitations to copyright’s protections have also been written in response to new technologies.

So, when Bridy declares that the recording artists working before 1972 had no expectation of this royalty stream, she’s overstating what CLASSICS does by understating the obvious—that no artist working well into the 1990s likely imagined the expansion of non-interactive, digital streaming “radio” services. Yet, somehow the artists whose recordings were made after 1972—and are, therefore, receiving royalties from these services—are not the beneficiaries of a copyright “windfall” in Bridy’s view? She’s conflating a technological change in the market with an aberration in copyright history to make a case that this amounts to a doctrinal reversal.

As discussed in this post, the sound-recording right itself has almost never played much of a role between artists and their consumers. Artists like Aretha Franklin made sound recordings, consumers bought physical copies, and the radio broadcasters successfully argued against paying royalties on the (then not unreasonable) grounds that radio play sold records.

Today, digital streaming has largely replaced sales of recordings, and relatively new players like Pandora provide a radio-like experience, including thousands of pre-72 sound recordings because, like Aretha’s classics, they still kick ass. But they also earn revenue for these services, which can no longer claim that their play promotes record sales. And all CLASSICS does is insist that a portion of the revenue earned from streaming these songs goes back to the artists, supporting artists, and supporting creators who made them. That is anything but a reversal of copyright doctrine. It’s a reaffirmation of a founding principle of copyright: R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

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.”