American Creators and Creative Industries Are Inherently Innovative.
At its core, Copyright Wars seems to be a request for
a regulatory exemption or waiver. Ordinarily, we usually avoid refereeing
disputes between content creators as innovative as recording artists and
content distributors as innovative as Apple or Amazon. Instead, we grant
content creators exclusive rights in their content; we grant content
distributors exclusive rights to their distribution devices and systems; and we
grant potential content recipients exclusive rights in their money. We then
let those parties decide whether, or on what terms, an exchange would leave
them all better off. But Copyright Wars argues that the "copyright
wars" are the rare case in which this exclusive-rights-for-all approach has
failed because the equities of the disputes at issue weigh almost entirely in
favor of the content distributors.
This exemption/waiver request forms the central thesis of Copyright
Wars: The book argues, (correctly) that Schumpeterian competition,
(competition by innovation), is the lifeblood of a modern market economy. It
then argues that content distributors are inherently innovative and honest, (e.g.,
p. 177), but content creators are "inherently non-innovative," and thus
experience "a great sense of insecurity" that drives them to concoct moral
panics about "conjured up enemies" that demonize the real innovators (the
distributors). Therefore, to promote innovation, Copyright Wars urges
that the exclusive rights of content creators must be "taken away," (p. 199), or
greatly curtailed unless their "business models are tailored to the Internet,"
(p. 189).
But the validity of this central thesis of Copyright Wars
rests upon its oft-stated premise that content creators and industries are
"inherently non-innovative and... rely on the innovation of others to succeed." If
that premise is false--if both content creators and content distributors tend to
be really innovative, then Copyright Wars has failed to show why we
should restrain the creators.
And that premise is dumbfoundingly
false. In my first post, I noted the sheer inanity of the following claim from
Copyright Wars, (p.198):
The Copyright Wars must be
understood as archetypical responses of businesses that are inherently
non-innovative.... I cannot think of a single significant innovation in either
the creation or distribution of works of authorship that owes its origins to
the copyright industries. Being forced to rely on others' innovation creates a
great sense of insecurity that is reflected in efforts to control innovators
and consumers.
Nor
was this a one-time misstatement. Here is another example, (p. 21-22):
[T]he copyright industries fail to innovate but are saved by
others who do. Those others are consumer electronics manufacturers and Silicon
Valley.... It is the innovation of these others that creates the demand for
copyright owners' works.... [T]he copyright industries proverbially resent the
success of innovators and claim that the innovators' success is caused solely
by the value provided by the copyright industries. The innovator is described
metaphorically as a parasite, fattening itself off of copyright owners.
Working themselves up into righteous indignation, copyright owners then insist
that the innovator disgorge a healthy share of its profits to them, even though
if the copyright industries were left to their own devices, they would have
starved to death decades ago.
The
preceding point is then repeated, almost verbatim on p. 156, which then
concludes, "After such economic castration, innovations are no longer regarded
as a threat but rather as one more dependable source of income feeding the
beast." Consequently, in Copyright Wars, Mr. Patry--the self-described "most
prolific scholar of copyright in history"--concluded that a case has been made "for
regarding the entirely of copyright as a form of welfare for authors," (p.
174).
Similar,
but less developed, claims riddle Copyright Wars (see pp. xx, 36,
39, 47, 121, 133, 172, 174, 175, 177, 178). Collectively, these claims seem unprecedented:
I have read almost every "skeptical" book about copyrights published since
Lessig's Code in 1999. But I recall no other author who declared the
world's most successful creators and exporters of expressive works "inherently
non-innovative."
I will
thus focus on Mr. Patry's "inherently non-innovative"/no-significant-innovation
claim because its length and placement ensure that it cannot be credibly defended
with cries about vicious abstraction. Here are its critical assertions:
"[Copyright industries]... are inherently non-innovative.... I cannot think of a
single significant innovation in either the creation or distribution of works
of authorship that owes its origins to the copyright industries."
This indictment of content creators
begins with a fallacy called "poisoning the well"--it compares
the relative "innovativeness" of content creators and content distributors in a
way that conveniently deprives the creators of any credit for their most
important achievements. Copyright Wars presumes that the only
"significant" innovations are those that relate to the "creation" or the
"distribution" of works--the works themselves do not count.
That is sophistry. Schumpeterian
competition-by-innovation can occur in any market for goods, services, or
expressive works, so long as entrepreneurial producers are making risky
investments to make their products, services, or works different from--better
than--those of other competing producers. Indeed, this is how producers of
expressive works compete against each other. Nothing but raw fallacy powers a
claim that only devices and switches can be innovative--not books, films, games,
software, or music.
Such raw error suggests the
risk inherent in the poisoning-the-well fallacy: Unless executed discretely,
it backfires. For example, imagine what we would think of an author who
made the following claim:
If we ignore computers,
e-commerce, and electronic devices and focus on the production of animated films,
then Apple Computer is not an innovative company.
Even if this hypothetical
claim is true, the claim is still obviously misleading and inane. Here is less-hypothetical
version of the same claim:
If we ignore films, television
programming, and theme parks and focus on the production of smartphones, then Walt
Disney Studios is not an innovative company.
Sadly, multiple-industry-spanning,
more-extreme versions of the preceding claim are actually made, repeatedly, in Copyright
Wars.
Worse yet, the author of Copyright
Wars did not just pretend that significant innovation cannot be found in
the content of books, films, music, video games, sculptures, paintings,
and other works. As if alluding to the film Thelma
and Louise, he chose to "keep going"--off a cliff. He thus claimed that
no "significant innovation in... the creation of... works of authorship...
owes its origins to the copyright industries."
That claim is truly
ridiculous. For example, watch Tron,
one of the first feature films that made extensive use of computer-generated
images. Then watch a not-state-of-the-art-but-recent film that made extensive
use of computer-generated images, like The
Matrix or The
Two Towers. Even viewers as unsophisticated as me can detect "significant
innovation in... the creation of... works of authorship...."
Indeed, it makes no sense to imagine
that entities that specialize in creating particular expressive works have
achieved no "significant innovation in... the creation of" the works that they
specialize in creating. The pace of technological innovation in the creation
of works--particularly in photography, film, music and software--has been
astounding. No scholar who can compare Pacman to modern computer games should
be able to report that he "cannot think" of any significant innovations in the
creation of works of authorship attributable to the entertainment-software industry.
Moreover, even Mr. Patry's one potentially
plausible claim about copyright-industry non-innovation dissolves when
analyzed. He claimed, "I cannot think of a single significant innovation in...
the distribution of works of authorship that owes its origins to the
copyright industries." This claim seems less obviously wrong: Specialization
of labor is surely the most important positive externality in history, so
content industries that focus their innovative and entrepreneurial energies on creating
works could be less innovative when it comes to the distribution of
those works.
But as Copyright Wars
correctly notes, (p. 176), "Innovation is thus not the same as invention. The
Brookings Institute has properly defined innovation as 'putting new ideas into commercial
use.' Without a successful commercial application, an invention cannot realize
its potential." So defined, the music and movie industries, for example, are
due credit for "innovations" like the CD and the DVD: even if they did not
invent the recording mechanism or format, recorded music and films were the
commercial applications that enabled these optical disks not only to realize
their potential, but to expand it to become widely-used storage media for
computer files.
In conclusion, Copyright Wars claims that we should
narrow or eliminate the exclusive rights of content creators because these
"inherently non-innovative" dishonest parasites are obstructing inherently
innovative and honest content distributors. But that claim merely conjoins the
poisoning-the-well fallacy with repeated denials of reality. Consequently, Copyright
Wars' argument for curtailing the rights of content creators fails.
Certain basic realities must be acknowledged before reasoned
debate about copyrights and the Internet can begin. Copyright Wars denies
one of them: the remarkable creativity and innovation that have made American
creative artists and American creative industries world-leading producers of a
vast array of expressive works--from books and print journalism to movies,
music, and entertainment and application software.
Ensuring that these remarkable achievements continue is what
makes the often miserable task of defending copyrights on the Internet worthwhile.
But denying them is inexcusable: never, even during my own worst moments, have I
thought it necessary, fair--or rational--to deny either of two other equally basic
realities: (1) the remarkable creativity and innovation of American producers
of consumer electronics (like Intel, Apple, Micron, and Amazon); or (2) the
remarkable creativity and innovation of American providers of online services,
(like Verizon, Comcast, Google, Microsoft and Yahoo).
All of these persons and entities--from newly signed former
garage-bands in Maine or Florida to the largest West-Coast technology corporations--are
entrepreneurial innovators: They are all making risky long-term investments of money
and sweat, (and the dwindling asset of life itself), in the hope that they may
be rewarded IF their risky innovations DO enrich the lives of many others.
Consequently, Copyright Wars' attempted attacks on
copyrights often gore Silicon Valley more than Hollywood. Suppose we do regard
the exclusive rights provided by copyrights as "a form of welfare for
artists." That would then force us to regard patents, trademarks, mask works, and
trade secrets--which provide even more powerful exclusive rights--as "a form of
welfare for technologists." But that is ridiculous. The patents and
trademarks that differentiate the iPod and the iPhone do not make Steve Jobs
and Apple corporate welfare queens. Similarly, Google is creating application
software for the Internet and its open-source Android smartphone platform. The
copyrights that protect these interesting, risky innovations do not make their
owner some sort of TARP-fund recipient.
Worse yet, I have focused on the reality-denying treatment
that Copyright Wars accords to the critical question of content-industry
innovation because it relates directly to the book's central thesis. But the
fundamental problem revealed--denial of basic realities--recurs repeatedly in Copyright
Wars, and at least one of its manifestations implicates both fair advocacy
and public safety.
Reasonable Authors Should Not Deny the Existence of File-Sharing Pedophiles Just to Smear the Late Jack Valenti.
Sadly, there are people in this world worse than even megalomaniacal
"copyright dwarves"--like the pedophiles who regularly end or shatter young lives.
Consequently, the author who chooses to discuss child pornography or pedophiles
must do so responsibly, carefully, and seriously. Copyright Wars did
not--child pornography was lightly invoked as one more way to smear the late
Jack Valenti.
Among many other overlaps, Copyright Wars and Professor
Lessig's book Free Culture (2004) both personify their demonic foes in
the then-vilified person of the late Democrat, Mr. Jack Valenti, who served as
the President of the Motion Picture Industry Association, ("MPAA"), for 38
years until August of 2004. Free Culture branded him "the nation's
foremost extremist when it comes to the nature and scope of 'creative
property'" and warned that he "speaks for an industry that cares squat for our
tradition and the values it represents," (p. 118; see also pp.10-17, 76,
116-20, 140 205, 238). Copyright Wars branded him the "Master of
Moral Panics," and warned, "In the United States, the most colorful expositor
of moral panics and folk devils was Jack Valenti" (p. 139; see also pp.
xxi-xxii, 37, 52, 109-11, 130, 137, 139-158, 217 n.52).
To summarize two long, mostly redundant stories: during
his nearly 40 years guiding a creative industry through many high-profile
public debates, even Mr. Valenti sometimes made the sorts of rhetorical
overreaches that often occur during the rough-and-tumble of policy-making in a
federal democratic republic. Two examples would include analogizing VCRs to
the Boston Strangler and analogizing Internet copyright piracy to "our own
terrorist war."
Nevertheless, Free Culture's smear of a few
overreaches was effective enough to inspire young "copyfighters" to celebrate
the by-then-retired Mr. Valenti's death with charming posts like Ding
Dong the Lich Is Dead. Copyright Wars now repeats and expands upon
Lessig's Valenti-bashing in three ways.
First, Copyright Wars "conjured up"--from some real
cultural overreaches, some socio-babble about "folk devils," and a flood of
psycho-babble about how easily metaphors overwhelm (your) frail cognition--its
titular rhetorical device of "moral panics." This device then transforms, (pp.
136, 139), scattered overreaches into a calculated, forty-year plot to deceive,
destroy, and corrupt: "As metaphors, Mr. Valenti's moral panics provided the
means by which busy and sympathetic members of Congress could appear to be
engaged in sober reasoning" (p.139). Metaphor-drunk, panicked politicians
would then vent their ghoulish hatred of wealthy technology companies: "[P]olicy
makers have treated the consumer electronics and Internet industries much like
a vampire regards garlic" (p.172).
Second, Copyright Wars tried to recharacterize
Mr. Valenti's run-of-the-mill resort to the sort of economic nationalism
invoked in almost every policy debate as another mortal sin--it accused Mr.
Valenti of "Japan-bashing," "vulgar xenophobia," and of selecting "one of the
crudest tactics in the book of moral panics: jingoism, in the form of
Japan-bashing," (pp. 146, 148).
Third, Copyright Wars then resorted to a far cruder
tactic from the book of moral panics: Copyright Wars hissed that Mr.
Valenti was such a malign deceiver that he would even "conjure up" imaginary
file-sharing pedophiles in order to smear innocent innovators--like the
distributors of the Grokster and Morpheus file-sharing programs:
Later, in reaction to the advent of peer-to-peer networks,
Mr. Valenti sought to tie such networks to the dissemination of child
pornography, asserting that peer-to-peer file sharing made available "the most
throat-choking child porn" "on a scale so squalid it will shake the very core
of your being" (p. 137).
But here is the reality that Copyright Wars denied: This
child pornography was no "conjured up" "moral panic." Jack Valenti was right
about pedophiles using file-sharing networks. Indeed, their reality would become
worse than he could have imagined in 2003. Mr. Valenti made two claims: (1) file-sharing
networks were being used to disseminate child pornography of "throat-choking"
depravity, and (2) they were being so used on a vast scale.
As for the throat-choking depravity of the child pornography
on file-sharing networks, Mr. Valenti was right. For example, during a 2003 Senate
hearing, (p. 213), District Attorney Thomas Spota of Suffolk County, New
York, testified about his prosecution of eleven KaZaA users "sharing" child
pornography:
The images of child pornography available on peer-to-peer
networks are some of the worst seen by law-enforcement to date. Included in
the images seized by police in the cases being prosecuted by my office are
still photographs of very young children engaged in sexual acts with other
children and adults and video clips lasting several minutes of children being
subjected to unspeakable acts of sexual violence.... [I]n one case, a [toddler]
can be heard screaming, "No, daddy, stop, no daddy" in a futile effort to
prevent a rape...."
Similarly, in United States v. Park, 2008 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 19688 (D. Neb. March 13,
2008), the Court sentenced a defendant who used LimeWire to share over 600
images and videos of child pornography that "portrayed sadistic acts" involving
children--including a three-hour video that "depicted 'a female minor bound
with a rope and being choked with a belt by what appeared to be an adult
male.'"
Tragically, Mr. Valenti's point about "throat-choking
depravity" was all-too literally true. Nor are these examples isolated or rare.
See, e.g., United States v.
O'Rourke, 2006 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 1044 (D. Ariz. Jan. 12, 2006) (a LimeWire
user was held to be a "danger to the community" because he allegedly shared
many "extraordinarily abusive" images of "horrific child abuse" inflicted on "a
very young girl, with hands bound and mouth gagged"). Moreover, basic legal
research would have disclosed many such examples to anyone adopting "an evidence-based
approach to law," as Patry claims to do.
As for volume, Mr. Valenti was right again. In
2003, the Government Accounting Office studied child pornography on
file-sharing networks and concluded--in its study Child
Pornography Is Readily Accessible Over Peer-to-Peer Networks, (p. 27)--"we
found that child pornography, as well as other types of pornography, are widely
available and accessible through peer-to-peer networks." Before the Senate,
District Attorney Thomas Spota confirmed that conclusion in his testimony: "If
you search for songs by artists as popular as Brittany Spears, the Beatles, or
Pokemon, if you are looking for any song or any movie with the word ''young''
as part of its title, your search results will most certainly include child
pornography" (p. 213).
Nor has the problem abated. On April 10, 2008, in Officials
Find Child Pornography on 20,000 Va. Computers, The Washington Post
discussed a report prepared for Virginia by Special Agent Flint Waters, a
member of the federal Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force:
The
recorded numbers are just a small percentage of the traffic generated by child
pornography distributors, who use peer-to-peer file-sharing networks such as
Lime Wire to peddle often violent and hard-core movies and images, Waters said....
"Right
now, there is no way that law enforcement can keep up with all this activity,"
Waters said....
But no matter how bad the child-pornography problem on
file-sharing networks was in 2003, it would soon metastasize in ways that were then
unimaginable--but now all-too obvious to any 2009 author who "insisted on an
evidence-based approach to law."
In late 2003, public-interest groups, file-sharing program
distributors, and other Internet content distributors got the tragedy that they
had demanded: Copyright owners began enforcing their rights against individual
Internet users. These distributors theorized that suing consumers would deter
illegal uses of piracy-adapted file-sharing programs while preserving their
theoretical "capacity for substantial noninfringing use." But this was mere
theory--in reality, these systems were most useful for distributing only those
works that were widely shared because they had already been made popular by
other means.
And when users of these programs were actually sued, most
tried to stop sharing files--except for a few who seemed blissfully unaware that
they were sharing files at all. As predicted
by computer scientists, distributors of many popular file-sharing programs then
deployed "technological
features to induce users to share"--tricks long known
to dupe users into sharing thousands of personal files inadvertently, including
financial data, identifying data, entire collections of digital photos, and--of
course--their entire music collections. (Illustrations of some of these
features can be found here;
analysis of more recent iterations is here.)
Among many other frighteningly real consequences, (see,
e.g., here and here), the resulting
wave of inadvertent file-sharing gave child predators get-out-of-jail-soon cards
and new ways to target victims. If prosecutors find a pedophile who seems particularly
dangerous, they can secure an increased sentence by showing that he knowingly
distributed child pornography. Inadvertent sharing can preclude that showing.
For example, the defendant in United States v. Park was convicted for "sharing" over 600 images and
videos including three-hour video that "depicted 'a female minor bound
with a rope and being choked with a belt by what appeared to be an adult male.'"
But he secured a reduced sentence because he "lacked
an understanding of the software and thus ... the knowledge to distribute the
illegal wares that he possessed." As a result, developers of file-sharing
programs are not just writing code, they are testifying in child-pornography
prosecutions:
THE COURT: ... [D]oes your software make
it possible make it possible for people to accidentally share personal files or
sensitive data?
* * *
LIMEWIRE DEVELOPER. Yes.
Worse yet, the same
"features" that tended to trick children into sharing their family's entire
music collection--and its tax
returns with identity thieves--also tend to cause sharing of scanned
documents and family photo collections that disclose frightening amounts of
identifying data about children. Readers of Copyright Wars do not know
this. Testimony
from Tiversa, Inc., a data-security company that actually studies file-sharing
networks and assists law-enforcement agencies, reveals that pedophiles do:
[C]hild... predators are actively searching P2P networks for
personal photos of children and others that may be stored on private
computers.... [T]hese individuals will [then]... download all additional
information being shared from that computer.... This accompanying information
can be used by the predator to locate... the potential victim.
Meanwhile, Copyright Wars shrieks that pedophiles on
file-sharing networks are just some "moral panic" involving imaginary enemies
"conjured up" by that "Master of Moral Panics" Jack Valenti, and that
"[t]he problems in the Copyright Wars are not caused by technologies... acting
badly..." (p. 198).
Worst of all, to take Copyright Wars seriously, we
would have to conclude that its author did all this deliberately--that a
"scholar of copyright" intended to conceal data-mining pedophiles from parents
in order to secure an unjust political advantage for content distributors by smearing
the late Jack Valenti:
"Moral panics in copyright involve the construction of a
political strategy for obtaining political benefits. They are not hyperbole:
they are the core of a careful strategic plan to alter the copyright landscape"
(p. 139).
"Moral panics are not irrational acts by those who construct
them, but rather are the result of deliberate political opportunism" (p. 136).
Frankly, I reject that conclusion. This episode surely
reflects serious error by the author of Copyright Wars. But intent?--I
don't believe that, and my own incredulity ought to refute the hateful and backfiring
rhetorical device of "moral panics." Consequently, I find Copyright Wars'
assault on the character of its author just as reality-defying as its assault
on the character of the late Jack Valenti--or its claim that American creators
and creative industries are "inherently non-innovative."
In any case, my next post on Copyright Wars will
shift focus toward the question of whether a useful account of overreaching
arguments and overblown rhetoric in the debates about copyrights, consumer
electronics and the Internet can be provided by a book that fails to acknowledge
the existence of the Grokster case or Professor Lawrence Lessig, whose many
scholarly analyses include the following account
of the motives of the MPAA:
The most powerful and sexy and well loved of lobbies really has as its aim not the protection of "property...." Their aim is not simply to protect what is theirs. Their aim is to assure that all there is is what is theirs.
Free Culture, p. 255 (emphasis and histrionics in original).