Tag: copyright history

Looking Back at 2024: It’s All About AI and Copyright (And a Few Other Things)

Image: Shutterstock

A retrospective on the year now coming to a close is what one expects this time of year, so I will try not to disappoint. However, when I look back at the copyright developments I wrote about in 2024, the dominant issues that jump out are AI, AI and AI. You can’t read or think about copyright without Artificial Intelligence, or to be more correct, Generative Artificial Intelligence (GAI), occupying most of the space despite many other issues on the copyright agenda. The mantra of “AI, AI and AI”, as in “Location, Location and Location” is apt because there are at least three important copyright dimensions related to AI; training of AI models; copyright protection for outputs generated by AI; and infringement of copyright by works created with or by AI. Of the three, the use of copyrighted content for AI training is the most salient.

Last year in my year-ender, I also discussed AI and the numerous lawsuits that were emerging as rightsholders pushed back on having their content vacuumed up by AI developers to train their algorithms. Those lawsuits have only multiplied. At last count, there are more that 30 cases in the US, ranging from big media vs big AI (New York Times v OpenAI/Microsoft) to class action suits brought by artists and authors, as well as litigation in the UK, EU, and now in Canada (see here and here). That is just on the input side.

In terms of output, i.e. whether works produced by an AI can be copyrighted, there are a couple of interesting cases in the US where applications for copyright registration have been refused by the US Copyright Office (USCO) because of a lack of human creativity. A couple of months ago, I discussed two such high profile cases, one brought by Stephen Thaler, and the other by Jason Allen. To date the USCO is not budging, although it is undertaking an extensive study of the issue. Part 1 of its study, on digital replicas, was published in July of this year. The next section on copyrightability is expected to be published in January with the issues of ingestion for training and licensing in Q1 2025.

While the USCO has to date denied applications for copyright registration of AI-generated works, the Canadian copyright office (CIPO-Canadian Intellectual Property Office) has been caught up in a problem of its own making. This is because Canadian copyright registration is granted automatically, so long as tombstone data and the prescribed fee is provided. The work for which registration is sought is not examined. As a result, copyright certificates have been issued to works created by AI, notwithstanding the general presumption that copyright protection is only accorded to human created work (although this is not explicitly stated in the Act). In July a legal challenge was launched against copyright registrant Ankit Sahni, who successfully registered a work with CIPO claiming an AI as co-author. The case was brought by the Canadian Internet Policy and Public Interest Clinic (CIPPIC) at the University of Ottawa, as I wrote about here. (Canadian Copyright Registration and AI-Created Works: It’s Time to Close the Loophole).

While the courts in the US, UK, Canada and elsewhere are grappling with various issues related to AI and copyright, governments are studying the issue.

In Australia, the Select Committee on Adopting Artificial Intelligence issued its final report in November. While the report was wide-ranging, three of its recommendations related to copyright;

• engagement with the creative Industry to address unauthorized use of their works by AI developers and tech companies,

• transparency in Training Data by requiring AI developers to disclose the use of copyrighted works in training datasets and ensure proper licensing and payment for these works, and

• remuneration for AI Outputs, with an appropriate mechanism to be determined through further consultation

These are important principles, but how they will be implemented in practice remains to be determined.

In Canada, a consultation on AI and copyright was launched late in 2023 with submissions to be received by January 15, 2024. The Canadian cultural community put forth three key demands;

• No weakening of copyright protection for works currently protected (i.e. no exception for text and data mining to use copyrighted works without authorization to train AI systems)

• Copyright must continue to protect only works created by humans (AI generated works should not qualify)

• AI developers should be required to be transparent and disclose what works have been ingested as part of the training process (transparency and disclosure).

Submissions to the consultation were published in mid-year but since then there has been no apparent action. Given the current political crisis facing the Trudeau government, none is expected in the near term although the issue will inevitably have to be addressed after the general election in 2025.

While the EU has already established some parameters dealing with use of copyrighted materials for AI training, the new UK Labour government is taking another run at the issue after various proposals in Britain to find a modus vivendi between the AI and content industries under the Tories went nowhere. The current UK discussion paper on Copyright and Artificial Intelligence, which seems excessively tilted in favour of the AI industry, has aroused plenty of controversy. While it says some of the right things, such as proclaiming that one of the objectives of the consultation is to “support…right holders’ control of their content and ability to be remunerated for its use” the thrust of the paper is to find ways to encourage the AI industry to undertake more research in the UK by establishing a more permissive regime with respect to use of copyrighted content. It is based on three self-declared principles; (notice how these things always seem to come in threes?);

• Control: Right holders should have control over, and be able to license and seek remuneration for, the use of their content by AI models

• Access: AI developers should be able to access and use large volumes of online content to train their models easily, lawfully and without infringing copyright, and

• Transparency: The copyright framework should be clear and make sense to its users, with greater transparency about works used to train AI models, and their outputs.

These three objectives then lead to what is clearly the preferred solution;

“A data mining exception which allows right holders to reserve their rights, underpinned by supporting measures on transparency”

Fine in principle, but the devil is always in the detail and the details in this case revolve around transparency (how detailed, what form, what about content already taken?) and, in particular, reservation of rights, aka “opting out”. This is easy to proclaim in principle but difficult to do in practice. British creators are up in arms, led by artists such as Paul McCartney, and supported by the creative industries in the US. The British composer Ed Newton-Rex has penned a brilliant satire explaining how AI development in the UK will work if current proposal is enacted. The problem with an opt-out solution is essentially twofold; it doesn’t deal with content already absorbed by AI developers and it would be cumbersome if not impossible for many rightsholders to use.

Other governments have addressed the issue in different ways. Singapore has taken a very loose approach toward copyright protection, putting its thumb firmly on the scale in favour of AI developers. It is currently considering additional proposals that would strip even more protection from rights-holders, who are pushing back strongly. Japan had been widely and incorrectly reported to have been on the same path, resulting in a welcome clarification this year from the Agency for Cultural Affairs regarding the limits of Japan’s text and data mining (TDM) exception.

While AI dominated the copyright agenda in 2024, there were other issues relating to copyright and copyright industries that I wrote about. The ongoing question of payment for news content by large digital platforms continued to play out in different ways. In Canada, the struggle between the government and US tech giants Google and META was finally “resolved” (after a fashion) at the end of last year. Google agreed to “voluntarily” pay $100 million annually into a fund for Canadian journalism in return for being exempted from the Online News Act (ONA) while META called the government’s bluff by blocking Canadian news providers from its platform thus, in theory, avoiding being subject to the ONA. However, META has a very subjective interpretation as to what is Canadian news content, allowing some news providers to post to it, while many users have found workarounds, as documented by McGill’s Media Ecosystem Observatory. While the CRTC investigated, the issue is still unresolved.

Meanwhile in Australia, it seems that META intends to go down the same road of blocking news, announcing it will not renew the content deals it initially signed with Australian media in response to Australia’s News Media Bargaining Code, the model upon which Canada’s legislation was based. Unlike in Canada, the Australian government is planning a robust response. (More on this in a future blog post). Finally, on the same topic, California (which was threatening to introduce its own version of legislation to require digital platforms to compensate news content providers) emerged with an outcome very similar to that reached in Canada, with Google offering up some funding (although proportionally less than in Canada) while META appears to have walked away.

Controlled Digital Lending (CDL) was another copyright issue finally settled in 2024 (in the US). The Internet Archive, after losing a lawsuit brought against it by a consortium of publishers who argued that the digital copying of their works constituted copyright infringement, notwithstanding the Archive’s theory that they were simply lending a digital version of a legally obtained physical work held by them (or someone else associated with them), lost its appeal. In December, the deadline for further appeals expired, thus effectively ending this saga. Whether Canadian university libraries, some of whom are avid devotees of CDL, will take note remains to be seen.

The issue of circumventing a TPM (“Technological Protection Measure”), commonly referred to as a “digital lock” and often represented by a password allowing access to content behind a paywall, was also front and centre this year in Canada. In the case of Blacklock’s Reporter v Attorney General for Canada, the Federal Court found that an employee of Parks Canada, who shared a single subscription to Blacklock’s with a number of other employees by providing them with the password did not infringe Blacklock’s copyright since the employee did not circumvent (in the meaning of the law) the TPM and the purpose of the sharing was for “research“, which is a specified fair dealing purpose. Blacklock’s is a digital research service that sells access to its content and protects its content with a paywall, as is common for many online content providers, like magazines and newspapers.

Despite the hoo-ha of anti-copyright commentators asserting the Court had found that “digital lock rules do not trump fair dealing“, it was equally clear the Court had ruled that fair dealing does not trump digital locks (TPMs). The Court did not undermine the protection afforded to businesses to protect their content through use of TPMs. Rather, it determined that sharing a licitly obtained password did not constitute circumvention as outlined in the Act, as I explained here. (Fair Dealing, Passwords and Technological Protection Measures (TPMs) in Canada: Federal Court Confirms Fair Dealing Does Not Trump TPMs (Digital Lock Rules). Although the Court did not legitimize circumvention of a TPM for fair dealing purposes, contrary to claims stating the opposite, its acceptance of password sharing is an outcome that legal experts have disagreed with, (as do I for what it is worth). The law is very clear that fair dealing cannot be used as a pretext or a defence against violation of the anti-circumvention provisions of the Copyright Act. The decision now under appeal by Blacklock’s.

Finally, the last copyright point of note for 2024 is that this year marked the bicentenary of the introduction of the first copyright legislation in Canada, in the Assembly of Lower Canada, in 1824. It also marked the centenary of the entry in force of the first truly Canadian Copyright Act on January 1, 1924. This two hundred years of domestic copyright history is worth celebrating. The first legislation was introduced “for the Encouragement of Learning” so that more local school texts would be written and printed. Given the current standoff between the secondary and post-secondary educational establishment and Canadian authors and their copyright collective over license payments for use of copyrighted works in teaching, one wonders whether we have really learned anything about the role copyright plays in our society. (Copyright and Education in Canada: Have We Learned Nothing in the Past Two Centuries? (From the “Encouragement of Learning” to the “Great Education Free Ride”).

Leaving that question with you to ponder, gentle Reader, is probably a good way to end this look back over the past 12 months. Stay tuned for more commentary on copyright developments in 2025.

© Hugh Stephens, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright and Education in Canada: Have We Learned Nothing in the Past Two Centuries? (From the “Encouragement of Learning” to the “Great Education Free Ride”)

Image: Shutterstock (AI Assisted)

Last month I wrote about the 200 year history of copyright in Canada, (Two Hundred Years of Copyright History in Canada: What a Journey!), drawing on a recent book by copyright scholar Dr. Myra Tawfik, “For the Encouragement of Learning: The Origins of Canadian Copyright Law”. That work outlined the genesis of Canadian copyright law in Lower Canada in the 1820s and 1830s, carrying through into the 1840 pre-Confederation period in the united Province of Canada (Canada East and Canada West). As Professor Tawfik pointed out, the motivation for the first copyright laws in what eventually become Canada was to incentivize the production of localized school texts. Appropriate books for local schools were hard to come by; books produced in Britain or France were expensive and did not always meet local needs in terms of content. Books from the US, while obviously not able to address the needs of Canada’s French speaking population, were also considered suspect in the English-speaking colonies because of their “republican” content.

Various local authors petitioned the assemblies of Lower and Upper Canada for financial support to produce books of local interest, often school texts but also sometimes maps, geographies and natural histories. Support was often provided, either in the form of an advance payment (which carried the obvious risk of funding a work that ultimately was not published), or else a commitment to purchase a set number of copies once the work was in print. The problem of the lack of suitable pedagogic materials was chronic, and the Assemblies got tired of being importuned. The solution, first bruited in the 1820s, but then implemented in the 1830s, was to introduce a copyright law to provide authors with a revenue stream from royalties to encourage production of more local content. In terms of achieving its objectives, this legislation was generally successful, despite constant interference from Britain which wanted to standardize copyright laws throughout the Empire and would not recognize Canadian copyrights in Britain unless the works were registered, and copies deposited, in London. Nonetheless, Canadian copyright laws allowed Canadian authors and publishers to establish themselves and begin a long tradition of Canadian educational publishing.

Fast forward two hundred years to the present and the disconnect between the goals of those early legislators and educators, and the situation today, is stark. I find it highly ironic that while the impetus for the first Canadian copyright laws came from a desire to promote learning and production of educational materials, today most Canadian educational institutions are taking a massive free ride when it comes to paying for teaching materials. Instead, they are using every pretext possible to avoid paying collective licence fees to the Canadian copyright collective for authors and publishers, Access Copyright, for their use (reproduction) of printed or digitized educational materials, using the “education” fair dealing exception introduced in 2012 as the excuse. Two hundred years later, we have gone backwards with respect to meeting the social objectives of copyright law.

I have written a number of times (most recently, here, but also here and here) on the fundamental unfairness of the way in which educational fair dealing has been interpreted by the educational sector in Canada, spurred on by university librarians, and abetted by the courts, resulting in upsetting the fundamental copyright balance between creators and users in this segment of the market. In the process they have turned their back on Canada’s copyright history. The negative impact on the educational publishing sector in Canada has been well documented, with several publishers giving up on the K-12 or post-secondary markets in Canada and many authors facing a drastic loss of income.

Universities and librarians continue to protest when this unfairness is pointed out, advancing a variety of arguments to justify their free ride on the work of others. One good example of the kind of self-justification put forward is an article published last summer  in “The Conversation” by a couple of prominent university librarians. Among other things, they argue that the market has changed, moving largely to digital resources and digital access, no longer requiring any copying. (They seem to equate “copying” with photocopying although lots of digital reproduction takes place. This has the same impact on the market as the former practice of photocopying pages of textbooks). They point out that universities spend considerable sums on obtaining access to digital content directly from publishers. These facts are true, but they do not represent the full picture.

While many works are accessed by students from library sources directly through links, considerable copying and sharing (which a reprographic licence would permit) still takes place. After all, if there was no reproduction, the educational institutions would not have to invoke fair dealing to justify the unlicensed copying and sharing that is taking place. In testimony before the House of Commons committee reviewing the Copyright Act, one university librarian estimated that over 15% of access to course materials by students at their institution was based on fair dealing (as unilaterally interpreted by that university). Yet we have no proof that this copying complies with fair dealing guidelines, or indeed that the fair dealing guidelines published by the universities are consistent with fair dealing jurisprudence. In the long drawn-out case between Access Copyright and York University over educational copying and whether the tariffs (user fee per student) established by the Copyright Board of Canada were mandatory if universities used materials represented by the copyright collective (the courts ultimately determined that the tariffs were optional, not mandatory), the issue of whether York’s fair dealing guidelines were “fair” was never determined. The initial Federal Court ruling found that they were, in fact, not fair, and on appeal the courts declined to issue a statement requested by York that would have blessed its interpretation and application of fair dealing.

Because of the uncertainty this unilateral interpretation of fair dealing has engendered, universities have had to strengthen their oversight of copyright to ensure they stay out of trouble. Trying to make a virtue of a necessity, they have used this additional investment in library staff to attempt to demonstrate their respect for copyright.  Among other things, they have had to improve their communications to make students aware of copyright and explain what they can and cannot do with copyrighted content. It is true that if you go to any university website, such as this one from Simon Fraser as an example, you will find an extensive discussion of the “do”s and “don’t”s of copyright. But is there any enforcement? Who knows? What is clear is that if these additional resources had been invested in acquiring a collective licence instead of unnecessarily bulking up on staff, this would have resulted in a better outcome for all concerned and would have provided the degree of protection needed. (“Throwing Good Money After Bad: How Canadian Universities Wasted Millions by not Acquiring a Copyright Licence”).

Many, if not most, of the digital licences obtained directly from publishers provide for access to works (usually limited to a certain number of users) but do not contain reprographic (reproduction/copying) rights. Educators have argued that the previous Access Copyright licence that covered photocopying of printed materials is no longer relevant in the digital age. While there may be truth to this in respect of printed materials, which are used less, Access’s licences also now cover digital copies. A copy is a copy, and an unauthorized copy is an unauthorized copy, whether hardcopy or digital.

Then there is the double-dipping argument that an Access Copyright digital reprographic licence would duplicate a similar licence obtained directly from a publisher, and so users would be paying twice for the same material. This is another red herring. Access Copyright represents most publishers. They belong to Access for sound business reasons. It is to receive compensation for unlicenced copying of the works they represent. If a situation arose where there was potential double-counting, Access Copyright has the ability to adjust its licence to accommodate such a situation through negotiations with the education sector, provided educational institutions were willing to demonstrate which materials were already covered by a direct licence from a publisher.

Finally, and this is the most galling assertion of all, apologists for the educational free ride (as in the article from The Conversation cited above), argue that the nature of university funding has changed. Students are now facing a heavier burden, and universities and colleges are challenged when it comes to funding. Both are true and both are irrelevant in terms of justifying the broad use of educational fair dealing to deprive authors of payment for reproduction of their content. Rather than pass on any savings to students, post-secondary institutions have found a plethora of ways to squeeze a bit more from them, as best exemplified by current stories regarding heavy dependence on–one might even say exploitation of–international students by many institutions. Do funding challenges mean that caterers for cafeterias, or cleaners in student dormitories, or any of the other suppliers to a university should suddenly provide for free what was previously paid for? Why should publishers and authors carry the burden for the funding challenges faced by many of our post-secondary institutions? We are talking about a few dollars (a couple of cups of coffee) per student per year.

Since there is no denying the hit the educational publishing industry and authors have taken, the educational sector has been quick to point to the Canada Book Fund and the Public Lending Right as alternatives. In other words, someone else should pay—but certainly not the users of the content! Whatever happened to the user-pay principle?

What is the solution? It is not to undermine fair dealing, or to remove education as a specified fair dealing purpose with respect to use of materials by students themselves. It is to put reasonable limits on its use by educational institutions who have been enjoying a decade long free ride. The Standing Committee on Canadian Heritage in its review of the Copyright Act proposed a reasonable solution. It recommended that,

“The Government of Canada amend the (Copyright) Act to clarify that fair dealing should not apply to educational institutions when the work is commercially available.”

This would preserve education as a fair dealing purpose but, with respect to educational institutions, would mean that it would not apply in situation where a commercially available licensed alternative is available. This would include both digital reprographic licences obtained directly from some publishers as well as a non-duplicative collective licence from Access Copyright for works in its repertoire. This is similar to what is done in the UK. Such an amendment would restore the education fair dealing balance that has become so badly skewed as a result of the 2012 Copyright Act amendments, and the subsequent broad interpretation thereof by the education sector, an imbalance that was surely not foreseen nor planned by legislators at the time.  

Today’s Parliamentarians can make common cause with their predecessors of some two centuries ago by recognizing the symbiotic relationship between copyright, authorship and the production of quality educational materials. They need to act, and act soon. To date, despite assurances by the current government that it would take measures to ensure a sustainable educational publishing industry, including fair remuneration for creators and rights-holders, nothing has been done.

Canada’s first copyright laws were introduced almost two hundred years ago to encourage learning. That should still constitute a prime policy objective for copyright legislation; to incentivize the production of quality content for the education of today’s scholars. It is said that those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. In this case we seem to be forgetting the progress that has been made in building a vibrant and (until relatively recently) viable Canadian publishing industry and are turning our back on two centuries of copyright development for the sake of giving the education sector a short-sighted (and hopefully short-term) free ride.

(c) Hugh Stephens, 2024

Two Hundred Years of Copyright History in Canada: What a Journey!

Image: Shutterstock (with AI assist)

As we approach July 1, Canada Day, Canada’s 157th anniversary, it is worth reflecting on the history that shaped this wonderful if imperfect country of now 41 million. While not top of mind for everyone, part of that history relates to copyright! This year, 2024, marks a couple of milestones in the history of copyright in Canada. It is 200 years since the first copyright bill was introduced into the Assembly of Lower Canada and it is 100 years since the entry into force of the legislation that established Canadian copyright sovereignty, the Copyright Act of 1921. During those two centuries, Canada’s copyright history has paralleled its economic and political development, moving from struggling to assert its independence from Britain to learning to live beside and accommodate the economic colossus south of the border. Internationally Canada moved from largely being, or wanting to be, a copyright outlier to a nation that has fully embraced the international rules-based order of copyright (although there are still some areas that could be strengthened).

As noted by Professor Myra Tawfik in her new book, “For the Encouragement of Learning”[i], on February 9, 1824, a “Bill for the Encouragement of Learning by Securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies during the Times therein mentioned”, was introduced into the Assembly of Lower Canada (now Québec) by François Blanchet, an elected member of the Assembly. This wording mirrored that of the Statute of Anne, the first piece of British copyright legislation protecting authors, adopted in 1710, and the US Copyright Act of 1790. Blanchet’s Bill died on the order paper but subsequently, in 1832, the first piece of copyright legislation in what is now Canada was passed by the Lower Canada Assembly.

The second milestone was the proclamation, on January 1, 1924, of the Copyright Act of 1921 which, with minor amendments, established the copyright framework in Canada for decades until revised in the late 1980s. Although copyright was one of the powers granted to the new Dominion of Canada in 1867, (and indeed Canada passed, or attempted to pass, copyright legislation on several occasions), if that legislation conflicted with British interests and imperial copyright law, it was blocked by the British government. The Copyright Act of 1921 resolved those conflicts. It also brought Canada fully into compliance with the terms of the 1886 Berne Convention, the first international treaty on copyright, which for many years Canada had agitated to leave, having acceded to Berne as part of the British Empire when the Convention was established. (After a perfunctory consultation, Canadian Prime Minister Sir John A. Macdonald had sent a telegram to London agreeing). In 1928, partly as an assertion of sovereignty, Canada acceded to Berne in its own right but subsequently had doubts about having joined (in part because the United States was not a member). Today, Canada has fully embraced the international copyright system through accession to most international copyright treaties and full acceptance of the terms of Berne incorporated into the TRIPS Agreement (Trade Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights), part of the World Trade Organization (WTO).

While the 1710 Statute of Anne provided, for the first time, protection to the authors of works, rather than printers, (for an initial period of 14 years, which could be extended for an additional 14 years), it did not apply to any British territories outside Britain, notably not to the North American colonies prior to 1776. Although amendments to the Statute in 1814 provided protection to British authors throughout the Empire, there was no protection for Canadian or other colonial authors unless they arranged to have their works first published in Britain and registered at Stationer’s Hall in London. Not surprisingly, very few did. The Lower Canada Copyright Act of 1832 established the first copyright in Canada for Canadian authors, although it only applied in what is now Quebec. However, after the union of Upper and Lower Canada in 1840 to form the Province of Canada, the 1841 Provincial Copyright Act, modelled on Lower Canada’s 1832 law, applied to both Canada East (Quebec) and Canada West (Ontario). Nova Scotia enacted its own copyright legislation in 1839.

Prof. Tawfik points out that much of the impetus for the introduction of early copyright legislation in British North America (BNA) came from a desire to encourage the publication of Canadian school texts. Given the dearth of local books at the time, various authors of local histories, maps and schoolbooks regularly approached the legislatures of the BNA colonies seeking financial support to print their works, either a subsidy to be provided in advance or a commitment to buy a certain number of the works at a predetermined price. While in some cases, subsidies were granted, a solution to the problem was to introduce a copyright law that would provide a means for authors to be self-sustaining through royalties. As Professor Tawfik notes, government in the colonies “…adopted the position that copyright relieved it of its responsibility to subsidize the printing of books” (p. 148).

Fair dealing was first introduced in Canada in the 1921 Copyright Act. The Act mimicked the 1911 Imperial Copyright Act which had, for the first time, enshrined fair dealing exceptions in British law, providing greater clarity than the previous common law approach. Fair dealing encompassed several exceptions to copyright protection, allowing unlicensed use of copyrighted works for specified purposes. At the time, these purposes were “research, private study, criticism, review or newspaper summary”. However, even if the dealing, or use, fell within these specified categories, other factors were also considered to determine whether the dealing was fair (e.g. amount or nature of the copying). That is essentially the position that prevails in Canada today, except that the list of specified fair dealing exceptions has been broadened to include, in addition to the original categories, parody, satire, and education, while the term “newspaper summary” has been broadened to “news reporting.”

The 1921 Act also brought Canada into conformity with Berne, a key concern of Britain given Canada’s reluctance to comply during the early decades of the Convention. The issue lay with printing rather than authorship and related in large part to the situation in the United States, where the printing lobby held sway in Congress. Initially the US refused to recognize the copyright of non-US residents and US printers freely copied (one might say “pirated”) British and other works. A couple of years ago, I discussed how Canada got caught in the crossfire on this issue. (International Book Piracy: How Canada Got Caught in the 19th Century British-US Copyright Wars). Joining Berne would have required the United States to recognize non-US copyrights (in return for US copyrights being recognized in other Berne countries), so it stayed out. In 1891 Congress passed the Chace Act whereby the US would recognize the copyrights of non-US authors provided that the work was printed in the US. In other words, the US would only recognize foreign copyrights if the foreign works were published there. Canadian printers wanted something similar. The Canadian Parliament tried to pass legislation containing compulsory printing requirements as a condition for allowing foreign and British works to enjoy copyright protection in Canada, only to have these laws blocked by London because of inconsistency with Berne and potential harm to British publishing interests.  

While Canada was never able to successfully institute a manufacturing clause linked to copyright as the US did, nevertheless like the US it required registration for a copyright to be valid and limited the term of protection to a fixed number of years after publication. In 1908, the Berne Convention countries abolished registration as a requirement (copyright was established automatically with no formalities upon creation as long as other criteria like originality, nationality, fixation etc. were met), while it also established the minimum term of protection to be the life of the author plus 50 years. Canada was worried that its term of protection would be longer than in the US (giving American authors better protection in Canada than vice versa) and was also wary about abolishing registration. Yet Britain wanted to ratify the 1908 revision and since Canada had entered Berne as part of the British Empire, it needed to get Canada onside to do it.

This finally happened with the 1921 Act, although Canada maintained a compulsory licence provision applicable to non-Berne authors for many years. This was aimed at the US, although it was never used. It was designed as leverage to gain an exemption from the US manufacturing clause for Canadian authors, a measure that was eventually successful. Canada also retained a voluntary registration system. As mentioned above, as part of its goal to assert sovereignty through independent treaty-making, Canada joined the Berne Union as a separate entity in 1928.

Despite full accession, Canada had second thoughts about joining Berne for several decades thereafter, largely because of concerns about printing and a view that copyright generated more income for foreign authors in Canada than for Canadian authors abroad. In the 1960s, Canadian officials viewed the country’s international copyright obligations solely through an economic “balance of trade” lens, considering the amount of royalties paid to foreign authors for distribution of their works in Canada as an economic drain, with little offsetting benefit, ignoring social and cultural objectives entirely.[ii] At one point, Canadian officials even took the risible and unsustainable position that Canada was a “developing country” from a copyright perspective and was therefore entitled to weaken its level of copyright protection. The fact that at the time the UN definition of a developing country was limited to those with a per capita income of less than US$300 per year, and that Canada had the third highest per capita income in the world, did not help Canada’s case. This narrow, utilitarian point of view still has advocates as we saw during relatively recent discussions regarding whether Canada should extend its term of copyright protection to match that of the US, EU, UK, etc., with some commentators claiming (with no credible evidence, as I pointed out here) that extension would cost Canada between $100 million and $450 million annually. Total nonsense.

The problem of net copyright revenue outflow back in the 1950s and 1960s lay not with copyright of course, but with the fact that Canadian authors were not particularly prolific or internationally known at the time. It seems not to have occurred to Canadian officials that a strong reciprocal copyright regime might have fostered the growth of Canadian writing and provided a needed economic incentive. Happily, the explosion of Canadian literature has ended most of the parochialism. In particular, the cultural vibrancy of Quebec creators and their success internationally eventually helped push the Canadian government toward a more pro-creator position by the mid-1980s.

Subsequently, copyright and intellectual property (IP) generally become intertwined with trade policy issues. The Uruguay Round leading to the establishment of the WTO was underway, and IP, including copyright, was one of the issues on the table in the negotiations. The Canada-US Free Trade Agreement of 1989 committed both parties to cooperate in the Uruguay Round and in other international forums to improve the protection of intellectual property. Copyright became “coinage” in the negotiations, to be bundled with other issues (like dairy quotas, automotive rules of origin, or investment rules) as a means to achieve overall negotiating objectives. In 1989, the US finally acceded to the Berne Convention, further harmonizing the international rules governing copyright, and all WTO members incorporated its principal provisions through TRIPS when the WTO was established in 1995. By this time, the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) had been established (in 1970) to manage not only the Berne Convention, but other international treaties related to intellectual property, such as those dealing with patents and trademarks. As Canada has embraced trade liberalization and has meticulously adhered to the rules-based order in international trade out of its own self-interest, it has come to recognize and accept the benefits of a standardized international copyright framework and the benefit this brings in terms of cultural expression and cultural industries.

Copyright in Canada and internationally continues to evolve. The current challenge is AI, and the rules by which AI developers will be able to access copyrighted content to train their algorithms. Will there be a text and data mining (TDM) exception in Canada, similar to the fair dealing exceptions? If so, how broad, or how narrow, should that exception be in order to spur innovation without harming creators and cultural industries? Will there be further international rules to govern how AI and copyright can co-exist, and to what extent will Canada be a player in setting these rules?

Canada evolved from colony to nation as its copyright framework developed over the past 200 years. In the early days, Canada agitated for more control over copyright policy. When it achieved this, it played somewhat of a spoiler role, with one eye always on the US and its impact on Canada and the Canadian market. As Canada matured, it became more committed to playing by and contributing to the international consensus on copyright, although we are still an outlier in some respects, given the situation with educational fair dealing that has decimated the educational publishing industry and the incomes of many authors in Canada. This is a situation not faced in any other country—and needs to be fixed. Although we have come a long way, we still have some lessons to learn. It’s been quite a journey, and the journey continues.

© Hugh Stephens, 2024.

[i] “For the Encouragement of Learning: The Origins of Canadian Copyright Law”, (University of Toronto Press, 2023), p. 48

[ii] Sara Bannerman, in her book “The Struggle for Canadian Copyright”, (UBC Press, 2013) quotes the Secretary of State for External Affairs, in a Memorandum to Cabinet in 1967. Considering the wisdom of Canada staying in the Berne Union, he wrote, “An important consideration…is the fact that about 90 percent of the total cost (about $8 million) of copyright to the public in Canada is accounted for by the protection given foreign works. In turn compensation to Canadian authors by way of payments from overseas to Canada is minimal”. p. 160