Heroes and Villains in Copyright Fights

heroes

After Internet Archive (IA) lost its copyright infringement suit with major publishers this week, the organization wasted no time alleging that great harm has been done to society. As if it had the posts ready to go, IA alleged that research itself was in peril and even went so far as to shamelessly post on X that works by Orwell and Bradbury are now “no longer available”—as if its unlicensed repository provided the only access to 1984 or Fahrenheit 451.

If you don’t see the hypocrisy in citing those titles for the purpose of propaganda, you might as well not read the books. Funny, though, that literature is the subject because it is only human nature to consider even complex matters of law and policy through narrative. And because narrative requires heroes and villains, IA presumes to play the Rebel Alliance to the publishers Empire. One problem with this perspective is that if one insists the publishers are “villains,” then one must assume the authors are as well. Because here’s how things work in reality…

Every author owns the copyright rights in her book the moment the manuscript is finished. Whether she signs a deal with Random House or a small, independent imprint, she transfers at least part of her claim of copyright to the publisher in exchange for the publisher’s investment in producing, distributing, and marketing the book. Publishing agreements vary greatly, and sometimes, authors are disappointed. Nevertheless, most authors seek publishing deals rather than self-publish, and nobody commenting on the IA lawsuit should presume to tell authors that they are wrong to work with publishers.

Among the rights owned by the author is the right to “prepare derivative works.” With books, this means derivatives like translations, serials, motion picture adaptations, eBooks, and audiobooks. Typically, the author will transfer the right to prepare eBooks and audiobooks to the same publisher who produces and distributes the hardbound and paperback copies. Consequently, the author’s interest is aligned with the publisher’s interest in selling these electronic versions of the book. And quite often, the author’s share of audio and eBook sales is a higher percentage than her share in the sales of physical copies.

One way in which authors receive compensation from eBooks is through a variety of licensing regimes used by libraries around the country. Although there is no evidence that these licensing models hamper a library’s ability to serve its community, certain individuals, including IA founder Brewster Kahle, object to these licensing regimes as a matter of some principle they invented. That “principle” really comes down to the fact that they simply don’t like copyright rights, and Kahle et al. have made that very clear in public statements.

In fact, despite all the good IA provides with its database of hard-to-find works long in the public domain, Kahle’s fervent anti-copyright ideology seems to drive him to risk that worthy enterprise just to prove a point about which he is entirely wrong. In simple terms, IA et al. were determined to prove that libraries are entitled to prepare derivative works (i.e., make and distribute their own eBooks) instead of the publishers to whom those rights were assigned by the authors.

IA’s legal theories were so unfounded that the district court issued a judgment less than a week after oral arguments. And now that the appeals court has affirmed the obviousness of that judgment, IA is playing the victim on social media, like Icarus blaming the sun and gravity for his fate. In literary terms, we might recognize Kahle’s persistence against reason as that fatal flaw which can turn heroes into anti-heroes or villains. And wouldn’t it be a classic tragedy if the guy who wants to build the “New Library of Alexandria” managed to burn it all down in a grand display of hubris?


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Internet Archive Introduces “Rice Krispies” Defense in Copyright Case

Internet Archive advances Rice Krispies defense.

When Internet Archive lost resoundingly in the Hachette (book publishers) case, the court rejected its cockamamie legal theory called controlled digital lending (CDL). Then, when a group of record labels (UMG et al.) filed suit against IA for infringing reproduction, distribution, and performance of sound recordings, I wrote at the time that there’s no way IA has an unfounded theory to test drive in this case. Who knew they had yet another cockamamie idea on deck?

In a small, semantic gift to counsel for plaintiffs, IA has argued that the preservation of “hisses, crackles, and pops” on the pre-1978 sound recordings favors a finding that their reproduction, distribution, and performance of those recordings is fair use. “Defendants’ newly devised Rice Krispies argument for fair use here is even less credible than Internet Archive’s previous fabricated fair-use theory for books that the Southern District of New York recently eviscerated,” the plaintiffs’ response states.

At issue is IA’s “Great ’78 Project,” which digitizes, distributes, and digitally streams older sound recordings on the premise that it does so for preservation purposes and to make “rare” recordings available to the public. If the recordings at issue were indeed rare, the project might have a reasonable claim to exceptions under the Music Modernization Act (2018) which allows libraries and archives to make pre-1972 sound recordings available if they make a good-faith effort to determine that the recordings are not commercially available. Here, the record labels present evidence that the relevant sound recordings IA makes available can be found commercially, including on major streaming platforms.

So, because IA does not have a solid argument that the sound recordings at issue are hard to find, it overstates the historic value of the Great 78 Project thus: “Preserving these records as they would have been heard and experienced by listeners at the time they were made approximately one hundred years ago is a critically important part of archiving these works.” Is it though?

If we’re going to play this game, a 78RPM shellac resin disk that has degraded in random ways over the decades, and is then digitized and played via computer in the 2020s will NOT match the “experience of a listener” in, say, 1935. A brand-new disk in 1935 played on a phonograph of the period sounded different to that listener than the file IA produces by acquiring and digitizing that disk in 2018. Relatedly, a serious audiophile will tell you that a pristine vinyl album plays back sounds (overtones, etc.) that are lost in digital reproductions like CDs. Yet, these qualitative distinctions have no bearing on the copyright rights in the sound recordings, whether the reproductions are fixed in vinyl, CD, MPEG file, or crystals.

To the extent that there is some forensic, archeological value in any of the dust and noise in the old grooves of a 78 disk, this implies such a distinctive (if not eccentric) field of research, that it hardly justifies making the material available to the general public via the internet. I think a conservator would agree that the physical disks comprise a valuable collection and that, perhaps, storing a digital archive would be of use, but a conservator might question the historic significance of modern, random damage done to a given disk embodying an old recording. What if two tiny scratches were made in 1973 and 1996? What history is the contemporary listener hearing? Even if we knew that history, how important is the scratch Betty made when she bumped the record player that time Larry tried to cop a feel? It’s not quite the same as, say, the margin notes written by the composer on the original sheet music.

I’ll leave the preservation discussion there, however, because as a legal argument, the Rice Krispies defense is rather soggy. As the response for the plaintiffs states, “Fair use cannot be perverted into forfeiting a sound recording’s protection under copyright law just because the recording is copied, distributed, and performed in something other than its cleanest sound. If ever there were a theory of fair use invented for litigation, this is it.”

Presumably, IA wants to show that for the purpose of “education” or “scholarship,” named in the preamble of the fair use statute, its reproduction and distribution of the sound recordings “as listeners would have heard them a hundred years ago” is sufficient to find that the factor one analysis favors fair use. Notwithstanding the other three factors, even if IA could convince the court that random “hisses, crackles, and pops” are of general cultural value, the archive is overreaching on fair use.

The fair use exception anticipates some new authorship that enhances or expands the value of the work used. In the context of scholarship, this typically means that a scholar uses some portion of a work to author commentary, criticism, or analysis. Further, the scholar’s new work is separately protected by copyright as a new expression. By contrast, IA reproduces, distributes, and performs protected expression (the music recording) mixed with extraneous and random sounds that nobody has authored.

Just because someone might be able to ascribe significance to those random noises, this does not exempt the use under factor one—especially after the Supreme Court in Warhol rejected such broad and vague rationales of this nature. To put it another way, even if a human author were to intentionally add crackles and pops to a sound recording, he would have to prove that those additions comment upon the original work, or his reproduction would be an unlicensed (infringing) derivative work.

IA is trying to fit itself for a fair use defense that no individual, follow-on author could easily advance. Of course, their grasping at fair use is based partly on the fact that IA is an archive providing a useful resource like Google Books. But as they have not presented an argument on that basis (which would also not win), and because they tacitly admit that the Great ‘78 Project falls outside statutory exemptions, it looks once again like the anti-copyright ideology of Brewster Kahle is the reason they’re bringing Rice Krispy Treats to this party. What can I say? The guy’s a cereal infringer.

Pirate Sites Calling Themselves Libraries are Pirate Sites

I know I’m arriving late to this party. It’s almost Thanksgiving, but it was back on November 3 that two Russian nationals—Anton Napolsky and Valeriia Ermakov—were arrested in Argentina at the request of the United States on charges of criminal copyright infringement, wire fraud, and money laundering. Concurrent with the arrests, authorities seized 241 domains controlled by the book piracy enterprise the pair allegedly operated called Z-Library. According to TorrentFreak, the repository has migrated, at least in some form, to the dark web.

The indictment against Napolsky and Ermakov was unsealed in a Brooklyn, NY court on November 16, and while they await likely extradition to the U.S., author and publisher organizations and other creators’ rights advocates applaud the efforts of the law-enforcement agencies involved with the investigation. My friend Neil Turkewitz notes, “I have been operating in the copyright world for nearly four decades, and I could probably count on one hand the number of times that a piracy story focused on individual creators rather than the much maligned ‘Big Media.’”

True. Not that “Big Media” piracy is justified, but it is substantially harder to fool oneself that book piracy does not directly harm individual authors, who generally make less than a living wage for their writing. In a statement released by the Authors Guild (AG) praising the interdiction of Z-Library, CEO Mary Rasenberger states, “We owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of New York and to the FBI for all of their hard work in not only shutting down the site but also finding and apprehending the perpetrators. We also thank the U.K. Publishers Association and international authorities who assisted in the investigation, as well as the authors who assisted us by filing statements reporting piracy of their books on Z-Library.”

I will decline to wade again into the morass of rationalizations for piracy that predictably erupted on social media when Z-Library was taken offline. That story never changes. Though, perhaps the rhetoric of the pirates themselves changes—at least a little. “There is a growing — and disturbing — trend of pirate operations masquerading as libraries to manipulate and evade the law,” states Lui Simpson, Senior VP, Global Policy for the Association of American Publishers (AAP). “This action [against Z-Library] sends a clear message that industrial scale infringement will not be tolerated, no matter what the perpetrators call themselves.”

Maybe “library” is the new “sharing service”? Simpson is right, of course, that it doesn’t matter. A pirate operation by any name will still smell like a criminal enterprise, and in case you’re curious about when copyright infringement may be deemed “criminal,” the basics are as follows:  The infringement must be willful and for purposes of commercial or private financial gain; or the works infringed must have a retail value of $1,000 in any 180-day period. That’s not a very high bar, though criminal copyright indictments are typically brought against large-scale, blatant operations like Z-Library, whose estimated 8 to 11-million books it made available obviously exceeds $1,000 by orders of magnitude.

Further, traditional online piracy models demonstrate that the infringer does not have to profit directly from trade in the infringed works themselves. One can copy and distribute works without license and either cross the $1000 threshold (easily), or one can commercialize the traffic generated by “giving away” unlicensed works, which creates a nexus between the infringing activity and commercial/financial gain for the infringer. Historically, the pirate sites made most of their revenue from the online advertising system, but when some of those avenues were closed off by the legit ad industry, the site operators pivoted to various all-you-can-eat subscription models and malware as sources of revenue.

Of course, one does not need to operate a Russian pirate network to engage in illegal copying and distribution of books while telling the public the enterprise is a “library.” Internet Archive calls part of its operation an “Open Library,” even though it does not meet the definition of a “library” under the statute and, more importantly, despite the fact that it does not license in-copyright eBooks but instead produces unauthorized eBooks and makes them available without permission. And it does this under a model that is legally unfounded and operationally so murky as to make anyone wonder exactly how the money flows throughout the organization.

From the author’s perspective, the potential harm caused by IA’s “Open Library” is hardly distinguishable from the harm caused by a Z-Library. So, while IA may not be engaged in criminal copyright infringement, its broad-based efforts to undermine copyright are perhaps even worse. An enterprise like Z-Library will cause harm until it is shut down. What Internet Archive and its friends want to do is to strip copyright rights from authors forever. And I would call that criminal in the colloquial sense, if not in the legal one.