Paul J. Heald, professor of law at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, discusses his new paper “Do Bad Things Happen When Works Enter the Public Domain? Empirical Tests of Copyright Term Extension.”

The international debate over copyright term extension for existing works turns on the validity of three empirical assertions about what happens to works when they fall into the public domain. Heald discusses a study he carried out with Christopher Buccafusco that found that all three assertions are suspect. In the study, they show that audio books made from public domain bestsellers are significantly more available than those made from copyrighted bestsellers. They also demonstrate that recordings of public domain and copyrighted books are of equal quality.

Since copyrighted works will once again begin to fall into the public domain starting in 2018, Heald says, it’s likely that content owners will ask Congress for yet another term extension. He argues that his empirical findings suggest it should not be granted.

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Related Links

• Do Bad Things Happen When Works Enter the Public Domain?: Empirical Tests of Copyright Term Extension, Heald and Buccafusco
• More Music in Movies: What Box Office Data Reveals About the Availability of Public Domain Songs in Movies from 1968-2008, Heald, Shi, Stoiber, and Zheng
• Property Rights and the Efficient Exploitation of Copyrighted Works: An Empirical Analysis of Public Domain and Copyrighted Fiction Best Sellers, Heald

Last week, I had the pleasure of discussing net neutrality with James Boyle, a Duke Law Professor and the co-founder of the Center for the Study of the Public Domain, and Paul Jones, the director of ibiblio, on WUNC’s The State of Things radio program. Our hour-long discussion touched on a number of important tech policy topics, and I highly recommend giving the show a listen (download the MP3 here) if you’re interested in hearing the insights of two very thoughtful scholars and critics of cyber-libertarianism.

I’m a big admirer of Boyle and Jones, who’ve both done a lot of excellent work studying copyright and public domain in the information age. While I don’t share their views on the merits of net neutrality regulation — or, perhaps, of government regulation in general — there’s much common ground between us on many issues, including intellectual property, free speech, and government surveillance.

For folks who don’t want to spend an hour listening to our discussion, I’ve typed up a brief summary of the questions we attempted to tackle in our discussion and the various arguments we raised. My apologies if I’ve mischaracterized any arguments or statements  — if you want to know what was actually said, go listen to the whole interview!

• What role should government play in regulating the Internet? I argue its proper role is to enforce voluntary arrangements (Terms of Service) and, when appropriate, enforce civil judgments against firms that have broken their promises. Boyle, on the other hand, argues that government should enforce not only contracts but also net neutrality rules because last-mile Internet service is a natural monopoly and consumers often don’t understand what they’re getting, which means that socially desirable contracts aren’t likely to emerge. I respond by citing Thomas DiLorenzo’s critique of the natural monopoly hypothesis and pointing out that government has obstructed ISP competition by allocating spectrum inefficiently and imposing excessive costs on wireline ISPs through burdensome rights-of-way and franchising rules.

• Why did Google retreat on its commitment to net neutrality in joining with Verizon to exempt wireless services from neutrality regulation? Boyle argues it’s because Google realized the future of communications is mobile and believed it needed to compromise with Verizon (America’s biggest wireless carrier). Jones points out that the Google-Verizon proposal isn’t a business agreement, but a compromise designed to address the conflicting interests of various stakeholders. I argue that Google recognized that government discrimination among competing business models and platforms is a greater danger to consumers than provider discrimination, and that real innovation occurs when we allow ‘walled gardens’ such as the iPhone to co-evolve with open platforms like Android — the “Yin and Yang” of innovation, as Bret Swanson puts it. Boyle argues that proprietary platforms and exclusionary deals between content and service providers hinder disruptive innovation and digital generativity. He cites the financial crisis as an example of inadequate regulation resulting in bad outcomes that might have not have occurred had there been greater oversight.

• Does collusion among large, powerful Internet corporations help or harm consumers and innovation? Jones cites Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations in arguing that, without government regulation, mega-corporations will collude and carve up the marketplace, hindering innovation and progress. I argue that leaving companies free to try to “carve up markets” actually spurs beneficial competitive responses and promotes destructive market entry, even if the process isn’t always pretty. I argue that the forces arrayed against today’s major companies–competitors, consumers, suppliers, downstream partners–make it impossible for any entity or group of entities to engage in any truly abusive practices without suffering harsh punishment.

• Will entrepreneurs and innovators even be able to get off the ground if corporations have unlimited control over Internet applications and content? I argue that government policies, such as the DMCA’s anti-circumvention provisions, are a major part of the problem because they distort natural market outcomes and prop up bad business models. Boyle agrees that these provisions are seriously problematic, calling DMCA a “lawyers’ full employment act.” He points out that many of the most important innovations of the last couple of decades — Google, Facebook, Twitter, and so forth — came about precisely because of the Internet’s openness and dynamism. I argue that the openness that characterizes the Internet is indeed desirable in many ways, but that voluntary institutions can offer open platforms without being forced to do so by government. I point out that network operators who hinder the value of the content that traverses their pipes do so at their own peril, and that infrastructure and content companies actually have a symbiotic relationship, rather than an adversarial one. Jones argues that because many ISPs are also content companies, they have an incentive to privilege their own content at the expense of competing offerings. I point out that consumer demand for Internet video outlets (i.e. YouTube and Hulu) deters providers from slowing down Internet-delivered content. Boyle argues that the continued existence of the open Internet is crucial in ensuring that the ‘walls’ that enclose walled gardens don’t grow too tall.

• Shouldn’t we treat the Internet like a public utility — a road on which all can travel? I argue that treating the Internet like a public utility, like we already treat roads, raises the dilemma of the tragedy of the commons. I point out that many private roads already exist today without the ‘tollbooths’ that neutrality advocates fear. Jones points out that the real tragedy is one of unregulated commons which lack adequate rules. Boyle argues that the economics of physical property (scarce goods) cannot readily be mapped to networks and calls the Internet a “comedy of the commons” (borrowing from Carol Rose). I argue that government-run commons have a poor track record, from highways to the wi-fi band, and that the success of network industries requires smart investment and innovation that government isn’t well-equipped to deliver. Boyle argues that not all resources must be owned if they’re to be efficiently utilized, citing the emergence of free trade with India and China in the 1700s and the subsequent collapse of state-chartered trading monopolies. Boyle argues that tomorrow’s “next great thing” may never emerge if the openness of today’s Internet isn’t enshrined in regulation.

The grandly-named Public Domain Archive, evidently a production of Osaka-based Digirock, Inc., offers a few MP3s of classical music and historical speeches. Thanks to a suggestion from Tyler Cowen, I’m enjoying a 1942 recording of Beethoven’s 9th even as I type. Am I breaking the law in so doing? The copyright notice posted on the Public Domain Archive, while quite charming, hardly reassures:

To the People In japan, All files open to the public on this site are certainly lawful. But, if you do not live in Japan, You might do not have to use files. You should check the law of your country.

As proves too often true for works, like this 1942 recording, that fall under the aegis of the 1909 Copyright Act, it is not easy to figure out if the underylying work enjoys any claim to protection under U.S. law. Perhaps, after all, it was not published with the proper formalities, here, and thus fell into the public domain.

In this case, though, it looks like we can dodge those complications. U.S. copyright law affords exclusive rights only to copying, creation of derivative works, public distribution, public performance, and public display.
See 17 USC § 106. So long as I listen to a MP3 solely via streaming, without saving a copy, it is hard to see how I’ve violated any of those rights. Perhaps Digirock, Inc. has violated U.S. law by offering me the MP3, but that is no concern of mine (and probably not much of a concern to Digirock, Inc.).

That legal scenario suggests an interesting conclusion: an offshore copyright-free zone—one set up by intellectual pirates or in a stubbornly independent country—might give U.S. residents ample, free, and legal access to all sorts of copyrighted works—even ones protected under U.S. law.

[Crossposted at Agoraphilia and The Technology Liberation Front.]

Thanks to comments on my earlier post, Copyright Duration and the Mickey Mouse Curve, I’ve been encouraged to reflect on what would happen if, in fact, Steamboat Willie had fallen into the public domain. Could we then reuse Mickey Mouse, the star of that show, without facing any liability to the Walt Disney Company? I drafted this answer for my book, Intellectual Privilege (here edited for blogging):

Scholars have made surprisingly strong arguments that Steamboat Willie, a cartoon that the Walt Disney Company cites as establishing its copyright rights in Mickey Mouse, has fallen into the public domain. As a thought experiment, let us assume the truth of that claim. What would happen if Walt Disney Company—if, indeed, nobody—held a copyright in Steamboat Willie? Certainly, each of use would by default enjoy complete freedom to copy, distribute, display, or perform the cartoon, because the expiration of the work’s copyright would also end the exclusive rights of the Walt Disney Company and its assigns the exercise those statutory privileges. So, too, would we escape copyright’s limitations on making derivative versions of Steamboat Willie—versions that might show Mickey standing at a lectern rather than at a pilot’s wheel, for instance, or have him expounding on copyright law.

The Walt Disney Company would retain its copyrights in later, plumper versions of the Mickey Mouse, of course. Contemporary artists wanting to reinterpret the character free from the company’s veto would thus have to draw inspiration primarily from the earlier, skinnier, version. Given that the characters would share a common ancestor, however, even mice derived solely from Steamboat Willie would often strongly resemble the modern-day Mickey Mouse.

Would Walt Disney Company object to those unauthorized reuses of Steamboat Willie? It might, indeed. Some such uses might substitute for sales of the company’s wares, after all, or cast its most prominent spokes-mouse in an unsavory light. But copyright law would, per the assumption behind our thought experiment, offer the company no solace. The Walt Disney Company could not plausibly claim that patent or trade secret law gives it the power to limit free use of Steamboat Willie, either. Nor could it invoke the right of publicity, which though sometimes shockingly effective in limiting speech about celebrities, has thus far not stretched to cover cartoon characters.

Trademark and unfair competition law would probably offer the Walt Disney Company its most potent weapon against any movement to emancipate Steamboat Willie. Generally speaking, that area of law allows the holder of a name, symbol, or other mark to prevent latecomers from using in commerce marks likely to confuse consumers about the source or affiliation of a particular good or service. Thus, for instance, can Nike bar someone from putting its famous “swoop” on non-Nike clothes. The Walt Disney Company uses Mickey Mouse as a mark designating its goods and services. If a consumer did not know (ex hypothesis) that the image and voice of Mickey Mouse, qua the character Willie, had fallen into the public domain, and that consumer saw a cartoon of a substantially similar Mickey Mouse in a new context, the consumer might naturally, yet wrongly, assume that the newer Mickey Mouse had issued from the same source as so many other cartoons featuring the character: The Walt Disney Company. On that argument, consumer ignorance would give the company cause to censor derivative versions of the copyright-free Mickey Mouse.

Perhaps the addition of disclaimers, such as noting, “Not a Walt Disney Company production!” in a cartoon’s margin, would suffice to dispel consumer confusion. That would ward off only a “passing off” claim—one where a mark’s holder accuses another of selling bogus wares under that mark—however. The same disclaimer would set the defendant up for a ” reverse passing off” claim—one where Disney would charge that cartoonist wrongly sold Disney’s product (intellectual creations about Mickey Mouse) under another’s name. Disney could thereby damn those who use Steamboat Willie both if they do use disclaimers and if they do not. Happily for anyone who wants to free Willie, however, the Supreme Court has cut through that Gordian knot of liability.

The Supreme Court held in Dastar Corp. v. Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation that, once a work has fallen into the public domain, its former copyright holder cannot use federal unfair competition law to demand credit from those who reuse the work. Still more broadly, the Court flatly excluded copyrighted works from the scope of section § 43(a)(1)(A) of the Lanham Act, the federal law barring passing off, whether direct or reverse. The Court explained the policy reasons for thus limiting unfair competition law:

Assuming for the sake of argument that [defendant] Dastar’s representation of itself as the “Producer” of its videos amounted to a representation that it originated the creative work conveyed by the videos, allowing a cause of action under § 43(a) for that representation would create a species of mutant copyright law that limits the public’s “federal right to ‘copy and to use,'” expired copyrights.

Dastar voiced broad concerns, and lower courts have read it accordingly. They have extended it to bar state law claims of unfair competition, a result the U.S. Constitution’s Supremacy Clause would apparently mandate. Lower courts have also extended Dastar to bar unfair competition claims arising out of the use of uncopyrighted and uncopyrightable works. Plainly, the case has done a great deal to ensure that copyright’s privileges go no farther than copyright itself.

The exact scope of Dastar‘s preemptive effect remains as yet uncertain, granted. Even if it suffered the uncopyrighting of Steamboat Willie we’ve hypothecated here, for instance, the Walt Disney Company would perhaps still have the right to bring suit under § 43(a)(1)(B) of the Lanham Act against those using liberated versions of Mickey Mouse to deceptively market their wares, such as by falsely advertising a new Spaceship Willie as a Disney original. The Dastar Court left that question open. Lower courts have, however, read the case to bar § 43(a)(1)(B) claims alleging no more than false marketing about whether permission was granted for an uncopyrighted work. Under that reasoning, the Walt Disney Company could not even stop the authors of Spaceship Willie from selling it as, “A wholly original take on Mickey Mouse,” or, conversely, as “Mickey Mouse in the finest tradition of Walt Disney.” Thus might Dastar and its progeny help Mickey Mouse, when and if he escapes copyright, from achieving the status of a great cultural icon, akin to Santa Claus or Uncle Sam.

[Crossposted at Agoraphilia, TechLiberation Front.]