October 30, 2024

A Modest Proposal: Three-Strikes for Print

Yesterday the French parliament adopted a proposal to create a “three-strikes” system that would kick people off the Internet if they are accused of copyright infringement three times.

This is such a good idea that it should be applied to other media as well. Here is my modest proposal to extend three-strikes to the medium of print, that is, to words on paper.

My proposed system is simplicity itself. The government sets up a registry of accused infringers. Anybody can send a complaint to the registry, asserting that someone is infringing their copyright in the print medium. If the government registry receives three complaints about a person, that person is banned for a year from using print.

As in the Internet case, the ban applies to both reading and writing, and to all uses of print, including informal ones. In short, a banned person may not write or read anything for a year.

A few naysayers may argue that print bans might be hard to enforce, and that banning communication based on mere accusations of wrongdoing raises some minor issues of due process and free speech. But if those issues don’t trouble us in the Internet setting, why should they trouble us here?

Yes, if banned from using print, some students will be unable to do their school work, some adults will face minor inconvenience in their daily lives, and a few troublemakers will not be allowed to participate in — or even listen to — political debate. Maybe they’ll think more carefully the next time, before allowing themselves to be accused of copyright infringement.

In short, a three-strikes system is just as good an idea for print as it is for the Internet. Which country will be the first to adopt it?

Once we have adopted three-strikes for print, we can move on to other media. Next on the list: three-strikes systems for sound waves, and light waves. These media are too important to leave unprotected.

[Français]

District Court Ruling in MDY v. Blizzard

Today, an Arizona District Court issued its ruling in the MDY v. Blizzard case, which involves contract, copyright, and DMCA claims. The claims addressed at trial were fairly limited because the Court entered summary judgment on several claims last summer. In-court comments by lawyers suggest that the case is headed toward appeal in the Ninth Circuit. Since I served as an expert witness in the case, I’ll withhold comment in this forum at this time, but readers are free to discuss it.

DMCA Week: A second orphan works problem?

The orphan works problem in copyright is real and serious. Several congressional hearings and a Copyright Office inquiry that drew hundreds of thoughtful comments—not to mention countless articles and blog posts—attest to that fact. This attention is heartening, and while orphan works legislation seems to have died this year, I’m optimistic that the next Congress will address the issue. As is often the case in Washington, however, such a victory might only mark the beginning of the next battle. The way I see it, the DMCA might create a second orphan works problem.

As you may know, an orphan work is a work under copyright the owner of which cannot be found. For example, say you come across a self-published political manifesto from 1967 in a Berkley archive or garage sale. You’d like to excerpt extensively from it in a book you’re writing about the Summer of Love. You try every possible avenue to locate the pamphlet’s author to get persmission, but you fail. That manifesto is an orphan work: it’s under copyright, but you can’t find the copyright’s owner.

The problem with orphan works is that if you nevertheless use the work without getting permission from the owner, you expose yourself to an infringement lawsuit if the owner later appears. Because statutory damages can run as high as $150,000 per infringing use, most orphan works go unused. This is a loss not only to the potential user, but also to society at large because it will be deprived of the promotion of science that would have resulted from a derivative work. Perhaps worse, an orphan work might be lost altogether because making an archival copy—say from fragile film to a more stable digital format—can be considered an infringement.

I have previously proposed a solution to the orphan works problem that would create an orphan works affirmative defense to infringement similar to fair use. Under this scheme, if you could show that you took every reasonable step to find a copyright owner and came up empty, you would not be liable for infringement. The Copyright Office made a similar recommendation, but instead of serving as a defense, showing a reasonable search for the copyright holder would merely limit the possible penalties for infringement. A bill based on that recommendation passed the Senate in September but never got a vote in the House before it adjourned earlier this month.

So what does this all have to do with the DMCA? My concern is this: Even if a strong orphan works bill were to pass Congress so that one would no longer have to worry about liability for copyright infringement, the work might still be unusable if in order to gain access to it one had to circumvent a technological measure in violation of the DMCA.

This is not a far-fetched idea. The Internet Archive has already successfully argued for a DMCA exemption for “Computer programs and video games distributed in formats that have become obsolete and that require the original media or hardware as a condition of access, when circumvention is accomplished for the purpose of preservation or archival reproduction of published digital works by a library or archive.” It needed this exemption to legally preserve legacy software stored on fragile floppy discs. Without that exemption, it would violate the DMCA even if it did not violate copyright.

You can see this problem presenting itself again. For example, the Prelinger Archive serves to collect and preserve ephemeral films of historical significance. According to its web site, “Included are films produced by and for many hundreds of important US corporations, nonprofit organizations, trade associations, community and interest groups, and educational institutions.” Today its collection is composed largely of videotapes and films, but there will come a time when one-of-a-kind movies will be on CSS-protected DVDs. Similarly, Amazon recently introduced its Digital Text Platform, which allows users to self-publish books that can be purchased and read on the Kindle. This means that there will soon be many books that will exist only as DRM-protected e-books. Therefore, even if we address the orphan works problem so that a user must no longer fear a surprise infringement suit from a previously impossible-to-find copyright holder, the user might still fear a DMCA suit.

The triennial exemption process provided in the DMCA will likely not provide sufficient relief because the Copyright Office is limited to exempting particular “class[es] of copyrighted works.” Just as it has refused to exempt “fair use works” because that is not a “sufficient” or “cognizable” class, the Copyright Office probably won’t recognize orphan works as a class that can be exempt. The sort of classes it will recognize will be very narrow, such as the one in the “obsolete video game or software” exemption. Not only is this exemption for one particular type of work, but it only applies to circumventions made for archival purposes.

Additionally, as Tim Lee points out to me, another way the DMCA might exacerbate the orphan works problem is by preventing the conversion of works into open and widely supported formats—the digital equivalent of what Prelinger is trying to do with film. Most of the proprietary DRMed formats we see around us today are likely to drop out of commercial use within the next couple of decades. As a result, people will gradually forget how to read those formats at all. By 2108, even if the DMCA has been reformed, no one may have any clue how to decrypt a PlaysForSure-encrypted audio file from 2002. Digital libraries in the near future need to be able to say “Boy, this format isn’t commercially supported any more, we’re going to convert it to MP3/MPEG/PDF so our patrons can continue enjoying it.” If they’re not allowed to do that, DMCA reform in the distant future may not matter.

I’m afraid I don’t have a ready solution short of abolishing or limiting the DMCA. One approach might be to include a limit to DMCA liability in the proposed orphan works legislation. However, I wouldn’t want to endanger that legislation’s political viability to address what is still a speculative problem. It won’t be long, however, before we find out if DMCA protections cause a second orphan works problem, metastasizing the harm visited on culture and society by that regrettable law.

Lenz Ruling Raises Epistemological Questions

Stephanie Lenz’s case will be familiar to many of you: After publishing a 29-second video on YouTube that shows her toddler dancing to the Prince song “Let’s Go Crazy,” Ms. Lenz received email from YouTube, informing her that the video was being taken down at Universal Music’s request. She filed a DMCA counter-notification claiming the video was fair use, and the video was put back up on the site. Now Ms. Lenz, represented by the EFF, is suing Universal, claiming that the company violated section 512(f) of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. Section 512(f) creates liability for a copyright owner who “knowingly materially misrepresents… that material or activity is infringing.”

On Wednesday, the judge denied Universal’s motion to dismiss the suit. The judge held that “in order for a copyright owner to proceed under the DMCA with ‘a good faith belief that the use of the material in the manner complained of is not authorized by the copyright owner, its agent, or the law,’ the owner must evaluate whether the material makes fair use of the copyright.”

The essence of Lenz’s claim is that when Universal sent a notice claiming her use was “not authorized by… the law,” they already knew her use was actually lawful. She cites news coverage that suggests that Universal’s executives watched the video and then, at Prince’s urging, sent a takedown notice they would not have opted to send on their own. Wednesday’s ruling gives the case a chance to proceed into discovery, where Lenz and the EFF can try to find evidence to support their theory that Universal’s lawyers recognized her use was legally authorized under fair use—but caved to Prince’s pressure and sent a spurious notice anyway.

Universal’s view is very different from Lenz’s and, apparently, from the judge’s—they claim that the sense of “not authorized by… the law” required for a DMCA takedown notice is that a use is unauthorized in the first instance, before possible fair use defenses are considered. This position is very important to the music industry’s current practice of sending automated takedown notices based on recognizing copyright works; if copyright owners were required to form any kind of belief about the fairness of a use before asking for a takedown, then this kind of fully computer-automated mass request might not be possible, since it’s hard to imagine a computer performing the four-factor weighing test that informs a fair use determination.

Seen in this light, the case has at least as much to do with the murky epistemology of algorithmic inference as it does with fair use per se. The music industry uses takedown bots to search out and flag potentially infringing uses of songs, and then in at least some instances to send automated takedown notices. If humans at Universal manually review a random sample of the bot’s output, and the statistics and sampling issues are well handled, and they find that a certain fraction of the bot’s output is infringing material, then they can make an inference. They can infer with the statistically appropriate level of confidence that the same fraction of songs in a second sample, consisting of bot-flagged songs “behind a curtain” that have not manually reviewed, are also infringing. If the fraction of material that’s infringing is high enough—e.g. 95 percent?—then one can reasonably or in good faith (at least in the layperson, everyday sense of those terms) believe that an unexamined item turned up by the bot is infringing.

The same might hold true if fair use is also considered: As long a high enough fraction of the material flagged by the bot in the first, manual human review phase turns out to be infringement-not-defensible-as-fair-use, a human can believe reasonably that a given instance flagged by the bot—still “behind the curtain” and not seen by human eyes—is probably an instance of infringement-not-defensible-as-fair-use.

The general principle here would be: If you know the bot is usually right (for some definition of “usually”), and don’t have other information about some case X on which the bot has offered a judgment, then it is reasonable to believe that the bot is right in case X—indeed, it would be unreasonable to believe otherwise, without knowing more. So it seems like there is some level of discernment, in a bot, that would suffice in order for a person to believe in good faith that any given item identified by the bot was an instance of infringement suitable for a DMCA complaint. (I don’t know what the threshold should be, who should decide, or whether or not the industry’s current bots meet it.) This view, when it leads to auto-generated takedown requests, has the strange consequence that music industry representatives are asserting that they have a “good faith belief” certain copies of certain media are infringing, even when they aren’t aware that those copies exist.

Here’s where the sidewalk ends, and I begin to wish I had formal legal training: What are the epistemic procedures required to form a “good faith belief”? How about a “reasonable belief”? This kind of question in the law surely predates computers: It was Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. who first created the reasonable man, a personage Louis Menand has memorably termed “the fictional protagonist of modern liability theory.” I don’t even know to whom this question should be addressed: Is there a single standard nationally? Does it vary circuit by circuit? Statute by statute? Has it evolved in response to computer technology? Readers, can you help?

Plenty of Blame to Go Around in Yahoo Music Shutdown

People have been heaping blame on Yahoo after it announced plans to shut down its Yahoo Music Store DRM servers on September 30. The practical effect of the shutdown is to make music purchased at the store unusable after a while.

Though savvy customers tended to avoid buying music in forms like this, where a company had to keep some distant servers running to keep the purchased music alive, those customers who did buy – taking reassurances from Yahoo and music industry at face value – are rightly angry. In the face of similar anger, Microsoft backtracked on plans to shutter its DRM servers. It looks like Yahoo will stay the course.

Yahoo deserves blame here, but let’s not forget who else contributed to this mess. Start with the record companies for pushing this kind of DRM, and the DRM agenda generally, despite the ample evidence that it would inconvenience paying customers without stopping infringement.

Even leaving aside past mistakes, copyright owners could step in now to help users, either by enticing Yahoo to keep its servers running, or by helping Yahoo create and distribute software that translates the music into a usable form. If I were a Yahoo Music customer, I would be complaining to the copyright owners now, and asking them to step in and stand behind their product.

Finally, let’s not forget the role of Congress. The knowledge of how to jailbreak Yahoo Music tracks and transform them into a stable, usable form exists and could easily be packaged in software form. But Congress made it illegal to circumvent Yahoo’s DRM, even to enable noninfringing use of a legitimately purchased song. And they made it illegal to distribute certain software tools to enable those uses. If Congress had paid more attention to consumer interests in drafting the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, or if it had passed any of the remedial legislation offered since the DMCA took effect, then the market could solve this Yahoo problem all on its own. If I were a Yahoo Music customer, I would be complaining to Congress now, and asking them to stop blocking consumer-friendly technologies.

And needless to say, I wouldn’t be buying DRM-encumbered songs any more.

UPDATE (July 29, 2008): Yahoo has now done the right thing, offering to give refunds or unencumbered MP3s to the stranded customers. I wonder how much this is costing Yahoo.