by Cory Doctorow. Published by Verso. Copyright \u00a9 2023 by Cory Doctorow. All rights reserved.<\/em><\/p>\n \nSeize the Means of Computation<\/h2>\n The harms from notice-and-takedown itself don\u2019t directly affect the big entertainment companies. But in 2007, the entertainment industry itself engineered a new, more potent form of notice-and-takedown that manages to inflict direct harm on Big Content, while amplifying the harms to the rest of us.<\/p>\n
That new system is \u201cnotice-and-stay-down,\u201d a successor to notice-and-takedown that monitors everything every user uploads or types and checks to see whether it is similar to something that has been flagged as a copyrighted work. This has long been a legal goal of the entertainment industry, and in 2019 it became a feature of EU law, but back in 2007, notice-and-staydown made its debut as a voluntary modification to YouTube, called \u201cContent ID.\u201d<\/p>\n
Some background: in 2007, Viacom (part of CBS) filed a billion-dollar copyright suit against YouTube, alleging that the company had encouraged its users to infringe on its programs by uploading them to YouTube. Google \u2014 which acquired YouTube in 2006 \u2014 defended itself by invoking the principles behind Betamax and notice-and-takedown, arguing that it had lived up to its legal obligations and that Betamax established that \u201cinducement\u201d to copyright infringement didn\u2019t create liability for tech companies (recall that Sony had advertised the VCR as a means of violating copyright law by recording Hollywood movies and watching them at your friends\u2019 houses, and the Supreme Court decided it didn\u2019t matter).<\/p>\n
But with Grokster hanging over Google\u2019s head, there was reason to believe that this defense might not fly. There was a real possibility that Viacom could sue YouTube out of existence \u2014 indeed, profanity-laced internal communications from Viacom \u2014 which Google extracted through the legal discovery process \u2014 showed that Viacom execs had been hotly debating which one of them would add YouTube to their private empire when Google was forced to sell YouTube to the company.<\/p>\n
Google squeaked out a victory, but was determined not to end up in a mess like the Viacom suit again. It created Content ID, an \u201caudio fingerprinting\u201d tool that was pitched as a way for rights holders to block, or monetize, the use of their copyrighted works by third parties. YouTube allowed large (at first) rightsholders to upload their catalogs to a blocklist, and then scanned all user uploads to check whether any of their audio matched a \u201cclaimed\u201d clip.<\/p>\n
Once Content ID determined that a user was attempting to post a copyrighted work without permission from its rightsholder, it consulted a database to determine the rights holder\u2019s preference. Some rights holders blocked any uploads containing audio that matched theirs; others opted to take the ad revenue generated by that video.<\/p>\n
There are lots of problems with this. Notably, there\u2019s the inability of Content ID to determine whether a third party\u2019s use of someone else\u2019s copyright constitutes \u201cfair use.\u201d As discussed, fair use is the suite of uses that are permitted even if the rightsholder objects, such as taking excerpts for critical or transformational purposes. Fair use is a \u201cfact intensive\u201d doctrine\u2014that is, the answer to \u201cIs this fair use?\u201d is almost always \u201cIt depends, let\u2019s ask a judge.\u201d<\/p>\n
Computers can\u2019t sort fair use from infringement. There is no way they ever can. That means that filters block all kinds of legitimate creative work and other expressive speech \u2014 especially work that makes use of samples or quotations.<\/p>\n
But it\u2019s not just creative borrowing, remixing and transformation that filters struggle with. A lot of creative work is similar to other creative work. For example, a six-note phrase from Katy Perry\u2019s 2013 song \u201cDark Horse\u201d is effectively identical to a six-note phrase in \u201cJoyful Noise,\u201d a 2008 song by a much less well-known Christian rapper called Flame. Flame and Perry went several rounds in the courts, with Flame accusing Perry of violating his copyright. Perry eventually prevailed, which is good news for her.<\/p>\n
But YouTube\u2019s filters struggle to distinguish Perry\u2019s six-note phrase from Flame\u2019s (as do the executives at Warner Chappell, Perry\u2019s publisher, who have periodically accused people who post snippets of Flame\u2019s \u201cJoyful Noise\u201d of infringing on Perry\u2019s \u201cDark Horse\u201d). Even when the similarity isn\u2019t as pronounced as in Dark, Joyful, Noisy Horse, filters routinely hallucinate copyright infringements where none exist \u2014 and this is by design.<\/p>\n
To understand why, first we have to think about filters as a security measure \u2014 that is, as a measure taken by one group of people (platforms and rightsholder groups) who want to stop another group of people (uploaders) from doing something they want to do (upload infringing material).<\/p>\n
It\u2019s pretty trivial to write a filter that blocks exact matches: the labels could upload losslessly encoded pristine digital masters of everything in their catalog, and any user who uploaded a track that was digitally or acoustically identical to that master would be blocked.<\/p>\n
But it would be easy for an uploader to get around a filter like this: they could just compress the audio ever-so-slightly, below the threshold of human perception, and this new file would no longer match. Or they could cut a hundredth of a second off the beginning or end of the track, or omit a single bar from the bridge, or any of a million other modifications that listeners are unlikely to notice or complain about.<\/p>\n
Filters don\u2019t operate on exact matches: instead, they employ \u201cfuzzy\u201d matching. They don\u2019t just block the things that rights holders have told them to block \u2014 they block stuff that\u2019s similar to those things that rights holders have claimed. This fuzziness can be adjusted: the system can be made more or less strict about what it considers to be a match.<\/p>\n
Rightsholder groups want the matches to be as loose as possible, because somewhere out there, there might be someone who\u2019d be happy with a very fuzzy, truncated version of a song, and they want to stop that person from getting the song for free. The looser the matching, the more false positives. This is an especial problem for classical musicians: their performances of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart inevitably sound an awful lot like the recordings that Sony Music (the world\u2019s largest classical music label) has claimed in Content ID. As a result, it has become nearly impossible to earn a living off of online classical performance: your videos are either blocked, or the ad revenue they generate is shunted to Sony. Even teaching classical music performance has become a minefield, as painstakingly produced, free online lessons are blocked by Content ID or, if the label is feeling generous, the lessons are left online but the ad revenue they earn is shunted to a giant corporation, stealing the creative wages of a music teacher.<\/p>\n
Notice-and-takedown law didn\u2019t give rights holders the internet they wanted. What kind of internet was that? Well, though entertainment giants said all they wanted was an internet free from copyright infringement, their actions \u2014 and the candid memos released in the Viacom case \u2014 make it clear that blocking infringement is a pretext for an internet where the entertainment companies get to decide who can make a new technology and how it will function.<\/p>\n
This article contains affiliate links; if you click such a link and make a purchase, we may earn a commission.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The internet’s “enshittification,” as veteran journalist and privacy advocate Cory Doctorowdescribes it, began decades before TikTok made the scene. Elder millennials remember the good old days of Napster \u2014 followed by the much worse old days of Napster being sued into oblivion along with Grokster and the rest of the P2P sharing ecosystem, until we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2968,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1550,56,136,3669,1318,130,203],"tags":[1551,67,141,3670,1321,134,206],"yoast_head":"\n
How the meandering legal definition of 'fair use' cost us Napster but gave us Spotify - Best News<\/title>\n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \n\t \n\t \n\t \n