The Pirates Flounder

By Shyam Somanadh

Entertainment Industry Wins Pirate Bay Case, Loses $390 MN business opportunity

By now it is all over the place that Pirate Bay (or at least the four defendants) has lost its lawsuit regarding their enablement of piracy using the website. Neither will this ensure that piracy related to entertainment will come to an end, nor will this ensure that artists will find another way to monetize their efforts beyond what the entertainment industry can offer.

I have no quibble with the fact that piracy is bad, what I do have a problem with is the fact that on the one hand organizations like RIAA are only happy to sue the pants off file sharers, citing ever declining numbers in their businesses, while on the other, they refuse to see that not everyone who is using P2P has price point zero as the only acceptable price range.

At this very moment, Pirate Bay’s trackers are supporting over 22,387,439 seeders and leechers over IPv4, there is a much smaller number on their IPv6 network. That is a huge number of people who are actually acquiring content, concurrently. Well, to be precise, 22 million of them in one go. And we are not even counting the users on the other networks.

If the entertainment industry can see this only as an opportunity to sue 22 million people and get a dollar off each of them they deserve to die the painful death they are undergoing now. If they can see the 22 million as a live and kicking market, they deserve to live and live well.

For those who argue that piracy is free are sadly mistaken. Every download is paid for at some point in the chain. If you do that in your office, it is your company that foots the bill. If you do it at your home, you pay for it with your DSL/Cable bill. In effect, there is no ‘free’ in the equation here, there is already a value attached to it, even when you are leeching off a torrent. The only problem in the whole picture is that the ones who are getting paid are neither the content creators, nor it is the distributors who get paid.

So, who gets paid?

The telcos who sell you bandwidth and the connection are the ones who profit most by it. Even as sneaky as that can be, it is not their fault either that people use torrents and P2P to get their fix. The fact remains that there is no simple, sane and legitimate way to consume content at a reasonable price point at the moment. The entertainment industry has always refused to embrace innovation on that front. They should de-incentivize piracy, by working hard to make non-pirated content easily available.

Instead, what do they do? They spend their time trying to keep price levels at the highest possible points, trying to maximize their margins and holding on to the days of glory days of CD and cassette tape sales, than trying to open their eyes to the new reality that this will work in their favour only if they play for scale. The average person probably does not download more than 30 songs a month on the internet. Why is it not possible to address that need at a flat rate which would make it much easier for everyone to understand and legitimately participate in the process.

You don’t even need to convert the entire 22 million users connected to the Pirate Bay tracker to make this work. At even 25% conversion, that is 6.5 million users in a month. Those users shelling out $5 per month for 30 tracks, without DRM is worth about $32.5 million in monthly revenues and $390 million in annual revenues. I am playing easy with the numbers here, but my point is valid, there is a massive business opportunity here, which is getting ignored.

Even with DRM, Apple and the iTunes franchise has shown that people can and will pay for entertainment given the right experience and a useful price point. But really, why is Apple owning that space, with Amazon competing hard with them on that front? Why is the entertainment industry a no-show here, other than the rare moments when they shake themselves out of their stupor, and trying to up their margins per track sold?

Piracy is really no news. It has been there before the internet was created and it will continue to remain with us as long as we are around. What the entertainment industry needs to recognize is that they need to change their business models and the way they operate now. And every day they spend chasing these people in court with victories that result in a minor blip on the global piracy radar, is another day they are losing to save their own livelihoods.

Copyright Lingo

That copyright tends to create a language of its own isn’t something which is entirely surprising to anyone familiar with it. There are both advantages and disadvantages to intellectual property and the debate whether public interest is well served by the protection of private interests via the medium of intellectual property has been going on for a while now.

Intellectual property is not an especially old form of property. Copyrights, for example, were first seen in the year 1710 and arose to protect the monopoly the Stationers had earlier enjoyed as members of the Company of Stationers of London which basically acted as a private censor for the Crown. By 1710, the Crown became much less finicky about the publication and dissemination of seditious material which resulted in the stationers effectively being out of a job.

The members of the defunct company responded by petitioning Parliament to protect the intellectual property of literary works by creating an author’s copyright which they assumed (correctly) would be assigned to them. And ever since, the publishing lobby has lobbied for stronger and stronger copyright protection.

Not too surprisingly, copyright is now considered by many outside the ‘copyright community’ to be completely out of whack since it protects the private interests of copyright owners (usually publishing corporations) to an absurd degree.

In some cases this is seen in the Indian Copyright Act itself. For example, in 1994, the law was amended so that communication to the public for the purpose of determining whether or not infringement had occurred did not require any member of the public to have actually seen or heard the work communicated. In other words, the copyright is infringed by the mere transmission of the work to the public and not its communication to the public. Considering that one of the aims of copyright law is presumably not the recreation of the English language, the term communication in the statute is misleading.

Reinterpreting English in completely non-orthodox ways is not limited to legislators though. In a recent order in the case of Urooj Ahmed vs. Maya Appliances (A. No. 5533/2008 in  C S 949/2008), Justice Shivakumar of the Madras High Court decided that a suit for the infringement of a design can be filed in the place where the plaintiff resides by his interpretations of the Copyright Act and the Designs Act.

In general, a suit must be filed where the defendant resides but Section 62 of the Copyright Act institutes an exception to this rule by saying that a suit for infringement may be filed where
the plaintiff resides. There is no such provision which exists in the Designs Act but relying on Section 11 of the Designs Act which says that the registered proprietor of a design owns the copyright in the design, Justice Shivakumar has decided that the provision regarding jurisdiction in Section 62 of the Copyright Act also applies to designs under the Designs Act.

To come to such a conclusion, the assumptions seem to have been that (a) the copyright which exists in a design is the same as the copyright which exists in those works protected by the Copyright Act and (b) that copyright infringement under the Copyright Act is analogous to the infringement of a design.

The result: designs have been afforded protection not envisaged by law because of a creative interpretation of the law.

Image Source – Wikimedia Commons

 

(This article is by Nandita Saikia and was first published at LawMatters.in.)

RIAA’s Suing Spree Stops

In what could be good news for internet users, the Recording Industry Association of America has said that it will stop suing random internet users who download music without a licence (or who steal it, if one were to use the lingo of popular anti-’piracy’ campaigns).

What the RIAA — which, incidentally, has sued some 35,000 people for copyright infringement over the last five years — now plans to do is to adopt some form of ‘three strike programme’ to curb copyright infringement. It plans to work with — or possibly through — internet service providers to get the job done. It isn’t clear which service providers have agreed to do this.

The Association says that ISPs will send warnings to persons who illegally download music asking them to stop doing so. If the warnings are heeded, well and good. If not, action which could ultimately be the cancellation of the internet connection could be taken against the users concerned.

While the good thing about this is that the suing campaign which was distinctly distasteful should now be over, the bad part is that one can’t help but get the feeling that the recording industry is getting internet service providers to do its dirty work for it in much the same way its been trying to do in Europe. Also, this new strategy does come with a disclaimer: the RIAA has reserved the right to sue internet users, and it has no intention of not pursuing pending law suits.

Copyrighting the Taj

Some time ago, the Egyptian government was reported to have been contemplating copyrighting the pyramids. No one knew how they planned to do so or, for that matter, how they planned to take action against would-be infringers. After a while, the reports died down and no one seems to be quite certain what happened to the government’s plans.

The Indian High Commission at Dhaka seems to have missed both the controversy and the amusement it gave rise to in legal circles. According reports, the High Commission (or perhaps just its spokesman) threatened to invoke copyright laws against a Bangladeshi businessman named Ahsanullah Moni who’s building a replica of the Taj Mahal in Bangladesh.

Indian copyright law does protect works of architecture to an extent. Their artistic character or design is protectable and so are models for buildings provided the buildings are located in India. In other words, buildings which look like boxes cannot be protected by copyright law, and whether or not the buildings are shaped liked boxes, copyright protection does not extend to processes or methods of construction.

Most importantly, copyright protection lasts for sixty years after the death of the author if the work is published during the lifetime of the author. By no stretch of the imagination can copyright exist in the Taj Mahal. If not anything else, it was built long before copyright protection existed.

Never mind the practical implications of claiming that structures such as the Taj have such protection. Every keychain and model maker would then have to obtain a licence before selling their wares whether to tourists or others. And it’d be interesting to see just how such a requirement was enforced.

‘…if you want my music – download it’ – MUSIC TO THE EARS?

By Ranamit Banerjee

It’s one of the worst-kept secrets on the internet that virtually any album can be downloaded, freely and illegally

Intellectual Property Law and Online Music Piracy

The Berne Convention provides that all signatory states are to provide adequate protection for the authors of original works through the law of copyright or related rights. Berne convention signatories effect this through a variety of domestic provisions, including in the United Kingdom, the Copyright Designs & Patents Act 1988 (CDPA) and in the United States the Copyright Act 1976. By ss.3 and 12 of the CDPA the author of any literary, dramatic, musical or artistic work is given copyright protection over that work for the extent of their lifetime and for seventy years thereafter. In addition under ss.5A and 13A the author of a sound recording is given copyright protection for fifty years from the date of production of that recording. Thus original musical recordings are protected by both these provisions. An infringement of these rights occurs when someone makes an unauthorised copy of the work, or they issue such copies to the public or they make an adaptation of the work (primary infringement) or where someone imports, deals in or makes available infringing copies or who crucially under s.24 provides the means for infringement (secondary infringement).

The central issue in the development of Intellectual Property Law pertaining to online music piracy is the form of infringement. The actual copying occurs when one end user supplies another end user with a copy of a file held on his computer. This is the primary infringement which is though distributed throughout millions of individual end-users making it extremely difficult and costly to pursue. The Industry and its representative bodies have therefore sought to pursue actions against the intermediary suppliers of the means of infringement and distribution – the P2P service providers such as Napster and Grokster.

In the first case of this type Universal v MP3.com1, the plaintiffs were presented with a number of defences by the defendant, but for reasons which will be outlined below, found a relatively easy victory. MP3.com had purchased several thousand music CDs which they used to create a massive online library which could be made available to MP3.com subscribers from any computer at any location. Subscribers were required to register their music by placing their CDs into the CD-Rom drive of their computer for verification. MP3.com admitted that they made copies of the relevant music files but argued that they were entitled to so do by reference to the defence of time shifting as set out in Sony v Universal Studios2. In that case the Supreme Court had recognised that users of a Sony Betamax video recorder were allowed a limited defence of time-shifting broadcast programmes from one time slot to another (it had a significant non-infringing utility). MP3.com argued that in a similar fashion their customers were space-shifting recordings to which they were licensed to another location, and as such space shifting should be allowed by analogy to Sony. This was rejected by the court who had little difficulty in finding that the licence was not transferable in this fashion and who found that in building their library MP3.com were in direct infringement of the copyright of the authors of both the music and sound recording.

This case was followed by the A&M Records v Napster3 decision. This is the first true P2P decision and introduces the claims of indirect or secondary infringement through contributory and/or vicarious infringement. Napster offered a centrally managed database of user files which could be searched for the desired file. It then arranged connection between peers for the transfer of the file to take place. Napster could demonstrate that they did not make copies of the infringing files, nor did they directly trade in such files meaning that they could not be held to be directly infringing the copyright in them. As a result the plaintiffs instead claimed that Napster committed secondary infringement both contributorally and vicariously. To establish the first claim: contributory infringement the plaintiff had to establish that:

(1) the plaintiff had knowledge of the infringing activity &

(2) they provided a material contribution – actual assistance or inducement – to the alleged infringement.

To establish the second claim: vicarious infringement the plaintiff had to establish that:

(1) the plaintiff had knowledge of the infringing activity;

(2) the vicarious infringer is in a position to control the direct infringer and

(3) they benefit financially from the infringement.

In the Napster case the plaintiffs successfully argued that the centralised database of music files established point one under both heads, though on appeal the plaintiff was required to supply a list of infringing file names to the defendant. On the claim of contributory infringement the plaintiff demonstrated that Napster’s database provided such material assistance and that Napster knew of the large amount of infringing material which was available thereon. On the second claim, vicarious infringement, the plaintiff demonstrated that through its database Napster could control the infringement of its users and that Napster by advertising, promotion and other secondary means was profiting from the illegal activity of its users: as a result the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit found Napster to be so liable.

This decision led to a new generation of P2P systems being developed. So-called second generation P2P networks like Grokster, Aimster and eDonkey removed the central database of the Napster model, its Achilles heel. Without this centralisation of control these P2P providers believed they immunised themselves from the fate of Napster: no control meant no knowledge and no secondary liability either vicariously or contributorally. In MGM v Grokster4, they appeared to be proven correct with the Court finding in their favour and reversing the previous order of the District Court on the basis that no contributory or vicarious liability occurred and that the defendants provided a technology which may be used for infringement, but which also may be used for legitimate purposes. The plaintiffs wished to have a finding of secondary infringement found against the defendants on the basis that they were wilfully ignorant of the use their customers made of their system and that such wilful ignorance was turned into profit by the plaintiffs. In other words secondary liability by wilful omission. The Supreme Court in its decision of June 2005, rejected these claims and instead found the defendants liable on neither contributory or vicarious liability, but instead found them liable under the new head of active inducement to commit copyright infringement. This was drawn from patent law and finds liability for secondary liability to be imposed when the infringement could be stopped at low cost to the secondary party, and the secondary party either profits from infringement or it facilitates or encourages infringement.

In Germany, Hamburg’s district court has ruled that RapidShare uses insufficient measures to protect against piracy5. The court ruled that the service must not just remove material for which it receives copyright complaints, it must proactively check content before it is made available online.

Whereas American “safe harbour”6 legislation allows companies like YouTube to get off the hook, denying knowledge of copyrighted material, Germany holds its file sharing services to a higher standard. The court dismissed the safeguards RapidShare already has in place as ineffective – an automated filter and a limited number of full-time staff. It was also unmoved by RapidShare’s arguments about the expense of better filtering.

The new face of illegal music downloading is Bittorrent. To distribute a file using the Bittorrent protocol, you use software to create a small torrent file. This contains a unique fingerprint representing each small part of the video file, so that it can be recognised and distributed in chunks rather than all at once. The torrent is uploaded to a server called a tracker. A link to the tracker is published online, and anyone who wants to download the file first downloads the torrent file from the tracker. The tracker then tells the downloader which users have the whole file, and the downloader begins receiving it in small chunks.

Counter measures and its Problems

Bittorrent is unlike early file-sharing methods such as Napster in two important ways. First, it is optimised for very large files, which makes it useful for transferring video. Second, it’s a fragmented network consisting of a hotchpotch of different download clients and websites

Companies specialising in countermeasures to P2P piracy, have been injecting fake files into the network to try to make Bittorrent too tiresome for people to use. These are open trust networks, and are not able to authenticate all of the material on the network.

Decoys have also been used in other P2P networks that are good at distributing large files, including Gnutella, eDonkey and Ares. A decoy might contain garbage, making it useless, or promotional content such as trailers, rather than the real product.

Another counter-piracy technique is when only 97% of a large file is uploaded. The remaining file parts are never released, meaning that people spend hours downloading most of the file, only to have it pause, endlessly and infuriatingly, just before the end. (These are sometimes called “stuck torrents”.)

However, the technique’s effectiveness is limited, according to torrent tracking and indexing sites. In addition to indexing, there are softwares like Fake Finder, a service using a complex algorithm to automatically identify fake torrent files. Visitors can read Fake Finder for free, and it publishes an online interface so that other indexing and tracker sites can automatically weed the fake torrents out of their search results.

There are further difficulties for anyone in the UK tempted to follow America’s lead, not least that such action will need to comply with more stringent privacy rules in Britain. An IP address will, in many circumstances, constitute personal data for the purposes of the Data Protection Act 1998 and, as such, should not be processed without a data subject’s specific and informed consent. Although copyright owners may argue that such processing is necessary for the purposes of their legitimate interests and therefore that they are entitled to take advantage of exemptions under the Data Protection Act, a user may still be able to challenge such processing on the ground that it prejudices his or her rights and freedoms or own legitimate interests, for example, the respect for his or her private life.

Another strategy is the introduction of unlimited mobile music services such as Nokia’s Comes With Music and Sony Ericsson’s PlayNow plus could result in British consumers downloading a staggering 2.1bn tracks a year, according to new research. For the mobile phone companies, unlimited mobile music services are yet another way of encouraging customers to stick with them and to download music on to their phones rather than “side-loading” it from their computer. Although 43% of mobile phone users who have a handset that includes an MP3 player make use of it, only 13% have ever downloaded a track from their mobile phone company.7

Although, there is a way the ‘pirates’ could probably avert danger – by following the trend set by the CBS Songs Ltd and Others v Amstrad Consumer Electronics Plc and Another [1987] 2 WLR 1191. It follows from the judgement that the supplier of a product with infringing capacity can escape liability by informing users of its copyright infringing capacity and condoning it.

Facts and figures

· A survey – a poll of 1,500 British consumers – found that online piracy fell by 10% this year, attributing this partly to more aggressive noises from internet service providers, which agreed this year to send warning letters to customers suspected of illegal file sharing.8

· In 2008, Alan Ellis became the first person ever to be charged for illegal file sharing in the United Kingdom. He is accused of making thousands of pounds from international music piracy website OiNK, which he founded in 2004.9

· In 2007 Jammie Thomas became the first person to be successfully prosecuted by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) for copyright infringement in the world. She was fined $222,000 (£113,085).10

· Peter, a member of The Pirate Bay (a site that tracks files distributed using the Bittorrent peer-to-peer (P2P) file-sharing network), is working on buying his own island. . His group originally wanted to buy SeaLand, a former military base six miles off the coast of Suffolk, in the hope of turning it into an independent state with its own copyright laws – or lack of them. SeaLand’s current owner wouldn’t sell, so The Pirate Bay is looking at Caribbean islands instead. The Pirate Bay is located in Sweden, which has liberal laws concerning file sharing. It spurns legal takedown requests and even parades them on its pages. 11

Conclusion

The importance of the battle against piracy lies in the potential it has to bring the industry to its knees.

Many critics of the music industry’s hard-line stance against online file sharing have argued that record companies need to embrace digital music. Legal, online music stores such as iTunes—and a relaunched version of Napster—have begun selling songs for $0.99, and their success suggests that many people are willing to pay for the convenience these services offer. Digital music sales may therefore offer a partial fix for the music industry’s woes.

Applying this view to online music sharing, some defenders of the practice argue that copyright law is not designed to protect musicians, for whom it costs relatively little to create songs, but instead to reward record companies, who make large investments in choosing to produce thousands of CDs. Record companies, according to this logic, benefit society by helping to distribute creators’ work, and the law should enable them to make a profit in doing so. But, the argument goes, since the Internet has made transmitting information almost free and thus made CDs largely unnecessary as a means of distributing music, record companies are no longer necessary—and neither are the laws that make copying songs illegal.

The development of the law in this area has been more like a cat and mouse chase. Going by the case laws, we can observe how the law has developed chasing the changes in the technology and the way music is pirated online. The present ongoing cases, like Viacom Inc. vs. YouTube, Google Inc, are believed to further develop the law pertaining to this sector.

“The heads of the record labels don’t know what to do about it. But I’m cool, if you want my music – download it,” Robbie Williams said.12

 

(Ranamit Banerjee is studying law at the University of Warwick)

 

Footnotes:
1. UMG Recordings Inc. v. MP3.com, Inc., 92 F. Supp. 2d 349 (S.D.N.Y. 2000)
2. Sony Corp. of America v. Universal City Studios, Inc., 464 U.S. 417 (1984)
3. A&M Records, Inc v Napster, Inc 239 F.3d 1004 (9th Circuit, 2001)
4. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios, Inc. v. Grokster, Ltd. 545 U.S. 913 (2005)
Viacom International Inc., et al., v. Youtube Inc., Youtube LLC, and Google Inc. 07 Civ. 2103 (LLS)
5. ‘RapidShare ordered to remove copyrighted content’ – Sean Michaels. guardian.co.uk, October 3 2008.
6. Sec 512 (OCILLA – Online Copyright Infringement Limiting Liability Act) of the DMCA (Digital millenium Copyright Act) 1998 provides the safe harbour provision for OSPs that promptly take down content if someone alleges it infringes their copyrights.
7. ‘Unlimited mobile music would cut piracy and CD sales’ – Richard Wray. The Guardian, September 29 2008
8. Survey sees hope for music against pirates’ – Chris Tryhorn. The Guardian, 13th October, 2008
9. ‘OiNK founder appears in Court’ – Rosie Swash. www.guardian.co.uk, 24th September, 2008
10. Ibid.
11. ‘Can stuck torrents beat pirates?’ – Danny Bradbury. The Guardian, April 12 2007.
12. ‘US cracks down on online music piracy’ – Owen Gibson. www.guardian.co.uk, 22nd January, 2003.
Further Reading :
Books :
· Pirates on the High Seas : The United States and Global Intellectual Property Rights by Benedicte Callan. Published by Council on Foreign Relations, 1998
· Guide to Intellectual Property in the I.T. Industry by Baker & McKenzie. Published by Sweet & Maxwell, 1998
· Global Dimensions of Intellectual Property Rights in Science and Technology by National Research Council. Published by National Academy Press, 1993
· IIC Studies: New Frontiers of Intellectual Property Law, Vol 25. Published by Hart Publishing, 2005
· Cases and Materials on Intellectual Property by William Cornish, 4th Ed. Published by Sweet & Maxwell, 2003
· Essays on Intellectual Property Law and Policy – Victoria University of Wellington Law Review, 2001
· International Intellectual Property and the Common Law World. Published by Hart Publishing, 2000

 

Copyright and Access to the Law

By James Grimmelmann

Why Access?

“But the plans were on display…”

“On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.”

“That’s the display department.”

“With a flashlight.”

“Ah, well, the lights had probably gone.”

“So had the stairs.”

“But look, you found the notice, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Arthur, “yes I did. It was on display on the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard.’”

—Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Why do we care so much about access to the law? I think we can agree that it’s clearly wrong to make the documents that constitute the law accessible only by putting them on display on the bottom of a locked file cabinet stuck in a misused lavoratory with a sign on the door saying “Beware of the Leopard.” But why? What’s wrong with this approach to government? At least four things:

  • Democracy: Rule by secret law is perhaps indistinguishable from rule by no law whatsoever. It’s fundamental to democracy and the rule of law that rules be announced and applied all prospectively. A government that only uses secret laws can rule with impunity; it can change the laws on the on the fly; it can simply act and make up the laws in hindsight so that whatever it does turns out to be allowed. Thus, requiring laws to be published acts as a restraint on the exercise of arbitrary government power. It’s the first measure of transparency and accountability, the one on which every subsequent measure depends.
  • Fairness: Even in a functioning democracy, deficient access to law is dangerous. The rule of law only works if people actually know the laws. There are legal maxims that express this idea, such as “Everyone is presumed to know the law” and “Ignorance of the law is no defense.” These maxims are only fair—they are only reasonable principles rather than cruel jokes—if the public in fact has an opportunity to learn the content of the law. It’s ridiculous, both morally and pragmatically, to expect someone to comply with a set of rules that he has no reasonable chance of learning. It’s literally Kafkaesque, and incidentally violates the Due Process Clause of the constitution.
  • Consistency: Access to the law is also vital to the idea of law as a system of rules. You can’t act consistently if you have no memory of what happened last time. While either of two rules might be fair if applied consistently, oscillating back and forth between then is pure chaos. There’s a rule in administrative law that agencies aren’t free to reverse their own prior decisions without providing some reason for the switch. This is the rule of stare decisis in the courts and it obviously depends on having some accurate information about what happened in previous cases.
  • Equality: Unequal access to the law creates substantive inequality. If law is only available to those who have the resources to go and seek it out—a well paid lawyer, a better library, access to expensive services like Westlaw and Lexis—then people who can afford better access can afford better outcomes. This means that the rich can take advantage of law in ways that the poor can’t. Worse, it means that they can set traps to ensnare their less legally educated opponents. Law law becomes the servant of those with better access to it; it takes their side, exacerbating inequality.

A Page of History

None of these things are new problems.

Babylon

Consider the the Code of Hammurabi etched on to a rock. It’s a bit under four millennia old and even there, you can see some very modern things. While this is a highly visible artifact—8 feet tall and carved out of solid black basalt—literacy in Babylonian society was low. Only members of the priestly caste and a few others were able to read this and even a skilled reader would have a difficult time reading the 282 laws inscribed on the surface. That doesn’t, however, stop the code from declaring in its epilogue that “Hammurabi did teach the land these laws.” Even at this early stage, the Babylonian legal system was taking the problem of notice seriously.

Note also a few other features of this piece of legal access technology:

  • Quality There’s a technological choice here. The laws are inscribed on an 8-foot stele, rather than on clay tablets. Hammurabi wanted to make sure that his laws were permanent and that their authenticity was indisputable. He succeeded. Today, we still know the contents of almost all of his laws (except for the one or two that have been chipped away over the years).
  • Organization: Technology isn’t just what you write on; it’s also how you arrange and index the things you write. The Code uses some clever organizational technologies. In an early example of a citation system, the Code’s laws are consecutively numbered from 1 to 282. The Code also contains what we’d call today headnotes or legislative history. True, they’re mostly accounts of Hammurabi’s deeds and dedications to the gods, but they still provide us extra information about the history of the Code and its purposes.
  • Cost: Something this large and substantial doesn’t come cheap. It took a substantial investment to physically produce this stele; it also took labor to compile the laws themselves. Hammurabi could have used those resources to engage in additional smiting, but instead he chose to spend them on distributing his laws.
  • Copyright (!): Lest anyone else think to tamper with his Code, Hammurabi calls down the curses of the gods on any later ruler who should “corrupt my words, change my monument, efface my name, write his name there, or on account of the curses, commission another to do so.” It’s not exactly a copyright, but it comes from the same impulse to exercise control over words. Continue reading

The Origin of Copyright

By Karl Fogel

Copyright is an outgrowth of the privatization of government censorship in sixteenth-century England. There was no uprising of authors suddenly demanding the right to prevent other people from copying their works; far from viewing copying as theft, authors generally regarded it as flattery. The bulk of creative work has always depended, then and now, on a diversity of funding sources: commissions, teaching jobs, grants or stipends, patronage, etc. The introduction of copyright did not change this situation. What it did was allow a particular business model — mass pressings with centralized distribution — to make a few lucky works available to a wider audience, at considerable profit to the distributors.

The first copyright law was a censorship law. It had nothing to do with protecting the rights of authors, or encouraging them to produce new works. Authors’ rights were in no danger in sixteenth-century England, and the recent arrival of the printing press (the world’s first copying machine) was if anything energizing to writers. So energizing, in fact, that the English government grew concerned about too many works being produced, not too few. The new technology was making seditious reading material widely available for the first time, and the government urgently needed to control the flood of printed matter, censorship being as legitimate an administrative function then as building roads.

The method the government chose was to establish a guild of private-sector censors, the London Company of Stationers, whose profits would depend on how well they performed their function. The Stationers were granted a royal monopoly over all printing in England, old works as well as new, in return for keeping a strict eye on what was printed. Their charter gave them not only exclusive right to print, but also the right to search out and confiscate unauthorized presses and books, and even to burn illegally printed books. No book could be printed until it was entered in the company’s Register, and no work could be added to the Register until it had passed the crown’s censor, or had been self-censored by the Stationers. The Company of Stationers became, in effect, the government’s private, for-profit information police force. [1]

The system was quite openly designed to serve booksellers and the government, not authors. New books were entered in the Company’s Register under a Company member’s name, not the author’s name. By convention, the member who registered the entry held the “copyright”, the exclusive right to publish that book, over other members of the Company, and the Company’s Court of Assistants resolved infringement disputes. [2]

This was not simply the latest manifestation of some pre-existing form of copyright. It’s not as though authors had formerly had copyrights, which were now to be taken away and given to the Stationers. The Stationers’ right was a new right, though one based on a long tradition of granting monopolies to guilds as a means of control. Before this moment, copyright — that is, a privately held, generic right to prevent others from copying — did not exist. People routinely printed works they admired when they had the chance, an activity which is responsible for the survival of many of those works to the present day. One could, of course, be enjoined from distributing a specific document because of its potentially libelous effect, or because it was a private communication, or because the government considered it dangerous and seditious. But these reasons are about public safety or damage to reputation, not about property ownership. There had also been, in some cases, special privileges (then called “patents”) allowing exclusive printing of certain types of books. But until the Company of Stationers, there had not been a blanket injunction against printing in general, nor a conception of copyright as a legal property that could be owned by a private party.

For about a century and a third, this partnership worked well for the government and for the Stationers. The Stationers profited from their monopoly, and through the Stationers, the government exercised control over the spread of information. Around the end of the seventeenth century, however, owing to larger political changes, the government relaxed its censorship policies, and allowed the Stationers’ monopoly to expire. This meant that printing would return to its former anarchical state, and was of course a direct economic threat to the members of the Company of Stationers, accustomed as they were to having exclusive license to manufacture books. Dissolution of the monopoly might have been good news for long-suppressed authors and independent printers, but it spelled disaster for the Stationers, and they quickly crafted a strategy to retain their position in the newly liberal political climate.

The Stationers based their strategy on a crucial realization, one that has stayed with publishing conglomerates ever since: authors do not have the means to distribute their own works. Writing a book requires only pen, paper, and time. But distributing a book requires printing presses, transportation networks, and an up-front investment in materials and typesetting. Thus, the Stationers reasoned, people who write would always need a publisher’s cooperation to make their work generally available. Their strategy used this fact to maximum advantage. They went before Parliament and offered the then-novel argument that authors had a natural and inherent right of ownership in what they wrote, and that furthermore, such ownership could be transferred to other parties by contract, like any other form of property.

Their argument succeeded in persuading Parliament. The Stationers had managed to avoid the odium of censorship, as the new copyrights would originate with the author, but they knew that authors would have little choice but to sign those rights back over to a publisher for distribution. There was some judicial and political wrangling over the details, but in the end both halves of the Stationers’ argument survived essentially intact, and became part of English statutory law. The first recognizably modern copyright, the Statute of Anne, was passed in 1709 and took effect in 1710.

The Statute of Anne is often held up by champions of copyright as the moment when authors were finally given the protection they had long deserved. Even today, it continues to be referenced both in legal arguments and in press releases from the publishing industry. But to interpret it as an authors’ victory flies in the face of both common sense and historical fact. [3] Authors, having never had copyright, saw no reason now to suddenly demand the rather paradoxical power to prevent the spread of their own works, and did not do so. The only people threatened by the dissolution of the Stationers’ monopoly were the Stationers themselves, and the Statute of Anne was the direct result of their lobbying and campaigning. In the memorable words of the contemporary Lord Camden, the Stationers “…came up to Parliament in the form of petitioners, with tears in their eyes, hopeless and forlorn; they brought with them their wives and children to excite compassion, and induce Parliament to grant them a statutory security.” [4] To make their argument more palatable, they had proposed that copyright would originate with the author, as a form of property that could be sold to anyone — anticipating, correctly, that it would most often be sold to a printer.

This proposal was a shrewd tactical move, because one of Parliament’s concerns was to prevent the re-establishment of a centralized monopoly in the book trade, with its attendant potential for a renewal of censorship by the crown. Benjamin Kaplan, professor of law emeritus at Harvard University and a respected copyright scholar, describes the Stationers position succinctly:

“….The stationers made the case that they could not produce the fragile commodities called books, and thus encourage learned men to write them, without protection against piracy… There is an apparent tracing of rights to an ultimate source in the fact of authorship, but before attaching large importance to this we have to note that if printing as a trade was not to be put back into the hands of a few as subject of monopoly — if the statute was indeed to be a kind of “universal patent” — a [legal] draftsman would naturally be led to express himself in terms of rights in books and hence to initial rights in authors. A draftsman would anyway be aware that rights would usually pass immediately to publishers by assignment, that is, by purchase of the manuscripts as in the past. … I think it nearer the truth to say that publishers saw the tactical advantage of putting forward authors’ interests together with their own, and this tactic produced some effect on the tone of the statute.”[5]

The Statute of Anne, taken in historical context, is the smoking gun of copyright law. In it we can see the entire apparatus of modern copyright, but in still-undisguised form. There is the notion of copyright as property, yet the property is really intended for publishers, not authors. There is the notion of benefiting society, by encouraging people to write books, but no evidence was offered to show that they would not write books without copyright. Rather, the Stationers’ argument was that publishers could not afford to print books without protection from competition, and furthermore that printers could not be depended to reproduce works faithfully if given unfettered freedom to print. The corollary, they implied, was that without the prospect of reliable distribution, authors would produce fewer new works.

Their argument was not unreasonable, given the technology of the time. Making a perfect copy of a printed work required access to the original press and compositor, anyway; if reliable reproduction were to be encouraged, then a single-holder copyright system had a certain logic to it. And the publishers would now be effectively forced to pay authors in return for exclusive printing rights (although in fact the Stationers had sometimes paid authors even before, simply to guarantee the completion and delivery of a work). The authors who succeeded in selling this new right to printers had no particular motivation to complain — and naturally, we don’t hear very much about the authors not so favored. The consolidation of author’s copyright probably contributed to the decline of patronage as a source of income for writers, [6] and even allowed some authors, though always a small minority, to support themselves solely from the royalties their publishers shared with them. The fact that a given copyright could only held by one party at a time also helped prevent the proliferation of divergent variations, a problem that had vexed authors perhaps even more than plagiarism.

But the overall historical record is clear: copyright was designed by distributors, to subsidize distributors not creators.

This is the secret that today’s copyright lobby never dares say aloud, for once it is admitted, the true purpose of subsequent copyright legislation becomes embarrassingly clear. The Statute of Anne was just the beginning. Having granted the premise that copyrights should exist at all, the English government found themselves under pressure to extend copyright terms further and further. In the long legal saga that ensued, what’s important is not the particular sequence of laws and verdicts, but the identity of the plaintiffs: they were just the sort of stable, settled business interest capable of sustaining litigation and lobbying over a period of decades — that is, they were publishers, not authors. They had proposed the author’s copyright out of economic interest, and only after the crutch of a censorship-based monopoly had been taken away from them. When it became clear that the tactic worked, they lobbied to strengthen copyright.

And this is still the pattern today.

References:
[1] These events can be read in any history of copyright. A good online resource regarding their legal implications is “Copyright And `The Exclusive Right’ Of Authors” http://www.lawsch.uga.edu/jipl/old/vol1/patterson.html Journal of Intellectual Property, Vol. 1, No.1, Fall 1993, by Professor Lyman Ray Patterson, Pope Brock Professor of Law at the University of Georgia and a noted copyright scholar. His description of this earliest copyright is concise and revealing:
The event in the history of Anglo-American copyright that led to the shaping events of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was the Charter of the Stationers’ Company granted in 1556 by Philip and Mary …. The Charter gave the stationers the power to make “ordinances, provisions, and statutes” for the governance of “the art or mistery of [s]tationery,” as well as the power to search out illegal presses and books and things with the power of “seizing, taking, or burning the foresaid books or things, or any of them printed or to be printed contrary to the form of any statute, act, or proclamation ….”
The power to burn offending books was a benefit to the sovereign (a weapon against unlawful publications), and a boon to the stationers (a weapon against competition). The book-burning power thus shows the real motivation for the Charter, to secure the allegiance of the stationers as policemen of the press for the sovereign in an uncertain world.
[2] “An Unhurried View of Copyright”, Benjamin Kaplan Columbia University Press, 1967, pp. 4-5.
[3] Patterson, in [1], goes so far as to say “The characterization of the statutory copyright as an author’s copyright, however, is one of the great canards of history.”
[4] Kaplan, p. 6.
[5] Kaplan, pp. 7-9.
[6] “Five Hundred Years of Printing” pp. 218-230, S. H. Steinberg, Penguin Books, 1955, revised 1961

[This is an excerpt of the original article which can be found at QuestionCopyright.org]