Tag: Featured

Does Masnick Not Know That The Public Is Not An Online Service Provider?

Signaling one of the talking points I expect we’ll be seeing quite often as the DMCA fight brews—and it is brewing—Mike Masnick and others have declared that the Copyright Office, in its newly released report on DMCA Section 512, neglected to include the public among the stakeholders with a vested interest in the 1998 addition to the copyright law. In his first post on the topic, Masnick asks rhetorically Does the U.S. Copyright Office Not Know That Copyright’s Main Stakeholders Are The Public? Never mind that this is a retread of an unsupportable theme of his, but the premise sets up a false dichotomy that will be used as a pretense to campaign for the status quo of Section 512 — especially because the USCO has recommended a few areas for possible revision.

Let us first keep in mind that we, the public, are always the beneficiaries (or not) of policies relating to the interests of both copyright owners and online service providers (OSPs). Or, as my friend Neil Turkewitz puts it, “The public interest is always affected by decisions made by private actors. Indeed, it’s fair to observe that the public interest is itself a contrivance, and represents the constellation of interests of individual members of the public.”

We enjoy the benefits created by internet platforms just as we enjoy the works produced by rightsholders. Because the public interest is intertwined with the interests of both sides in this narrative, the legislative history (despite what Masnick claims) does not point to a triad of stakeholders in which the public is one prong. The DMCA was negotiated by two sides (both representing large, corporate interests) hammering out a deal in the late 1990s, at a time when nobody could have predicted how the consumer-based internet might evolve.

On the OSP side, when AT&T and the other telcos sought a shield against liability for the inevitable copyright infringements by the public, the primary rationale (and a reasonable one) was that investors would shun internet prospects if the service providers would be vulnerable to expensive and ongoing litigation. These companies did not lead with homilies on free speech or the fair use exception in copyright law. It was about business. So, let us not be blinded by the fallacy of presentism. When the Copyright Office says that 512 was intended to balance two competing interests—rightsholders and OSPs—that statement is neither inaccurate nor indicative of a disregard for the public.

One reason I imagine we will be hearing this rhetorical accusation about the allegedly missing public is that it softens the ground for declarations like this one:  “… the report mainly focuses on large internet providers liking the safe harbors, and copyright holders wanting it to be worse…and then claims that since only one side is ‘upset’ clearly that means things are out of balance,” writes Masnick. See what’s happening there?

By pretending that Section 512 is not the result of a two-sided arrangement, Masnick is able to make a mathematically impossible statement, implying that when one side of an agreement feels it isn’t working, this is somehow not evidence of an imbalance. Even if one has contempt for a particular side—and I think copyright critics’ contempt for authors is a matter of record at this point—if one side says an agreement is not working, this is the definition of “unbalanced.” Further, the implication that 512 is working just fine for the public is political theater. Not only could most of the public likely not explain what Section 512 does, but the public also does not enjoy any kind of liability shield under the terms of the DMCA.

It is frankly disingenuous to suggest that the public is ever represented as a whole constituency. And it is as arrogant as it is futile when people like Masnick presume to speak for the public. Which public would that be exactly? Are millions of creators of copyrighted works not part of the public? What about the millions of people whose livelihoods are dependent upon the creative industries? Or what about the public that simply enjoys creative works, which is pretty much everybody? John and Jane Q Public are not nearly so confused about the relationship between copyright and the works they enjoy as many critics like to suggest. And the conflicts inherent to Section 512 were, and remain, conflicts between rightsholders and online service providers. Period.

It is not wrong to maintain that the public has an interest in the implementation of Section 512, and in future posts, I’ll get into some of the proposed amendments that may or may not be considered by Congress. But because those forces hellbent on maintaining the status quo of 512 decided, as a first volley, to lob this allegation that the public was overlooked by the Copyright Office, I will insist that this is neither supported by the content in the report, nor remotely instructive to the purpose of legislative review.

Meanwhile, as long as Masnick et al insist upon conflating the public interest with that of the OSPs, we might want to keep in mind that the public has not exclusively benefitted from the catalytic effects of internet platforms over the last 20 years. We don’t see any headlines saying Songwriters Sell User Data to Troll Farms or Photographers Tied to Election Fraud or Poets Fueling White Supremacy Worldwide. Which force is more responsible for InfoWars, copyright or YouTube?

I know. Don’t blame the internet for every problem in the world. But a little common sense is called for, no? Is it a coincidence that platform expansion is concurrent with rampant ignorance raging through Western civilization like a forest fire? Huge swaths of the public are evidently so howling-at-the-moon stupid (thank you Aaron Sorkin for the expression) that they are willing to believe anything. So, I think we have reasonable cause to look askance at the dawn of the so-called information age and ask where we went wrong.

In that spirit, let us also remember that the purpose of copyright, as expressed in the constitutional clause, is to “promote science.” While “science” has long since been expanded to encompass the creative arts, the notion of enlightenment still lives in the doctrines of copyright. And to the extent the Copyright Office seeks to preserve that principle, it is unquestionably serving the public.

Copyright Office opines on National Emergency Library. Critics opine on Copyright Office.

On April 16, Senator Udall (NM) wrote a letter asking the U.S. Copyright Office to provide Congress with guidance on the role of libraries and the potential need to expand (within the law) digital lending during national emergencies. More specifically, the senator asked the Office to comment on the National Emergency Library (NEL) launched by the Internet Archive (IA) on March 24, just as we all entered a period of self-quarantine. On May 15, the Copyright Office submitted its response.

For readers who might have missed the stir caused by the NEL, the IA, in response to a presumed emergency need for remote access to reading material, made approximately 1.4 million books available worldwide, and removed all restraints like wait lists for titles. The books distributed include an as-yet-unknown number of contemporary works that are still widely available through both digital sales and licensed borrowing regimes.

In addition to the fact that there is some question as to how many books at the Internet Archive are legally obtained,[1] the organization, based on its own legal theory, determined that the COVID-19 pandemic authorized the organization to “loan” books to an unlimited number borrowers, all at the same time. By contrast, my local library system, for example, offers licensed digital books through OverDrive, which lends books to library-card holding readers, one at a time. And there are waiting lists just like we have with physical copies.

Because IA used the pandemic as an opportunity to release what amounts to unlimited digital copies of perhaps tens of thousands of contemporary books, both authors’ rights organizations and individual authors were more than a little irritated by the presumptuousness of this sudden largesse with the distribution of other people’s property. Moreover, recognizing that IA founder Brewster Kahle is an anti-copyright activist (if being a millionaire with a misguided mission can be called activism) this cast a deservedly cynical light on the organization’s decision, which looks a lot like using the fog of a crisis to advance an agenda.

Further, it was noted by Authors Guild and others that most authors make very little money from book writing alone, and writers have been hit financially by the pandemic, just like millions of other workers. Unsurprisingly, copyright skeptics and digital-rights maximalists (yep, I’m going there) called the reaction against IA a moral panic, and some of the usual Twitterspats erupted. But the subject of this post is Sen. Udall’s request to the USCO for comment, and the subsequent response to acting Register Maria Strong’s reply to that request.

USCO Offers Balanced Analysis (but you do have to read it)

The letter is a good example of the Copyright Office doing exactly what it’s supposed to do (in this case advise Congress) without driving outside its lane. Most of the 22 pages are dedicated to summarizing the four relevant statutes (§107-§110) in the copyright law that contain broad and specific exceptions to copyright that are pertinent to libraries, and which may be informative to Congress with regard to exigent demands to expand digital lending.

Where the letter addresses the National Emergency Library, the Office is careful to avoid comments that definitively “rule” on the legality of IA’s conduct. For instance, at the end of its conclusion that fair use (§107) likely would not shield IA’s conduct in this instance, the letter reiterates the CO’s advisory role, stating, “…the Office offers this analysis as requested to aid your consideration based on facts as the Office currently understands them, but does not wish to get ahead of actions taken by private parties.”

In other words, if authors or publishers were to decide, at some point, to sue the IA for copyright infringement, it is not the role of the Copyright Office to pre-litigate those hypothetical cases. At the same time, while the analysis in the letter does point in the direction that IA’s conduct is very likely not legal, these comments are solely based on the extraordinary nature of the NEL itself, and not the result of some ideologically skewed perspective within the Office. In fact, the letter is so demonstrably balanced in its analysis that the only way for copyright critics to stridently object to its content is that they can rely on most people to not read it for themselves. And/or not to know much about copyright law.

Enter the Copyright Critics

ReCreate’s Joshua Lamel this week tweeted that he was “deeply disappointed” in the CO opinion, calling it “bad lawyering,” and pointing to a long blog post written by fellow skeptic Kyle K. Courtney. It’s funny that Lamel would use a term like “bad lawyering” while citing Courtney’s post, which is such a baroquely constructed straw man that, if it were a brief in a legal case, a judge would likely become impatient with its meandering panegyrics to the value of libraries, which is neither doubted by, nor relevant to, the questions asked of the Copyright Office. Courtney begins his post …

“Licensing culture is out of control. This has never been clearer than during this time when hundreds of millions of books and media that were purchased by libraries, archives, and other cultural institutions have become inaccessible due to COVID-19 closures or, worse, are closed off further by restrictive licensing.”

I’ll set aside my cynicism (for now) about the premise that tens of millions of Americans are being cut off from reading material—that, for instance, the Karens and the assault-rifle protestors, with their misspelled signs about their constitutional rights, are suffering for access to Proust. But Courtney’s big thesis is that “libraries do not need permission to lend books,” which is generally true, and also a misdirection in this context, setting the stage for the straw man critique of the CO letter. By focusing readers’ attention on libraries in general, Courtney both circumvents the narrow questions presented about the atypical character of the NEL and implies that the Copyright Office misapprehends the law vis-à-vis ordinary libraries by seeking to expand what he calls “licensing culture.”

“[Expanded licensing] undermines the ability of the public (taxpayers!) to access the materials purchased with their money for their use in public libraries and state institutions, and further, it is short sighted, and not in the best interest of library patrons or the public at large.“

There are more than a few of these emotional soliloquies in Courtney’s post—all designed to stoke the ire of his readers, most of them off topic, and some of them sacrificing comprehensibility for the sake of drama. For instance, when he calls the CO letter the “penultimate example of this licensing culture gone wild,” one is left to wonder what the ultimate example will be, or whether Courtney is aware that penultimate means “second to last,” which makes no sense whatsoever.

Not to digress into petty gotchas, though, the salient point is that the Copyright Office did not—indeed it would not—say anything in its letter to imply any abrogation of the carve-outs that libraries in general enjoy under the current statutes. Courtney’s post dissembles by failing to acknowledge that those statutory carve-outs are not without conditions, thereby obscuring the fact that it is precisely because the NEL fails to meet those conditions that it presents a major concern for authors. Nevertheless, the tone of the post is pregnant with comments like, “These expanded licenses are eroding away our ownership rights over purchased materials, and also eviscerating the critical copyright exceptions and rights that every user, not just libraries, have under copyright.”

That statement is doing double work. First it alludes to topics (i.e. purchased materials) that have nothing to do with ordinary libraries or the NEL, and then it also happens to be absolute bullshit. As a general rule, expanding licenses is how more works are delivered to more consumers via more channels. At the same time, never in the history of buying copies of works has our purchase of said copies transferred any of the authors’ rights to us as consumers. You can buy a copy of a novel and dispose of that copy as you like, but you never buy any of the author’s exclusive rights through the purchase of that copy, whether physical or digital. So, consumer rights are not being “eroded” by licensing; those alleged rights do not exist. And the same goes for libraries. (See post about the Buy button here.)

What seems clear is that Courtney objects to the idea that the author is empowered to grant permission at all. That’s what licensing is:  permission to use a work in particular manner, and sometimes that permission is even granted free of charge. Yet, Courtney scorns even the prospect of zero-cost licensing on principle. That’s a position he and others are free to take, but this whole narrative of an “expanding licensing culture” is kind of like a deep-state conspiracy theory for anti-copyright zealots—especially if the letter by the USCO to Sen. Udall is what passes for evidence of same.

With the accusations lobbed at the Copyright Office, Courtney is technically asking the agency to step outside its purview and write opinions that do not square with the law. For instance, the letter correctly states that the first sale doctrine (§109) does not apply to digital transmission and would, therefore, be unlikely to provide a legal basis for the IA to have launched the NEL. Although Courtney and others clearly believe that §109 should apply to digital transmission, at least for non-profit entities like libraries and archives, that is a much broader discussion beyond the question asked at this time by Sen. Udall. If a court were to rule somewhat differently in some future case (beyond the one in Capitol Records v. ReDigi), the Copyright Office would be obliged to acknowledge that ruling in some future discussion, but that is not the reality today.

Meanwhile, there is a lot to be said, both in terms of efficiency and cost, for libraries adopting digital licensing models, the way my regional library did, rather than wade into the messy implications of interpreting or amending §109 to encompass the digital transmission of scanned books. That opens up a huge can of worms—one that potentially threatens the digital sale market for authors—that pundits like Courtney either fail to consider, or do not care about. This comes under the heading that the antagonism that often erupts between authors and libraries is an absurdity, one that is largely manufactured by people like Brewster Kahle, Big Tech corporations, and academics with too much time on their hands. But that’s a topic for a future post.

See also former USCO counsel Steven Tepp’s analysis of the National Emergency Library here.

[1] For instance, if IA digitizes books it borrows from other libraries, this is not legal acquisition that entitles the lending of those books in any form.

“Library of Congress” Photo by author.

Copyright Troll Smackdown Reveals Need for CASE ACT

The wicked deeds of the infamous copyright troll have been cited among the excuses to reject many proposed improvements for copyright enforcement in the digital age. For anyone unfamiliar with the term, copyright trolls (and their cousins the patent trolls), are the ambulance-chasers of IP law. They file often dubious copyright claims with the sole purpose of frightening settlements out of respondents. They work on volume (more claims filed equals more settlements), and the claims themselves will often lack merit outright, or they will fail to follow proper civil procedure.

Enter Richard Liebowitz, a notorious copyright troll, who has been sanctioned multiple times by multiple courts for his conduct and was recently smacked down in very strident terms—first by the Southern District of Illinois and then by the Southern District of New York, on May 7th and 8th respectively. In both cases, both involving claims by photographers, it was Liebowitz’s blatant disregard for civil procedure that raised the hackles of Judges Rosenstengel (Illinois), and Caproni (New York), and the two provided plenty of Twitter material for law hawks to share.

Judge Rosenstengel, in the case Ward v. Consequence, sanctioned Liebowitz for “vexatious and bad faith practice,” referring to him as exemplary of the “worst kind of lawyering.” Judge Caproni of New York, in Chevrestt v. Barstool Sports, also imposed sanctions after expressing her disdain for his recidivist conduct, stating, “Mr. Liebowitz has ‘earned the distinction of being a regular target of sanction-related motions and orders,’ and ‘it is no exaggeration to say that there is a growing body of law in this District devoted to the question of whether and when to impose sanctions on Mr. Liebowitz alone.'”

So, ouch. But these opinions, and primarily the opinion in Ward, reveal why the small claim proposal known as the CASE Act is so essential for independent creators in the digital age—and why it is technically absurd that anyone would argue that the Copyright Claims Board (CCB) would be a venue of opportunity for copyright trolls. First, Judge Rosenstengel is unequivocal in describing how Liebowitz’s trolling is just as toxic to the plaintiff as it may be to a respondent …

“It is a simple matter for the Court to conclude that Liebowitz’s conduct in this case has been irresponsible, unreasonable, and detrimental to the fair administration of justice, harming both Consequence, the Court, and even his own client, who has lost his opportunity to advance what appears to have been a meritorious claim.”

Then, because the claim was likely meritorious, she later explains her rationale for restoring only a portion of Consequence’s legal fees pursuant to Liebowitz’s misconduct, admonishing the respondent thus:

“The Court hopes that Consequence’s remaining uncompensated financial expenditure and the experience of wrangling with legal lampreys such as Liebowitz will serve to ensure that Consequence in the future exercises the merest modicum of caution necessary to avoid misusing the intellectual property of others.”

But it is the following comments from the judge’s discussion that truly sum up the problem faced by so many creators today, and also point to the need for the small-claim alterative called for in the CASE Act …

“Misuse of intellectual property has become a pervasive problem in the internet era and one that is especially pernicious for freelance photographers like Ward, who often lack the resources to pursue claims in court against organizations like Consequence, knowing that even if successful they may receive mere token payments of a few hundred dollars for their work, far less than their legal fees. Aggressive plaintiffs’ attorneys such as Liebowitz, then, can be said to represent the fetid backwash of online media providers’ own persistent and willful disregard for intellectual property norms, and the Court is not overly sympathetic to Consequence’s plea to be made whole.” [Emphasis added]

Arguments for passing the CASE Act can be found in these opinions, along with one very strong counterargument against the implications made by anti-copyright activists that the small-claim CCB would provide a rich hunting ground for copyright trolls. To the contrary, the CASE Act just might be a copyright troll destroyer.

As I opined regarding the Brammer case, Ward presents a scenario in which both parties would likely have come to a much easier and less costly resolution if a small-claim option had existed. Consequence admitted its wrongful use of Jesse Ward’s photograph and would, therefore, likely have been willing to voluntarily submit to the cheaper and less burdensome small-claim tribunal. (As it is, Consequence paid its attorney and Ward got nothing.) I cannot say the same about photographer Angel Chevrestt and Barstool, as the latter seems to have at least some record for “persistent and willful disregard for intellectual property norms,” but less hassle is less hassle for any party.

The opinions written by both judges in these cases provide a glimpse into the troll business model, which appears to depend on certain elements that would be unavailable via the CCB. As mentioned, the troll relies on volume. Point enough $150,000 (statutory damage award) guns at enough targets, and the troll will frighten at least a percentage of those targets to settle claims for several thousand dollars, long before they might ever pay a lawyer to discover whether the claim has merit, or might otherwise fail for the kind of procedural sloppiness alluded to in both of these cases.   

This shotgun approach to litigation would be very difficult in the more constrained environment of the CCB than it is in Article III courts. Unlike the court system, the CCB is a single venue, which has a statutory responsibility to flag repeated claims (even valid claims) filed by any one party, and it has the discretion to limit the number of claims filed by any single party. The CCB is also authorized to ban any party for filing one unmeritorious claim and, as a consequence, throw out all other claims filed by that party.

The CCB may fine a party $5,000 for abuse of the system and/or bar them from filing with the board for up to one year. Add to all that the fact that the small-claim tribunal is voluntary, plus the fact that the lion’s share of the substantially lower damage awards should go to the clients, and the CCB begins to look like a money-losing proposition by the time the troll does the math. In fact, it was designed that way because, contrary to many opinions out there, copyright advocates don’t like trolls either.  

Finally, and perhaps most intriguingly, because the CCB is an alternative dispute resolution forum designed to be used with or without counsel, its availability would leave both complainants and respondents far less susceptible to unwittingly engaging troll attorneys, as seems to be the case in Ward. So, oddly enough, in addition to the intrinsic mechanisms in CASE that were specifically written as anti-troll provisions, the very existence of the CCB could, over time, shrink the market of desperate creators who may inadvertently become the clients of “legal lampreys.” If we, therefore, take a much broader view, not only would the CCB be a poor environment for the troll to ply his dark arts, but the availability of a small-claim option may eventually put a lot of trolls out of business, while still providing work for conscientious attorneys to assist with small claims where that assistance is desired.   

Troll image by: Kaselmeyk