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The music industry, fuming and sputtering with indignation, refers to file sharing as “theft.” They really, really want you to see it as theft, too. Don’t. There’s may be a point of ethics in there somewhere, but they’re nowhere near it yet, and the reasons they’re giving are foolish and lame. The music industry’s mouthpiece and bully, the RIAA, maintains a website in which they self-righteously complain about their customers and boast about suing people who can’t afford a lawyer. They can sound good if only if you’re easily swayed and don’t think much about what they’re saying. They’re trying to couch the argument in terms of fairness and artistic freedom, but it’s not. It’s all about money. A principle can be a source of strength, but couple that principle with a strong financial interest and you have a force to be reckoned with. At the RIAA, finance is driving and principle is just along for the ride.
The record industry wants to be seen as a victim. All of this file sharing is unfair, they say. Why should people get something for nothing? After all, how can they be expected to compete with music that’s free? This is not just silly, it’s entirely incorrect. We pay for free stuff all the time. Have they not heard of cable t.v.? They don’t have satellite radio in their Carreras? Didn’t they notice the bottled water machine next to the water fountain? The only reason I ever buy a CD is because I heard a song—for free—on the radio and liked it. You’re not just buying the product, you’re buying it in a form you like at a time that’s convenient for you in a format that suits your preferences.
They want you to equate “free” with “theft,” and it’s a bad equation. Just because you didn’t pay for something doesn’t mean you stole it. I don’t have to pay the record companies when I hear music in the elevator, or when my girlfriend gives me a CD she’s listened to a few times and is tired of but thinks I might like. You’re not a thief just because the RIAA says you are. True, they’ve gotten their shills in Congress to pass some laws that criminalize certain kinds of copying, but that’s not because it’s inherently wrong. Murder and robbery are inherently wrong. Evading copy protection is wrong in the same way that failing to pay a parking ticket is wrong—only because they say so.
The music industry claims it’s just interested in basic fairness. Since when? Charging $14.95 for a CD that costs $5.00 to produce is fair? Packaging the one song everybody wants with ten no one will never hear a second time is fair? They know they’re selling you filler—they do it on purpose. Engaging in widespread price-fixing, is fair? 43 state attorneys general alleged sued them for anti-trust violations, and they paid a lot. That was fair? Making new bands sign over ownership of their songs is fair? No on all counts. “Record company” is to “fairness” as “wolf” is to “vegetarianism.” They’re spoiled children who got their way in all things from the invention of the phonograph to the invention of the iPod and they just can’t stop having a temper tantrum now that things have changed. This attempt to redefine sharing as theft is just another attempt to push us around, to make us like what they want us to like, only this time the payola went to politicians rather than disk jockeys.
The Digital Millennium Copyright Law of 1998 makes it a crime for you to try to circumvent the anti-copying measures built into your electronically-stored media. I recently tried to copy a DVD of United 93 so I could watch it over at a friend’s house. My computer told me it was copy-protected and wouldn’t let me do it. Had I wanted to, I could have bought software reviewed in Consumer First Reviews that circumvents all of the DVD copy-protection measures now in use. Doing so would have constituted a crime, of course. And why should that act be criminal? I didn’t steal the DVD, I just wanted a copy so that if I forgot about it and left it at my friends house, as is my invariable habit, she could throw it away and I wouldn’t have to worry about picking it up later. No theft is even remotely involved. The reason the DMCL criminalizes this conduct is not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because in the eyes of the copyright owner, I have deprived the movie studio of the opportunity to sell me another DVD. Of course they’d prefer that I buy another copy. Irma Rombauer would prefer that I buy another copy of the Joy of Cooking rather than filling out a recipe card. But to require that we do so is just silly. Up until 1998, the copyright laws only penalized those who made money off of the copyrighted works of others, but this enormously sensible condition that was obliterated by the DMCL. Why? Because the record companies and the movie studios don’t want you to share your CDs and DVDs with anybody else, so they have to threaten you with fines and jail to keep you from doing so.
If I Xerox a page out of Joy of Cooking and give it to my sister, will Irma Rombauer sue me? If I record Lost so I can watch it later, will ABC hire a lawyer? Of course not. Judges who have considered these questions generally apply a common-sense limitation that unless somebody’s making money from his or her copying, it’s not worth worrying about. This makes perfect sense. If, on the other hand, I copy the entire book and sell it at a flea market for ten bucks per copy, the publisher is perfectly within its rights to make me stop. The same is true of anything that broadcast on t.v.: a personal copy for which I make money is fine, but if I sell it to somebody else, that’s a problem.
Copying for personal use happens all the time and there’s no reason for the copyright holder to think it has any right to any slice of the pie. If I tape the latest Justin Timberlake video off of MTV and play it over and over again in the privacy of my own home, neither MTV nor Mr. Timberlake has any claim to money from me no matter how many times I play it or how many of my friends I invite over to watch it. The same should be true of file sharing. The music industry is just used to having its own way in all things and can’t get used to the change. Like most spoiled children, when it didn’t get its way, it became a bully. Porsche-driving music executives, waving Lars Ulrich like a banner, insisted that this travesty impaired the musicians’ ability to present their music in the way they wanted it presented. They huffed and puffed and stormed off to Washington, and (surprise!) Congress found a way to express its gratitude for all of the entertainment industry’s fundraising.
If you look at the history of trademark protection in the United States you see a nice principle that got swallowed up by corporate greed so that it now no longer resembles the original purpose in any meaningful way. The founding fathers (mothers weren’t invited back then) weren’t even sure they wanted copyright and patent restrictions written into U.S. law, and at first considered not providing for their protection in the Constitution. The matter was debated at the Constitutional Convention, with one group arguing that copyrights and patents interfered with the free flow of information and ideas and should be avoided. The lawyers present (including Madison) were convinced that the copyright of authors to original works (i.e., books) was part of the common law of England that the United States had inherited when we became independent. They therefore chose to give the right to control patents and copyrights to the national congress, and placed it in the “miscellaneous powers” section of the Constitution. Congress therefore received the exclusive power to “promote the progress of science and useful arts by securing, for a limited time, to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries.” Note the reason it’s included: to promote the progress of science and useful arts. People will be encouraged to invent things and write books if their efforts are protected for a limited time. Madison writes in the Federalist Papers that the “Copyright of authors has been solemnly adjudged in Great Britain to be a right of common law. The right to useful inventions seems with equal reason to belong to the inventors. The public good fully coincides in both cases with the claims of individuals.”
The “limited duration” referred to was assumed by all involved to be 35 years (a 21 year protection period with an available fourteen year renewal), the protected period under the English law, adopted by the Statute of Anne in 1710. After 35 years, copyrighted works fell into the public domain, meaning they could be republished without restriction. When the Second Congress considered the matter, though, it settled on an shorter period of protection—fourteen years followed by an available fourteen year extension, for a total of 28 years. The Copyright Law of 1790 also made it clear that the copyright was owned by the author, not the publisher, which was not clear before.
There the matter remained for many years. So, in 1975, works produced before 1947 were in the public domain, which is why there were so many World War II-era movies on t.v. in the afternoons back then. They were essentially free, as long as you could find a copy. The same was true of books and records and plays. Old equaled free.
The Copyright Law of 1976 changed the way the industry calculated its dates. It measured the protected period as the life of the author plus nineteen years. This was seen as a reasonable compromise between publishers, who liked the 28 year period, and authors, who wanted protection for their entire lives plus an additional 50 years. Oddly enough, as recently as 1976, publishers were lobbying for brief copyright protections, so they could get material into the public domain as quickly as possible.
That’s fine by McGraw-Hill and Joan Didion, but it turns out it’s not at all fine by Disney. At the turn of the century, the media giants flexed their muscle. Videotapes and cassettes and CDs and DVDs were giving media companies ways to make money they’d never imagined back in 1976. Then at the most recent turn of the century, the extremely easily-lobbied Republican congress, its palm ever outstretched towards campaign cash that freely flowed from entertainment industry coffers, passed a new law, and President Clinton, the darling of Hollywood fundraisers, signed it with enthusiasm. The new law, delightfully called the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Law, extended the copyright period to life of the author plus 90 years. In the case of a product produced by a corporation, the period is 120 years from publication. And all of this under the guise of encouraging the authorship of original works.
So, since Walt Disney died in 1966, his cartoons would be protected until 2056. It is difficult to understand how extending the copyright term several times after Walt’s death had much influence on his creativity, which, as you’ll recall, is the sole reason Madison gave for including the copyright power in the Constitution.
It does, though, allow the Disney Company to make a lot more money than it would if Walt’s early cartoons fell into the public domain.
What the music industry should do is listen to its customers, not sue them. People like the convenience of downloading? Fine. Figure out how to charge for it. If they’d taken that approach to start with, they’d be making all of the iTunes money now, not Steve Jobs. If the fans don’t like buying fifteen songs when they only want one, figure out a way to sell that to them. Suing their customers to protect Lars Ulrich’s lifestyle was just bad business. If anyone out there felt guilty in any way for copying music from others, he or she lost that feeling in a hurry when the RIAA sued 20,000 of his or her neighbors.
One last oddity about this business. Note that you never hear record companies complain that profits are down. If they were, you’d be hearing it.
The kids are right. This isn’t theft, it’s just greed.