Tag: Featured

Are AI Prompts Authorship in Copyright Law?

The production of creative works by artificial intelligence (AI) provokes many responses—philosophical, cultural, economic, and legal. I have already argued against copyright protection for works created by AI, supporting the longstanding doctrine that copyright rights can only attach to works of human authorship. But one paragraph in a recent article by attorney Adam Adler raises a potentially difficult question as to whether human prompts directing an AI to produce work could ever constitute authorship of the resulting work?  Adler writes:

… proponents of AI art don’t have to look very hard to find the required creative contribution. The most prominent AI works are generated through trial and error using specially crafted word prompts. For example, Jason Allen, the winner of the Colorado State Fair, spent 80 hours crafting the prompts he used to generate the art and tested over 900 different prompts before settling on the winner. Given the sensitivity of AI art generators, one could argue that the selection and refinement of prompts (at least as they are used today) involves significant creative work, analogous to placing a camera or framing a shot. And because a human’s prompt selection informs the creation of the entire work, there would not be any obvious way to disentangle the creative and non-creative elements of the work

Whether Adler endorses the view that the prompts in this example should vest James Allen with the rights of authorship in the resulting image, he is probably correct that advocates for copyrightability of AI works will advance this argument. But is the position valid? If I ask a friend to paint a picture of a weeping willow by a brook, my broad description does not constitute even joint authorship in the painting, and that example is arguably no different than my recent playing around with DALL-E 2 writing prompts with an existing painting in mind—Henry Wallis’s “Chatterton” (1856).

Although the results were nothing like the original work (and I am admittedly a novice propter), the image on the left could, eerily enough, be passed off by a would-be forger as an early sketch in the development of the Wallis painting, and it was admittedly astounding to watch these, and other variations appear in a matter of seconds.

PROMPT: A painting by Henry Wallis of Chatterton wearing purple pants and a stained shirt, strewn across his deathbed in a garret.
PROMPT: A painting by Henry Wallis of the poet Chatterton wearing purple pants and a stained shirt, strewn across his deathbed in a garret, the bottle of poison on the floor.

But returning to the theme of this post, I maintain that I did not author these images or the other variations output by DALL-E 2. Authorship flows from the creative choices made by a human, and there would need to be a colorable nexus between my prompt writing and the selection and arrangement of the choices made in the work—in this case a visual work—upon its fixation.

Prompts by themselves may be protectable “literary works” under copyright law—not unlike computer code, which can be sufficiently creative while also serving a utilitarian function as a set of instructions. But the potential copyrightability of prompts themselves does not necessarily extend to protection of the resulting work—not even in the case of Allen writing complex prompts into the app Midjourney to produce the visual work he called “Théâtre D’opéra Spatial.”

Neither the 80 hours Allen spent nor the 900 different prompts he tested has any bearing on a potential claim of authorship in the resulting image because copyright does not protect “sweat of the brow.” Copyright also does not protect ideas or concepts; and the incident of copyrightability is agnostic with regard to the author’s intent, message, or methodology. Unless there is a lack (i.e., less than a modicum) of originality in the work, copyright attaches upon fixation, and without consideration as to how or why the work was made. But the Allen example implies a potential difficulty in the doctrine to which Adler alludes in his description.

Given the time and energy Allen spent on the prompts, we can assume he developed a somewhat complex set of instructions, and it is conceivable that there may be a point at which a creative arrangement of prompts could approach a defensible claim of human authorship in the resulting work output by the AI. But it’s tricky, and I am skeptical.

Ordinarily, the moment a work is fixed in a tangible medium, the human’s creative choices may be inferred, credited solely to the human, and the choices need not be explained. In the photojournalist’s image of the factual event, it is longstanding doctrine that the existence of the image itself is evidence that she made sufficient choices (even in a second or two) to meet the “modicum of originality” threshold, and copyright rights are vested in her without asking her to describe or defend the choices made.

AI production may frustrate this doctrine in the near future by providing a reason to ask how a vast amount of work has been produced and about the nature of the human involvement in its production. Then, even if prompts may be protectable literary works on their own, the consideration as to whether this confers authorship to the human in, for instance, a resulting visual work or music work output by the AI implies a case-by-case consideration of copyrightability that would be administrative chaos for the Copyright Office.

It is hard to imagine a generally applicable doctrine that would harmonize the human authorship requirement with a definable nexus between prompt writing and the resulting work, and this suggests that the law must hold that copyright does not attach where an AI has made any (and likely most) of the creative “choices” in the work being claimed.

This view is consistent with the purpose of art and the purpose of copyright—both of which are profoundly human constructs. Neither copyright’s utilitarian origins (i.e., the author must earn a living), nor its civil rights origins (i.e., the product of the author’s mind is naturally his property) has any meaning whatsoever to a machine, just as machine made “art,” in my view, will ultimately mean nothing to humans.

Art without human creators may be decorative, interesting to a point, useful, entertaining, or even conducive to computer science in other contexts, but the products themselves are bloodless in every sense. Making art and engaging with art is one of the most human of all activities—transcendent and spiritual for many—and I have no idea why it would ever be outsourced to computers. One might as well suggest that the Buddhist set his mobile device in front of the alter to chant for him while he does something else with his body, mind, and hands.

When Henry Wallis revealed “Chatterton” at the Royal Academy in 1856, it caused a stir—both because it was considered a masterwork made early in the painter’s career, and because its romantic yet grim subject matter was viewed by many as a comment on the poor treatment of artists. Chatterton’s suicide by arsenic at the age of seventeen was believed to be at least partly the result of his abject poverty due to the failure of publishers to pay him for his writing. His “Last Verses,” found with his lifeless body, contain an 18th century version of the artist who was supposed to live on “exposure” rather than compensation.

Farewell Bristolia's dingy piles of brick,
Lovers of Mammon, worshippers of trick!
You spurned the boy who gave you antique lays,
And paid for learning with your empty praise.

Two and a half centuries later, “Lovers of Mammon” have invested billions in technologies and business models designed to devalue creative work and infringe copyright rights at massive scale. And now, we enter the next phase, when machines are being “trained” on volumes of human-authored works to potentially replace humans in the production of literary works, visual arts, music, and perhaps eventually, performing arts. And, as usual, the technology is advancing apace without any consideration as to whether it can reasonably be called progress.

Illustration by: zdeneksasek

On Copyright, the EFF Will Say Anything to Scare You

Are you gifted in the art of bullshit, but the popular conspiracy theories just aren’t for you? Do you enjoy riling people up about threats that are demonstrably false, but you just can’t get comfortable with QAnon or election deniers? Well, maybe you should consider an exciting career with the Electronic Frontier Foundation writing about copyright law. It seems they’re always looking for eager young folks with good writing skills and no scruples. For instance, you can learn how to write blog posts like Stop the Copyright Creep, posted this week by Katherine Trendacosta, and which begins as follows:

In 2020, two copyright-related proposals became law despite the uproar against them. The first was the unconstitutional CASE Act. The second was a felony streaming proposal that had never been seen or debated in public. In fact, its inclusion was in the news before its text was ever made public. The only way to find it was when the 6,000-page year-end omnibus was published. We want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.

Here’s how that opening paragraph would read if it stated the facts and concluded with a more honest declaration of EFF’s position:

In 2020, two copyright–related proposals bills became law. despite the uproar against them. The first was the unconstitutional CASE Act. The second was a the Protect Lawful Streaming Act (PLSA). felony streaming proposal that had never been seen or debated in public. In fact, its inclusion was in the news before its text was ever made public. The only way to find it was when the 6,000-page year-end omnibus was published. We want to make sure copyright enforcement does not happen anymore. that doesn’t happen again.

That the CASE Act is unconstitutional is a highly speculative opinion which the EFF is free to argue in court one day, and it probably will. That there was much “uproar” against these bills outside the tiny community of anti-copyright wonks is hyperbole (In 2020? Really?). The implication that the felony streaming bill was quietly snuck into law behind closed doors is just a lie. And, of course, the hyperventilating tone meant to scare readers is standard EFF style, which often makes the organization indistinguishable from any other conspiracy-monger.

The reason I let that statement stand about news being ahead of the text of the felony streaming bill is because it might be half true. The text of the Protecting Lawful Streaming Act (PLSA) was introduced on December 10, 2020, so it definitely appeared late in the session—but not because its provisions came out of the blue, were secretive, or were written without debate. On the contrary, one reason the bill was introduced so late is that various stakeholders were still debating the language into December. And if the EFF did not directly engage at the time, there is no way it was unaware of these negotiations because the issue itself was hardly new.

For more than a decade before introduction of the PLSA, various parties had been addressing the fact that large-scale piracy remained a misdemeanor under the statute rather than a felony as long as the pirate enterprise streamed material rather than made it available for download. Here’s Senator Klobuchar referring to the issue in 2011 by way of analogy during a hearing about cyber security:

I have been working in the area of some of the streaming issues to try to come up with a way with a number of the other Senators to acknowledge that if someone is standing on a street corner and sells DVDs that are over $2,500 that we already know is a felony, and right now if you do it, if you have a business and you are illegally selling anything—movies, books, music—and you do it maybe $1 million and you are profiting—you have to profit from it under our bill—it is still a misdemeanor. And so we are trying to fix that without, you know, hurting anyone’s rights or teenagers that are simply trying to share some information

Or you can link to just one House IP Subcommittee hearing in which felony streaming was being discussed in 2014. “We should consider today whether there is a need to clarify that felony infringement includes infringement by streaming,” stated Chairman Coble. Or you can review a summary of the legislative history at Copyright Alliance. Or, oddly enough, my satirical post A Guide to Critiquing Copyright in the Digital Age was a response in 2015 to an article published in The Hill complaining about the idea of felony infringement by means of streaming.

The desire to close what many copyright owners, the DOJ, IPEC, the FTC, et al. considered a legal loophole had been present in both official and unofficial records for quite some time before introduction of the “secret” bill in 2020. And unless you’re planning to engage in mass piracy by building an illegal streaming platform, you probably have little reason to know what PLSA is or why it exists.

The implication by EFF that PLSA or CASE or the other copyright provisions mentioned in the blog are somehow a threat to free speech is as unfounded as the allegation that these proposals were ever clandestine. Yet, Trendacosta writes, “Because so many copyright-related bills involve proposals that would harm lawful free expression, they are not the kind of controversy-free proposals that belong in such legislation.” Here, she means that PLSA and CASE should never have been attached to a must-pass omnibus spending bill at the end of the year.

Notably, copyright proponents who worked on the legislation were not exactly thrilled with the rider outcome either; but you know why it happened that way, especially with the CASE Act? Because Senator Wyden, had a solitary hold on that bill, and in the roughly nineteen months between introduction of CASE and December 2020, he neither engaged in good-faith negotiation nor publicly articulated a realistic objection to its provisions. In fact, after telling Oregon constituents in December 2019 that he saw a path to compromise, he then asked for several poisoned pill amendments, and failing that, simply ghosted with his hold intact.

So, if we’re going to talk about shenanigans on the Hill and things that should never happen, I’m of the opinion that one senator should not be allowed to single-handedly kill bi-partisan supported legislation without very clearly and very publicly articulating his passionate and well-reasoned opposition. And I believe Senator Wyden agrees because he co-sponsored legislation in 2011 based on this same general principle.

Meanwhile, aside from the fact that copyright’s alleged conflict with speech is a construct of anti-copyright ideologues—one that finds little purchase in history or law—I would love to know what EFF imagines could be more “controversy-free” than copyright legislation? It happens to be one of the very few subjects where we see Democrats and Republicans collaborating and voting in large bi-partisan numbers.

That is not only significant in the current climate, but I am told by at least one colleague who has worked on the Hill in less turbulent times that nothing controversial survives the frenzied process of attaching riders to must-pass legislation. “The leaders of both parties from both Houses have to agree, as well as the chair and ranking members of both the House and Senate Appropriations Committees,” he says. So, that seems like a resounding override of Senator Wyden’s hold and a confirmation that the hold was the only reason the copyright bills were passed in this manner.

What I think EFF really means to say is that because they fervently believe that copyright enforcement is always a threat to speech, they don’t like it when nobody on the Hill agrees with that premise. And these days, it is just so damn easy to allege that when Congress or a court or an investigative journalist or a federal agency doesn’t agree with your trumped-up narrative (it writes itself), then some dark arts must clearly be at work. So, if you’re into sowing conspiracies but can’t go full InfoWars, writing about copyright for the EFF just might be your next career move. Good luck!

Photo by: mrwed54

Parody on Trial: The Onion Submits Amicus Brief in Novak v. Parma

On October 3, the satirical news organization The Onion filed a delightfully irreverent amicus brief with the U.S. Supreme Court in support of the petitioner seeking cert in Novak v. City of Parma, Ohio, et al. Even if you have no interest in the case, the brief is a good time—a deftly written panegyric to the art and relevance of parody that interweaves actual parody with supported legal arguments. Under its Argument I – Parody Functions by Tricking People into Thinking it is Real, the section begins …

Tu stultus es. You are dumb. These three Latin words have been The Onion’s motto and guiding light since it was founded in 1988 as America’s Finest News Source, leading its writers toward the paper’s singular purpose of pointing out that its readers are deeply gullible people.

In the next paragraph, The Onion states that the first reason its motto is central to the brief is that it knows the “federal judiciary is staffed entirely by total Latin dorks.” So, it’s like that. Enjoy!

But the issues raised in this case are more complicated than The Onion’s colorful defense of parody and satire—if not with respect to plaintiff Novak’s conduct itself, then with regard to broader questions, both social and legal, on the subjects of humor and gullible people.

Background: Novak Mocks the Parma Police Department on Facebook

In March of 2016, Anthony Novak created a bogus Facebook page designed to resemble (though not precisely match) the page for the City of Parma Police Department. He then published a handful of outlandish posts that any reasonable person should recognize as satire. For instance, one post announced a “Pedophile reform event” with “puzzles and quizzes” stating that upon successful completion of the day’s activities, participants would be removed from the sex offenders list.

The police department naturally received a few phone calls from Parma citizens, and after officers investigated, Novak was arrested, tried, and ultimately acquitted on charges that he had violated an Ohio state law prohibiting the use of a computer to “interrupt” or “disrupt” police operations. According to the petition for cert at the Supreme Court, the fake Facebook page was online for twelve hours and a total of six posts were published.

After Novak’s acquittal on the criminal charges, he filed a civil suit against the arresting officers, the department, and the city, alleging that the investigation and arrest had been retaliatory in nature and violations of his First and Fourth Amendment rights on the basis that the enforcement actions stemmed solely from his protected right to mock public officials. A district court held, and the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed, that Novak’s complaints failed to meet the standards to show the officers’ intent to cause harm and that, within the four corners of the law, the officers did not abrogate their qualified immunity from suit. In its conclusion, however, the appellate court stated …

But granting the officers qualified immunity does not mean their actions were justified or should be condoned. Indeed, it is cases like these when government officials have a particular obligation to act reasonably. Was Novak’s Facebook page worth a criminal prosecution, two appeals, and countless hours of Novak’s and the government’s time? We have our doubts. And from the beginning, any one of the officials involved could have allowed “the entire story to turn out differently,” simply by saying “No.” Bari Weiss, Some Thoughts About Courage, Common Sense (Oct. 19, 2021). Unfortunately, no one did.

Indeed. Even if Novak caused some limited “disruption” to the department (e.g., fielding calls from complaining or confused citizens), it should have been obvious that the content of the Facebook page was intended as satire rather than intended to “interrupt” police operations in the spirit of the broadly written state law. That all the fuss was over six posts online for twelve hours is an even stronger indictment against the officials’ decisions leading to prosecution, which justifies a fair assumption that arrest was both retaliatory and unconstitutional. The questions Novak presents to the Court are as follows:

  1. Whether an officer is entitled to qualified immunity for arresting an individual based solely on speech parodying the government, so long as no case has previously held the particular speech is protected.
  2. Whether the Court should reconsider the doctrine of qualified immunity.

The Sixth Circuit reasonably, if reluctantly, found that Novak did not prove that the officers investigated him solely on the basis of his protected speech. Instead, it held that the officers presented sufficient (if thin) probable cause to indicate that he had violated the state “disruption” law, and two magistrate judges granted warrants, and a DA independently proceeded with an indictment. So, SCOTUS may not agree that Novak’s case is ripe for the qualified immunity and speech questions presented. On the other hand, the petition describes a relevant circuit split thus:

The Sixth, Eighth, and Eleventh Circuits grant officials qualified immunity for First Amendment violations disguised as searches and seizures justified by probable cause under broadly written laws. In those circuits, censorship-by-arrest prevails. Three other circuits prioritize speech over immunity. The Fifth, Ninth, and Tenth Circuits look beyond pretext and deny qualified immunity to officials who should have known that their actions violated the First Amendment.

While we wait to see whether the Court will agree to hear this case, the serious intent behind The Onion’s hilarious brief raises some complicated questions if we look beyond Novak’s short career as a parodist in this instance.

Reasonable People

The Onion makes the broad argument that “reasonable people” do not need warning labels to identify parody—that indeed parody depends on impersonating the serious or the real. “Parodists intentionally inhabit the rhetorical form of their target in order to exaggerate or implode it—and by doing so demonstrate the target’s illogic or absurdity,” the brief states. It would, therefore, be anathema for persons in power, like police, to require some kind of notice in order to distinguish protected parody from illegal impersonation—let alone impersonation with intent to cause harm.

The Onion is, of course, right about parody as an expressive form, but the question of impersonation has become complicated in an era when mass media tools are available to anyone—to say nothing of what it currently means to be a “reasonable reader” of mass media. The Sixth Circuit, for instance, affirms that impersonating police is not protected speech “for good reason” and further notes by example the “mayhem that a scam IRS or State Department website could cause.”

In a different but related context, it would be a travesty if Alex Jones could successfully argue that InfoWars is all “opinion and hyperbole”[1] and that he is, therefore, immunized against recourse for the wanton harm he and his fans have caused the victims of the Sandy Hook murders. Not all potentially criminal speech can be made lawful by arguing some variation of the “just kidding” defense; and in the digital age, a “prankster” does not need a plurality of idiots to do a great deal of damage.

So, although I agree with The Onion that most people probably know parody when they see it, we must acknowledge that unreasonable readers abound and are living a post-parody existence that is barely literate. Content that might be assumed parody in another era turns out to be prophesy to many contemporary Americans. How is Alex Jones anything other than a joke? Ditto Pizzagate, QAnon, Mike (the pillow guy) Lindell, Steve Bannon, Marjorie Greene, the stolen election narrative, FOX News, Donald Trump, or the sincere and persistent belief that children are being harvested by Hollywood stars to make adrenochrome?

So, it is not easy to fully endorse The Onion’s premise that people have a solid grasp of the ridiculous, or that the ridiculous is easily discernable from the truth these days. Novak’s phony Facebook page, though minor and fleeting, reminds us how muddy the distinction is between lampoon and headline news. A “Pedophile reform event” may be obviously sardonic to most readers, but in a world where real people would force a child rape victim to remain pregnant, there is arguably nothing so wild the parodist can invent that does not require confirmation against fact.

So, although the officials involved in Novak’s case did not exercise common sense (as the Sixth Circuit states), the lines separating parody of public figures, outlandish lies about public figures, and the actual conduct of public figures are exhaustingly blurry—especially when the tools to spoof the real thing are available to anyone with a computer and a motive to cause mischief. Near the conclusion of The Onion’s brief, it states:

… grafting onto the reasonable-reader test a requirement that parodists explicitly disclaim their own pretense to reality is a disservice to the American public. It assumes that ordinary readers are less sophisticated and more humorless than they actually are.

It would indeed be folly to require the parodist to “disclaim his own pretense,” but it is not quite true that we can rely solely on our sophistication and sense of humor. When a friend on social media shares a real story about something balls-out crazy, don’t they often label it, “Not from The Onion.”? In fact, The Onion’s generic status in this regard partly betrays its argument about disclaimers because its brand is a flag telling readers that parody and satire are present.

It is hardly original to say that we are awash in so much conspiracy theory and crime against reason that it is often hard to imagine how the writers at The Onion hope to compete. The day Kellyanne Conway said the words “alternative facts” with a straight face on national television, many of us expected satirists everywhere to throw their pens, if not themselves, out the window. And that story was a mere party trick compared to the astonishing self-parodying events that have transpired since. So, with a deep bow to the craftsmanship in The Onion’s amicus brief, I think it is fair to say that even reasonable, comedy-literate people can be forgiven these days for wanting some assurance that what they are reading is indeed a joke.

[1] I chose these words because one of FOX News’s defense in its litigation with Dominion is that the lies it reported about corrupted voting machines are “hyperbole and opinion.”