On the SCOTUS Cheerleader Uniform Ruling

Last week, the Supreme Court ruled in a copyright case that addresses the principle of “separability.” This is one of those areas of IP that a colleague of mine would call the “metaphysics of law,”  and that’s not a criticism.  In fact, I happen to think the more subtle aspects of copyright—the ones that challenge judges to weigh esoteric ideas like “art” or “originality” are actually part of the fun for nerds like me.

At issue in Star Athletica v. Varsity Brands are designs for cheerleader uniforms.  Both Star and Varsity make these uniforms, and when Star apparently copied some of Varsity’s designs, Varsity sued for copyright infringement.  But fashion is not protected by copyright, you say.  And that’s true. Mostly.

Clothing is a category of what the law calls “useful articles,” and as a rule, we do not want copyright’s exclusive protections to stifle the production of everyday items like clothes, furniture, coffee mugs, and earbuds. In the case of wardrobe or fashion, for instance, one may not copyright the shape or cut of a dress or pair of pants.  One can easily see how this would choke an industry of producers making garments for customers who generally conform to a consistent humanoid structure.  It’s why every fashion maker, from couture to K-Mart, can offer the market a version of the proverbial “little black dress.”

Separability considers whether or not a “pictorial, graphic, or sculptural” (PSG) work, which would be eligible for copyright protection, can be imagined as separate from the useful article.  For instance, in the world of fashion, a designer may create a copyrightable, abstract design that is then reproduced as a textile, which is then used to make a skirt.  Because that textile design is protected by copyright, and because one of the exclusive rights of copyright includes “the right to reproduce the work in or on any kind of article, whether useful or otherwise,” this is one way in which a clothing designer can, in a limited way, copyright fashion.

Because the designer may not copyright the actual cut, shape, or materials used for the skirt itself, the two interests are balanced.  The “useful article” is still free to be copied by anyone, but an article that copies the protected work of art may only be used by license of that creator.  Clearly, the protectable design is understood to exist separately from the article of clothing and can easily be imagined reproduced in some other form—as decorative art, wallpaper, coasters, mousepads, etc.

This example seems the most instructive in understanding the rationale applied by the majority in Varsity, although the consideration is very subtle to the casual observer for two reasons:  1) the designs used by Varsity are only marginally original—stripes, chevrons, and such; and 2) because it is a little difficult to imagine these designs in any context other than cheerleader uniforms, which are unquestionably “useful articles” not protected by copyright.  Justice Thomas explains the second of two prongs applied in weighing separability thus:  “The decision maker must determine that the separately identified feature has the capacity to exist apart from the utilitarian aspects of the article.” The majority opinion states …

“… if the arrangement of colors, shapes, stripes, and chevrons on the surface of the cheerleading uniforms were separated from the uniform and applied in another medium—for example, on a painter’s canvas—they would qualify as ‘two-dimensional . . . works of . . . art,’. And imaginatively removing the surface decorations from the uniforms and applying them in another medium would not replicate the uniform itself.”

The crux of the dissenting opinions of Justices Breyer and Stevens holds that these designs cannot reasonably be perceived as separate from the uniforms. The dissenting opinion states …

“Were I to accept the majority’s invitation to “imaginatively remov[e]” the chevrons and stripes as they are arranged on the neckline, waistline, sleeves, and skirt of each uniform, and apply them on a “painter’s canvas,” ante, at 10, that painting would be of a cheerleader’s dress. The esthetic elements on which Varsity seeks protection exist only as part of the uniform design—there is nothing to separate out but for dress-shaped lines that replicate the cut and style of the uniforms.”

Justice Ginsberg concurred with the majority judgment but not with its opinion, stating that in her view, it was not necessary to consider “separability” in this case at all. “Consideration of that test is unwarranted,” she writes, “because the designs at issue are not designs of useful articles. Instead, the designs are themselves copyrightable pictorial or graphic works reproduced on useful articles.”  In Ginsberg’s view, because Varsity’s designs begin first as illustrations that are protectable by copyright, then the right extends to the reproduction of those works onto uniforms or anything else, as would be the case in the textile example I presented.

How Significant is This Case?

Mike Masnick at Techdirt offers his own analysis along with his concerns that it could be “potentially very dangerous to a variety of innovations.” In particular, he refers to the growing market for 3D printed “useful articles,” but I suspect Masnick’s fears are unwarranted because I believe he errs in two ways—one historical, the other analytical.  With regard to the former, it remains to be seen how instructive this decision really will be to future cases weighing “separability.”

Although Justice Thomas states that the Court granted cert in Varsity “to resolve widespread disagreement over the proper test for implementing §101’s separate-identification and independent-existence requirements,” this case is also the latest in a very long narrative of American intellectual property law, going back to at least the mid-19th century when the courts were weighing decisions that helped clarify distinctions between patent and copyright. These specialties were a little blurrier in the first half of America’s first century.

For instance, in the 1872 case Baker v. Selden, the author of a book describing his own accounting system (it was really his widow) pursued a judgment that would have exceeded the purview of copyright because the claim was seeking protection for the accounting system itself.  If anything, the Selden accounting system might have been granted a patent (and it wasn’t), but the Supreme Court affirmed that a copyright in a work, like a book, “…does not extend to any  ‘procedure, process, system, method of operation’ embodied in such works, any more than to any ‘idea,…principle, concept or discovery’ in them.”

Here, I am partly quoting a 2004 paper about Baker v Selden, written by law Professor Pamela Samuelson at UC Berkeley, in which she notes that the same question of copyright’s limitation in Varsity goes all the way back to this case. She writes, “Baker also lives on in the statutory rule that denies copyright to pictorial, graphic, or sculptural works having functions beyond conveying information or displaying an appearance (e.g., clothing and chairs), as well as in the rule that copyright in a drawing does not create rights in useful articles depicted therein.” (Emphasis added)

As a scholar who leans more toward limiting copyright, Professor Samuelson may disagree with the opinion in Varsity (I cannot speak for her), but I cite her paper to emphasize the historical context for these considerations.  Suffice to say that when we get into the separability of copyrightable elements in useful articles, we’re deep into the metaphysics of IP law; and future courts may continue to wrestle with this same question on a case-by-case basis regardless of the majority opinion in Varsity.

Can This Ruling Be “Dangerous” to 3D Printing?

There may be some way in which this decision will adversely affect some future innovation in the 3D printing world, but if this is true, I think Masnick needs a better example than the one he chose for his analysis. Citing a product called the “Birdsnest Eggcup” by designer Studiogijs,  Masnick labels the test applied in Varsity as a “copyright first” approach to separability, which he contrasts with his own notion of a “useful first” approach. He then signifies the difference between the two by asserting that the former produces more copyrightable elements than the latter and that this greater mass of copyright, if you will, is where the potential danger lies for innovation in 3D printing.  I think this analysis is flawed.

Masnick suggests that, by applying the test used in Varsity, separability would insist that the egg cup could be deconstructed into individually copyrightable parts. He is correct to say that the Court would allow the useful article to be deconstructed to the point of uselessness under it’s test, but I believe he is incorrect to suggest that any copyrightable work may be substantially deconstructed into parts that are each individually protectable by copyright.  One may not, for instance, break a novel into separate phrases and then copyright each phrase.

The arrangement of elements is an essential aspect in assessing “originality” under copyright, and the idea/expression distinction (which also harkens back to Baker) is why another creator is free to make and sell a different birds nest egg cup as long as it is different enough from the one made by Studiogijs.  At least that’s true insofar as copyright is concerned.  (Studiogijs may be eligible for a design patent in this case, but I am unfamiliar with the boundaries of that area of IP; and it is not germane to the SCOTUS ruling in Varsity.)

Studiogijs “Birdsnest Egg Cup

The egg cup, with its arrangement of branches and perched little bird, could easily be copyrighted as a sculptural work regardless of whether or not it is ever marketed as a “useful article.” Additionally, the design could be reproduced in some other form, for example as a 2D illustration and printed on coffee mugs to go with the breakfast set. This does not mean, however, that each branch, or segment of the original work could be protected by copyright in an actual litigation.

This is because the bar of minimal originality is counter-balanced by the fact that the less original (i.e. more minimal) a work is, the more subtly distinct a similar, subsequent work can be without infringing.  In the Varsity case, this means that Star Athletica should be able to make designs that are quite similar, but not identical, to Varsity’s uniforms because Varsity can only claim copyright in its precise arrangement of commonly-used design elements.  The same principle applies to the birds nest design whether it’s useful as an egg cup or not.

Or to look at this in context to Masnick’s notion of a “useful first” test, the egg cup could utterly fail in its marketed purpose to hold eggs, and that fact would have no bearing on the copyright in the object as a sculptural work.  In fact, a competing designer could theoretically make a birds nest egg cup that customers find functions better as an egg holder and so threatens Studiogij’s market.* And if Studiogijs chose to pursue a copyright claim in response, it could not hope to assert multiple copyrights in each design detail of its product.

Instead, the court would compare and contrast the two sculptures as whole works to determine the amount of similarity that the second bears to the first; and separability would probably not even be an issue in the case.  In this regard, I fail to see where the concern lies that Masnick is raising.  Nothing in copyright, before or since this ruling, would prevent another 3D producer from making a different egg cup that looks like a bird’s nest, and which competes with Studiogij, as long as it does not copy Studiogij’s design.  This is well-traveled copyright territory.

Finally, for what it’s worth, I think the elegance of Justice Ginsberg’s opinion in the Varsity case should help allay fears about the effect this ruling might have on future innovation.  Her view that Varsity’s design work was copyrightable and then reproduced onto useful articles applies to the birds nest egg cup; and it would apply in so many probable scenarios in which form meets function, that I doubt we will see a measurable increase in new barriers no matter how “useful articles” are made.


* NOTE: This is all hypothetical, nothing I’m saying in any way implies a review of Studiogij’s product.

Supreme Court Will Not Hear Capitol v. Vimeo Case

Photo by Nagornyi

The Supreme Court has denied cert in the case of Capitol Records v Vimeo, leaving in place the holding of the Second Circuit Court of Appeals that video-hosting site Vimeo was shielded by the “safe harbors” of the DMCA when the service and its users made infringing use of sound recordings fixed prior to February 15, 1972.  In general, this is a victory for the internet industry, parties who favor “safe harbors,” and parties who disfavor copyright; but there’s a lot more to this story than meets the eye.

On the surface, we have Vimeo users lip-synching to famous songs by The Beatles, Beach Boys, etc. and posting their videos.  Harmless fun.  What’s the big deal?  The big deal in this case—and not only in this case—is that prior to the 1970s, U.S. copyright law was partly a patchwork of state laws. Among the goals of the 1976 Copyright Act was to federalize nearly all of copyright under a single, uniform system.

Concurrent with these developments was the addition of sound recordings to federal protection in 1972, but for reasons that remain unclear, Congress left recordings fixed prior to Feb. 15, 1972 under the protection of state laws with everything after that date covered by federal statute. In 2011, the USCO filed a report requested by Congress on proposals to absorb pre-72 recordings into the federal system in which the Register states, “Congress did not articulate grounds for leaving pre-1972 sound recordings outside the federal scheme and there is very little information as to why it did so.”  In fact, these pre-1972 recordings are the only category of copyrightable works subject to this kind of exception, and it goes without saying there were a lot of still-valuable sound recordings made before this date.

At issue in the Vimeo case was the question of whether or not the liability shield provisions in the DMCA (§512 of the federal copyright law) apply when the work allegedly infringed is a pre-1972 sound recording. Proponents on the internet side say that it should be obvious that the DMCA was intended to apply universally, and that’s more or less what Vimeo argued and what the Second Circuit concluded. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

Although this is arguably a problem for Congress and not the courts, the fact remains that the ruling as it stands leaves the rights holders of these recordings in copyright limbo—or perhaps copyright purgatory.  As noted in an earlier post, citing the work of Stephen Carlisle, owners of pre-1972 recordings are trapped between §301(c) and §512 of the Copyright Act, with the former explicitly stating that their works are not protected by federal statute but the latter interpreted by the Second Circuit to mean that they are limited by federal statue from enforcing their rights against an ISP.

The technological developments during the 22-year gap between passage of the Copyright Act and the DMCA have created this disparity, and Congress should probably fix it.  As mentioned, the proposal to fold this class of sound recordings into the ambit of the federal statute and the above-cited report by the USCO favors this approach.  In fact, the report cites that the beneficiaries of this change would include librarians and archivists, who are frequently at odds with copyright.  “While many librarians and archivists are dissatisfied with the scope of the federal statutory privileges enjoyed by libraries and archives, these exceptions and limitations (sections 107 and 108 in particular) provide more certainty and, in general, more opportunity than state laws to preserve and make available sound recordings from many decades past,” the Register’s report states. This report further argues that the primary concern of the rights holders of these recordings (i.e. creating new ambiguities) could be remedied by properly articulated statute.  For now, the decision of SCOTUS to decline hearing Capitol Records v. Vimeo leaves in place considerable ambiguity, and perhaps this will prompt further efforts to petition Congress to unify all sound recordings under a single system.

How the “Dancing Baby” Case Went Crazy

Last week, both the Electronic Frontier Foundation and Universal Music Group filed petitions with the United States Supreme Court in regard to what is commonly known as the “Dancing Baby” case.  The “baby” in question is about 11 years old now, and for those who might not know how a mundane home video became the focus of a multi-year, federal litigation now begging the attention of the Supreme Court, let’s review …

In February of 2007, Holden Lenz of Pennsylvania was just 18-months-old when his mother Stephanie video taped him dancing to the Prince song “Let’s Go Crazy” and then posted the video on YouTube—a platform that was just six months older than Holden. Because Prince was especially guarded about all uses of his music—and was justifiably critical of YouTube in particular—the Lenz video was one of several targets added to a list of DMCA takedown notices to be filed by Universal Music Group on the artist’s behalf. The “Dancing Baby” video was removed on June 5, 2007, and according to an ABC News story published in October of that year, Lenz stated that she was initially “frightened” about having her video removed from YouTube, concerned that UMG might file suit against her, and then the fear of said litigation made her “angry.”

So between the Summer and Fall of 2007, the public version of this story had already begun to stray from the relevant facts in the case. For starters, Ms. Lenz, on her own, had immediately sent an incorrectly filled-out DMCA counter notice on June 7 seeking to restore her video. But if she were truly frighted about a lawsuit by UMG, that would have been the moment for her to proceed with caution because a DMCA counter notice can, in some cases, trigger legal action by a rightsholder. Subsequently, at the advice of an attorney friend, Lenz contacted the Electronic Frontier Foundation to better understand her options, believing at the time that UMG might have infringed her First Amendment right of free speech.

PR by Litigation

Keeping in mind that nearly ten years ago, when this adventure began, it was easier for organizations like EFF to promote the message that DMCA takedown was widely abused and, therefore, chronically chilling speech. They still promote this message, of course, but in recent years, both research data and anecdotal evidence from numerous rightsholders indicate that takedown abuse is the exception while rampant infringement without recourse under DMCA is the rule.

On June 27, 2007, the EFF sent a correctly filed counter notice on Lenz’s behalf. YouTube restored the “Dancing Baby” video by mid July, and the EFF then filed its initial complaint against UMG on July 24, 2007. From there, both the public story and the court records suggest that Stephanie Lenz became, as Stephen Carlisle of Nova Southeastern University puts it, the “nominal plaintiff” who provided an ideal opportunity for the EFF to embark on an odyssey of PR by litigation—a lawsuit looking for an injury. After all, the video itself, as anyone can see, could not be more harmless; it has an actual baby in it!

In part, what we know about the motives and strategies driving this case is due to Ms. Lenz’s own carelessness as plaintiff when she revealed enough information, via emails and social media, that in 2010, she lost her attorney/client privilege to specific portions of her communications with the EFF. The casual communications cited in the record suggest that the EFF was determined to “get” UMG for something—Lenz uses the expression “salivating over getting their teeth into UMG”—even if they had to keep changing strategies to figure out what exactly UMG had done wrong.

Shifting Rationales

Technically, the Lenz case is pretty boring. A mom had a home movie taken down from YouTube and then that home movie was restored to the platform via the DMCA counter notice procedure, which is exactly the process Congress envisioned when it wrote the statutes. Had there been no expectation of occasional error or flaw on the part of rightsholders, there would not be a statutory counter notice “put back” procedure in the first place. The fact that the Lenz video was offline for a period of six weeks was due neither to a particular flaw in the DMCA nor to any action taken by UMG.

Moreover, the extent to which Ms. Lenz felt “injured” by the removal is unclear since in one of her emails, she stated, “I don’t care if YouTube doesn’t want to host it. Not like I’m paying them.”  This was reported by CNET in a February 2011 article in which EFF attorney Corynne McSherry is cited promoting the message that copyright owners are frequently “careless in sending notices” and, therefore, “interfering with free speech.”

But although Lenz stated that her initial belief was that UMG had infringed her First Amendment rights—and this story has often been referred to in the press and on social media as a free speech issue—the fact is that even the EFF would eventually concede that the temporary removal of the video did not implicate the First Amendment. This is because neither UMG nor YouTube is a state actor, and because the content of the video did not contain political speech, criticism, parody, or newsworthy content of any kind.

According to email communications made by Lenz, it appears the EFF considered a few avenues to pursue litigation, including a California State breach of contract complaint, which suggests that Lenz’s story did not immediately present itself as a constitutional or DMCA case in EFF’s mind. In fact, the initial complaint filed in July of 2007 was for “tortious interference,” which was dismissed.

Additionally, in a June 14, 2007 email to her mother (10 days before the first complaint was filed), Lenz states that EFF’s pro bono “fees” would be covered by “the settlement.” This may just be a layman misspeaking because an expectation of a settlement would be a very odd strategy for a rights advocacy organization that is supposedly taking a case on principle. After all, a settlement by the litigants generally means the court does not rule on whatever principle is being argued.

The EFF amended its complaint to argue that UMG had violated §512(f) of the DMCA, which states that a plaintiff may seek damages if a takedown notice filer “knowingly and materially misrepresents that the material or activity is infringing.” And that is how Lenz v UMG became a fair use case. A plaintiff does not have to have suffered financial loss in order to prove that an injury has been caused, but absent an abridgment of Lenz’s First Amendment rights, the EFF’s argument now rests solely on the sheer wrongness that the video was removed at all—that it was, in their words, “censored for six weeks.”

As indicated above, given that Ms. Lenz chose, in error, to investigate the First Amendment implications, and that the EFF chose to take the time to transform this minor event into a major case—and in light of the fact that the OSP (YouTube) is responsible for restoring files at its discretion—the six-week interval cannot be considered the responsibility of the defendant. In general, whatever factors result in a file being restored, either within hours, days, or weeks, are not in the control of the original takedown notice-sender; and as the UMG petition states, the Lenz video was ultimately restored via the counter notice procedure. In other words, Lenz’s and EFF’s time spent exploring both tort and constitutional violations—both of which fail—is neither UMG’s fault nor its responsibility to pay for.

Lenz Becomes a Fair Use Case

So, the only way for the EFF to argue that UMG had “knowingly misrepresented” that the “Dancing Baby” video was infringing was to prove via testimony that the company had not “instructed its employee to consider fair use” before filing the takedown notice. And that’s where we are today. In September 2015, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals agreed that a rights holder must “consider fair use” before sending a takedown notice but stopped well short of agreeing with EFF’s assertion that such a consideration must be made based on an “objective” standard.

The EFF has tried to argue—indeed it can only argue—that a failure to “objectively consider fair use” is tantamount to “knowingly and materially misrepresenting that the material or activity is infringing.” As an amusing side note, in an early email to a friend (June 12, 2007), Lenz stated, “Mine’s not a fair use case at all.” Granted, she cannot be expected to know the law per se, but in context to the other comments and court records, this early email does seem to support the view that this entire case has been a fishing expedition—a lawsuit looking for an injury.

As argued in the UMG petition, a “subjective” standard with regard to all considerations is the reasonable and correct interpretation of the DMCA statute, which requires a takedown notice-sender to have a “good faith belief” that a use is infringing. The plain meaning of “good faith belief” is clearly subjective; and fair use doctrine is the most subjective aspect of copyright law—a multi-faceted assessment for which the precedent caselaw provides myriad, conflicting and narrow outcomes.

Hypocrisy Undermines the Intent of DMCA 

So, even if the most experienced copyright attorney in the country were instructed to make an “objective” fair use assessment, she might ask how exactly this would be achieved. While it’s true that attorneys can make very solid fair use assessments—especially where precedent provides guidance—an “objective” standard applied to DMCA takedown notices would only further disenfranchise the independent rights holder who is no more an expert than Ms. Lenz was. This implies the need for counsel which contradicts the extra-judicial purpose of DMCA.

The truly galling hypocrisy here is that the indie rights holder would be expected to know with certainty when a use is fair while users remain free to infringe with impunity, and large OSPs are free to monetize those infringements on the basis that they “cannot know” what’s infringing or what isn’t. For the small rights holder DMCA is already toothless, but EFF would like to make it voiceless as well.

In Lenz, absent a ruling by the Supreme Court that fair use can be considered “objectively,” the foundation that UMG was ever in violation under §512(f)—that it “knowingly and materially misrepresented” that the “Dancing Baby” video was infringing—should fail. Consequently, the argument that any non-pecuniary injury was caused should also fail. Perhaps, the EFF will succeed in getting the $1,275 in pro bono “fees” Lenz theoretically owes the EFF for filing the counter notice in 2007, which would make this case landmark indeed—getting the Supreme Court to adjudicate a small claim.

Finally, it’s worth noting that in the same October 2007 ABC News story cited above, Gigi Sohn, then head of Public Knowledge, opined, “I think the large copyright holders believe that if they do not police every single use of their copyrighted work — no matter how benign — that somehow that will open the floodgates to massive piracy.”

Whether this observation was acutely naive or just cutely dismissive, the fact remains that over the next several years after Sohn said this, YouTube would go on to earn fortunes by hosting diluvian proportions of infringement by its users. In light of the immeasurable losses to working authors, who have almost no power under the DMCA to protect their rights, the EFF should frankly be ashamed of themselves for spending nearly a decade in federal courts fighting to protect absolutely nothing.