Zechariah Chafee, a godfather of 20th century legal philosophy, wrote an influential article on copyright law in the early twentieth century.1 At that time, technology was exploding: for the first time in history, it was not only possible to record sound and images, but to transmit them across vast distances instantaneously.

The law of copyright struggled to keep up with this technological advancement. In the 1950s, Congress began a comprehensive revision process. As it stretched into its second decade, former U.S. Register of Copyrights Barbara Ringer shared her thoughts on the process in her 1974 essay, The Demonology of Copyright (PDF). Ringer called back to Chafee’s article, adding her own lessons won from experience about what copyright law should look like:

In his 1945 article, Chafee suggested six ideals to which a copyright statute should aspire: 1) complete coverage ; 2) unified protection, enabling the author to control all the channels through which the work reaches the public; 3) international protection, with no discrimination against foreign authors ; 4) protection that does not go substantially beyond the purposes it seeks to serve; 5) protection that is not so broad as to stifle independent creation by others ; and 6) legal rules that are convenient to handle.

There is a seventh goal, which Chafee could not have been as aware of in 1945 as he would be today, and which in fact may be the most important copyright goal of all. It can he stated very simply: a substantial increase in the rights of the author, considered not as a copyright owner but as a separate creative individual. It involves recognition that committees don’t create works and corporations don’t create works, and machines don’t create works. If, for the sake of convenience of companies or societies or governments, the copyright law forces individual authors back into a collective straitjacket or makes them into human writing machines, it will indeed have become a tool of the devil.

A case study for consensus building

Today, the House Judiciary Committee Subcommittee on Courts, Intellectual Property and the Internet will hold a hearing titled, “A Case Study for Consensus Building: The Copyright Principles Project.” The hearing is the first in a planned series that will take place over the next several months aimed at a comprehensive review of U.S. copyright law.

Testifying at the hearing will be Copyright Principles Project convenor Pamela Samuelson (University of California at Berkeley Law School), as well as Project participants Jon Baumgarten (former General Counsel of the U.S. Copyright Office), Laura Gasaway (University of North Carolina Law School), Daniel Gervais (Vanderbilt Law School Intellectual Property Program), and Jule Sigall (Assistant General Counsel for Copyright at Microsoft).

The goal of the hearing appears to be on setting the tone for how Congress discusses copyright issues in a post-SOPA world, and it looks as though it will do so in two ways. First, it will begin by identifying overarching principles that should guide copyright law. And second, it will look specifically at the Copyright Principles Project as a case study for building consensus in an area of law that can sometimes generate a good deal of contention.

The Copyright Principles Project (PDF of report) began in 2007 with participants who included copyright law scholars, private practioners, and lawyers from broader industry firms. It concluded with a broad set of principles as well as a number of recommendations for bringing copyright law more in line with those principles. At the highest level, the Project participants wrote:

A well-functioning copyright law carefully balances the interests of the public in access to expressive works and the sound advancement of knowledge and technology, on the one hand, with the interests of copyright owners in being compensated for uses of their works and deterring infringers from making market-harmful appropriations of their works, on the other. Copyright law should enable the formation of well-functioning markets for creative and informative works that yield benefits for all stakeholders.

Agreeing on principles

The Copyright Principles Project suggests that consensus in the copyright realm is possible. And by leading with the Project as a case study in building consensus, the Subcommittee is sending a signal about how important consensus will be to the future of copyright policy. The Project participants testifying at the hearing should be able to provide the Subcommittee with valuable insights into how it can build its own consensus as it seeks to review copyright law to find out how well it is working.

Many of the Project’s broader points echo what Chafee wrote and Ringer endorsed half a century ago. At the same time, other contemporary scholars have offered their own principles to guide policy makers in ensuring that copyright law works for all.

In Justifying Intellectual Property, legal scholar Robert Merges argues in favor of foundational pluralism — a fancy way of saying that while we may disagree about the deeper principles of copyright (Is it utilitarian? Is it a natural right?) we can reach consensus on midlevel principles that guide how the law is shaped and applied.

Merges then offers his own principles that complement those identified in the Copyright Principles Project. He specifically identifies four midlevel principles in his theory of IP law: (1) efficiency (in the economic sense), (2) nonremoval (“information and ideas in the public domain must not be taken away or privatized”), (3) proportionality (“the scope of a property right ought to be commensurate with the magnitude of the contribution underlying the right”), and (4) dignity (“works covered by IP rights reflect and embody personal attributes of individual creators, therefore justifying special protection for some aspects of creative works”). You can see how readily these principles overlap and augment those other sets already discussed.

Keeping the Creator in Copyright Review

Of course, just as Ringer was concerned forty years ago that individual creators were in danger of being left behind, there is concern that the Copyright Principles Project had not heard from these voices. While it’s true that among the Project participants were private practitioners who have experience dealing with creators when something goes wrong, their perspective only tells a small part of the story of how copyright impacts creators.

In its positive sense, copyright provides the framework that encourages the creation and commercialization of expressive works that advance society at its highest level. To ask whether copyright is working, then, depends not only on whether it provides appropriate judicial remedies for infringement, but whether it is effective on a day-to-day basis. To answer that question, it is imperative that Congress has input from those in the trenches. Creators are engaged in copyright law decisions every day, both when they are creating — where is the line between permitted copying and misappropriation? What is fair use? — and when they are disseminating their works to the public — whether on their own or through various intermediaries.

U.S. Register of Copyrights Maria Pallante noted in her remarks about the Next Great Copyright Act (PDF) that “readability” should also be among the goals of any copyright law discussion. As more and more are affected by copyright laws, it’s important that one should not need “an army of lawyers to understand the basic precepts of the law.” The ideal copyright law will reflect artist and creator concerns in a clear and understandable way. It should not only spell out their rights, but provide meaningful protection of those rights — not only against infringers but also against those who would take advantage of them.

David Lowery spoke about this in a recent Politico op-ed:

Creators are the most affected by the “Project’s” many proposed changes to copyright law. But creators were apparently not even considered as eligible to participate in discussions with these elites.

Any number of creators (including me) would have been glad to hash out ideas for reforms. Ideas we get from on-the-ground practical experience. Experience you won’t find in the ivory towers of academia or corporate corner offices.

As technology makes it easier for all of us to participate in our culture as creators, it is even more important than ever to heed Ringer’s admonition that artists and authors are recognized not only as copyright holders but as separate individual creators. Any review of copyright law should keep that principle in mind above all. It is my hope that the Subcommittee uses the Copyright Principles Project as the title of the hearing suggests: as a case study for building its own consensus de novo — one that includes creators front and center — for reviewing copyright.

Footnotes

  1. Reflections on the Law of Copyright, 45 Columbia Law Review 503 (1945). []

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In a new “white paper” released today, Kim Dotcom’s lawyers come to the surprising conclusion that Kim Dotcom is not guilty.

Shocking, right?

Taking your case to the court of public opinion could be a sign that your case in a court of law is not going well. But ever since the US government charged Kim Dotcom, 6 other defendants, and 2 companies, including Megaupload, for charges relating to massive copyright infringement in January 2012, Dotcom has been on a full court press to convince the public that multi-millionaries (like him) should be allowed to rip off working class creators (like Ellen Seidler).1 The latest move is the “white paper”, titled Megaupload, the Copyright Lobby, and the Future of Digital Rights (with the self-aggrandizing subtitle, “The United States vs. You (and Kim Dotcom)”). Part of this public relations campaign has involved an attempt to characterize Dotcom as some kind of hacker hero — the white paper places Dotcom in the same pantheon as Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak. Really? Kim Dotcom is to hacking what the 1995 movie Hackers is to hacking.

And the conspiracy theories described in this white paper seem one relic shy of a Dan Brown novel.2

But what about the legal arguments presented in the paper?

The citations to case law may lead the casual reader to the conclusion that there are valid legal arguments within the paper. But for the most part, the arguments are legal sleight of hand, a series of court quotes that, while true, are inapplicable and immaterial to the point being argued. There is little here that Dotcom hasn’t argued in public or in court (unsuccessfully, so far) before.

No Criminal Liability for Secondary Copyright Infringement

The basic premise of this argument is that in the civil context, liability for indirect infringement derives from the common law, not the Copyright Act. Since criminal law as a rule derives entirely from statute, there can be no criminal liability for indirect infringement.

This argument is a red herring.

First, Dotcom and the Megaupload defendants simply are not being charged under any of the tort-based indirect liability standards — which include contributory infringement, vicarious liability, and inducement. They are being charged with direct infringement, aiding and abetting infringement, and conspiracy to commit infringement.3 The latter two could be considered forms of secondary liability, but they are criminal, not tort forms, and they are provided for by statute.

Next, the white paper wholly skips over the fact that Dotcom has been charged with two counts of direct criminal copyright infringement. Among the allegations supporting these charges is at least one instance where one of the defendants himself uploaded an infringing copy of a film that had not been commercially released yet to Megaupload.4

But the indictment also alleges multiple instances where copyrighted works were made available to the public through the Megaupload sites. Many courts, and the leading copyright treatise, view making a work available to the public as an infringement of the distribution right.5

Also conveniently left out of the white paper is that a federal court has already stated, in a separate, civil lawsuit, that Megaupload exercises the requisite volition to be held liable for direct infringement. In Perfect 10 v. Megaupload, the Southern District Court of California said:

Drawing all reasonable inferences in Perfect 10′s favor, Megaupload serves as more than a passive conduit, and more than a mere “file storage” company: it has created distinct websites, presumably in an effort to streamline users’ access to different types of media (e.g., megaporn.com, megavideo.com); it encourages and, in some cases pays, its users to upload vast amounts of popular media through its Rewards Programs; it disseminates URLs for various files throughout the internet; it provides payouts to affiliate websites who maintain a catalogue of all available files; and last, at a minimum, it is plausibly aware of the ongoing, rampant infringement taking place on its websites. Taken together, Perfect 10 has adequately alleged Megaupload has engaged in volitional conduct sufficient to hold it liable for direct infringement. [Emphasis added].

(The lawsuit settled before proceeding much further.)

Substantial Non-Infringing Uses

The White Paper next argues that “the U.S. government cannot even argue that the conduct of Megaupload and its executives gives rise to civil liability for secondary infringement, much less criminal liability” under the Supreme Court’s 1984 holding in Sony Corp v. Universal City Studios. The problem with this argument is that it has thoroughly and repeatedly been rejected by courts in cases involving similar services.

The Ninth Circuit rejected it in 2001.6 The Seventh Circuit rejected it in 2003.7 And, most importantly, the Supreme Court rejected it in 2005. In MGM v. Grokster, Justice Souter explained, “Sony‘s rule limits imputing culpable intent as a matter of law from the characteristics or uses of a distributed product. But nothing in Sony requires courts to ignore evidence of intent if there is such evidence, and the case was never meant to foreclose rules of fault-based liability derived from the common law.”

Other courts have pointed out that Sony only applies if you’re focusing on liability for the design of a product rather than conduct8 or if there is no continuing relationship between the maker of a product and the user.9 But whatever the case, the fact remains that courts have consistently found Sony inapplicable to online service providers like Megaupload for over a decade. It’s telling that this was the strongest argument the white paper could muster.

Rewards Program Not a Contributor to Infringement

Next, the white paper says that the argument that its rewards program encouraged or contributed to infringement is a “glaring falsehood.” Megaupload claims that its program that paid uploaders depending on the popularity of the files they uploaded didn’t encourage infringement because someone’s family photos could just as likely be as popular as a copy of the latest blockbuster film. That’s silly.

More to the point, Megaupload’s rewards program was previously found to support a contributory infringement claim. Again, from Perfect 10:

Tellingly, in its motion to dismiss, Megaupload does not dispute Perfect 10′s allegation that it induces, causes, or materially contributes to infringing conduct. Nor could it, given the allegations that Megaupload encourages, and in some cases, pays its users to upload vast amounts of popular media through its Rewards Programs, disseminates URLs that provide access to such media, and has provided payouts to affiliates who catalogue the URLs for all available media.

Safe Harbor and Beyond

The white paper finally argues that Megaupload should not be liable for the massive infringement it caused and contributed to because it is eligible for safe harbor under the DMCA. That begs the question that DMCA safe harbors are even available for criminal defendants — I’ve written previously that the language of the statute doesn’t support such a conclusion. What’s more, even in the unlikely case a court finds that safe harbors are available in the criminal context, it is difficult to see the service being able to show it complied with the statute’s requirements that protect good-faith, passive service providers.10

Procedural Arguments

The white paper next turns from making substantive arguments to procedural arguments. It argues that “U.S. federal court lacks jurisdiction over Megaupload” because it “is a wholly foreign corporation; it is not incorporated in the United States, and it has no agents or offices in the United States.” Chief among the support for this argument is that the U.S. cannot serve Megaupload under Rule 4 of the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure.

Note how this argument begins with such a broad statement about a lack of jurisdiction but ends up being really about a minor procedural point. Note too that this argument has no impact on the case against Kim Dotcom himself, his holding company, or any of the other personal defendants. This argument only involves the corporate entity of Megaupload Limited. So the suggestion that we should be concerned about some breach of the rule of law is a bit disingenuous. The dismissal of charges against Megaupload would have little effect on the case against the other defendants except that it might free up assets to pay for the defendants’ attorneys (and even that is not a foregone conclusion).

Last July, I briefly looked at this argument; its substance has evolved very little since then. Megaupload essentially takes the position that corporations who operate within the United States and violate U.S. laws should get a free pass so long as they don’t have a mailbox in the U.S. Note that this argument isn’t limited to criminal copyright laws — corporations would be able to commit financial crimes, environmental crimes, fraud, and more with impunity. This result defies common sense and the rule of law — I’d imagine quite a few people would disagree with Megaupload’s argument that corporations deserve a free pass from obeying the law.

The court rejected this argument last October, stating that even if Megaupload doesn’t have a “last known address” within the district or a “principal place of business” within the U.S., there are several alternatives available to the U.S. to perfect service. In its most recent filing, the U.S. notes additional alternatives available to serve Megaupload, a company that leased thousands of servers in the United States to operate a service that allegedly violated U.S. laws within the U.S. harming U.S. creators, regardless of where Kim Dotcom picks up his mail.11

This hasn’t prevented Megaupload from continuing to make the argument in court, despite the fact that less than two months ago, a court in the very same district rejected the idea that the mailing requirement in Rule 4 is a jurisdictional requirement.12 So now Megaupload persists in making the argument in its white paper here.

The remaining claims made in the white paper follow the same pattern as those discussed above, full of red herrings, already rejected arguments, and faulty logic. No doubt that matters little to those who worship Dotcom as a hero, buying completely into his celebrity-esque posturing.

Footnotes

  1. A study released in March demonstrated that the Megaupload shutdown caused a 6-10% increase in digital film revenues, revenues that not only help fund the continued creation of films but also that directly go to union members in the form of residuals. []
  2. Even Techdirt describes them as a “massive exaggeration.” []
  3. See Superseding Indictment. []
  4. Superseding Indictment, pg. 44. []
  5. See Nimmer Changes his Tune: “Making Available” is Distribution. []
  6. A & M Records v. Napster, 239 F. 3d 1004, 1020; “Napster claims that it is nevertheless protected from contributory liability by the teaching of Sony Corp. v. Universal City Studios, Inc. We disagree. We observe that Napster’s actual, specific knowledge of direct infringement renders Sony‘s holding of limited assistance to Napster.” []
  7. In re Aimster Copyright Litigation, 334 F. 3d 643, 651; “We also do not buy Aimster’s argument that since the Supreme Court distinguished, in the long passage from the Sony opinion that we quoted earlier, between actual and potential noninfringing uses, all Aimster has to show in order to escape liability for contributory infringement is that its file-sharing system could be used in noninfringing ways, which obviously it could be. Were that the law, the seller of a product or service used solely to facilitate copyright infringement, though it was capable in principle of noninfringing uses, would be immune from liability for contributory infringement. That would be an extreme result, and one not envisaged by the Sony majority.” []
  8. Perfect 10 v. Amazon, 508 F. 3d 1146, 1171 (9th Cir. 2007). []
  9. CoStar Group v. Loopnet, 164 F. Supp. 2d 688, 697 (D. Md. 2001). []
  10. See, for example, Megaupload, the DMCA and Lockers in General; Megaupload’s DMCA Shell Games; Why Megaupload Doesn’t Have a DMCA Shelter. []
  11. The U.S. says in its May 2nd filing “As discussed in prior pleadings, Defendant Megaupload has had at least two addresses within the Eastern District of Virginia — a constructive address at the Commonwealth of Virginia’s State Corporation Commission and an address at the Carpathia datacenter where the company maintained its U.S.-based nerve center.” []
  12. United States v. Kolon Industries, 2013 WL 682896, *5–6 (ED Va. Feb. 22, 2013). []

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Earlier today, the National Research Council of the National Academies has released a long-awaited report, Copyright in the Digital Era: Building Evidence for Policy.

The report aims to identify gaps in available research that the authors suggest can assist in shaping copyright policy. In particular, the Council recommends that further study can focus on the “incentive calculus for various actors”, the “costs of voluntary copyright transactions”, “enforcement challenges”, and the “balance between copyright protection and exceptions.”

The report also examines what it calls the “data infrastructure for an empirical approach to copyright policy research.” It identifies existing sources of data that could be helpful to researchers. It also inquires about reducing bottlenecks to certain private datasets in existence. That is, data that could assist researchers may already be out there, just not easily accessible — for example, it might be in the hands of private firms.

The Trees

Copyright in the Digital Era is substantial and could provide ample discussion among academics, researchers, and policy makers. Indeed, there is much to agree with in the 102 page report.

For example, the Council calls for more data “to assess the magnitude and policy implications of the orphan works problem.” The U.S. Copyright Office has been actively studying orphan works over the past several years to determine if legislation is necessary to facilitate productive uses of works where the copyright owner cannot be identified or located. If comments it has received from potential users of orphan works are any indication, further research could reveal that the magnitude of the problem is far more limited than it has been made out to be. Any legislative fix for orphan works should equally be limited and circumscribed.

The Council also recommends further study of copyright litigation in civil courts. Research in this area could provide a wealth of information concerning costs of litigation, outcomes of lawsuits, and judgments awarded. This data would seem to be very helpful for another Copyright Office project: its study on small copyright claim proceedings.

The Forest

Unfortunately, the report suffers from a number of fundamental errors.

First, it presumes that the aim of copyright is to “encourage creative expression and the dissemination and preservation of creative works without stifling cumulative creativity, technological innovation, or free expression.” It goes on to say that research could help determine, for example, “under what circumstances sources of monetary and/or non-monetary motivation outside of that provided by copyright are effective in motivating creative activity.”

The presumption that copyright exists primarily to motivate the creation of expressive works is common, but not entirely accurate.

Copyright also motivates the commercialization of expressive works. This purpose is just as important, if not more important, than the incentive to create. The Supreme Court made this point less than a year ago in Golan v. Holder.

Nothing in the text of the Copyright Clause confines the “Progress of Science” exclusively to “incentives for creation.” Evidence from the founding, moreover, suggests that inducing dissemination—as opposed to creation—was viewed as an appropriate means to promote science. Until 1976, in fact, Congress made “federal copyright contingent on publication[,] [thereby] providing incentives not primarily for creation,” but for dissemination. Our decisions correspondingly recognize that “copyright supplies the economic incentive to create and disseminate ideas.”

This economic incentive doesn’t come in the form of financial rewards from the government but in the form of exclusive, private property rights secured by the government — rights that allow for private ordering and a functioning market that promotes progress in the same fashion as any free market system.1

If you focus solely on the motivation to create, as this report tends to do, than you will end up with a skewed copyright policy that leads to suboptimal results.

I saved the most troubling aspect of Copyright in the Digital Era for last. The report only briefly mentions that “not all copyright policy questions are amenable to economic analysis.” This is an understatement if there ever was one.

Simply put: copyright promotes important noneconomic values. Courts and others regularly recognize that copyright, at times, protects free speech interests.2 While U.S. law doesn’t recognize “moral rights” of authors in the same way as other countries, the inherent dignity of creators that these rights protect are implicit in many copyright provisions.3

On another note, the subject matter of copyright and its purpose of promoting knowledge and culture mean that a lot of its aspects are simply unquantifiable. What is the value of a cat video? What is the value of an episode of Game of Thrones? And if a certain policy favors the creation and dissemination of one at the expense of the other, how do you measure the effect of that trade-off? It’s vital that policy makers remain cognizant that not everything in the copyright world can be reduced to numbers and data.

So long as the noneconomic values that copyright promotes are recognized, and Copyright in the Digital Era is placed in the proper context, it can play a role in aiding copyright policy discussions. But there likely exists a strong temptation to treat the research questions in the report as covering the entire universe of copyright policy questions.

Footnotes

  1. Adam Mossoff explores the commercialization policy of copyright in more detail in his recent paper, How Copyright Drives Innovation in Scholarly Publishing. []
  2. “[T]he Framers intended copyright itself to be the engine of free expression.” Eldred v. Ashcroft, 537 US 186, 219 (2003), quoting Harper & Row v. Nation Enterprises, 471 US at 539, 558 (1985). []
  3. See Photos are worth more than the paper they’re printed on. []

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The exclusive right to publicly perform a copyrighted work1 has been the source of a fair amount of confusion over its history. The Second Circuit’s 2008 decision in Cartoon Network v. CSC Holdings (“Cablevision“) added to this confusion; though, at the same time, it provided “a clear roadmap that other businesses could use to evade their obligations under the public performance right.”2 Indeed, earlier this month, the Second Circuit all but said outright that, but for its decision in Cablevision, online service Aereo would be liable for publicly performing the television broadcasts it retransmits to paid subscribers.3 A few weeks prior, a California court not bound by Cablevision’s precedent granted a preliminary injunction against Aereokiller, a service using essentially the same technology as Aereo.4

And things are just starting to heat up. Aereokiller has appealed its loss to the Ninth Circuit; if the Circuit Court upholds the lower court’s decision, it would create a circuit split that may make a trip to the Supreme Court more likely. Before then, though, TV broadcasters have petitioned the Second Circuit for an en banc rehearing on Aereo.

I’ve written a number of times on both cases,5 but I have yet to delve into a legal analysis of Cablevision, the case that looms large over these current cases. In my opinion, Cablevision — at least that portion that addressed the public performance issue — was decided incorrectly. The Second Circuit committed a number of logical errors that culminated in a conclusion that doesn’t follow from the plain meaning of the statutory text and stands in opposition to the clear intent of Congress when it drafted the public performance provisions of the 1976 Copyright Act.

But the problems of Cablevision go beyond logical infidelity. The decision drifts away from copyright law’s technology-neutral ideal and elevates form over function. Most importantly, it runs contrary to the public interest. We are, some might argue, in a new golden age of television, with shows that are enjoyed by millions. This is possible in no small part because of the robust marketplace secured through copyright law.

So how exactly did the Cablevision court go astray? Let’s start with a brief discussion of the public performance right in U.S. law.

Public Performance Under the 1976 Copyright Act

Along with exclusive rights to reproduce, distribute, and make derivative works, copyright law secures the exclusive right of a copyright owner to publicly perform her work. The Copyright Act defines performing a work publicly in the following manner:

(1) to perform6 … it at a place open to the public or at any place where a substantial number of persons outside of a normal circle of a family and its social acquaintances is gathered; or

(2) to transmit7 or otherwise communicate a performance … of the work to a place specified by clause (1) or to the public, by means of any device or process, whether the members of the public capable of receiving the performance … receive it in the same place or in separate places and at the same time or at different times.

The first definition is easy to conceive — a band in a concert hall is clearly performing a musical work publicly. The first part of the second definition (transmitting the performance of a work to a public place) is also not difficult to imagine — replace the band with giant television set. It is the last part of the second definition — the “separate places/different times” language — that confused the Cablevision court.

This language was added in the 1976 Copyright Act to cover services like cable television and radio broadcasters — services that perform a work to the general public even if each individual performance is ultimately perceived in a private setting.8 Although such performances were initially considered public under the previous Copyright Act,9 a series of Supreme Court decisions beginning in the late 1960s casually dismantled this interpretation.10

The language can no doubt provoke some challenging applications. On the one hand, it is very broad: a public performance includes transmissions by any device or process, in the same place or to separate places, at the same time or at different times.11 But on the other hand, there necessarily must be a limit; if Congress didn’t intend there to be nonpublic performances, it needn’t have bothered limiting the right to only public performances.

The district and circuit court in Cablevision approached this sphinxian language differently. But first, it may be helpful to take a look at how the product involved in the Cablevision decision — the Remote Storage DVR System (“RS-DVR”) — operated.

The RS-DVR

Like any other cable service, Cablevision licenses television programming from broadcasters and cable channers and offers it to paid subscribers. In 2006, Cablevision began offering RS-DVR to its customers. The service operated like any set-top DVR, allowing a TV viewer to record and store programs for later viewing, but the hardware was all located centrally at Cablevision facilities. Cablevision gathers the streams from the various television stations it is licensed to provide into a single signal, which is then split. One stream is routed to customers’ homes in real time (as happens with most cable providers). The second stream is transmitted to the RS-DVR servers, where programs are stored according to subscribers’ requests.

Both these transmissions — one to a customer in real time, one to a customer’s storage for later viewing — are transmissions of public performances. Cablevision had a license for the former; it is unclear whether that license covers the latter.12 But television broadcasters13 argued (among other things) that the performance from the RS-DVR to a customer’s home when she hit “play” was an additional performance, and a public one at that.

Cablevision didn’t contest that this was a separate performance, just that it isn’t liable for it, and advanced several arguments in support.

The district court rejected as flawed Cablevision’s argument that its performances were private since each streaming came from a distinct copy that was unique to each individual customer.14 It said that Cablevision was engaged in public performance under the plain language of the transmit clause. “Cablevision would transmit the same program to members of the public, who may receive the performance at different times, depending on whether they view the program in real time or at a later time as an RS-DVR playback.” The district court also found it relevant that the relationship between Cablevision and its customers was a commercial one, as courts have held that such a relationship has an inherently “public” character.15

On appeal, the Second Circuit would reverse the district court’s holding on this issue. It began by looking at the “transmit clause” anew. To the Second Circuit, “it is evident that the transmit clause directs us to examine who precisely is ‘capable of receiving’ a particular transmission of a performance.” Under this interpretation, the district court’s suggestion that, “in considering whether a transmission is ‘to the public,’ we consider not the potential audience of a particular transmission, but the potential audience of the underlying work (i.e., “the program”) whose content is being transmitted” is wrong. Instead, says the Circuit Court, “That clause speaks of people capable of receiving a particular ‘transmission’ or ‘performance,’ and not of the potential audience of a particular ‘work.’”

After marching through its argument, the Court says “Because each RS-DVR playback transmission is made to a single subscriber using a single unique copy produced by that subscriber, we conclude that such transmissions are not performances ‘to the public,’ and therefore do not infringe any exclusive right of public performance.”

Several scholars have identified the court’s treatment of the terms “transmission” and “performance” interchangeably as its primary error.16 But they aren’t synonymous; they are each defined separately in the Copyright Act.

This error contributed the most to the Second Circuit’s ultimate conclusion. But its reasoning was riddled with other errors, some of which I’ll look at in more detail below.

An Unexplained Logical Leap

First, look at the court’s response to plaintiff’s argument that “to determine whether a given transmission of a performance is ‘to the public,’ we would consider not only the potential audience of that transmission, but also the potential audience of any transmission of the same underlying ‘original’ performance”:

Like the district court’s interpretation, this view obviates any possibility of a purely private transmission. Furthermore, it makes Cablevision’s liability depend, in part, on the actions of legal strangers. Assume that HBO transmits a copyrighted work to both Cablevision and Comcast. Cablevision merely retransmits the work from one Cablevision facility to another, while Comcast retransmits the program to its subscribers. Under plaintiffs’ interpretation, Cablevision would still be transmitting the performance to the public, solely because Comcast has transmitted the same underlying performance to the public. Similarly, a hapless customer who records a program in his den and later transmits the recording to a television in his bedroom would be liable for publicly performing the work simply because some other party had once transmitted the same underlying performance to the public.

The court doesn’t explain why accepting an interpretation that looks at the potential audience of a work by one performer necessarily means looking at the potential audience of all performers of a work. The fact is that the latter doesn’t follow the former.

The Second Circuit is not entirely at fault for making this unexplained leap. Its analysis is drawn from and mirrors Melville Nimmer’s in his eponymous copyright treatise. Nimmer looks at the definition in question, “which provides that a work is performed ‘publicly’ regardless of ‘whether the members of the public capable of receiving the performance … receive it in the same place or separate places. …’”17

That same definition goes on to provide that a work is performed “publicly” regardless of whether such members of the public receive the performance “at the same time or at different times.” The Senate and House Reports offer no explanation of this latter phrase, and it is difficult to believe that it was intended literally. It would mean, for example, that the performance of music on a commercial phonograph record in the privacy of one’s home constitutes a public performance because other members of the public will be playing duplicates of the same recorded performance “at different times.”

Again, it is not clear to me what is happening here. Aggregating performances by other performers doesn’t follow from the text of the definition, and doesn’t make sense from a legal perspective.

For Nimmer, at least, interpreting the transmit clause to look at performances of the same copy of a work rather than performances of the work was intended to avoid the absurd result of private performances turning into public performances based on the unrelated actions of third parties. Yet creating a “same copy” requirement doesn’t directly address this problem — a result that Nimmer himself recognizes:

In the abstract, it may be argued that the practice of renting a given videocassette of a motion picture to various members of the public gives rise to “public” performances of the work, although each such performance of the work on a home television set is received only by an individual or family group. Nevertheless, the same copy gives rise to numerous performances, which are received by the public “at different times.” Therefore, under the wording of the Act, and by reason of the underlying rationale of what constitutes a “public” performance, it may follow that each individual rental performance is a “public” performance.

In other words, Nimmer — and later, the Second Circuit — created a requirement that wasn’t present in the statutory text in order to solve a problem that didn’t logically follow from the requirement’s absence, and the newly created requirement doesn’t even entirely solve that problem.

Two for me, none for you

In a bit of verbal sleight-of-hand, the court next states, “Plaintiffs contend that it is ‘wholly irrelevant, in determining the existence of a public performance, whether `unique’ copies of the same work are used to make the transmissions.’ But plaintiffs cite no authority for this contention.” Did you catch that? The court invented a “unique copies” requirement that does not appear in the statutory text (or legislative history) and then chides plaintiffs for not citing any authority that the statute does not contain such a requirement.

What makes this worse is that plaintiffs had cited authority to this effect. Specifically, they cited a 1967 House Committee report that discussed what would become the definition in question. This report noted that the definition of “to the public” was intended to cover transmissions ”capable of reaching different recipients at different times, as in the case of sounds or images stored in an information system and capable of being performed or displayed at the initiative of individual members of the public [Emphasis added].” The House Committee literally described Cablevision’s RS-DVR service nearly four decades before it was released, and said the Copyright Act’s public performance language would cover such a service. In what could only be described as chutzpah, the Second Circuit dismisses outright this on-point bit of legislative history, saying only that “We question how much deference this report deserves.”

A Minor Fallacy

Finally, the Second Circuit rejects the lower court’s argument that the commercial relationship between performer and viewer supported the conclusion that the performance is a public, rather than a private, one. It calls the argument “untenable” and not supported by the statutory language. But then it states, ”In addition, this interpretation overlooks, as Congress did not, the possibility that even non-commercial transmissions to the public may diminish the value of a copyright.” The court is saying that if all commercial performances are public performances, then that also means that only commercial performances are public performances. This is an obvious logical error.

Stay Tuned for More

Cablevision‘s reasoning on the public performance issue leaves a lot to be desired. Yet, at the same time, I believe the court could have reached the same result — that Cablevision’s transmission of programming that it licensed from broadcasters from the RS-DVR servers to subscribers would not require additional licensing — without creating a mess of the public performance provisions in the Copyright Act. As the subsequent decision in Aereo shows, the consequences of Cablevision have been wider than the Second Circuit anticipated.

In future posts, I hope to look at how Aereo made things worse by not only extending Cablevision beyond its specific facts, but misapplying it as well. I also hope to take a stab at providing a workable definition of the Copyright Act’s public performance language that is more consistent with the statutory text, Congressional intent, and the goals of copyright law.

Special thanks to Copyhype contributor Devlin Hartline (who blogs at Law Theories) for providing useful feedback in writing this post.

Footnotes

  1. 17 U.S.C. § 106(4). []
  2. See Brief for Copyright Alliance as Amicus Curiae in Support of Petitioners, Cable News Network v. CSC Holdings, pg. 24, 129 S.Ct. 2890 (2008) (No. 08-448). []
  3. WNET v. AereoNos. 12-2786-cv, 12-2807-cv (2nd Cir., 2013). []
  4. Fox Television Stations v. Barrydriller Content Systems, Civil Minutes, No. CV-12-6921-GW (JCx) (CD Cali Dec. 27, 2013). []
  5. Aereo, ivi, and the Public Interest in Protecting Copyright, Aereo, Cablevision, and the “Missing Link”, Aereo Takes its Tiny Antennas to Opposite Town, EFF Files Amicus Brief in Aereokiller, You Keep Using that Word: Aereo and “Innovation”. []
  6. “To ‘perform’ a work means to recite, render, play, dance, or act it, either directly or by means of any device or process or, in the case of a motion picture or other audiovisual work, to show its images in any sequence or to make the sounds accompanying it audible.” []
  7. “To ‘transmit’ a performance or display is to communicate it by any device or process whereby images or sounds are received beyond the place from which they are sent.” []
  8. On Command Video v. Columbia Pictures, 777 F. Supp. 787, 790 (ND Cali. 1991), citing H.R.Rep. No. 83, 90th Cong., 1st Sess. at 29 (1967). []
  9. See Buck v. Jewell-LaSalle Realty, 283 US 193 (1931). []
  10. Twentieth Century Music v. Aiken, 422 US 151 (1975); Teleprompter v. Columbia Broadcasting System, 415 US 394 (1974); Fortnightly v. United Artists Television, 392 US 390 (1968). []
  11. As noted in the legislative history: The definition of ‘transmit’ . . . is broad enough to include all conceivable forms and combinations of wires and wireless communications media, including but by no means limited to radio and television broadcasting as we know them. Each and every method by which the images and sounds comprising a performance . . . are picked up and conveyed is a ‘transmission,’ and if the transmission reaches the public in[any] form the case comes within the scope of . . . section 106. H.R. Rep. No. 94-1476, at 64 (1976). []
  12. The Second Circuit notes that plaintiffs argued “Cablevision publicly performs a work when it splits its programming stream and transmits the second stream to the RS-DVR system.” It appears to conclude that this performance is a private one by extension of its general reasoning, but does not indicate whether this transmission, from Cablevision to RS-DVR, is distinct from the transmission from RS-DVR to customer. I would argue that they are distinct. []
  13. Plaintiffs included The Cartoon Network, Cable News Network, Turner Broadcasting System, Turner Network Sales, Turner Classic Movies, Turner Network Television, Twentieth Century Fox Film, Universal City Studios, Paramount Pictures, Disney, CBS, and NBC. []
  14. Twentieth Century Fox Film v. Cablevision, 478 F.Supp. 2d 607, 622 (SDNY 2007). []
  15. Id. at 623, citing On Command Video Corp. v. Columbia Pictures Indus., 777 F.Supp. 787, 790 (N.D.Cal.1991). []
  16. See, e.g., 2 Paul Goldstein, Goldstein on Copyright, § 7.7.2.2, at 7:168 (3d ed. 2013); Jeffrey Malkan, The Public Performance Problem In Cartoon Network LP v. CSC Holdings, Inc., 89 Oregon Law Review 505, 536 (2010); Jane C. Ginsburg, Recent Developments in US Copyright Law – Part II, Caselaw: Exclusive Rights on the Ebb? 26 (Colum. Pub. L. & Legal Theory Working Papers, No. 08158, 2008). []
  17. Nimmer on Copyright, § 8.14[C][3]. []

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Today’s guest post comes from Copyhype contributor Devlin Hartline. Cross-posted on the Law Theories blog.

Love them or loathe them, notorious copyright enforcer Righthaven presents an interesting question of law: Does Righthaven, the assignee of a copyright plus the accrued causes of action, have standing to sue for past infringements if it grants back to its assignor, Stephens Media, an exclusive license to exploit the copyright? The district courts that have considered this question have all found that such an arrangement does not leave Righthaven with an ownership interest sufficient to have standing. I think they’re wrong.

Last month, Righthaven finally had its day before the Ninth Circuit when it participated in oral arguments in two of its appeals (audio available here).1 These appeals almost didn’t happen. Back in late 2011, a district court granted a motion to appoint a receiver made by one of Righthaven’s defendants, Wayne Hoehn. The court ordered Righthaven’s intellectual and tangible property to be assigned to the receiver so that it could be sold to partially satisfy Hoehn’s judgment against Righthaven. Despite the fact that the receivership was explicitly for this limited purpose,2 the receiver had more grandiose plans. When she found out that Righthaven CEO Steven Gibson was planning to appeal Hoehn’s victory, the receiver reported to the district court that she had taken over the company, fired Gibson, and fired the counsel Gibson had lined up to prosecute the appeal.

The receiver argued that, given Righthaven’s poor chances of success on appeal, it was in the best interests of the receivership to cease the appeals process. She also claimed, somewhat circularly, that since Righthaven no longer owned any of the copyrights that it had sued over, it had no standing to pursue its appeals before the Ninth Circuit.3 The very issue on appeal, of course, was whether Righthaven owned the copyrights and had standing to sue, and it is elementary that a party has standing to appeal a district court’s determination that it does not have standing to sue.4 Exercising her mandate that she thought gave her “broad, almost limitless equitable powers,” the receiver sought to have the court ratify her decision to torpedo the appeals. The district court rebuffed the receiver’s request, clarifying that the receivership was for the limited purpose of selling Righthaven’s assets—not for the purpose of firing Righthaven’s counsel and withdrawing its appeals.5

Having won that small victory in the district court, Righthaven’s fate is now being decided by a panel of the Ninth Circuit. The legal question presented on the standing issue is actually a rather straightforward and simple application of the law. Yet, I believe that every court that has so far addressed the issue has approached it in the wrong way. I think the blame lies mainly with Righthaven’s poor briefing of the somewhat metaphysical doctrine of copyright ownership, but I think the judiciary’s unfamiliarity with the issues has played a role as well. In this article, I’ll explain why I think the Righthaven standing issue is simple and why I think Righthaven has standing to sue for past infringements.

Silvers v. Sony

In the Ninth Circuit, where the Righthaven appeals are being prosecuted, the Silvers v. Sony case controls the standing analysis. In the district court, the plaintiff, Nancey Silvers, claimed that the defendant, Sony Pictures, had infringed the copyright in a television movie she had written on a work-for-hire basis with the production company Frank & Bob Films.6 Since Silvers had no ownership interest in the copyright by way of her work-for-hire contract,7 Frank & Bob Films assigned to her the accrued causes of action so that she could pursue the alleged infringement on her own. Sony argued that Silvers was not a “legal or beneficial owner” under the Act and thus had no standing to sue.8

Silvers, on the other hand, cited the copyright treatise Nimmer on Copyright which at the time provided that “the assignee of an accrued infringement cause of action has standing to sue without the need to join his assignor, even if the latter retains ownership of all other rights under the copyright.”9 The district court, citing Nimmer, the text of the Act, and public policy, sided with Silvers, holding that she had standing to sue even though owning only the accrued causes of action: “Where the cause of action has already accrued, though, the claim is akin to a vested right, and the Court sees no reason why a copyright holder, like any other property owner, would not have the ability to assign that right.”10

A few months later, the district court granted Sony’s motion for interlocutory appeal to the Ninth Circuit on the standing issue.11 There, the appellate panel noted that it was a matter of first impression in the circuit “whether an accrued cause of action for copyright infringement may be assigned to a third party, without any other copyright rights accompanying the assignment.”12 The panel echoed the reasoning of the district court below, citing Nimmer, the text of the Act, and public policy, to conclude that:

Nothing in the statute prohibits the legal or beneficial owner of the exclusive right under copyright from assigning an accrued cause of action for infringement of that right. Such an assignment is like assignment of any other chose in action under contract theory. Nothing in the language of the statute prohibits or restricts an assignee of an accrued infringement cause of action from bringing a copyright infringement action.13

Unhappy with its defeat before the district court and the appellate panel, Sony petitioned for and was granted a rehearing en banc.14 There, the en banc majority reversed the district court, holding instead that an assignee of accrued causes of action who has no other legal of beneficial ownership in the copyright has no standing to sue for past infringements.15

The majority started its analysis by noting that standing to sue in copyright, a creature of federal statute, is authorized by Section 501(b) of the Copyright Act which provides:

The legal or beneficial owner of an exclusive right under a copyright is entitled . . . to institute an action for any infringement of that particular right committed while he or she is the owner of it.16

The majority reasoned that, under the plain language of the statute, one must be a “legal or beneficial owner” of the exclusive right at issue in order to have standing to sue. The court deduced that since an accrued cause of action is not one of the listed rights in Section 106, its holder is not a “legal or beneficial owner” of the copyright unless she also has some other ownership interest in it. The majority went on to examine the legislative history of the Act, patent law, and opinions from other circuits to conclude that “[t]he bare assignment of an accrued cause of action is impermissible under 17 U.S.C. § 501(b). Because that is all Frank & Bob Films conveyed to Silvers, Silvers was not entitled to institute and may not maintain this action against Sony” for the alleged infringement.17

It should be noted that the majority did not see a problem with assigning an accrued cause of action, finding the practice to be consistent with the Copyright Act and its constitutional purpose. Moreover, the majority provided the rationale for allowing such transfers: “When one acquires a copyright that has been infringed, one is acquiring a copyright whose value has been impaired. Consequently, to receive maximum value for the impaired copyright, one must also convey the right to recover the value of the impairment by instituting a copyright action.”18 Thus, it was not the assignment of the accrued causes of action that posed a problem for the majority. The problem was, in the majority’s opinion, that such an assignee was not also a “legal or beneficial owner” entitled to institute an action under Section 501(b) of the Act.

Personally, I think the majority’s analysis is rather poor—while purporting to prevent a circuit split,19 the majority in fact only caused one.20 I’ll sketch out some of the basic problems with the decision here, but the topic is complicated and rightfully deserving of its own post. The majority was correct to note that an accrued cause of action is assignable. Such was the case under the 1909 Act as it is now under the 1976 Act. This comports with the common law view generally that an accrued cause of action for a property tort is itself a property interest that is freely assignable.21 The twist added to this general rule by the majority is that it read Section 501(b) as mandating that the accrued causes of action must be accompanied by an ownership interest in the copyright, else the holder is not a “legal or beneficial owner” with statutory standing to sue under the Copyright Act.

The majority misreads Section 501(b). On its face, the statute appears to say that an accrued cause of action is not assignable since it authorizes the “legal or beneficial owner . . . to institute an action for any infringement of that particular right committed while he or she is the owner of it.” But, as the majority itself demonstrates, courts do not interpret it this way. Instead, the statute is read to mean that a cause of action accrues to whomever is the “legal or beneficial owner” at the time the cause of action accrues. Once the cause of action accrues to the “legal or beneficial owner,” it becomes a vested property interest that can be assigned to another, as the majority rightly concedes. What the majority misses is that such an assignee has standing to sue because he is a “legal or beneficial owner” of the underlying exclusive right, even if he is conveyed no other ownership interest in it.

There’s two different ways to look at this. The first is to realize that an assignee stands in the shoes of his assignor.22 The courts allow the assignee to take on his assignor’s position, so that if the assignor was the “legal or beneficial owner” at the time the cause of action accrued, the assignee steps into his shoes and can claim to have been such an owner as well. The second way to look at this is to recognize that an owner of an accrued cause of action is himself a “legal or beneficial owner” in his own right since an accrued cause of action is an in rem property interest in the underlying exclusive right. Not only can he claim his assignor’s ownership status as it relates back to when the cause of action accrued, he can claim his own ownership status for the purpose of standing.

This is demonstrated in the case law. The general rule is that, unless a copyright assignment expressly includes the accrued causes of action, an assignee of a copyright—even one who obtains otherwise full legal and equitable ownership—is not also transferred the accrued causes of action and does not have standing to sue for past infringements.23 Instead, the assignor, who no longer holds any other ownership interest in the copyright, is alone permitted to sue for past infringements.24 Under the majority’s logic, this should not be possible since it reasons that a party who holds only the accrued causes of action and no other ownership interest is not a “legal or beneficial owner” under Section 501(b). The majority conspicuously fails to address this point.

Nor does the majority address another wrinkle in the doctrine which provides that a copyright owner who otherwise parts with legal and equitable ownership of an exclusive right, while retaining the right to receive royalties from its future exploitation, has standing to sue for later occurring infringements of that right.25 Under the majority’s reasoning, since the right to receive royalties is not an enumerated right under Section 106, such a rightholder would not have standing to sue. But Congress clearly intended otherwise by explicitly providing in the legislative history of the Act that such a party would be a “beneficial owner” of the underlying exclusive right with standing to sue for its infringement.26 The simple explanation for this is that, like the holder of the accrued causes of action, the holder of the right to receive royalties has an in rem interest in the exclusive right that makes him the “legal or beneficial owner” of it.

While the majority was perhaps correct to note that Section 501(b) limits standing to sue to only a “legal or beneficial owner” of the underlying exclusive right, it somehow missed the jurisprudential gloss that such ownership may relate back in time to that of his assignor’s ownership, such as with an assignee of an accrued cause of action, or may include one who otherwise has no present legal or beneficial ownership interest, such as with an assignor of all legal and beneficial ownership who retains the accrued causes of action or retains the right to receive royalties. Thus, the question is not, as the majority perceived it, whether he currently controls the exploitation of the exclusive right. The question is whether he holds an in rem ownership interest in the exclusive right, whether via the “shoes” of his assignor or in his own right.

The majority’s reasoning makes other critical mistakes, such as misinterpreting the legislative history and misreading the case law from other circuits. But for better or for worse, Silvers is the law in the Ninth Circuit and a holder of an accrued cause of action has no standing to sue unless he also holds some other legal or beneficial ownership in the underlying exclusive right.

The Righthaven Assignment

It was against this legal backdrop that Righthaven and Stephens Media executed the contract that’s at issue here. The contract actually consists of two parts, a “Copyright Assignment” and a supplemental agreement militaristically dubbed the “Strategic Alliance Agreement” (“SAA”). The Copyright Assignment in relevant part provides:

Stephens Media hereby transfers, vests and assigns the work depicted in Exhibit A, attached hereto and incorporated herein by this reference (the “Work”), to Righthaven, subject to Stephens Media’s rights of reversion, all copyrights requisite to have Righthaven recognized as the copyright owner of the Work for purposes of Righthaven being able to claim ownership as well as the right to pursue past, present and future infringements of the copyright in and to the Work.

By itself, the Copyright Assignment conveys ownership of the underlying exclusive rights and the accrued causes of action to Righthaven, which under the majority opinion in Silvers would grant Righthaven standing to sue for past infringements. In fact, district courts that looked at only the Copyright Assignment had no trouble finding that it granted Righthaven standing to sue.27 Thus, it is with the addition of the SAA to the Copyright Assignment that the Righthaven standing issue arises.

The provision of the SAA which has received the most attention is Section 7.2, which in relevant part provides:

Despite any such Copyright Assignment, Stephens Media shall retain (and is hereby granted by Righthaven) an exclusive license to Exploit the Stephens Media Assigned Copyrights for any lawful purpose whatsoever and Righthaven shall have no right or license to Exploit or participate in the receipt of royalties from the Exploitation of the Stephens Media Assigned Copyrights other than the right to proceeds in association with a Recovery.

Other sections of the SAA have received notice too, such as Section 5 which provides that Righthaven is to split recoveries minus costs with Stephens Media and Section 8 which provides Stephens Media with a reversionary right in the copyrights assigned to Righthaven, but Section 7.2 is the one that’s caused the most fuss.

The first serious blow to Righthaven came in the Democratic Underground case, wherein Chief Judge Roger Hunt noted that the SAA was “highly relevant to Righthaven’s standing in this and a multitude of other pending Righthaven cases.”28 In his opinion, the SAA “expressly denies Righthaven any rights . . . other than the bare right to bring and profit from copyright infringement actions.”29 He reasoned that under Section 7.2 of the SAA, Righthaven received no other ownership interest in the underlying exclusive rights: “The plain and simple effect of this section was to prevent Righthaven from obtaining, having, or otherwise exercising any right other than the mere right to sue as Stephens Media retained all other rights.”30

As to Righthaven’s argument that the SAA did not alter its standing under the clear import of the Copyright Agreement, Chief Judge Hunt quipped: “This conclusion is flagrantly false—to the point that the claim is disingenuous, if not outright deceitful. The entirety of the SAA was designed to prevent Righthaven from becoming an owner of any exclusive right in the copyright . . . .”31 He then held that under the majority opinion in Silvers, Righthaven, as the holder of only the accrued causes of action, did not have standing to sue: “In reality, Righthaven actually left the transaction with nothing more than a fabrication since a copyright owner cannot assign a bare right to sue after Silvers.”32

Six days after Chief Judge Hunt issued his seminal opinion in Democratic Underground, the district court in the Hoehn case followed suit, finding that the “carveouts” in the SAA “deprive Righthaven of any of the rights normally associated with ownership of an exclusive right necessary to bring suit for copyright infringement and leave Righthaven no rights except to pursue infringement actions . . . .”33 The day after that, Chief Judge Hunt issued an opinion in the DiBiase case, finding again that the SAA left Righthaven without “the exclusive rights necessary to maintain standing in a copyright infringement action,” and incorporating his opinion in Democratic Underground by reference.34 It is these opinions in the Hoehn and DiBiase cases that form the basis of Righthaven’s appeals before the Ninth Circuit.

Why Righthaven Has Standing

Much like the majority in Silvers failed to recognize that the holder of only the accrued causes of action is a “legal or beneficial owner” of the underlying exclusive right, so too have the district courts that have analyzed the Righthaven standing issue failed to recognize that Righthaven has an ownership interest in the underlying exclusive rights in addition to the accrued causes of action. As discussed above, the Copyright Assignment grants to Righthaven ownership of the underlying exclusive rights plus ownership of the accrued causes of action. The SAA supplements the Copyright Assignment, and it provides that “Stephens Media shall retain (and is hereby granted by Righthaven) an exclusive license” to exploit the exclusive rights and to keep the royalties to itself. The mistake made by the district courts is interpreting this simultaneous retention by (or license back to) Stephens Media as divesting Righthaven of whatever ownership interests in the underlying exclusive rights that the Copyright Assignment may have granted it.

The Copyright Assignment and SAA instead should be read as dismembering the ownership such that Righthaven became the legal owner and Stephens Media remained the beneficial owner of the underlying exclusive rights. The key to understanding the Righthaven standing issue is to recognize that legal ownership of an exclusive right can be held by one in trust for another who is a beneficial owner. In such a trust relationship, the legal owner holds legal title while the beneficial owner holds equitable title to the underlying exclusive rights.35 The Copyright Assignment and SAA simply transferred to Righthaven legal title to the underlying exclusive rights and the accrued causes of action, while Stephens Media retained or was simultaneously granted back—it matters not which way you look at it since both achieve the same result—the equitable title to the underlying exclusive rights.

The following table illustrates the legal and beneficial ownership interests held by Righthaven and Stephens Media before and after the Copyright Assignment and SAA:

righthaven_ownership

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole point of the Copyright Assignment and SAA was to comply with the dictate in Silvers. Righthaven was not assigned only the accrued causes of action, but it was assigned legal title to the underlying exclusive rights as well. Thus, as the legal owner of the underlying exclusive rights and the accrued causes of action, Righthaven has standing to sue for past infringements under the rule declared by the Silvers majority. The very purpose of the Copyright Assignment and SAA was to give both legal title and the accrued causes of action to Righthaven while Stephens Media kept the equitable title for itself. The parties did exactly what Silvers said to do.

Contrary to Chief Judge Hunt’s quip that Righthaven’s representation about the SAA was “flagrantly false—to the point that the claim is disingenuous, if not outright deceitful,” I think Righthaven’s claim that the SAA did not affect its standing was correct. The reason is simple: The SAA did not divest Righthaven of the legal title or the accrued causes of action that it had been granted in the Copyright Assignment. To be sure, the SAA established in the underlying exclusive rights both in personam contractual rights and in rem property interests, but none of those equitable interests changed the fact that Righthaven still held its legal interests and the accrued causes of action.36

The district courts that have looked at the Righthaven standing issue have misconstrued the difference between an assignment, which typically transfers both legal and equitable title, and an exclusive license, which transfers only equitable title.37 The difference is critical. Courts are familiar with the concept of an exclusive licensee, and an entire body of federal common law has developed around this type of ownership interest. But antiquated concepts, such as the idea that an exclusive licensee holds equitable title, tend to get lost—though some remnants appear in the 1976 Act. For example, Section 301(a) preempts “all legal or equitable rights that are equivalent to any of the exclusive rights within the general scope of copyright as specified by section 106 . . . .”38 This presupposes the existence of both legal and equitable rights in a copyright.

Another example is Section 501(b)’s provision that a “legal or beneficial owner” has standing to sue. Courts often indicate that both legal owners and exclusive licensees have standing under this section, but they don’t make the connection that the legal titleholder is the “legal owner” while the exclusive licensee, who holds equitable title, is the “beneficial owner.” Back before the merger of law and equity, whether one’s title was legal or equitable mattered significantly since only the legal owner could institute an action in a court of law. Equitable owners, such as an exclusive licensee, had to bring suit in a court of equity.39 The merger of law and equity did away with the procedural, but not the substantive, differences between the two.40 It was not until the 1976 Act that legal and equitable ownership interests were put on an equal footing for certain purposes, but—and this is crucial—they still remain distinct types of ownership interests.

The 1976 Act itself creates confusion over exactly what an exclusive license is. Section 101 provides:

A “transfer of copyright ownership” is an assignment, mortgage, exclusive license, or any other conveyance, alienation, or hypothecation of a copyright or of any of the exclusive rights comprised in a copyright, whether or not it is limited in time or place of effect, but not including a nonexclusive license.41

Thus, an assignment and an exclusive license are both a “transfer of copyright ownership.” What kind of ownership is transferred, the statute doesn’t say. The answer, developed in the case law that Section 101 merely ratified, is rather simple. Generally speaking, an assignment transfers legal and equitable title while an exclusive license transfers only equitable title. Both are a “transfer of copyright ownership,” as noted by Section 101, but the ownership interests transferred are different. Section 501(b) tells us this difference matters not in at least one significant way since both the “legal or beneficial owner” has standing to sue. The combined purpose of Sections 101 and 501(b) in the 1976 Act was to put an equitable titleholder, such as an exclusive licensee, on an equal footing with his licensor, the holder of legal title, for purposes of standing to sue. Much like the merger of law and equity had eliminated some of the procedural differences between legal and equitable ownership, the 1976 Act eradicated some of the substantive differences between the two as well.

That a licensor has a different type of ownership interest than his exclusive licensee was made clear in Gardner v. Nike,42 an opinion out of the Ninth Circuit from 2002. There, Nike had granted an exclusive license to Sony Music, and the issue was whether Sony Music could then transfer its exclusive license to Gardner. The district court held that an exclusive licensee could not transfer his ownership interest to another without his licensor’s permission, and the Ninth Circuit agreed. The appellate panel relied on Section 201(d)(2) of the Act which provides that the owner of any particular exclusive right is entitled “to all of the protection and remedies accorded to the copyright owner” under the Act.43 Thus, reasoned the court, an exclusive licensee is vested with only the same “protections and remedies,” but not the same rights, as his licensor. If an exclusive licensee actually had legal ownership of the underlying exclusive right, his ability to transfer his interest to another would not be so saddled. Gardner v. Nike proves that exclusive licensees are not legal owners—at least in the Ninth Circuit where Righthaven is prosecuting its appeals.

There’s another layer that’s worth a mention. While Section 301(a) sounds in the general common law of property by referring to “legal or equitable rights,” Section 501(b) sounds in the general common law of trusts by referring to a “legal or beneficial owner.” The analogy to trust law is deliberate, for it was noted long ago that the licensor-exclusive licensee relationship is just like that of a trustee-beneficiary, with one holding legal title in trust for the other who is an equitable or beneficial owner of the property.44 Trust law and copyright law have obviously gone their separate ways, but the analogy between the two remains and is at times instructive. It’s just not often that it’s mentioned anymore, much less so that it matters like it does here with Righthaven.

The analogy to trust law has not been totally lost, nor is it necessarily only an analogy, as demonstrated in the fifteen-year-old opinion in A. Brod, Inc. v. SK&I Co.45 penned by then-District Judge Sonia Sotomayor. The facts there, somewhat similar to Righthaven’s, were that one party had assigned to the other “the entire right, title, and interest” to a particular copyright for the purpose of litigation.46 The assignor, who wanted his copyright back, argued that the assignment really included only the legal title which his assignee held in trust for him as the equitable titleholder. The assignee denied the legal possibility of a trust, claiming that “trust-based rights in the copyright are preempted by the Copyright Act.”47 Judge Sotomayor did not agree:

[L]egal and equitable interest in a copyright may be held separately. As cases pre-dating the 1976 Copyright Act make clear, a copyright may constitute a proper trust res, with the trustee holding legal title to the copyright and the settlor retaining equitable title. The 1976 Copyright Act did not change this, but rather codified the notion that both the equitable, or “beneficial,” owner of a copyright and the legal owner have standing to sue for infringement.48

Judge Sotomayor went on to analyze the assignment under New York state trust law, looking at whether it created an express or constructive trust such that the trustee-assignee’s subsequent transfer of his interest to a third party was subject to the assignor’s equitable interest in the trust. I think the soundness of this approach is dubious, as federal common and statutory law trumps state law when it comes to copyright ownership. The problem with analyzing copyright ownership under state trust law is that then concepts such as a good faith purchaser for value get injected into what is otherwise a federal common law scheme. The en banc Federal Circuit has rejected such an approach with patents,49 and I think the same logic applies with equal force to copyrights. Copyright ownership issues should be decided applying federal copyright law which, while analogous to state trust law in some ways, is not the same thing.

So where does that leave us? Based on the oral arguments before the Ninth Circuit panel, things do not look good for Righthaven. One judge queried which party, Righthaven or Stephens Media, a prospective user of the copyright should approach for permission. Since it isn’t Righthaven, the judge implied, it means that Righthaven doesn’t really own the copyright and therefore does not have standing to sue. But this line of questioning misses the fact that there’s two types of ownership interests in a copyright, legal and equitable. A prospective user would contact the party who holds the equitable title to the exclusive right that he wishes permission to use since only that party controls the use of that right. But it should not be forgotten that legal ownership may reside in another—and that appears to be the case here with Righthaven.

Follow me on Twitter: @devlinhartline

Footnotes

  1. The Ninth Circuit joined two of Righthaven’s appeals for purposes of oral arguments: Righthaven v. Hoehn and Righthaven v. DiBiase. []
  2. The motion that was granted provides the following summary: “Defendant Wayne Hoehn (‘Hoehn’), through his attorneys, brings this motion seeking this Court to order the appointment of a receiver to which Plaintiff Righthaven LLC (‘Righthaven’) shall assign all of its intellectual property and other intangible property, which the receiver shall auction in order to partially satisfy Hoehn’s judgment and writ of execution entered against Righthaven. (Docs. # 44, 59)”; Hoehn also sought that “all objects, items, or other property belonging to Righthaven should be delivered to the Receiver for auction,” though it was “presumed that Righthaven owns little tangible property of material value.” []
  3. The receiver argued: “Moreover, as Righthaven no longer owns any of the copyright rights it originally sued Hoehn and others for infringing, it no longer possesses standing to pursue its claims before the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals or any other Court. (Doc. # 90) This further affirms my view that the receivership estate’s best interests at this point are served by making the estate as productive as possible for its many creditors, and by terminating the existing appeals.” []
  4. See, e.g., In re Pittsburgh & L.E.R. Co. Sec. & Antitrust Litig., 543 F.2d 1058, 1064 (3d Cir. 1976) (“A party denied standing to sue, or to intervene, or to object, may obviously appeal such a determination. The question of standing does not go to whether or not the appeal should be heard, but rather to its merits.”). []
  5. Docket entry 117 provides in part: “The Court clarifies the scope of the Receivership and confirms the Receivership was for the limited purpose to dispose of assets to satisfy the judgment, not to fire counsel handling the appeal and not to take any other action regarding Righthaven’s appeal.” []
  6. See Silvers v. Sony Pictures Entm’t, Inc., Order Granting in Part and Denying in Part Defendant’s Motion to Dismiss, No. 00-cv-6386, 2001 WL 36127624 (C.D. Cal. Jan. 25, 2001). []
  7. See 17 U.S.C.A. 201(b) (West 2013) (“In the case of a work made for hire, the employer or other person for whom the work was prepared is considered the author for purposes of this title, and, unless the parties have expressly agreed otherwise in a written instrument signed by them, owns all of the rights comprised in the copyright.”). []
  8. See 17 U.S.C.A. § 501(b) (West 2013) (“The legal or beneficial owner of an exclusive right under a copyright is entitled . . . to institute an action for any infringement of that particular right committed while he or she is the owner of it.”). []
  9. Silvers, 2001 WL 36127624 at *1 (quoting Nimmer on Copyright § 12.02[B]) (internal quotations omitted). []
  10. Id. at *2. []
  11. See Silvers v. Sony Pictures Entm’t, Inc., Order Granting Defendants’ Motion for Interlocutory Appeal, No. 00-cv-6386, 2001 WL 36127626 (C.D. Cal. Mar. 29, 2001). []
  12. Silvers v. Sony Pictures Entm’t, Inc., 330 F.3d 1204, 1206 (9th Cir. 2003). []
  13. Id. at 1208. []
  14. See Silvers v. Sony Pictures Entm’t, Inc., 370 F.3d 1252 (9th Cir. 2004). []
  15. See Silvers v. Sony Pictures Entm’t, Inc., 402 F.3d 881 (9th Cir. 2005). []
  16. 17 U.S.C.A. § 501(b) (West 2013). []
  17. Silvers, 402 F.3d at 890. []
  18. Id. at 890 n.1 []
  19. See id. (“[T]he creation of a circuit split would be particularly troublesome in the realm of copyright.”). []
  20. See Prather v. Neva Paperbacks, Inc., 410 F.2d 698 (5th Cir. 1969); Eden Toys, Inc. v. Florelee Undergarment Co., Inc., 697 F.2d 27 (2d Cir. 1982); ABKCO Music, Inc. v. Harrisongs Music, Ltd., 944 F.2d 971 (2d Cir. 1991). []
  21. See, e.g., City of Cincinnati v. Hafer, 49 Ohio St. 60, 66 (1892) (“Mere personal torts die with the party, and are not assignable; but where the action is brought for damage to the estate, and not for injury to the person, personal feelings, or character, and the right of action survives to the personal representative, it may be assigned so as to pass an interest to the assignee.”); Comegys v. Vasse, 26 U.S. 193, 213 (1828) (“In general, it may be affirmed, that mere personal torts, which die with the party, and do not survive to his personal representative, are not capable of passing by assignment; and that vested rights ad rem and in re, possibilities coupled with an interest, and claims growing out of, and adhering to property, may pass by assignment.”); 6A C.J.S. Assignments § 43 (“A chose in action or claim, whether arising in tort or contract, is generally assignable, as a chose in action is personal property.”). []
  22. See, e.g., 6 Am. Jur. 2d Assignments § 134 (“Although an assignee acquires the rights of the assignor, including the right to enforce the assigned obligation, he or she does not sue in his or her own right, but stands in the shoes of the assignor.”); RTC Commercial Loan Trust 1995-NP1A v. Winthrop Mgmt., 923 F.Supp. 83, 88 (E.D. Va. 1996) (“[I]t is a fundamental maxim of common law that the assignee stands in the shoes of the assignor . . . .”). []
  23. See, e.g., ABKCO Music, Inc. v. Harrisongs Music, Ltd., 944 F.2d 971, 980 (2d Cir. 1991) (“Thus, a copyright owner can assign its copyright but, if the accrued causes of action are not expressly included in the assignment, the assignee will not be able to prosecute them.”); Giddings v. Vision House Prod., Inc., 584 F.Supp.2d 1222, 1229 (D. Ariz. 2008) (“Copyright assignments do not include accrued causes of action unless they are expressly included in the assignment.”); 3-12 Nimmer on Copyright § 12.02 (“[O]nly the grantor, not the grantee, has standing to sue for pre-grant infringement, even if the action is filed after the grant has been executed.”). []
  24. See, e.g., Skor-Mor Products, Inc. v. Sears, Roebuck & Co., 1982 WL 1264 (S.D.N.Y. May 12, 1982) (“Similarly, it is the assignor, not the assignee, who has standing to sue for infringing acts which occurred prior to the assignment of copyright.”); ABKCO Music, Inc. v. Harrisongs Music, Ltd., 944 F.2d 971, 980 (2d Cir. 1991) (“Rather, the assignee is only entitled to bring actions for infringements that were committed while it was the copyright owner and the assignor retains the right to bring actions accruing during its ownership of the right, even if the actions are brought subsequent to the assignment.”); M.J. Golden & Co. v. Pittsburgh Brewing Co., 137 F.Supp. 455, 457 (D. Pa. 1956) (“[E]ven though there has been a sale of the copyright this does not prevent the owner at the time of the alleged infringement from suing for previous damages it alleges to have sustained while it was the owner.”). []
  25. See, e.g., Cortner v. Israel, 732 F.2d 267, 271 (2d Cir. 1984) (“When a composer assigns copyright title to a publisher in exchange for the payment of royalties, an equitable trust relationship is established between the two parties which gives the composer standing to sue for infringement of that copyright. Otherwise the beneficial owner’s interest in the copyright could be diluted or lessened by a wrongdoer’s infringement.”) (internal citations omitted). []
  26. See H.R. Rep. No. 1476, 159 (“A ‘beneficial owner’ for this purpose would include, for example, an author who had parted with legal title to the copyright in exchange for percentage royalties based on sales or license fees.”). []
  27. See, e.g., Righthaven LLC v. Dr. Shezad Malik Law Firm P.C., No. 10-cv-0636, 2010 WL 3522372, *2 (D. Nev. Sept. 2, 2010) (Hunt, C.J.) (“Furthermore, the assignment in question (which Plaintiff has attached to its opposition) clearly assigns both the exclusive copyright ownership, together with accrued causes of action, i.e., infringements past, present and future. While Courts have denied standing to bring an action on an accrued claim where just the copyright is owned or just the cause of action has been assigned, where there is an assignment of both the copyright, and any accrued causes of action, the courts have held that the assignee of both can bring an action even for infringing activities which occurred before the assignment. Thus, in this instance, Plaintiff has standing to sue, even for an infringement which preceded the assignment, because that right was specifically assigned with the exclusive assignment of the copyright itself.”) (internal citations omitted). []
  28. Righthaven LLC v. Democratic Underground, LLC, 791 F.Supp.2d 968, 971 (D. Nev. 2011) (Hunt, C.J.). []
  29. Id. at 972. []
  30. Id. (italics in original). []
  31. Id. at 973 (italics in original; internal quotations omitted). []
  32. Id. []
  33. Righthaven, LLC v. Hoehn, 792 F.Supp.2d 1138, 1146 (D. Nev. 2011) (Pro, J.). []
  34. Righthaven, LLC v. DiBiase, No. 10-cv-01343, 2011 WL 2473531, *1 (D. Nev. June 22, 2011) (Hunt, C.J.). []
  35. See, e.g., Black v. Henry G. Allen Co., 42 F. 618, 621 (C.C.S.D.N.Y. 1890) ([T]here is no restriction upon the power of the proprietor to assign or transfer, in equity, an exclusive right to use the copyrighted book in a particular manner or for particular purposes upon such terms and conditions as may be agreed upon. In such case the legal title remains in the proprietor; and a beneficial interest, to the extent which is agreed upon, vests in the other party, who has acquired an equitable right in the copyright, and who will be properly styled an assignee of an equitable interest.”) (internal quotations omitted); Bisel v. Ladner, 1 F.2d 436 (3d Cir. 1924) (“The legal title to a copyright vests in the person in whose name the copyright is taken out. It may, however, be held by him in trust for the true owner . . . .”); Manning v. Miller Music Corp., 174 F.Supp. 192, 195 (S.D.N.Y. 1959) (“[T]he courts recognize that legal title to a copyright may be in one person and equitable title in another. Thus, one may be a ‘proprietor’ of a copyright if he holds legal title, though equitable title may be in another wither expressly or as trustee ex malificio.”) (internal citations omitted); Silverman v. Sunrise Pictures Corp., 273 F. 909, 914 (2d Cir. 1921) (“There is nothing in the nature of copyright forbidding a separation between the legal and equitable titles; one may hold in trust for others . . . .”); Arachnid, Inc. v. Merit Indus., Inc., 939 F.2d 1574, 1578 n.3 (Fed. Cir. 1991) (discussing patents) (“Equitable title may be defined as the beneficial interest of one person whom equity regards as the real owner, although the legal title is vested in another.”) (internal quotations omitted); Matter of Southmark Corp., 49 F.3d 1111, 1117-18 (5th Cir. 1995) (“In a trust relationship, by contrast, the law actually divides the bundle of rights in the property; the trustee holds legal title while the beneficiary possesses an equitable title or property interest.”). []
  36. See, e.g., Marrone v. Washington Jockey Club of Dist. of Columbia, 227 U.S. 633, 636 (1913) (“A contract binds the person of the maker, but does not create an interest in the property that it may concern, unless it also operates as a conveyance.”); Matter of Southmark Corp., 49 F.3d 1111, 1117-18 (5th Cir. 1995) (“At the outset, it is important to distinguish generally between two types of ‘equitable interests.’ In a contractual (or debtor-creditor) relationship, the creditor may possess an ‘equitable claim’ to property actually owned by the debtor, but there is no division of ownership or title in the property at issue; the debtor is entirely free to dispose of the property as he sees fit. In a trust relationship, by contrast, the law actually divides the bundle of rights in the property; the trustee holds legal title while the beneficiary possesses an equitable title or property interest.”). []
  37. See, e.g., Presley’s Estate v. Russen, 513 F.Supp. 1339, 1350 (D.N.J. 1981) (“An assignment passes legal and equitable title to the property while a license is mere permission to use. Assignment is the transfer of the whole of the interest in the right while in a license the owner retains the legal ownership of the property.”). []
  38. 17 U.S.C.A. § 301(a) (West 2013) (“On and after January 1, 1978, all legal or equitable rights that are equivalent to any of the exclusive rights within the general scope of copyright as specified by section 106 in works of authorship that are fixed in a tangible medium of expression and come within the subject matter of copyright as specified by sections 102 and 103, whether created before or after that date and whether published or unpublished, are governed exclusively by this title. Thereafter, no person is entitled to any such right or equivalent right in any such work under the common law or statutes of any State.”). []
  39. See, e.g., Ted Browne Music Co. v. Fowler, 290 F. 751, 753 (2d Cir. 1923) (“The owner of the equitable title is not a mere licensee [i.e., a nonexclusive licensee], and he may sue in equity, particularly where the owner of the legal title is an infringer, or one of the infringers, thus occupying a position hostile to the plaintiff.”); Cortner v. Israel, 732 F.2d 267, 271 (2d Cir. 1984) (“Prior to the adoption of the 1976 Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. §§ 101, 501(b), the beneficial owner, in order to have standing to sue the infringer, was required to join the owner of the copyright as a defendant, alleging that the latter had refused after demand to sue.”); Buck v. Virgo, 22 F.Supp. 156, 157 (W.D.N.Y. 1938) (“The rights of a licensee under a copyright do not depend upon legal title. A licensee has no right to sue in his own name for infringement. The reason for the necessity of joining the owner of the copyright as plaintiff is that the owner has the legal title. This he holds in trust for the licensee.”) (internal citations omitted); Stephens v. Howells Sales Co., 16 F.2d 805, 806 (S.D.N.Y. 1926) (“[A] licensee cannot bring suit for infringement of the copyright under which he holds his license in his own name; this for the reason that the copyright is, technically speaking, indivisible, the legal title remaining in the licensor and the licensee having merely an equitable title.”). []
  40. See, e.g., Stainback v. Mo Hock Ke Lok Po, 336 U.S. 368, 382 n.2 (1949) (“Notwithstanding the fusion of law and equity by the Rules of Civil Procedure, the substantive principles of Courts of Chancery remain unaffected.”); Railex Corp. v. Joseph Guss & Sons, Inc., 40 F.R.D. 119, 123 (D.D.C 1966) (“Initially, it should be mentioned that F.R.C.P. Rule 2 abolishes only the procedural distinctions but not the substantive distinctions between law and equity. The substantive distinctions between legal and equitable rights and remedies are still applicable in the Federal Courts, particularly with regard to the constitutional right to trial by jury ‘in suits at common law’ declared by the Seventh Amendment.”). []
  41. 17 U.S.C.A. § 101 (West 2013). []
  42. Gardner v. Nike, Inc., 279 F.3d 774 (9th Cir. 2002). []
  43. 17 U.S.C.A. § 201(d)(2) (West 2013) “Any of the exclusive rights comprised in a copyright, including any subdivision of any of the rights specified by section 106, may be transferred as provided by clause (1) and owned separately. The owner of any particular exclusive right is entitled, to the extent of that right, to all of the protection and remedies accorded to the copyright owner by this title.”). []
  44. See, e.g., Littlefield v. Perry, 88 U.S. 205, 223 (1874) (discussing patents) (“A court of equity looks to substance rather than form. When it has jurisdiction of parties it grants the appropriate relief without regard to whether they come as plaintiff or defendant. In this case the person who should have protected the plaintiff against all infringements has become himself the infringer. He held the legal title to his patent in trust for his licensees. He has been faithless to his trust, and courts of equity are always open for the redress of such a wrong. This wrong is an infringement.”); Indep. Wireless Tel. Co. v. Radio Corp. of Am., 269 U.S. 459, 468-69 (1926) (discussing patents) (“If the owner of a patent, being within the jurisdiction, refuses or is unable to join an exclusive licensee as coplaintiff, the licensee may make him a party defendant by process, and he will be lined up by the court in the party character which he should assume. . . . This would seem to be in accord with general equity practice. . . . A cestui que trust may make an unwilling trustee a defendant in a suit to protect the subject of the trust.”) (internal citations omitted). []
  45. A. Brod, Inc. v. SK&I Co., L.L.C., 998 F.Supp. 314 (S.D.N.Y. 1998). []
  46. Id. at 318. []
  47. Id. at 320. []
  48. Id. at 325 (internal citations omitted). []
  49. See Rhone Poulenc Agro, S.A. v. DeKalb Genetics Corp., 284 F.3d 1323, 1328 (Fed. Cir. 2002) (“In short, because of the importance of having a uniform national rule, we hold that the bona fide purchaser defense to patent infringement is a matter of federal law. Because such a federal rule implicates an issue of patent law, the law of this circuit governs the rule.”). []

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Last year, various individuals connected with the Pirate Bay reacted strongly to the refusal of the Swedish Supreme Court to hear their appeal in a copyright case against them. Peter Sunde exclaimed that the site, one of the most notorious and unapologetic facilitators of infringement in recent memory, “has been one of the most important movements in Sweden for freedom of speech” and those involved in running the site “have been mentioned as possible winners of the nobel peace prize.”

However, yesterday a unanimous chamber at the European Court of Human Rights held that the massive infringement the site enabled justified any interference with the site founders’ free expression rights. The Court, in fact, said that the founders’ appeal on free speech grounds was “manifestly ill-founded.”

Peter Sunde, of Finland, and Frederik Neij, of Sweden, were charged in 2008 with complicity to commit crimes in violation of Sweden’s Copyright Act for their role in operating the Pirate Bay. The District Court found both guilty in April 2009 and handed down a sentence that included prison time and fines. Both appealed the decision, and though the verdict was upheld, the appellate court reduced Neij’s sentence. This decision, in turn, was appealed to Sweden’s Supreme Court. The Court refused to hear the appeal in February 2012.

And so, Sunde and Neij appealed to the European Court of Human Rights, a supra-national court that has jurisdiction to hear cases where a violation of human rights, as defined by the European Convention on Human Rights, by a member nation are alleged. The Court issued its decision in Neij and Sunde Kolmisoppi v. Sweden (application no. 40397/12) yesterday.

The Pirate Bay founders claimed that their convictions interfered with their right to free expression. That right is enshrined in Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which states:

1. Everyone has the right to freedom of expression. This right shall include freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers. This Article shall not prevent States from requiring the licensing of broadcasting, television or cinema enterprises.

2. The exercise of these freedoms, since it carries with it duties and responsibilities, may be subject to such formalities, conditions, restrictions or penalties as are prescribed by law and are necessary in a democratic society, in the interests of national security, territorial integrity or public safety, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, for the protection of the reputation or rights of others, for preventing the disclosure of information received in confidence, or for maintaining the authority and impartiality of the judiciary.

At the outset, the Court did conclude that the Pirate Bay founders’ actions taken to run the site were an exercise of their right to free expression, and the subsequent conviction did interfere with that right. But that is only the beginning of the Court’s inquiry. It next turned to a three-pronged question: (1) was the interference prescribed by law, (2) was there a legitimate aim to the interference, and (3) was the interference a “necessity in a democratic society.” The first two parts of this question were easy to answer. The convictions were based on Sweden’s Copyright Act and Penal Code, and were in pursuit of the legitimate aim of protecting plaintiff’s copyright — i.e., protecting the rights of others and preventing crime.

The final prong, perhaps unsurprisingly, generated the most discussion. As the Court said, “The test of whether an interference was necessary in a democratic society cannot be applied in absolute terms. On the contrary, the Court must take into account various factors, such as the nature of the competing interests involved and the degree to which those interests require protection in the circumstances of the case. In the present case, the Court is called upon to weigh, on the one hand, the interest of the applicants to facilitate the sharing of the information in question and, on the other, the interest in protecting the rights of the copyright-holders.”

How the Court characterized the interests of copyright-holders is, in my opinion, the most striking part of the decision. The Court stressed “that intellectual property benefits from the protection afforded by Article 1 of Protocol No. 1″ to the European Convention on Human Rights. This article states:

Every natural or legal person is entitled to the peaceful enjoyment of his possessions. No one shall be deprived of his possessions except in the public interest and subject to the conditions provided for by law and by the general principles of international law.

That is, under the European Court on Human Rights, intellectual property rights are treated as property rights. This wasn’t a new holding; the Court cited to a 2007 case that agreed that intellectual property “incontestably” enjoys the same protections as personal and real property under the Convention.1

The Court’s case law is consistent with the conception of copyright and free speech in the U.S. that I have previously suggested accounts for their unquestioned co-existence from the founding of the country and nearly two centuries afterward. Copyright was considered property. Remedies to protect property were generally not seen as infringing freedom of speech. Just as the First Amendment does not typically trump trespass law, it does not typically trump copyright law.2 This conception has, of course, been assailed in recent decades by the academy3 and certain civil society groups (and, lately, from a subset of libertarians) — all of which likely helped convinced the Pirate Bay founders that they had a case here.

Not only are intellectual property rights treated as property rights, but, as the Court reiterates, States have an affirmative duty to protect them. That means in certain cases, it is sometimes appropriate to have criminal enforcement in addition to civil enforcement. The Court concluded that this was one such case. It said the Swedish government had “weighty reasons for the restriction of the applicants’ freedom of expression [Emphasis added].”

This, along with the Court’s holding that “the prison sentence and award of damages cannot be regarded as disproportionate”, led to its ultimate conclusion that the interference the Pirate Bay founders’ conviction caused with their free expression rights was ”necessary in a democratic society.”

Footnotes

  1. Anheuser-Busch v. Portugal [GC], no. 73049/01, § 47, ECHR 2007‑I. []
  2. For a modern take on this comparison between copyright, the First Amendment, and trespass, see Lillian BeVier, Copyright, Trespass and the First Amendment: An Institutional Perspective, 21 Soc. Phil. & Pol’y 104 (2004). []
  3. For a lengthy yet nonexhaustive list, see this footnote from Copyright and Censorship. []

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The majority of academic literature has found that piracy has a negative impact on movie and music revenues.1 This is accepted by all but a few filesharing denialists. The big question is, what does this mean for copyright policy? Because it’s one thing to establish that online piracy reduces sales, it’s another to figure out what to do about it.

And there has been no shortage of those whose answer to what to do about piracy is: nothing. Or, rather, authors and creative industries need to learn how to “compete with free”, piracy enforcement doesn’t work.2 A litany of justifications for this have arisen over the past decade and a half, but generally, the idea seems to be that most unauthorized downloading or streaming of media comes from individuals who would not have paid in the first place. Thus, while anti-piracy efforts might reduce piracy, they won’t increase sales. Right?

Wrong, according to a growing body of empirical research. Last year, a group of researchers found that HADOPI, France’s recent graduated response program, led to a 20-25% increase in music sales in that country.3 And in 2011, researchers concluded that physical music sales increased 27% and digital music sales increased 48% in Sweden following copyright protection reform that increased the risks of unauthorized downloading.4

This week, Brett Danaher and Michael Smith, working at the Initiative for Digital Entertainment Analytics (IDEA) at Carnegie-Mellon University, have released another study looking at this question. The study, Gone in 60 Seconds: The Impact of the Megaupload Shutdown on Movie Sales, found that digital movie revenues from online sales and rentals increased by 6-10% following the January 2012 shutdown of the popular cyberlocker site (Megaupload execs, including Kim Dotcom, are of course currently facing criminal charges in the U.S. for copyright infringement).

The abstract says:

The growth of Internet-based piracy has led to a wide-ranging debate over how copyright policy should be enforced in the digital era. While some enforcement approaches involve policies designed to deter consumers from filesharing though incentives or penalties, other approaches target the supply of piracy by shutting down Internet sites that serve as major conduits for pirated content. In this paper we analyze how one such anti-piracy intervention, the shutdown of the popular Megaupload site, affected the digital sales of movies for two major studios.

Simply examining changes in sales after the shutdown would produce an inaccurate measure of its actual effect as sales are changing over time for a variety of reasons. Instead we exploit cross-country variation in pre-shutdown usage of Megaupload as a measure of treatment intensity. Controlling for country-specific trends and the Christmas holiday, we find no statistical relationship between Megaupload penetration and changes in digital sales prior to the shutdown. However, we find a statistically significant positive relationship between a country’s Megaupload penetration and its sales change after the shutdown, such that for each additional 1% pre-shutdown Megaupload penetration, the post-shutdown sales unit change was 2.5% to 3.8% higher, suggesting that these increases are a causal effect of the shutdown.

Aggregating these increases, our analysis across 12 countries suggests that, in the 18 weeks following the shutdown, digital revenues for these two studio’s movies were 6-10% higher than they would have been if not for the shutdown. Thus our findings show that the closing of a major online piracy site can increase digital media sales, and by extension we provide evidence that Internet movie piracy displaces digital film sales.

As the paper notes, not only does this research add to the empirical studies on this subject mentioned above, but it makes a couple new contributions. For one, Danaher and Smith note that this is the first paper to look at “supply-side” enforcement. The previous studies focused on “demand-side” enforcement — both the French and Swedish laws studied policed individual downloaders. Each has its pros and cons, its costs and benefits, but it seems to me that the trend in the U.S. and many other countries is to move away from demand-side enforcement and toward supply-side enforcement. For another, this is the first paper to measure digital movie sales. Both physical and digital sales of music have been measured numerous times since the late 90s, as well as DVD sales and box office receipts, but until now there has been no data on digital movie sales and rentals.

Perhaps most interestingly, Danaher and Smith were able to show that the shutdown of Megaupload did not just correlate with the subsequent increase in digital film revenues but actually caused it. Filesharing denialists are quick to discredit the numerous studies showing negative effects of piracy on sales by spouting that “correlation does not imply causation”, but by looking at the data country-by-country and comparing sales with Megaupload’s penetration rate in each country, the researchers were able to conclude that the shutdown “caused some customers to shift from cyberlocker-based piracy to purchasing or renting through legal digital channels.”

Also interesting is the discussion from Danaher and Smith at the end of the blog post announcing the study. The authors say, “While some have argued that you can’t compete with free, we think a more productive view is that competing with free (pirated) content is just a special case of price competition.” They note that convenience is sometimes more important that prices to consumers and explain that “we would expect that some consumers would be willing to buy through legitimate channels if content in those channels is more valuable than the ‘free’ pirated alternative.” But then they apply the results of their study to this line of thinking:

[W]e believe that another key part of competing with free piracy can be making content on illegal channels less valuable to consumers. In this regard, our finding of a 6-10% increase in digital movie revenue suggests that even though shutting down Megaupload didn’t stop all piracy, it was successful in making piracy sufficiently less reliable, less easy-to-use, and less convenient than it was before, and some consumers were willing to switch from piracy to legal channels as a result.

Taken this way, one might say that enforcing against piracy is necessary to ensure a vibrant, functional marketplace for expressive works online (though this alone is not sufficient). That’s not to say that the goal must be the complete elimination of piracy (that has never been the reality), nor is it to say that there is not a point where the costs of enforcement (monetary or otherwise) overtake the benefits. Efforts to mitigate piracy also do not need to be limited to law enforcement efforts or new legislation. They can include voluntary, market-based solutions aimed at education, like the Copyright Alert System that began operations on Monday, or reducing financial support of infringing sites, like the Statement of Best Practices to Address Online Piracy and Counterfeiting adopted last year by the Association of National Advertisers and American Association of Advertising Agencies.

But simply ignoring online infringement, and the harm it causes creators of all levels, forestalls the development of that vibrant marketplace and impedes the progress of the arts and sciences.

Footnotes

  1. See Smith & Telang, Assessing the Academic Literature Regarding the Impact of Media Piracy on Sales (Aug. 19, 2012), “Based on our review of the empirical literature we conclude that, while some papers in the literature find no evidence of harm, the vast majority of the literature (particularly the literature published in top peer reviewed journals) finds evidence that piracy harms media sales.” []
  2. See, for example, Joe Karaganis, Media Piracy in Emerging Economies (SSRC 2011). Note that this report’s conclusion, that “After a decade of ramped up enforcement, the authors can find no impact on the overall supply of pirated goods,” does not contradict the findings of the study discussed here. Even if true, it would seem that supply of pirated goods is a meaningless metric, especially where, as here, the goods are capable of infinite reproduction. []
  3. Danaher, Smith, Telang, and Chen, The Effect of Graduated Response Anti-Piracy Laws on Music Sales: Evidence from an Event Study in France, Journal of Industrial Economics (forthcoming). []
  4. Liang & Adermon, Piracy, Music, and Movies: A Natural Experiment, Working Paper, Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden (2011). []

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The line between permissible copying and infringement — appropriation and misappropriation — is a difficult one to draw.

In part, this is because the statutes governing copyright offer relatively little guidance on the issue. In the US, 17 USC §106 provides that “the owner of copyright… has the exclusive right[]… to reproduce the copyrighted work in copies…”, while §501 states that “Anyone who violates any of the exclusive rights of the copyright owner… is an infringer of the copyright.” That’s it.

The difficult, and sometimes metaphysical, job of exactly defining reproduction and applying it to specific cases has been left to courts.

At the outset, it’s worth noting two very general points about reproduction. First, the definition is not limited to the copying of an entire work. “The entirety of the copyright is the property of the author; and it is no defence, that another person has appropriated a part, and not the whole, of any property.”

In some cases, a considerable portion of the materials of the original work may be fused, if I may use such an expression, into another work, so as to be undistinguishable in the mass of the latter, which has other professed and obvious objects, and cannot fairly be treated as a piracy; or they may be inserted as a sort of distinct and mosaic work, into the general texture of the second work, and constitute the particular excellence thereof, and then it may be a clear piracy.1

Second, the definition is not limited to literal copying. Infringement may occur through the copying of non-verbatim expression. This principle was explained most notably by Judge Learned Hand in the 1930 case Nichols v Universal Pictures:

It is of course essential to any protection of literary property, whether at common-law or under the statute, that the right cannot be limited literally to the text, else a plagiarist would escape by immaterial variations. That has never been the law, but, as soon as literal appropriation ceases to be the test, the whole matter is necessarily at large, so that, as was recently well said by a distinguished judge, the decisions cannot help much in a new case. When plays are concerned, the plagiarist may excise a separate scene; or he may appropriate part of the dialogue. Then the question is whether the part so taken is “substantial,” and therefore not a “fair use” of the copyrighted work; it is the same question as arises in the case of any other copyrighted work. But when the plagiarist does not take out a block in situ, but an abstract of the whole, decision is more troublesome. Upon any work, and especially upon a play, a great number of patterns of increasing generality will fit equally well, as more and more of the incident is left out. The last may perhaps be no more than the most general statement of what the play is about, and at times might consist only of its title; but there is a point in this series of abstractions where they are no longer protected, since otherwise the playwright could prevent the use of his “ideas,” to which, apart from their expression, his property is never extended.2

Simple in theory, but, as Hand points out, “troublesome” in practice.

Harney v Sony Pictures

A recent First Circuit Court decision touches on these complex issues, with the added challenge of “newsworthy” subject matter. That decision is Harney v Sony Pictures Television, released January 7th, 2013.

Donald Harney is a freelance photographer. In April 2007, Harney snapped a photo of a happy father and daughter, her sitting on his shoulders, emerging from a church service in Boston. The photo would achieve iconic status after the father abducted the daughter in 2008 during a parental custody dispute. Adding to the drama, it was soon learned that the father, Christian Karl Gerhartsreiter, was a serial imposter, passing himself off at various times as a member of the Rockefeller family, a descendant of British royalty, a Wall Street investment advisor, and a rocket scientist. In addition, Gerhartsreiter was wanted for questioning in a twenty year old homicide case in California.3 A portion of Harney’s photo was used by the FBI to create a wanted poster, which Harney did not object to, and Harney licensed the photo to various media outlets as public interest in the case grew.

In 2010, Sony Pictures released a made-for-television docudrama about the Gerhartsreiter saga. Harney’s photo was “recreated”, using the film’s actors, and appeared at several points during the film. Harney sued Sony Pictures for copyright infringement. Sony moved for summary judgment, arguing that the image in the film was not substantially similar to Harney’s photo, or, in the alternative, that it was a fair use of the photo. In May 2011, the District Court granted Sony’s motion, concluding that Sony’s image copied only the “factual content” and not the “expressive elements” of Harney’s photo (and since the court held there was no infringement, it did not need to address whether there was fair use).

Harney appealed, but the First Circuit affirmed the district court’s decision.

The First Circuit’s decision

The Circuit Court began by noting the elements a plaintiff in a copyright infringement suit must establish: ownership of a valid copyright and illicit copying. However, as the Court stated, not all copying is illicit; the copying must be “sufficiently extensive” to make the two works substantially similar. At the same time, said the court, “it is permissible to mimic the non-copyrightable elements of a copyrighted work” — a principle commonly described as the idea/expression distinction.

So the analysis of illicit copying in cases like this involve two levels of scrutiny: first, the factfinder must separate the “original expressive elements” of a work from its unprotected content, and second, the two works are “compared holistically”, but only as to the protected elements of the original. Each Circuit Court has evolved slightly different approaches to substantial similarity; in the First Circuit, the test is whether “the ordinary observer, unless he set out to detect the disparities [between the two works], would be disposed to overlook them, and regard their aesthetic appeal as the same.”

Finally, the court pointed out the challenges of such an analysis with news photography. Artists have no right to the “reality” of their subject matter, said the First Circuit, but reality is the “news photographer’s stock-in-trade.” While copyright protects the creative choices of such photographers, it does not extend to the subject matter of which a photographer is uninvolved in — the court likens this subject matter to unprotected facts or ideas.

The court then applied these rules to the facts of the case. It first concluded that Harney’s photo consisted largely of factual subject matter, rejecting the photographer’s claim that this dissection of the photo’s protectable elements would result in “throwing out the work’s expressive content with the bathwater of `independently existing facts.’” The court replied that such an approach would not only run against existing precedent, but also “enlarge the scope of his copyright protection by attributing to the [p]hoto an idea” that did not originate with Harney — the idea of Gerhartsreiter’s deception that emerged after the photo was taken. As the court states:

While Harney should benefit from the added interest in his photograph, as he did through the payments from Vanity Fair and other publications, such newfound interest does not change the originality vel non of the individual components of the work. It does not, in other words, change Harney’s creative contributions to the Photo. Moreover, recalibrating a work’s originality based on a new idea of what it expresses would undermine the distinction that remains between ideas and expression in visual works. In short, we do not see how subsequent events can fortuitously transform unoriginal elements of a visual work into protectible subject matter.

(In a footnote, the court points out that “originality in timing” can sometimes be protected by copyright, citing the famous photo of a sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square on VJ day — however, “[t]his case does not involve a unique or unusual moment fortuitously captured by a photographer.”)

In the end, the court held that the “piggyback pose” of the father and daughter, their clothing, the items they held, and the church in the background were all unprotected elements of the photo. That left the framing, tones, and composition of the image as protected expressive elements. After the court struck the pose, the analysis is all but over, since that element dominates both the original photo and Sony’s image. The court found that other than the pose of the father and daughter, there were few similarities between the two photos as far as framing, tones, and composition. Thus, since Sony had only copied the unprotected elements of Harney’s photo, there was no infringement, and the district court’s grant of summary judgment was affirmed by the First Circuit.

The decision does not break too much new legal ground. But it does, no doubt, involve a set of facts that should spark the interest of copyright buffs, and the First Circuit’s opinion is fairly clear and straightforward. (For an opposing view, see the 1709 Blog’s Originality in photographs: follow-up to Harney v Sony decision, with comments by Donald Harney himself.)

Footnotes

  1. Folsom v Marsh, 9 F.Cas. 342 (D. Mass. 1841). []
  2. 45 F.2d 119, 121 (2nd. Cir.). []
  3. Gerhartsreiter has since been charged with the murder, and a trial is set for March 11th. []

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December 17, 2012 · · Comments Off

The Creative Commons organization is celebrating its 10th anniversary this week.

Founded in late 2001 by Lawrence Lessig, Hal Abelson, and Eric Eldred (of Eldred v Ashcroft fame), the organization sought a techno-utopian “legal insurrection” that would “provide an alternative to traditional copyrights by establishing a useful middle ground between full copyright control and the unprotected public domain. Today, the organization struggles for relevance as interest in the principles it embraces continue to decline.1

Perhaps the most visible output of the Creative Commons organization are its various licenses. These licenses are drafted by, but not administered by, the Creative Commons organization. All the licenses require attribution, or credit, of the original author by licensees. The six licenses offer some combination of whether or not the creator allows commercial usage of her works, derivative uses, and a “share alike” provision (where downstream uses must be licensed under the same terms as the original license). Creative Commons also provides marks to indicate that a creator waives all rights to her work, or that a work is in the public domain.

The Creative Commons licenses are just one of many public copyright licenses. Such licenses owe their origins to, and are most often used for, free and open source software. Though there are distinctions between “free”, “open source” and “public”, it is likely that the majority of such licenses are public.2 The distinctive feature of public copyright licenses — what sets them apart from negotiated or private licenses — is that permission to use the work under the terms of the license is given a priori to anyone in the public. In this fashion, public copyright licenses are similar to “clickwrap” or “browsewrap” license agreements.

But the organization, which has raised around $30 million over the past decade,3 does more than just draft these licenses. Creative Commons is involved with a number of initiatives to provide greater public access to scientific research, educational tools, and government data.

But today I want to focus on the licenses and how they have been handled in courts.

Creative Commons in Courts

The Creative Commons wiki includes a page devoted to case law from all over the world involving Creative Commons licenses. Several of these cases only involved Creative Commons licenses collaterally.4 One would note the small number of cases across the globe in the past 10 years. The dearth of litigation over Creative Commons licenses should not be surprising, as their very nature suggests that the majority of licensors are uninterested in pursuing legal remedies for uses of their works.

Commentary on cases involving Creative Commons licenses seem to indicate a concern over whether courts would have trouble enforcing the terms of the licenses, but as the cases below indicate, courts have had no such trouble, treating the licenses the same as any other copyright license.

Curry v. Audax — In one of the first cases confronting the enforceability of a Creative Commons license, a Dutch court enjoined a tabloid in 2006 from future reproduction of photos taken by Adam Curry, a former MTV VJ, which had been uploaded to his Flickr account. The BY-NC-SA license was accepted as valid by the court without discussion, and despite the tabloid’s argument that it was misled by the notice “This photo is public” accompanying the images. However, the court denied monetary damages to Curry. It found that the tabloid had failed to disclose a copy of the Creative Commons license with the photo, but since it had included a traditional copyright notice (“Photos © Adam Curry”), there was no evidence of harm arising from the failure of disclosure. The court also did not find harm arising from the commercial use of the photos in part because the photos are freely available online.

Jacobsen v. Katzer — Though this 2008 US case did not involve a Creative Commons license — it instead dealt with the free and open source Artistic License — the Federal Circuit’s decision is likely applicable to Creative Commons licenses. Indeed, the court referred to CC licenses at several points in its opinion. What’s notable about this decision is that it is one of the few court decisions involving public licenses that includes substantive discussion of their enforceability. Here, Jacobsen had written software that allowed model train enthusiasts to control their trains via computer and released the software under the Artistic License. Katzer was alleged to have copied portions of this software for his own non-free software program in violation of the terms of the License. Jacobsen moved for a preliminary injunction against Katzer, which was denied by the District Court after it held the violation was a breach of contract rather than copyright infringement, which creates no presumption of the irreparable harm necessary for a a preliminary injunction. The Federal Circuit reversed the District Court’s ruling, finding that violating the terms of the Artistic License was copyright infringement, not breach of contract. Broadly speaking, this holding is better for creators, as the remedies for copyright infringement better align with their goals.

Chang v. Virgin Mobile — The black eye of the Creative Commons organization, this litigation began when mobile phone company Virgin Australia used a photograph taken from Flickr in an advertising campaign. The photo was of a minor girl and uploaded by her church counselor, who published it under a CC BY license. Creative Commons itself was named in the complaint for negligence regarding its license, but they were voluntarily dismissed from the action. The District Court ultimately dismissed the suit for lack of personal jurisdiction. Nevertheless, the suit raises significant questions. Chang alleged invasion of privacy alongside copyright infringement; had the suit gone forward, Virgin may have faced liability under this cause of action even if it had complied with the CC license. I say “black eye” because this case highlights the ease one may find one’s works being used contrary to one’s wishes under a CC license. In addition, it showcases the pitfalls of the license, namely, the absence of any help from the Creative Commons organization and the lack of a forum selection clause.

Gerlach vs. DVU — A German court granted a preliminary injunction in October 2010 against a “German far-right” political party for copyright infringement.5 The copyright owner had uploaded a photo to Wikipedia under a CC BY-SA license. The political party copied the photo onto its own website but did not include attribution or a copy or link to the license deed. The court accepted the enforceability of the Creative Commons license without comment. The Creative Commons wiki notes that presumably, had the political party complied with the license terms, the use would have been legal.

Lichôdmapwa v. L’asbl Festival de Theatre de Spa — In October 2010, a Belgian court held a theater company liable for infringing the copyright of a musical work licensed under Creative Commons. As in the above case, the Judge upheld the validity of the CC BY-NC-ND license without discussion, noting only that Dutch, Spanish and American courts have upheld their validity. It found that the theater had violated three of the license’s terms: the use was commercial since the company used the work in an advertisement, the company had modified the work contrary to the prohibition on derivative works, and the company had failed to provide attribution.

Avi Re’uveni v. Mapa inc. — An Israeli court, in 2011, found a book publisher liable for copyright infringement of photographs uploaded to Flickr and released under a CC BY-NC-ND license. However, it appears (I’m unable to locate an English version of the opinion) that there was no discussion of the license’s text; according to one report, the court concluded “It was simply an infringement of copyright. Period.” What’s more, the court noted that failure to attribute was a violation of moral rights, making any fair use defense inapplicable.

No. 71036 N. v. Newspaper — This little discussed case originates from a Rabbinical court in Israel in 2011. I’m not familiar with Rabbinical law, and no English translation of the court decision seems to be available, so I’m relying solely on the Creative Commons wiki for the facts. The dispute here was between a photographer who had posted photos online under a CC BY-SA license and a newspaper which had reprinted them without attribution. The court treated the CC license as any other copyright agreement and found that the newspaper was liable because of a religious/moral obligation to adhere to the license’s terms and the copyright laws of Israel.

Using Creative Commons licenses

Should creators use Creative Commons licenses? The idea behind the licenses is a good one: copyright gives creators the choice of how and when to exploit the products of their labor. But unfortunately, despite the ease in using the licenses — or perhaps because of this ease — creators and users should take note of some concerns raised about them that urge caution.

Noted copyright scholar Jane Ginsburg raises some of these concerns in her 2009 article Public Licenses: The Gift That Keeps on Giving. In 2007, ASCAP addressed some of the defects in the licenses in its article 10 Things Every Music Creator Should Know About Creative Commons Licensing. Others who have examined these licenses include the Copyright Alliance in What is a Creative Commons License? and attorney Chris Castle, who has written on specific concerns for musicians and co-writers.

Chief among the concerns raised in these articles is the fact that Creative Commons licenses are irrevocable, that the licenses allowing derivative works remove the ability of copyright owners to prevent objectionable derivative works (for example, modification of works by political parties or interest groups that a creator disagrees with), and the fact that the Creative Commons organization merely provides licenses and does not help in any way with enforcement or administration of the licenses. Other licensing entities and collecting societies do indeed monitor uses of specific licenses they administer to ensure compliance and administer royalties.

There are concerns for users of Creative Commons licenses as well. As noted above, the licenses have a number of terms, like the requirement that the license language itself is copied or linked to, that many currently do not comply with. And several of the cases dealing with CC licenses have involved situations where these conditions have not been met. Second, the onus is on the user to ensure that the work is indeed licenseable. Though the terms of the CC licenses include a warranty that the licensor is authorized to release the work under the license, the organization itself does not verify this. There is nothing stopping someone from slapping a CC license on a work without authority, or ensuring that any underlying works can be licensed in such a manner. Finally, a CC license only covers copyright. Works may require other permissions — for example, photographs or videos that include people may implicate rights of publicity or privacy that are not covered by the license.

In the end, creators should approach Creative Commons licenses with the same amount of diligence as any other deal offered to them. Whether or not the license is appropriate is a decision for the individual creator.

Footnotes

  1. See, for example, Anil Dash, The Web We Lost (Dec. 13, 2012); Brian Proffitt, GPL, copyleft use declining faster than ever, ITWorld (Dec. 16, 2011). []
  2. See Jordan Hatcher, Open Licenses vs Public Licenses, Open Knowledge Foundation Blog (Oct. 15, 2010), “I haven’t done a full survey, but the majority of open licenses (in terms of popularity) probably also fit the definition of public licenses”. []
  3. Tax returns from 2002-2010 show total contributions and grants of $25,994,142. Though I was unable to find more recent returns, adding the average yearly contributions and grants for two years to this total would put the estimated total through 2012 at $31,770,618. []
  4. These include SGAE v. Luis and SGAE v. Fernandez. []
  5. See German court enforces Creative Commons license for more background. []

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The House Judiciary Committee will be holding a hearing on music licensing today at 11:30EST. The hearing, which will be streamed live online, looks to focus on recent proposed legislation that concerns internet radio royalties. Representatives from Pandora, the National Association of Broadcasters, SoundExchange, and the Recording Academy will be testifying, as well as economist Dr. Jeffrey A. Eisenach and venture capitalist David B. Pakman.

In anticipation of the hearing, I thought it would be helpful to provide a brief history of internet royalty rates. It’s not the most exciting topic, but it’s also difficult to find a singular, satisfactory source on the subject. For this article, I’m going to focus primarily on “webcasting”, or internet radio services like Pandora.

The Digital Performance Right for Sound Recordings

Musical compositions — songs — and sound recordings are each is separately protected by copyright. Copyright protection for songs came first, implicitly under the original Copyright Act of 1790 and explicitly under the Copyright Act of 1831. This copyright was limited to reproduction of the works until 1897, when Congress added the right to publicly perform musical compositions.

Recorded sound, of course, only appeared toward the end of the 19th century, and it wasn’t until 1972 that the US Congress granted separate federal copyright protection to sound recordings. But this protection excluded the right to publicly perform sound recordings. So while copyright owners of songs were paid anytime a venue or radio station performed their work, the same was not true for sound recording owners.

This changed somewhat in 1995, when Congress passed Digital Performance Right in Sound Recordings Act (DPRA). Though it didn’t give sound recording owners a full public performance right, it did give them the exclusive right “to perform the copyrighted work publicly by means of a digital audio transmission.”1

This right was modified in two major ways. First the right did not extend to “eligible non-subscription transmissions”, which primarily meant retransmission of AM/FM radio broadcasts over the internet. Second was a compulsory blanket license for “noninteractive subscription transmissions.” Any service under this definition could, so long as it complied with the license terms, play any sound recording without needing permission from the copyright owner at a royalty rate set by the Copyright Arbitration Royalty Panel (CARP), an ad hoc body that set rates for the various compulsory licenses under the Copyright Act. The Act provided, however, that CARP would only step in if copyright owners and noninteractive subscription services failed to reach voluntary agreement over rates under the compulsory license. When this occurred, CARP was directed to set a rate using the standard set in § 801(b)(1) of the Copyright Act, subject to revisions by the Librarian of Congress.

Any other type of transmission under DPRA required direct licensing from sound recording owners, which led to the first dispute. Non-subscription webcasters — webcasters who relied on advertising or other forms of revenue — disagreed with the recording industry over whether they were exempt from DPRA.2 This led to Congress revisiting the digital performance right in the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) a few years later (the same Act that created safe harbors for online intermediaries, among other things).

The DMCA affected digital performances in a number of ways. First, it added “eligible non-subscription services” to the types of webcasters who qualified for the compulsory license (interactive services still needed to privately negotiate for performance rights). Second, it altered the standard the CARP must apply when determining royalty rates for these compulsory licenses — instead of the §802(b)(1) standard, CARP would “establish rates and terms that most clearly represent the rates and terms that would have been negotiated in the marketplace between a willing buyer and a willing seller” (the “willing buyer/willing seller” standard). However, it “grandfathered” the existing §802(b)(1) standard for “preexisting subscription services” and preexisting satellite radio services — at the time, these consisted solely of five services: DMX, Music Choice, Muzak, Sirius, and XM (since then, the last two have merged to form Sirius XM Radio).

One quick note: the DMCA also expanded the term “interactive service” to include services “that are specially created for a particular individual.”3 In 2001, a group of record labels then under the umbrella of BMG sued internet radio provider Launch Media for copyright infringement, alleging that its service, which, like Pandora, allows listeners to create “custom” radio stations based on genre or artist, was required to obtain direct licenses from BMG because it was an “interactive service” under the DMCA.4 The 2nd Circuit disagreed with the labels, holding that Launch Media was not an “interactive service” under the definition of the statute.

Since then, webcasting has been the subject of three rate proceedings, each involving issues that have spilled over into Congress and the courts.

Webcaster I

The Copyright Office announced in November 1998 the beginning of the voluntary negotiation period for the first round of licensing, which would cover through the end of 2000.5 No private agreement was reached, so a CARP proceeding was commenced, and, because of procedural delays, was consolidated with a proceeding on licensing for the next period, through 2002.

The CARP reached its determination on royalty rates February 2002 (informally referred to as “Webcaster I”), which was revised and published by the Librarian of Congress on July 8, 2002.6 Among its determinations, the LOC accepted the Panel’s rejection of a “percentage of revenue” rate in favor of a “per performance” rate. It noted:

A key reason for rejecting the percentage-of-revenue approach was the Panel’s determination that a per performance fee is directly tied to the right being licensed. The Panel also found that it was difficult to establish the proper percentage because business models varied widely in the industry, such that some services made extensive music offerings while others made minimal use of the sound recordings. The final reason and perhaps the most critical one for rejecting this model was the fact that many webcasters generate little revenue under their current business models. As the Panel noted, copyright owners should not be ‘‘forced to allow extensive use of their property with little or no compensation.’’7

The LOC adopted the Panel’s tiered rate structure for different classes of licensees. Webcasters and commercial broadcasters would pay $0.0007 per performance, non-commercial broadcasters $0.0002. The LOC also designated SoundExchange, a non-profit organization established by the RIAA in 2000 and later spun-off as an independent entity in 2003, as a Designated Agent for collecting and distributing royalties under the compulsory license.8

Smaller commercial and noncommercial webcasters immediately protested the LOC’s final determination, and Congress acted quickly in response, introducing the Small Webcaster Settlement Act of 2002 (SWSA) less than 20 days after the determination and passing the bill in December. SWSA provided a grace period for small webcasters for paying royalties and encouraged SoundExchange to engage in negotiations for alternative rates with these webcasters. Such agreements were reached — one for small commercial webcasters that same December and one with noncommercial webcasters the following June. Under these agreements, “small” webcasters (defined by annual revenues) would pay a graduated “percentage of revenue” rate while noncommercial webcasters would pay a flat annual fee, plus a $0.0002 per performance rate on any performances that exceeded a monthly “Aggregate Tuning Hours” cap.

These agreements would remain in effect through 2004, extended through 2005 by The Copyright Royalty and Distribution Reform Act of 2004.

Through this Act, Congress also replaced the ad hoc Copyright Arbitration Royalty Panel with the current system of three standing Copyright Royalty Judges. Judges were to be appointed by the Librarian of Congress and serve staggered six year terms. The Act established qualifications for the Judges. “Each judge must be an attorney with at least seven years of legal experience. The Chief Copyright Royalty Judge must have at least five years experience in administrative hearings or court trials and may hire 3 full-time staff members. Of the other two CRJs, one must have expertise in the area of copyright law and the other economics.”9

The Act also removed the Librarian of Congress from any role in revising final determinations by Copyright Royalty Judges — determinations were directly appealable to the DC Circuit Court.

Webcaster II

The first rate determination proceeding for digital performances conducted by the new Copyright Royalty Board (CRB) concerned license rates for 2006-2010, but despite the changes Congress had made, this proceeding (“Webcaster II”) played out in much the same way as Webcaster I. Notice announcing commencement of the proceedings was published by the CRB February 2006. The Board announced its final determination on March 2007.10 Again, the CRB rejected a percentage of royalty rate for a per performance rate.11

The CRB set rates for commercial webcasters at “per play” rates of $0.0008 for 2006, $0.0011 for 2007, $0.0014 for 2008, $0.0018 for 2009 and $0.0019 for 2010. Non-commercial webcasters would pay an annual $500 flat rate for performances under the same “Aggregated Tuning Hours” cap as was set by the SWSA, with performances above the cap assessed at the same rates as commercial webcasters.

Several webcasters again raised objections to the rate determinations in Webcaster II. A petition for rehearing was filed but denied by the CRB, and appeals were filed by several parties for review in the DC Circuit Court. In a 2009 opinion, the DC Circuit affirmed nearly all of the CRB’s determination.12

And as in Webcaster I, webcasters turned to Congress, which responded with the Webcaster Settlement Act of 2008.13 The Act was essentially a rewrite of the Small Webcaster Settlement Act of 2002 and encouraged the private negotiation of alternative licensing rates. The timeframe for these negotiations was extended by Congress the following year through the Webcaster Settlement Act of 2009.14

Following these Settlement Acts, settlements with webcasters in a wide variety of segments of the webcasting market were reached — eight total agreements resulting in around a dozen different royalty schedules.15 The “Pureplay” agreement, for example, which Pandora operates under, set a per play rate lower than the one set by the CRB or 25% of gross revenues, whichever is greater. In nearly all cases, these agreements set royalty rates through 2015.

Webcaster III

While these agreements covered nearly 95% of all digital performances administered by SoundExchange, the Copyright Royalty Board was still required to conduct proceedings for rates for 2011-2015 for those webcasters who did not elect any of the settlements — Intercollegiate Broadcasting System and Live365 being the only two — or webcasters that weren’t in existence at the time. These proceedings began January 9, 2009 and concluded with a final determination only three months later, dubbed “Webcaster III.” The CRB largely applied the royalty schedules from the recent settlements across the board.

The CRB rejected, however, Intercollegiate’s proposal for different rate structures for “small” and “very small” noncommercial webcasters. Intercollegiate appealed the CRB’s determination to the DC Circuit and also raised a collateral attack on the constitutionality of the appointment of the Copyright Royalty Judges. Just this past July, the DC court held (wrongly, in my opinion) that the appointment of Copyright Royalty Judges violated the Appointments Clause.16 It remedied the infirmity by striking statutory language that limited the ability of the Librarian of Congress to remove Judges and vacated Webcaster III. The existing settlement agreements were unaffected by this decision.

Webcaster IV?

Current rates for webcasters under the compulsory license are set to expire in 2015. The hearings today will perhaps offer one of the earliest glimpses at some of the issues we can expect during the CRB’s next rate proceeding.

At center stage is the recently introduced Internet Radio Fairness Act (H.R. 6480). The primary effect of the bill, supported most publicly by Pandora, would be to change the standard used by the Copyright Royalty Judges from the current “willing buyer/willing seller” standard to the §801(b) standard used for satellite radio and pre-existing subscription services. The bill would also implement a host of procedural changes to CRB proceedings, discussion of which would make this post longer than it already is.

Discussion of a competing bill circulated last August by Rep. Nadler, the Interim FIRST Act, may also come up. That bill would instead subject all digital performance rate proceedings to the “willing buyer/willing seller” standard.

The Competing Standards

Before wrapping up, I thought it would be worthwhile to take a closer look at the two standards that have been discussed above.

§ 801(b)(1) was created as part of the Copyright Act of 1976. Draft bills establishing the agency to administer the new statutory licenses created by the Act originally provided only that the rates be “reasonable.”17 Some concerns were raised about the constitutionality of delegating rate-setting authority under such a vague standard. In response, Congress added four factors to guide the setting of rates. Prior to the DPRA, the Copyright Royalty Tribunal — the precursor to the CARP — had only applied this standard in two other proceedings: the 1980 Jukebox License Proceeding and the 1981 Mechanical License Proceeding.

The standard requires that royalty rates be set in order—

(A) To maximize the availability of creative works to the public.

(B) To afford the copyright owner a fair return for his or her creative work and the copyright user a fair income under existing economic conditions.

(C) To reflect the relative roles of the copyright owner and the copyright user in the product made available to the public with respect to relative creative contribution, technological contribution, capital investment, cost, risk, and contribution to the opening of new markets for creative expression and media for their communication.

(D) To minimize any disruptive impact on the structure of the industries involved and on generally prevailing industry practices.

The “willing buyer/willing seller” standard, found in 17 USC § 114(f)(2)(B), requires the Copyright Royalty Board to set a rate—

that most clearly represent the rates and terms that would have been negotiated in the marketplace between a willing buyer and a willing seller. In determining such rates and terms, the Copyright Royalty Judges shall base their decision on economic, competitive and programming information presented by the parties, including—

(i) whether use of the service may substitute for or may promote the sales of phonorecords or otherwise may interfere with or may enhance the sound recording copyright owner’s other streams of revenue from its sound recordings; and

(ii) the relative roles of the copyright owner and the transmitting entity in the copyrighted work and the service made available to the public with respect to relative creative contribution, technological contribution, capital investment, cost, and risk.

The two standards are essentially the same, save for the fourth factor of the § 801(b) standard. Very broadly speaking, copyright owners tend to favor the “willing buyer/willing seller” standard while services using copyrighted works tend to favor the § 801(b) standard. And while I’ve detailed above lengthy proceedings over the past decade regarding royalty rates for webcasters, that is not necessarily a result of the standard used — keep in mind that these proceedings involved thousands of separate webcasters while only a small handful of services continue to operate under the § 801(b) standard. So it is no surprise that there has been more disagreement during proceedings that affect the vast majority of digital music services.

Footnotes

  1. 17 USC § 106(6). []
  2. In the matter of rate setting for digital performance right in sound recordings and ephemeral recordings, Report of the Copyright Arbitration Royalty Panel, No. 2000-9, 8 (2002). []
  3. H.R.Rep. No. 105-796, at 87 (1998) (Conf.Rep.). []
  4. Arista Records v Launch Media, 578 F.3d 148 (2nd Cir. 2009). []
  5. 67 FR 45239. []
  6. Id. []
  7. Id. at 45249. []
  8. Id. at 45267. []
  9. Robin Jeweler, CRS Report Report for Congress, The Copyright Royalty and Distribution Reform Act of 2004, Order code RS21512 (2004). []
  10. 72 FR 24084. []
  11. In doing so, the CRB stated in a footnote:

    It must be emphasized that, in reaching a determination, the Copyright Royalty Judges cannot guarantee a profitable business to every market entrant. Indeed, the normal free market processes typically weed out those entities that have poor business models or are inefficient. To allow inefficient market participants to continue to use as much music as they want and for as long a time period as they want without compensating copyright owners on the same basis as more efficient market participants trivializes the property rights of copyright owners. Furthermore, it would involve the Copyright Royalty Judges in making a policy decision rather than applying the willing buyer/willing seller standard of the Copyright Act. []

  12. Intercollegiate Broadcasting System v Copyright Royalty Board, 574 F.3d 748. The exception was the court’s remand of the CRB’s omission of a cap on minimum fees for commercial webcasters. []
  13. Pub. L. No. 110-435, 122 Stat. 4974. []
  14. Pub.L. 111−36, 123 Stat. 1926. []
  15. See Notification of Agreements Under the Webcaster Settlement Act of 2008, 74 FR 9293 (March 3, 2009), Notification of Agreements Under the Webcaster Settlement Act of 2009, 74 FR 34796 (July 17, 2009), Notification of Agreements Under the Webcaster Settlement Act of 2009, 74 FR 40614 (August 12, 2009. []
  16. Intercollegiate Broadcasting v Copyright Royalty Board, 684 F.3d 1332 (DC Cir. 2012). []
  17. 73 FR 4080. []

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