Tag: Featured

Does the Internet Archive Need the Copyright Rhetoric to Be Useful?

Photo by fotoduki

Recently, a tweet caught my eye on the #copyright thread—something about the late Congressman Sonny Bono and a new collection at the Internet Archive, which is the vast digital library founded by technologist and entrepreneur Brewster Kahle.  The tweet linked to a blog post by Kahle announcing that a collection of copyrighted works published between 1923 and 1941 had been “liberated” and is now available on what the Archive has named The Sonny Bono Memorial Collection.

The eponym is not an honor of course. It’s a posthumous snipe at Bono, who is credited (or blamed, depending on one’s point of view) for the Copyright Term Extension Act (CTEA) of 1998, which added 20 years to copyright protection, resulting in the current term of life of the author plus 70 years.  Kahle’s post is bulked out with a lot of standard rhetoric condemning the duration of copyright, repeating the misleading narrative that Mickey Mouse was a major reason for the CTEA, and imply rather obtusely that the original 14-year, single-renewal term of 1790 ought to still be the law of the land (because of course the world functions much as it did in the late 18th century).  All that noise aside, however, the new collection with the sarcastic name is made possible by what Kahle calls, “a little known, and perhaps never used, provision of US copyright law, Section 108h, which allows libraries to scan and make available materials published 1923 to 1941 if they are not being actively sold.”

Let me interject to say that the Internet Archive is impressively handy.  I’ve already found a number of intriguing sources for a research project I’m just beginning; so, what follows is not an indictment of this or any other library, whether physical or digital.  I love libraries. But the reason for highlighting Kahle’s derisive tone is that it seems that there’s a lot of unnecessary conflict being sown between contemporary librarians and copyright law. And the crux of Kahle’s own announcement about this new archive underscores just how unnecessary the conflict is. To begin, Section 108(h) of the Copyright Act is not quite so arcane as he implies.

The statute was created as a specific carve-out for libraries, reflecting a compromise to attain passage of the term extension in 1998.  The exception allows a library to copy and make a work available during the last 20 years of its term of copyright protection, if copies of the work are not commercially available at a reasonable price. There are more conditions to the statute, but the underlying rationale is common-sensical enough. If these “Last 20” works are no longer available in the market—and high-priced, rare copies don’t count—then libraries are allowed to fulfill their mission by making the works available for the purposes of research and scholarship.  Meanwhile, the existence of the 108(h) exception, including proposals to amend it, actually rejects the attitude that Kahle and others sometimes adopt which ultimately pits authors against libraries.

New Scholarship on Section 108(h)

The challenges for a library wishing to apply 108(h) include research capabilities to learn the copyright status of works, and vagueness in the statute that can make proper analysis difficult. Enter Professor Elizabeth Townsend Gard, a copyright and history scholar at Tulane University. In collaboration with colleagues and students, she produced a 103-page paper, released this month, entitled Creating a Last Twenty (L20) Collection:  Implementing Section 108(h) in Libraries, Archives and Museums.

Gard’s paper offers two major contributions:  1) a comprehensive methodology for qualifying organizations to make effective use of the 108 exception in order to build what she calls “Last 20 Collections”; and 2) suggestions for possible revision of the statute in order to address what she sees as unnecessary gaps that leave organizations in limbo with regard to qualification and implementation. The heart of the paper is dedicated to methodology, in which she describes a taxonomic approach to identifying works, combining standard library cataloging systems with copyright data to yield the information required to know if a work is eligible for the 108(h) exception.  Given the amount of complexity involved, and the fact that I am neither a librarian nor an attorney, I cannot fairly comment on the system.

With regard to the statute, the US Copyright Office published its Model Statutory Language for revision of Section 108 in September of this year.  Gard commends some of the proposed changes and critiques others, making several recommendations that sound reasonable. For instance, she advocates better clarification of the extent to which the “used” market honestly represents “availability” of a particular work in fulfilling the purpose of 108(h). Some of her proposals may find critics at the USCO or among various stakeholders; but suffice to say, her work reads like a sensible foundation for compromise, which can be a rare find in contemporary discussions about copyright.

Making Section 108(h) Work is Not an Anti-Copyright Statement

Gard’s work represents a counterpoint, in my view, to many positions adopted by the ALA and related organizations, which have spent considerable energy aligning their interests with for-profit, technology companies in the hope of expanding—through litigation—the fair use exception and/or the first sale principle.  This approach seems both ideologically and pragmatically flawed, especially where the for-profit ventures clearly try to strain the underlying legal principles involved.

Libraries, archives, and museums, which exist for the primary purpose of advancing scholarship, deserve special consideration that is not accorded (and neither should it be) to for-profit ventures—or necessarily all non-profit ventures.  While the internet does create unprecedented opportunities for providing access to works that can lead to new areas of scholarship and new forms of creative expression, it also creates unprecedented incentive (i.e. crazy-big money) for various parties to try to blur the line between public-serving and private-interest ventures. Legitimate institutions of scholarship that ally themselves with this kind of vagueness are, in my view, working at cross-purposes with efforts like those of Professor Gard, whose proposals seek clearer guidelines for the types of institutions that deserve exceptions like Section 108(h).

To put this in context, there is nothing that necessarily bars a public-serving and privately-held platform like the Internet Archive (or Wikipedia) from becoming a monetized business venture, either independently or by selling all or some portion of its enterprise to a larger entity like Google.  Or if the Internet Archive were to earn revenue by selling its user data, this should run afoul of Section 108’s prohibition against using a “Last 20” collection to attain “indirect commercial advantage” for the archivist. I’m not saying the Internet Archive will do this, but if we keep in mind that indirect commercial advantage is the mechanism by which giant internet businesses make content “freely” available to the public, this awareness should inform any new statutory contours for an exception like 108(h).

Referring back to Brewster Kahle’s post, he quotes Carrie Russell, Director of ALA’s Program of Public Access to Information thus: “I’ve always said that the silver lining of the unfortunate Eldred v. Ashcroft decision was the response from people to do something, to actively begin to limit the power of the copyright monopoly through action that promoted open access and CC licensing.”  Eldred is the Supreme Court decision upholding the constitutionality of the CETA, and Russell’s statement here is frankly incomprehensible in a blog alluding to Gard’s efforts to make an existing, statutory limit on copyright work better.

Kahle himself seems unclear about the difference between the nuance in Gard’s work and his own desire to evangelize the bad-manners approach to copyright typically employed by Silicon Valley corporations. He writes, “Now it is the chance for libraries and citizens who have been reticent to scan works beyond 1923, to push forward to 1941, and the Internet Archive will host them.” That makes it sound as though Gard’s work just opened the flood-gates and that anyone should feel free to upload anything to the Internet Archive as if it were YouTube. Does this mean the Internet Archive will then do the 108 analysis before hosting, or that they’ll just duck behind the safe harbor of the DMCA?   Either you’re an entity that responsibly qualifies for the 108 exception, or you’re an ideologue eager to stick it to rights holders.  You can’t be both.

Professor Gard’s work strongly highlights the fact that carve-outs for libraries already exist in the copyright law; and where these statutes may not function as intended, they can be amended through good-faith collaboration with the USCO, stakeholders, and Congress.  To achieve this collaboration, however, the librarians and archivists would do well to tone down some of the rhetoric implying that the interests of preservation and research are incompatible with the interests of authors. It is plainly absurd for librarians and authors to be at odds, even in the digital age.

Speech Maximalism on SESTA is Madness

This refrain keeps playing over in my head lately:  The EFF and its sister organizations are to cyberlaw as the NRA is to rational gun policy in America.  That seems like a pretty harsh thing to say about a bunch of progressives (and one must even include the ACLU in this discussion), but in the context of policy debate, the maximalism with which these organizations continue to defend the liability shield (Sec. 230) of the Communications Decency Act (1996) on behalf of a single multi-billion-dollar industry is logically comparable to the maximalism with which the NRA has marketed so much ahistorical nonsense about the Second Amendment on behalf of gun manufacturers.

While it’s hard to look away from the circus playing round-the-clock at the White House, it is certainly necessary to look beyond it.  The story of where American democracy is heading is not Donald Trump, though it may be (metaphorically speaking) Elon Musk.  The fact that Musk announced he could power Puerto Rico in response to official U.S. dithering is both intriguing and generous, but it is also a frightening commentary on the condition of the American state.  Even as an idea, Musk’s offer is a subtle harbinger of the tipping point I fear we may be approaching—that the state becomes so dysfunctional, the people turn to the oligarchy of technologists and say, “save us” from ourselves. At that point, American democracy will come to an end. Cue 21st-century American feudalism.

Before we head quite that far into a sci-fi thriller, though, we are truly at an inflection point when the fate of a couple of bills in Congress will say a lot about how much power and influence Google and the other major internet players have in Washington.  H.R. 1865 and S. 1693 (SESTA) would amend Section 230 of the CDA to explicitly prohibit online support of trafficking minors in the sex trade and thus open pathways to both civil and criminal prosecution.  These bills are largely a response to allegations stemming from investigations into Backpage, which the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children estimates is how 73% of all children trafficked in prostitution are bought and sold.

I am told by various contacts in D.C. that Google’s lobbyists—parent company Alphabet now ranks among the top five spenders in the country—have been out in force to kill these anti-trafficking bills in committee. Meanwhile, the EFF and other Google-funded organizations have the unenviable task of telling the American people—once again—that free speech on the web will suffer if we pass legislation designed to help protect children from sex-trafficking.  As explained in a previous post, SESTA proposes a change in the Section 230 statute that is so narrow it could never affect the vast majority of internet users.

Your site would have to be a lot like Backpage, or would have to be as big as Google or Facebook just to be in the orbit of potential liability under SESTA.  Even a pornography site that might inadvertently host video depicting sex acts with trafficked minors (and that’s a big hypothetical) would not necessarily be liable under SESTA because, depending on what actions the site owners were to take, they could still qualify for the safe harbor provisions of Section 230.  Any implication that the vast majority of us who do not run globally substantial sites, or who do not use the web to conduct transactions in the sex trade, will somehow feel a tremor in the force of free speech is rank hysteria.

But Google, with all its wealth and influence, would rather not have so much as a pinhole of liability pierced into the CDA shield—even if it means providing a modicum of legal remedy for victims of sex-trafficking by prosecuting individuals who have nothing whatsoever to do with Google. I can only imagine there must be a few members of the EFF who are either experiencing moral crises over this issue, or downing 10 a.m. shots just to quiet the cognitive dissonance because they’ve got to know their free speech arguments against SESTA are complete hogwash.

Overcoming Free Speech Maximalism

In the same way that the NRA markets a message that guns create freedom, the internet industry has sold a very similar maximalist view that the First Amendment is perpetually strengthened by the immeasurable volume of interactions on the internet.  Just as the American who owns ten guns is not ten times freer than the American who owns one gun, the American who tweets a hundred times a day is not freer than the American who doesn’t have a Twitter account at all.  Nevertheless, when one reads the declarations insisting that every peep uttered in cyberspace is sacred, it is hard to miss the rhetorical similarities between the NRA and the internet activist organizations.

Like anyone with a maximalist view—or a financial stake in espousing one—both the NRA and the EFF reveal a callous disregard for the harm being done by the policies they endorse.  The EFF hasn’t explicitly said “child sex-trafficking is the price we pay for freedom,” but that’s effectively the argument they’re making with their overplayed appeals to the First Amendment in context to SESTA.  Adding further to this irony is a complete disregard for the fact that the internet as we know it is actually making quite a hash of the democratic principles which the protection of speech is meant to serve.

In almost the same manner in which Citizens United undermines the intent of speech by giving a louder voice to financially empowered corporations, the economics of the web do the same thing more broadly and more insidiously.  If it is fundamental to American democracy that the population has access to relevant and accurate information, it is no surprise that the economics of attracting and monetizing web traffic fails to serve this purpose. (Or have I missed something and American democracy is healthier than ever?)  Journalism (i.e. information) is supposed to be the practice of telling people what they need to know while the design of the web we have is fundamentally built to tell people what they want to hear.

Adaptive algorithms that anticipate our interests, biases, and desires are relatively innocuous, perhaps even beneficial, if we’re shopping for toasters; but these designs can be toxic to democracy when we’re “shopping” for news.  In a solid, concise OpEd for Forbes about the folly of current support for Obama-era net-neutrality policies, Fred Campbell calls the internet as we know it “a mess.” “Policies that net neutrality advocates are clamoring to preserve have facilitated the internet’s roles in undermining fair elections, providing a safe haven for sex traffickers, destroying privacy, nurturing the world’s largest information monopolies (e.g., Google, Amazon), subverting free speech, and devastating publishing industries,” Campbell writes, suggesting that we should let the internet be overhauled because it’s hardly living up to the vision of its founders in the 1960s.

Campbell cites a paper by Professor Shoshana Zuboff of the Berkman Center for Internet & Society; Harvard Business School (an organization typically aligned with internet industry views), who calls the current economics of the web surveillance capitalism.  “This new form of information capitalism aims to predict and modify human behavior as a means to produce revenue and market control,” Zuboff writes.  That description certainly rings true with experience and hardly seems to jibe with the foundational assumption that the internet is “the greatest tool for democracy ever created.”

In 1783, in the uncertain period between the end of the American revolution and the establishment of the United States, Alexander Hamilton wrote to John Jay, “It is hoped when prejudice and folly have run themselves out of breath, we may embrace reason and correct our errors.”  He was referring to the many competing forces driving people away from the establishment of a unified nation.  Today, Hamilton could easily be talking about Facebook and Twitter because it would be hard to make the case that the internet is not, on balance, having a centrifugal effect on the electorate.  As such, free speech maximalism is  not only specifically immoral as a response to a bill like SESTA, but it is also generally untenable as a premise for broader debates about cyberlaw.

Image by stawy13

Study Shows Piracy Losing Premium Ad Revenue

Among the standard responses to any proposal to mitigate online piracy is an insistence that it just cannot be stopped.  Perhaps not entirely. But it can be starved.  That was the underlying goal of SOPA, but people decided the criminal sites deserved the money they were making because freedom.

As many readers know, the piracy universe is still largely supported by advertising.  The majority of the ads on many sites are “non-premium,” which is a polite way of saying sleazy.  These are usually promos for snake-oil products, VPNS to hide your identity so you can pirate more, and “dating” services offering men the opportunity to spend hundreds of dollars to exchange sexy emails with Sabrina in Odessa, who is more likely to be Todd in Duluth.

Research varies with regard to how much premium vs non-premium advertising supports particular sites, but major advertisers have been working for a few years now to bring their own contribution closer to zero. Although the total amount of premium advertising on pirate sites represents a small fraction of the US digital ad buy of over $60 billion/year, the advertisers view the presence of their brands on these sites as generally bad for business.   In addition to representing waste and lack of transparency in the digital advertising ecosystem; appearing on pirate sites associates their brands with criminal activity and spammy advertising; and it associates their brands with the increasing risk that visitors to pirate sites will stumble into malware.

In February of 2015, the major advertisers launched the Brand Integrity Program Against Piracy, led by the Trustworthy Accountability Group (TAG). As described in this post written at the time, the program was designed to establish protocols to certify suppliers and partners that work to mitigate exposure to risky entities with the ultimate aim of keeping premium brand dollars out of the pockets of pirate site owners.  A new report released today by EY indicates that these efforts seem to be working. From the report …

“If the industry were taking no quality-control steps and digital piracy operators served only premium advertisers, we estimate those operators could earn $213m annually from digital ads. In actuality, they earned an estimated $111m from those ads in 2016. The difference of $102m is a strong indication that quality-control efforts are having a significant effect.”

The study is based on analysis of 672 websites with a “high degree of infringing content that also serve advertising.”  Again, these numbers are fairly small as a portion of overall digital advertising, but they are more significant relative to revenue estimates for the piracy market overall.  For instance, this post from May 2015 cites a Digital Citizens Alliance study of just under six hundred infringing sites earning total revenue of $209 million of which $149 million came from major brand advertising.  So, if these quality-control efforts by the advertisers have legitimately denied over $100 million to piracy sites, that’s significant enough to begin to have a market effect.

If this trend continues, I suspect a few things will happen in the relatively near future.  The site operators earning well under a million dollars in revenue will probably get out of the piracy business because these sites represent fairly low-level investments designed to pick up the easy money of advertising “remnants” that fall through the cracks in the digital advertising system. The more entrenched and higher-yield sites will presumably become more dependent on spammy ads and malware, both of which are designed in one way or another to fleece users.

While it’s true that many committed pirate site users are sophisticated enough to avoid these hazards, it must also be true that plenty of users are unsophisticated enough for the scammers and hackers to be on these sites at all.  Thus, if pirate sites are further delegitimized by starving them of premium ad dollars and, as a result, they become more hazardous in the minds of, say, parents who think their teens are engaged in a harmless activity, there is decent chance the sites may lose their less-sophisticated user base.  At that point, the value to the snake-oil advertiser disappears.

If every pirate site user were savvy enough to avoid malware and sleazy ads, the only revenue model left is direct payment.  Many sites do receive subscription and donation revenue; but then of course, the lion’s share of more casual users who access these sites do so because they’re not in the habit of paying for the media they consume.  So, maybe it isn’t possible to stop piracy, but it does seem quite possible to starve it down to a more manageable size.  In the meantime, these efforts by the advertising industry should help reveal piracy for what it is—an illegal business, not a social movement.