Fair Dealing – Hugh Stephens Blog

Blacklock’s Reporter (BR) v Attorney General for Canada (AGC): Score One for “David”

A cartoon-style illustration depicting a young boy facing a giant warrior, with a dramatic background. Text overlays include 'BR' and 'AGC'.

Image: Shutterstock (modified)

The ongoing David vs Goliath tussle involving a small web-based Ottawa public affairs journal, Blacklock’s Reporter (BR), that took on the Government of Canada (GOC) over a series of alleged copyright infringements, has just seen a significant new development. On March 19, 2026, the Federal Court of Appeal (FCA) announced its decision in the Parks Canada case, upholding BR’s appeal of a 2024 Federal Court ruling delivered by Justice Yvan Roy. Roy had declared (1) that the use of a password by Parks Canada to access BR content constituted fair dealing under the Copyright Act, and (2) that the licit use of a password does not constitute circumvention of a TPM (technological protection measure, often referred to as a “digital lock”) as defined in the Copyright Act. That decision and its attendant declarations are now vacated. Costs were awarded to BR. This is an important victory for rightsholders and businesses that depend on TPMs to protect paywalled content. It’s also a black eye for the government’s litigator, the Attorney General for Canada (AGC), which sought these declarations as a way of justifying alleged repeated cases of copyright infringing activity by various GOC Departments and agencies.

Let’s review the history. BR is a subscription-based digital journal. Its stock in trade is “Inside Ottawa” investigative reporting. It is, frankly, a thorn in the side of government which is precisely why its role is so important. Its breaks the stories that well-staffed and well-funded departmental communications shops don’t want covered. It doesn’t print government news releases; instead, it provides investigative stories to its customers. An individual can subscribe to BR on an annual basis for a relatively modest sum, currently $314 plus tax, which compares favourably to the digital subscription rates of leading national media organizations. However, larger entities like companies or government agencies that have multiple users require institutional subscriptions. The cost depends on the number of subscribers, i.e. the degree of access. There is nothing unusual about this; it is a common business model. That business model depends on controlling access to the paywalled content. Passwords are commonly used for this purpose.

For a number of years, BR has been fighting the GOC over the government’s unwillingness to pay for bulk subscriptions for its various agencies. Because BR had difficulty in knowing how many employees within a given agency had access to its content, it filed Access to Information (ATI) requests to obtain this information. It then used the ATI revelations–which confirmed there were multiple users (in some cases, thousands) who were not covered by the subscription to BR– to bring suit for copyright infringement against these government agencies. This led the government’s lawyers, through the Attorney General for Canada (AGC,) to accuse BR of entrapment and using copyright trolling as a business model. This ludicrous accusation, which in effect suggests that BR only investigates and reports on what the government is doing in order to sell bulk subscriptions to government agencies, was firmly and rightly rejected by the courts. Given that BR was only suing for the cost of an institutional subscription, it seems evident that their sole objective was to be paid appropriately for the use of their services. However, despite the Court’s repudiation of the trolling accusation, to date BR has not been successful in proving copyright infringement on the part of the GOC and its agencies. The successful appeal opens up the possibility of further court action.

The Parks Canada case was one of BR’s first attempts to assert its copyright, as I discussed in an earlier blog post. In 2013, a Parks Canada employee accessed the BR website and purchased an individual subscription. She then shared the password she obtained with a number of other employees within the agency. BR sued, arguing this was copyright infringement and a violation of its terms of service. The AGC on behalf of Parks Canada contended the use was a fair dealing for research purposes. The nub of the issue was whether the content had been accessed legally, which is a requirement to be able to exercise the fair dealing provisions of the Copyright Act (Section 29). Fair dealing (that is, use without permission for specified purposes) does not apply if the content is protected by a TPM that has been circumvented. Circumvention is described in the Act as using descrambling or decryption or to “otherwise avoid, bypass, remove, deactivate or impair” the TPM. But what was the TPM (the password or the paywall?) and was it “bypassed”? It was a complicated scenario. As was its right, BR announced in 2021 that it had decided to discontinue this particular case and instead focus on infringement that had occurred elsewhere, in another GOC agency.

That should have been the end of it but for the action of the AGC, which did an end-run on BR’s discontinuance motion. This was was due to be officially filed on Monday morning, July 5, 2021. The AGC filed an application for summary judgment and a counterclaim (on a Sunday yet, July 4, the last day possible for such action) seeking the declarations mentioned in paragraph one. The original plaintiff, BR, thus became the respondent. The AGC sought to use the Parks Canada case, which the plaintiff had chosen to discontinue, to obtain broad declarations it could use in other cases brought by BR. For example, it sought a broad declaration that a password was not a TPM (which would imply therefore that password sharing was legal). However, the Federal Court declined to address that issue, limiting its decision to the facts of this one case. Having been forced to defend a case it had sought to discontinue, becoming in effect the respondent, and having lost, BR appealed. It has now been vindicated. As Appeal Justice Wyman Webb of the Federal Court of Appeal (FCA) clearly stated;

“…the Federal Court erred in making the declarations. I would allow the appeal and set aside the Judgment of the Federal Court”.

What has been the reaction in the free-access community that had so openly lauded the initial Federal Court decision? University of Ottawa professor Michael Geist, who crowed that the original decision, now overturned, was a “huge win” for users of copyrighted content–at least those who don’t want to pay for the paywalled content they use—has remained silent. For many years Dr. Geist has been closely associated with CIPPIC (the Samuelson-Glushko Canadian Internet Policy and Public Interest Clinic at the University of Ottawa) which was a third-party intervenor in the case, supporting the AGC. While Geist has remained silent, CIPPIC has commented, trying to minimize the impact of the decision by dismissing it as a technical issue. Although Justice Roy’s declarations have been set aside, CIPPIC tries to salvage some usable timber from the wreckage by claiming that his views on fair dealing and passwords remain as obiter (non-binding opinions). However, as this legal blog notes,

“This appellate ruling effectively nullifies the precedential value of the judgment….Moreover, the FCA explicitly noted that the court’s findings…that Blacklock’s paywall was “not the TPM” (as distinct from the password) was obiter dicta and not binding. While the FCA declined to endorse or criticize this comment, it appears that the FCA was skeptical of the findings of Justice Roy.”

Retired IP lawyer Howard Knopf, who maintains a blog titled “Excess Copyright” (which tells you all you need to know about his views on copyright), has written extensively on the BR Parks Canada case over the years. Back in August of 2024, after Justice Roy’s decision against BR, he commented that “I would frankly be surprised, but not shocked, if BR actually does appeal.” He thought BR had more to lose than to gain from doing so. Once BR had launched its appeal, Mr. Knopf informed the world that “the jurisprudence and the factual record suggest that Blacklock’s will lose the appeal.” That was clearly his belief, but he backed it up by asking ChatGPT (I am serious), which agreed that BR’s appeal would be dismissed and Justice Roy’s decision affirmed in all respects. Then came the Appeal Court’s decision. Oops. How to explain that? Easy. It was a “pyrrhic victory”. Blame ChatGPT. After all, it can’t be expected to be right all the time.

Why was the victory so “pyrrhic” (meaning not worth the cost of victory)? Knopf doesn’t say, although he is forced to acknowledge that the AGC’s motion for summary judgment has been dismissed, the declarations are voided, and costs have been awarded to BR. Having got the Parks Canada case–which it wanted to discontinue–set aside, BR is free to pursue other options, and it may do so. While Justice Roy’s views on fair dealing have not been reversed, they have also not been accepted. They have been nullified (set aside). This is not a pyrrhic victory; it is real and substantive.

The Government of Canada has deep pockets when it comes to litigation. Rather than waste these taxpayer-funded resources in pursuing small businesses who are seeking to get paid fairly for their work, as it clearly did with its “too clever by half” legal manoeuvre on the Parks Canada case, it should walk its talk about supporting Canadian media. This means doing the right thing and paying for the access it provides to its employees. Instead, it unleashed the legal dogs at AGC to try to teach BR a lesson. That strategy has just blown up in its face. Score one for David.

When the End Does Not Justify the Means, Anthropic’s $1.5 Billion Lesson

“Fair Use” Does Not Justify Piracy

A hand-written note on a white paper that reads 'END ≠ MEANS'.

Image: Author

The stunning announcement on September 5 that AI company Anthropic had agreed to a USD$1.5 billion out-of-court settlement to settle a class-action lawsuit brought by a group of authors was ground breaking in terms of its size, and goes to disprove the old adage that “the end justifies the means”. It is still not clear if the “end” (i.e. using copyrighted content without authorization to train AI algorithms) is legal, although preliminary indications are that at least in the US this may be the case. However, even if what Anthropic and other AI companies have been doing is ultimately determined to be fair use under US law—which is by no means certain—downloading and storing pirated content is clearly not legal, even if it is to be used for a fair use purpose. In other words, the piracy stands alone and must be judged as such, separate from whatever ultimate use to which the pirated content may be put.

Ironically, in the end, Anthropic did not even use much of the pirated content it had collected for training its platform, Claude. It seems to have had second thoughts about using content from online pirate libraries such as LibGen (Library Genesis) and PiLiMi (Pirate Library Mirror) and instead went out and purchased single physical copies of many works, disassembling and then digitizing them page by page for its Central Library, after which it destroyed the hard copies. Why go to all this trouble? Why not just access a legal online library? That’s because when you access a digital work, you don’t actually purchase it. You purchase a licence to use it, and that licence comes with conditions, such as likely prohibiting use for AI training. Anthropic would have been exposing itself to additional legal risk by violating the terms of the licence, so instead of negotiating a training licence, they took the easy way out by downloading content from pirate sites LibGen and PiLiMi. Later, having second thoughts, they purchased physical copies of the works they wanted to ingest and then scanned them. But it was too late. The piracy had already occurred.

When the decision in the Bartz v Anthropic case was released this summer, I commented that the findings were a mixed bag for AI developers. A very expensive mixed bag, it turns out. In the Anthropic case, there were clearly some interim “wins” for the AI industry. Anthropic’s unauthorized use of the works of the plaintiffs (authors Andrea Bartz, Charles Graeber and Kirk Wallace Johnson, who filed a class action suit) was ruled by the judge (William Alsup) to be “exceedingly tranformative” thus tipping the scales to qualify as a fair use. In addition, he ruled that Anthropic’s unauthorized digitization of the purchased books to also be fair and not infringing. However, it was the downloading and storing of the pirated works that got Anthropic into hot water. Even though the intended use of the pirated works was to train Claude, a so-called transformative fair use, this did not excuse the piracy. While Alsup did not specifically rule that use of pirated materials invalidates a fair use determination (i.e. he ruled that the piracy and the AI training were separate acts), his ruling exposes a weak flank for the AI companies. For example, the US Copyright Office has stated that the knowing use of pirated or illegally accessed works as training data weighs against a fair-use defence. In short, the end does not justify the means.

The piracy finding was significant because Judge Alsup decreed that this element of the case would be sent to a jury to determine the extent of damages. (In Canada and the UK, judges rather than juries normally play this role). Given that under US law statutory damages start at $750 for each work infringed but can go up to $150,000 per work for willful infringement, Anthropic could have been on the hook for tens of billions of dollars in damages for the almost 500,000 works at issue. (Over 7 million works were inventoried by the pirate websites and downloaded by Anthropic but the limitations on who qualifies for the class action reduced the number of actionable works to just 7 percent of the total). As deep as its pockets are (Anthropic is backed by Amazon), if a jury awarded damages toward the higher end of the scale, the company could have been bankrupted.

Thus, Anthropic had lots of incentive to settle (including keeping the fair use findings unchallenged). As it stands, the $1.5 billion payout, while large in total, amounts only to about $3000 per infringed work, not the minimum but not really financially significant for the plaintiffs. This amount will probably have to be split between authors and publishers, with some of the funds covering costs, so no authors are going to be buying a new house on the proceeds. The real beneficiaries will be the law firms that represented them. The messy process of deciding who gets what that has led Judge Alsup to suspend the proposed settlement in its current form and require greater clarity as to how the payouts will be managed. The number of works eligible for payment is limited by the fact that to qualify they have to meet three criteria;

1) they were downloaded by Anthropic from LibGen or PiLiMi in August 2022

2) they have an ISBN or ASIN (Amazon Standard Identification Number) and, importantly,

3) they were registered with the US Copyright Office (USCO) within five years of publication, and prior to either June 2021 or July 2022, (depending on the library at issue).

Any other works do not qualify. Registration with the USCO is not a requirement for copyright protection but in a peculiarity of US law, without registration a copyright holder cannot bring legal action in the US.

While the settlement has been welcomed in copyright circles, and could set a standard for settlement in other pending cases where pirated material has been downloaded for AI training by companies such as META and OpenAI, it doesn’t settle the overriding question of whether the unauthorized use of non-pirated materials for AI training is legal. With the settlement, the Anthropic case is closed, including with respect to the fair use findings. There will be no appeal, another benefit for Anthropic. However, there are still a number of other cases working their way through the US courts, so the question of whether unauthorized use of copyrighted content for AI training constitutes fair use is far from settled.

The Anthropic settlement, especially its size, has caught people’s attention. It may result in AI developers deciding it is better to resort to licensing solutions to access content rather than risking the uncertain results of litigation. On the other hand, payments like this could be one-offs, a speed bump for deep pocketed AI companies who will continue to trample on the rights of creators if they can get away with it. In the Anthropic case, while the company must destroy its pirated database, it is not required to “unlearn” the pirated content that it ingested. Moreover, even if this case leads to more payments to authors, which would be welcome, there are still many copyright-related conundra to be resolved. It should not be necessary to have to constantly resort to litigation to assert creator’s rights given that, as the Anthropic case shows, only a very limited number of rightsholders benefit from specific cases. Broad licensing solutions are required. This would also help address the problem of AI platforms producing outputs that bear close resemblance to, or compete with, the content on which they have been trained.

While Bartz v Anthropic is a decision that applies only to the US, and only to this one very specific circumstance, it will be studied closely elsewhere in countries that do not follow the unpredictable US process of determining fair use, for example in fair dealing countries like the UK, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and elsewhere, and in EU countries. In Canada, the unauthorized use of copyrighted works for training commercial AI models is a live issue. With the possible exception of research, unauthorized use such as that undertaken by Anthropic is unlikely to fall into any of the fair dealing categories (in Canada, they are education, research, private study, criticism, review, news reporting, parody and satire) nor is there a Text and Data Mining (TDM) exception in Canadian law. As Canada and other countries come to grips with the copyright/AI training dilemma, the principle of how content is accessed will surely be an important principle. Just as fair use (if indeed AI training is determined to be fair use) does not justify piracy in the US, licit access is required in Canada to exercise fair dealing user rights, including where TPM’s (technological protection measures, aka digital locks) are in place to protect that content.

Judge Alsup’s decision upholds the important principle that the end (if legal) does not justify the means (if illegal). This is a key takeaway from the Anthropic case, imperfect as the outcomes of that case were. Meanwhile the legal process of determining how and on what terms AI developers should have access to copyrighted content to train their algorithms continues.

CanLII v CasewayAI: Defendant Trots Out AI Industry’s Misinformation and Scare Tactics (But Don’t Panic, Canada)

Image: Pixabay

Last month I highlighted the first AI/Copyright case in Canada to reach the courts, CanLII v CasewayAI. CanLII, (the Canadian Legal Information Institute), a non-profit established in 2001 by the Federation of Law Societies of Canada, sued Caseway AI, a self-described AI-driven legal research service, for copyright infringement and for violating CanLII’s Terms of Use through a massive downloading of 3.5 million files which Caseway allegedly used to populate its AI based services. Now the principal of CasewayAI, Alistair Vigier, through an article (Don’t Scare AI Companies Away, Canada – They’re Building the Future) published in Techcouver, has responded publicly by trotting out many of the tired and specious arguments put forward by the AI industry to justify the unauthorized “taking” of copyrighted content to use in or to train generative AI models. Let’s have a closer look at these arguments.

Vigier opens by referencing another AI/Copyright case in Canada where a consortium of Canadian media companies is suing OpenAI for copyright infringement. He claims this is all based on a misunderstanding of how AI training works, stating that “AI systems like OpenAI rely on publicly available data to learn and improve. This does not equate to stealing content.” Whether data is “publicly available” or not is irrelevant when it comes to determining whether copyright infringement (aka stealing content) is concerned. Books in libraries are publicly available, or so is a book that you purchase in a bookstore, or content on the internet that is not behind a paywall. (It is worth noting that the Canadian media companies also claim that OpenAI circumvented their paywalls to access their content when copying it). But in none of these cases is copying permitted unless the copying falls within a fair dealing exception, which is very precise in its definition. Labelling copied material as “publicly available” is a red herring.

Vigier’s next argument is to equate the ingestion of content by various AI development models with a human being reading a book. We know that humans enhance their knowledge through reading and are thus able, presumably, to better reason based on the content they have absorbed. Vigier says, “This is how AI works. The AI “reads” as much as it can, gets really “smart,” and then explains what it knows when you ask it a question. Like a human learns from reading the news, so does an AI.”

Really? A human does not make a copy, not even a temporary copy, of the content although some elements of the content are no doubt retained in the human brain. But AI operates differently. It makes a copy of the content. This should be beyond dispute although the AI industry continues to muddy the waters by claiming that when content is “ingested” it is converted to numeric data and is thus not actually copied. This is a fallacious argument. Just because the form changes, this does not mean there is no reproduction. When you make a digital copy of a book, there is still reproduction even though the digital form is different from the original hard copy version. When a work is converted to data, the content is still represented in the dataset.

Vigier dubiously states, with regard to OpenAI, “OpenAI’s models do not reproduce articles verbatim; they process vast datasets to identify patterns, enabling insights and efficiency.” Apart from the fact that the New York Times in its separate lawsuit in the US has been able to demonstrate that by typing in leads of articles, it can prompt OpenAI to reproduce verbatim the rest of the article (OpenAI claimed that the Times “tricked” the algorithm), copying is copying even if the result of the copying is somewhat different from the original. The Copyright Act is crystal clear on this point. Section 3 (1) of the Act states that, “For the purposes of this Act, copyright, in relation to a work, means the sole right to produce or reproduce the work or any substantial part thereof in any material form whatever…“. If copyright protected content is reproduced in its entirety without permission for a commercial purpose (eg for AI training), that is infringement, unless the use qualifies as a fair dealing under Canadian law or fair use in the US.

The issue of whether ingestion of content to train an AI application results in copying (reproduction) has been carefully studied and documented. One of the most thorough examples is a recent SSRN (Social Science Research Network) paper, entitled, “The Heart of the Matter: Copyright, AI Training, and LLMs” with noted scholar Daniel Gervais (a Canadian by the way) of Vanderbilt University as lead author. The article goes into a detailed discussion on how copying of content occurs during AI scraping to build a Large Language Model (LLM), including the stages of tokenization, embedding, leading to reward modelling and reinforcement learning. The section of the article explaining how copying occurs (pp. 1-6) is dense, technical text but the conclusion is clear, “LLMs make copies of the documents on which they are trained, and this copying takes various forms, and as a result, with appropriate prompting, applications that use the LLMs are able to reproduce original works.” A shorter (and earlier) version explaining how the LLM copyright process works can be found in this article (“Heart of the Matter: Demystifying Copying in the Training of LLMs“), produced by the Copyright Clearance Center in the US. It is also worth noting that these explanations refer only to ingestion of text. AI models that train on images and music are even more likely to produce exact or close-to-exact reproductions of some of the works they have been built and trained on.

So much for the misinformation in Vigier’s article. Now to the scare tactics. He says that the recent Canadian media lawsuit against OpenAI sends a negative message to innovators that Canada may not be open to AI development.

“If Canada wishes to remain relevant in this (AI) sector, it must balance protecting intellectual property and promoting technological progress.”

The fact that there are currently more than 30 lawsuits in the US, including the seminal New York Times v OpenAI case, does not seem to have slowed down the AI companies in the US. In the UK, legislation has been introduced that would, according to British media reports, “ensure that operators of web crawlers (internet bots that copy content to train GAI, generative AI) and GAI firms themselves comply with existing UK copyright law. These amendments would provide creators with crucial transparency regarding how their content is copied and used, ensuring tech firms are held to account in cases of copyright infringement.” There is lots of AI innovation ongoing in Britain.

The Australian Senate Select Committee Report on Adopting AI has recommended, among other findings, that there be mandatory transparency requirements and compensation mechanisms for rightsholders. The EU is already way out in front on this issue. Its new AI Act stipulates that providers of AI generative models will be required to provide a detailed summary of content used for training in a way that allows rightsholders to exercise and enforce their rights under EU law. Even India now has its own version of the US and Canadian media cases against OpenAI. (OpenAI’s defence in part is based on the argument that no copying took place in India because no OpenAI servers are located there!)

If that is what the “competition” is doing, who does Vigier cite as being the jurisdictions most likely to attract innovators away from Canada? Why, it is those AI powerhouses of Switzerland, Dubai—and the Bahamas!

The argument that if legislators and the courts don’t give AI innovators a free pass on helping themselves to copyrighted content for AI training purposes, this will either slow down innovation or chase it elsewhere is a common fearmongering strategy of the AI industry. This is a race-to-the-bottom mentality whereby content industries are thrown under the AI bus. Vigier, having been the subject of his own lawsuit, argues that instead of resorting to litigation, the Canadian media companies should have sought a licensing solution. But the fact that no licensing agreement was reached with OpenAI is undoubtedly the reason for the lawsuit in the first place. That is certainly the reason behind the NYT v OpenAI lawsuit in the US; licensing negotiations broke down. If someone has taken your content without authorization, and then offers you pennies on the dollar in comparison to what that content is actually worth, then the stage for a lawsuit is set.

In explaining CasewayAI’s position in the litigation brought by CanLII, Vigier says that Caseway approached CanLII with an offer to collaborate but was rebuffed. As a result they developed other extensive web crawling technology that pulled the needed material from elsewhere. (Where exactly the material was downloaded from is the crux of the matter). Regardless, this makes it sound as if it was CanLII’s fault for refusing to share their content. Surely a rightsholder has the right to determine the terms on which their content is to be shared with others, if at all.

The fact that Caseway went to CanLII in the first place suggests that CanLII had developed the content that Caseway wanted. Caseway claims the material it accessed was on the public record, such as court documents and decisions. CanLII, on the other hand, claims that it had reviewed, indexed, analyzed, curated and otherwise enhanced the content in question, thus adding a wrapping of copyright protection to what otherwise would be public documents. Who is right, and whether the material was scraped from CanLII’s website without authorization, will be determined by the BC Supreme Court.

If the material taken by CasewayAI was not copyright protected, they are in the clear, at least with respect to copyright infringement. That is quite different, however, from arguing that no copying takes place during AI training or that if rightsholders use the courts to protect their rights, Canada will be a laggard when it comes to AI development. Robust AI development needs to go hand in hand with robust copyright protection for creators, with an appropriate sharing of the spoils of the new wealth generated from the creative work of authors, artists, musicians and other rightsholders. To say, as Vigier does in his concluding paragraph that;

“Canada has a choice to make. Will we embrace AI as the transformative force it is, or will we let fear and litigation stifle innovation? The lawsuits against Caseway and OpenAI message tech companies: you’re not welcome here. If this continues, Canada won’t just lose its AI startups; it will lose the future of job creation.”

What sheer self-interested nonsense!. This is fearmongering of the worst kind, based on an inaccurate and misinformed knowledge of how AI is developed and trained, that moreover impugns the legitimate right of a rightsholder to seek the protection of the law to protect their creativity and investment in content. Vigier might be correct when he says that licensing of content is a win/win for both parties. I agree with that. But licensing negotiations are about money and conditions of use and require willing parties on both sides. When licensing discussions break down, or when one party decides to do an end run on licensing because they have been rebuffed, then the way to gain clarity is through the courts whose job it is to interpret what the legislation means.

Canada still needs to come to grips with the question of how copyrighted content will interface with AI development. As I noted earlier, both sides in the debate made their cases in the public consultation launched a year ago, but since then there has been no movement in Ottawa. The law could be strengthened to ensure adequate protection of rightsholder interests in an age of AI, resulting in facilitating licensing solutions. In the meantime, misinformation and scare tactics need to be called out for what they are.

Adequate protection for rightsholders does not mean the end of AI innovation or investment in Canada. There is no need for panic. We can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Fair Dealing, Passwords and Technological Protection Measures (TPMs) in Canada: Federal Court Confirms Fair Dealing Does Not Trump TPMs (Digital Lock Rules)

Image: Shutterstock.com

Anyone who has been following this case, Blacklock’s Reporter v Attorney General of Canada, might be scratching their heads about now, saying, “Wait a minute, didn’t I just read the exact opposite somewhere?”. Yes, if you were reading Michael Geist’s blog, that is precisely what you read. On June 1, Dr. Geist jumped in with both feet with his blog “Huge Win for Copyright User Rights in Canada: Federal Court Rules Digital Lock Rules Do Not Trump Fair Dealing”. That is one interpretation of the outcome of this case but, IMHO, there is one heck of a lot of spin and some wishful thinking in that headline. In fact, if you were to listen to the breathless self-congratulatory podcast on Prof. Geist’s blog featuring the lawyers who represented CIPPIC, the “Samuelson-Glushko Canadian Internet Policy and Public Interest Clinic” at the University of Ottawa (of which Dr. Geist was a founder) in their intervention, you would think that Canadian copyright law had suddenly been turned on its head by this decision.

While there has been a lot of commentary from both sides of the copyright divide on this case, I think some additional perspective is needed. Apart from the “huge win” Geist school of thought (picked up by a number of blogs from law firms), there have been comments that this marks the end of password protection in Canada as well as statements claiming that this decision puts Canada in violation of the CUSMA/USMCA. Although there were indeed controversial aspects of the decision relating to passwords and circumvention, it did not invalidate the role of access control TPMs, nor did it violate the CUSMA (which requires remedies be taken against circumvention without authority), nor did it give a blank cheque to password sharing. Let’s dig a bit deeper.

First, we could start with my headline above stating that “Fair dealing does not trump TPMs.” This is admittedly a bit of counter spin but is just as accurate as the headline in Michael Geist’s blog. The Court’s decision does not allow or condone circumvention (i.e. the “trumping” or “overriding”) of a TPM, even if the purpose of the circumvention is to engage in a fair dealing activity. That is because the Court ruled there was no circumvention given the circumstances of the case. As the judge noted,

“In the case at bar, there is no circumvention of a TPM simply because the password was not circumvented: it was properly obtained and used for a legitimate purpose.” (Para 120)

We may disagree with the conclusion that there was no circumvention, but it is important to note that the Court did not sanction circumvention.

First, a quick clarification of what a TPM is. A TPM (Technological Protection Measure), sometimes called a “digital lock” is defined in the Copyright Act, s. 41, as;

“any effective technology, device or component that, in the ordinary course of its operation, (a) controls access to a work, to a performer’s performance fixed in a sound recording or to a sound recording and whose use is authorized by the copyright owner; or (b) restricts the doing – with respect to a work, to a performer’s performance fixed in a sound recording or to a sound recording – of any act [which only the copyright owner has the right to do or authorize].

The ”or” is important, since this distinguishes between two types of TPM, those that control access to a work (Part a of Section 41), aka “access controls” (which is what we are concerned with in this case), and those that control reproduction or other copyright related activities related to a work (Part b). aka “copy controls”.

Access controls provide the gateway that allows business models to function in the digital environment. You cannot access a work protected by copyright unless you are given the “key”, normally by paying for a subscription. (This is where paywalls and passwords come into the picture). Copy controls (Part b of Section 41) protect a copyright owner’s rights with respect to how the work is used. Those rights include the right to reproduce and distribute the work, but these rights are subject to fair dealing, as are copy controls in both Canada and the US, (fair use in the US case). It is only the circumvention of access controls that is prohibited by law. The Blacklock case was about access controls. (Often copy controls are bundled with access controls, in which case the access control protection prevails).

Because a copy cannot be made for fair dealing purposes unless access is licitly obtained (i.e by not circumventing access controls), it seems reasonable to state, as I have done, that fair dealing does not trump TPMs/digital locks. Content has to be accessed legally in order for fair dealing rights to be exercised. A TPM may be part of that legal access. If a TPM has to be circumvented in order to exercise a fair dealing purpose, that is offside Section 41.1 (1) of the Canadian Copyright Act. The Blacklock’s case does not change this.

The Court was very precise in its language stating that the fair dealing rights of the users, in this case employees of Parks Canada, could be exercised because they had licit access to the content through a licitly obtained password. In other words, there was no hacking, bypassing or decryption of a TPM in order to obtain access to and then subsequently use the content on the basis of fair dealing. At the same time, the Court refrained from ruling on whether or not a password was a TPM. More on this later.

This reaffirmation of protection afforded to a TPM will no doubt disappoint Dr. Geist and others who in the past have argued that it should be legal to bypass a TPM in order to assert fair dealing rights. He has claimed there is a self-described “fair dealing gap” that stops users from accessing content to exercise fair dealing. He has advocated for a “long overdue fair dealing exception for the digital lock rules” and has also called for establishing an exception “to allow for circumvention of a TPM for any lawful purpose”.

There are a few circumstances when it is legal to break a TPM. These are specified in the Copyright Act and include such things as law enforcement and national security; reverse engineering for software compatibility; encryption research; verification as to whether a TPM permits the collection or communication of personal information; security testing of computer systems; accessibility for disabled persons; temporary recordings made by broadcasters for technical reasons; and unlocking cell phones. Fair dealing is not among them.

To grant a legal exception to allow users to bypass a TPM in order to access content for a fair dealing purpose, such as research, would gut the ability of creators to protect content and operate a business model in the digital age. While third parties can use content in accordance with the law, including fair dealing purposes, access must be gained legally. This is just as true in the digital age as it was in the analog world. As one of the lawyers on the Geist podcast himself said, you can’t throw a brick through the window of a bookstore and grab a book just to exercise your fair dealing rights. Nor can you hack a TPM that controls access to a work, whether or not your ultimate purpose is to conduct research. The Blacklock case did not change this. I explained all this in a blog I wrote several years ago (Why Can’t I Legally Pick ‘Digital Locks’ to exercise my Fair Dealing Rights?)

But what about passwords and paywalls? Aren’t they access control TPMs? I would have thought so, and that is what Blacklock’s contended, but it seems that in terms of jurisprudence this may be unclear. A password is certainly a common means to control access, to open the door to protected content once payment or some other form of authorization is given, and is often an integral feature of a TPM. The Attorney General of Canada (AGC), representing Parks Canada, asserted that a password is not a TPM (and thus the use of a password does not constitute circumvention), and asked the Court to so affirm. It did not do so. In the absence of any evidence or expert testimony as to what a TPM is, the Court declined to address the issue. To quote from the decision, (Para 111)

“…the issue raised clearly lacks any evidence of a technical nature…There is no evidence either of what a “password” is and what it was in this case: thus, there was no expert evidence led by either party on what, in this case, constitutes the TPM.”

The Court then went on to a discussion of paywalls and whether a paywall was a TPM, or merely a means of enforcing a TPM. The end result was uncertainty regarding how a TPM (which you will recall is any effective technology, device or component that controls access to a work) is to be defined. The Court also focussed on the word “effective” to dismiss Blacklock’s argument that s. 41 was intended to empower owners to protect their works with any technological tool at their disposal, yet “effective” has been interpreted in CUSMA to simply mean that it cannot be accidentally bypassed. (Article 20.66 FN 72).

Another loose end is the meaning of circumvention. Password sharing, apparently, is not circumvention according to the Court.

Key takeaways:

The absence of expert testimony as to what constitutes a TPM was not helpful to Blacklock’s case. The judge admitted that a password could arguably constitute a TPM (Para 133) but in this case there was a paucity of evidence to allow that determination.
The fact that the password was obtained licitly was also not helpful to Blacklock’s. The password was not circumvented (defined as descrambled, decrypted, or otherwise avoided, bypassed, removed, deactivated or impaired). A subscription had been paid for, and a password provided, albeit shared within the organization-but for a fair dealing purpose.
The terms and conditions under which the subscription was purchased were ambiguous. This case dates back more than a decade. Memories are not precise. No exact replication of the Blacklock’s website at the time the subscription was purchased (2013) is available, having vanished into internet history. Testimony as to what it contained was contradictory and inconclusive. The terms of use were contradictory, allowing circulation of Blacklock’s content for personal and non-commercial use, but then referring to bulk subscriptions. Moreover, the terms and conditions did not require explicit acknowledgement by the user, opening it to claims that the terms may not have been read in full or understood. In short, there were a number of unfortunate loopholes that weakened the case. To use a cricket analogy, the Blacklock’s case was played on a regrettably weak wicket.
The use of the content was, in my view, consistent with fair dealing. It constituted non-commercial research. Of that there can be little doubt. It met the fair dealing test.

All of these elements created a perfect storm of conditions that undermined Blacklock’s case, although the Court specifically rejected the AGC’s low-blow allegation of entrapment and deception by Blacklock’s.

Going forward, the issue of whether a password or paywall is a TPM needs to be clarified. If it is, does unauthorized sharing of a password constitute circumvention? The circumstances of the sharing will certainly be relevant. As the Court stated (Para 125),

“how the password was obtained is significant as this may prevent a user from invoking the fair dealing provisions of the Act. Obtaining content by descrambling a signal or decrypting a communication may render invoking fair dealing very difficult to establish successfully.”

Properly drafted terms and conditions can provide protection against unauthorized sharing of passwords, avoiding a weakness faced by Blacklock’s in this case. The Court also went on record to note that its decision was decided on the evidence presented in this case alone and is not to become a reference at large.

It is legitimate for Blacklock’s to feel cheated by the Court’s ruling that there was no circumvention of a TPM in this case, and I can sympathize with their frustration. At the same time, it is important to note that the Court did not legitimize the circumvention of a TPM for fair dealing purposes. The law remains that a fair dealing purpose does not legitimize the circumvention of a TPM, (or the breaking of a digital lock if you will).

Commentators and analysts are free to take what they wish from any case, emphasizing this or that aspect. Michael Geist and CIPPIC have provided their interpretation, or spin. Now you have an alternate perspective. While the outcome is not what Blacklock’s hoped for, bypassing or circumventing a TPM in the name of fair dealing has not been legitimized. In other words, “Fair Dealing Does Not Trump a TPM”.

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.

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 157^th 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.

[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

It Took Glue on Pizza to Spotlight Google’s AI Problem

Image: Shutterstock (with AI assist)

Google, the “indispensable” search engine relied on by millions for accurate and reliable search, has done it again, stepping smack into the pile of steaming excrement waiting for it in the middle of the road. Its most recent ill-starred foray into AI generated search has yielded some hilarious results, lighting up the blogosphere and making Google the butt of many jokes. After flubbing the public launch of its first AI enabled service, Bard, back in early 2023 when the AI driven search function produced the wrong results for a simple question about the James Webb Space Telescope, overnight wiping $100 million off Google’s valuation, Google’s new Gemini “AI Overview” service scored another own goal with its “hallucinatory” responses to questions like how to ensure cheese will stay on pizza (add glue) or how many rocks a day should a human eat. (Only one, in case you were wondering). It also informed users that Barack Obama was the first Muslim President of the United States.

When it comes to AI, “hallucinations” refer to incorrect or misleading results resulting from lack of training data, biased or selective training data, or incorrect assumptions made by the model. Hallucinations leading to trademark dilution was one of accusations levelled against OpenAI and Microsoft by the New York Times in its landmark copyright infringement case that is still working its way through the courts. In this case, the AI algorithm incorrectly attributed the false information to the Times, thus undermining its journalistic credibility, and diluting its trademark, or so the argument goes.

Apparently, the source of the pizza glue misinformation was an old tongue-in-cheek post on Reddit. I guess an AI algorithm has no sense of humour and can’t tell sarcasm from reality. It also gives credibility to conspiracy theories and blatantly false information, such as the Barack Obama example. Normally a search on any subject turns up a variety of sources on Google, some clearly more authoritative than others. Searchers can weigh a Wikipedia entry against a Reddit post against information from a government website or reputable academic institution. Even a plain old tendentious website put up by an advocacy organization can be probed and the bona fides of the source checked out. That is becoming more difficult, or at least less obvious, with the AI generated search summary provided by Google’s AI Overview.

If the search topic falls within AI Overview’s purview (and at the moment, not all do), viewers will see a summary of the information requested drawn from sources chosen by the algorithm. The algorithm decides how much information is drawn from any given site, and which sites are chosen. Users have the option of clicking through to access these and other sites that are displayed (below the annoying sponsored listings). However, many consumers, looking for a quick information fix, will not bother to do this and thus risk taking the AI summary as gospel. If you are being advised to mix glue into your pizza topping, you can probably figure out that something is haywire, but if the summary is only slightly wrong, or is on a subject that you are not familiar with, watch out. A good example was provided by the website Plagiarism Today. It asked Google five questions about copyright in the US. Its conclusion regarding the responses provided by AI Overview? Decidedly mixed. One A, one B, one C, one D and one resounding F.

The accuracy of the summary obviously depends on the sources of information chosen by the algorithm, and the emphasis it chooses to put on information from any given source. Unfortunately, in many instances it does not seem to prefer credible and authoritative sources, but instead goes for those that are popular. That is one of the basic problems of AI generally—quantity over quality, popularity over facts. (By the way, this account of how AI Overview works is based on reading about it from US sources since it is not yet available in Canada, which may be a good thing since I have read various US posts explaining that Overview is impossible to disable and very hard to turn off). Google intends to cram it down your throat whether you want it or not.

Of course, Google assures everyone that Overview is a “good thing” and the early kinks will be ironed out. Many websites are not happy with the new interface that will now exist between themselves and the consumer. They lose traffic when users simply read the AI summary and move on, not visiting the source website. Google used to boast that it had a symbiotic relationship with content providers because it facilitated, and even drove, eyeballs to the sites. No longer. It has appropriated–without permission–content from independent sites to feed AI Overview in the same way that the LLM (Large Language Model) AI developers have scooped up content, including copyrighted content, from rightsholders, without permission, licence or payment to enable their AI training. It is one thing to link to third party content, which requires a visit to the actual site to access the content; it is quite another to freely copy from it and mix it, sometimes inaccurately or inappropriately, with content from other websites that may not be reliable or acceptable sources of information.

Google clearly controls what goes into AI Overview and has said that it will apply more filters. If it can screen out sources of sarcasm and parody, it clearly has the capacity to install other filters that could differentiate trustworthy information from garbage. This might require Google to license the use of this curated information (Horrors! Google having to pay for the information of others that it so freely uses!). Licensing has already begun for content used for generative AI training. News Corp has just signed a licensing deal with OpenAI, as has the AP and the Financial Times. Licensing is at the heart of the dispute that OpenAI is facing with the New York Times.

Licensing presupposes knowledge of what inputs are being used, a requirement now enshrined in EU law which requires that AI developers maintain an inventory of works used for training purposes (transparency). This will allow rightsholders to opt out or negotiate a licensing solution unless the copying meets the text and data mining exception (i.e. for research by research and cultural organizations).

However, Silicon Valley has variously proclaimed that (a) it is impossible to track all the information ingested during AI training; (b) it would bankrupt the industry should they have to pay for content (c) they need to use copyrighted content because there is not enough current public domain information available (d) it is not feasible to filter out or identify specific works amongst the millions of datapoints that it ingests (e) everything that it does is fair use anyway (f) all of the above. Google’s embarrassment, and its apparent ability to finetune AI Overview, demonstrates that it is clearly feasible to filter out certain works and types of content. It is the will to do so generally that is lacking. Meanwhile, the number of lawsuits brought by rightsholders against AI developers continues to multiply.

By making itself the object of social media ridicule, and then admitting it can address the problem, Google has actually done us all a favour by highlighting the “garbage in; garbage out” problem. Not all copyrighted material is responsible or accurate but a good chunk of it is, such as professional journalism and academic journals. Access to that material is essential to provide credible results. And that material needs to be paid for, on terms set by the content owners.

The solution is not to stop the development of generative AI; for one thing, that won’t happen. It is to corral it, improve it and make it more trustworthy, if necessary with penalties if it is not. The penalties could be imposed by the market (i.e. Google search is not reliable so I will go elsewhere) or, in certain cases, by regulation. Licensing of accurate, credible information to drive search will inevitably distinguish the fake from the real and dubious from the trustworthy. This is what any credible search engine seeks. It is market gold.

Google, open your bulging wallet and start licensing content that will make us want to continue to try you first to get reliable information. Right now, through your clumsy rollout of AI supported search, you are rapidly losing that trust. It is also not acceptable to plagiarize someone else’s content, mix it with garbage from some other source, and serve it up on a platter to consumers on the pretext that this is the definitive answer. The result, as we have seen, is gluey pizza.

Canada is not the United States when it comes to Copyright: The Cases of Anne of Green Gables and Steamboat Willie (or Down the Copyright Rabbithole, Twice)

Image: Shutterstock.com

Canada not the US when it comes to copyright—or anything else. This should be a statement of the obvious, but in fact all too often Canadians get confused about how copyright (and other) laws work in this country because of the overwhelming influence of US entertainment and, to a lesser extent, US media content in Canada. For example, during the truckers convoy to Ottawa a couple of years ago, some of those arrested protested that they weren’t read their “Miranda rights”. (Right to remain silent, etc). They’d been watching too much US television. Miranda rights do not apply in Canada although Canada does have similar “Charter rights” that include the right to be informed of the alleged offence and the right to counsel. Likewise, in the area of copyright, Canadians will often refer to “fair use”, even though the US fair use doctrine does not apply in Canada. In particular, the application of a “transformation” test by US courts as one consideration in determining fair use has no applicability in Canadian law. Just as Canada has a similar but not identical concept to Miranda rights, it also has user exceptions to copyright through the fair dealing exceptions specified in the Copyright Act. However, while there are many similarities, fair dealing and fair use have some important differences, in Canada as elsewhere.

The Public Domain in Canada and the US: Not the Same

Yet one more important difference between Canada and the US is the date on which copyright protection expires, allowing various works to fall into the public domain. Although the term of copyright protection in Canada is now “life of the author plus 70 years”, the same as in the US since the extension of Canada’s term of protection at the end of 2022 as a result of commitments Canada made in the CUSMA/USMCA, there are still many works protected by copyright in the US that are in the public domain in Canada. This is primarily because of Canada’s shorter “life plus 50 year term” that was in force for many years until the recent change. The extension of copyright protection in Canada in 2022 does not apply retroactively to works already in the public domain. A few years ago I wrote a blog post about F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, recounting how it was in the public domain in Canada yet still under copyright protection in the US. As a result, Canadian publishers could freely reprint the work, and some did, like Broadview Press, but they could not legally sell it in the US.

The Historical Context

This harkens back to the bad old days in the 19^th century when Canadian printers would frequently publish US works without obtaining rights from the author since at the time US registered works enjoyed copyright protection only within the United States, just as British or Canadian works were protected only in Britain and its possessions. Thus, reprinting US works in Canada without permission from the US rightsholder was legal. What was not legal was the smuggling of these Canadian-printed US works back into the US at cut-rate prices, a situation that led Mark Twain to lament his mistrust of “Canadian pirates”. (Just to be clear, I am not suggesting that modern Canadian publishers of US works that are in the public domain in Canada but not in the US are engaged in illicit supply of those books to US readers). At the time this Canadian “piracy” was going on, US printers were treating British works similarly, freely reprinting them for sale in the US without having obtained or needing to obtain the rights, as I discussed in this blog post. Because of its geographical position adjacent to the US yet still subject to certain imperial laws, Canada found itself caught in the crossfire of the Anglo-American copyright wars of the late 19^th century. With the signing of the Berne Convention in 1886, and the passage of legislation in the US in 1891 that provided for reciprocal recognition of national copyrights under certain conditions, this problem was largely resolved.

Anne of Green Gables

While at the present time copyright protection in the US is generally longer than in Canada for the same works, at times Canadian copyrights have been longer than those in the US. This is particularly true of that quintessential early Canadian work, Anne of Green Gables. If you will allow me to go down the copyright nerd rabbit hole for a second, I will explain how this occurred.

Lucy Maude Montgomery’s work was published first in the United States in 1908. Like many Canadian writers at the time, she thought her chances of getting published south of the border were better than in Canada. Under then US law (the Copyright Act of 1909), the work was entitled to 28 years of protection from date of publication, subject to a further 28 years of protection if the rights-holder renewed the rights in the 28^th year. The book’s publisher, L.C. Page & Co. of Boston, was assiduous in protecting its rights and ensured that the term of protection was extended, which provided protection until 1964. However, beginning in 1963, the US Congress annually passed interim extensions to works still under copyright, in anticipation of a major overhaul of US copyright law. Thus the work was still protected when the US Copyright Act of 1976 came into effect on January 1, 1978. That legislation converted the US term of protection for books from a set period after publication to the more widely accepted rule of author’s life plus a specified number of years, in this case fifty.

The Berne Convention countries had recommended “life plus 50” as the minimum standard of protection in 1908 and incorporated it as a requirement in 1948. The US now joined this consensus (although it did not join Berne at that time). The new US “life plus 50” rules applied to all works created after January 1, 1978, but what to do about earlier works? Pre-1978 works were subject only to a 56 year term of protection after publication, so Congress extended the period of supplementary protection under the old legislation (28 years) by an additional 19 years, making the full term for a registered older work 75 years (28 for the original term and 47 for the supplementary term) from the date of publication. This 19-year extension provided copyright protection to the 1908 Anne of Green Gables up to 1983 in the US. Meanwhile, Canada had been following the Berne “life plus 50” standard since the early 1920s. Thus, the copyright on Anne of Green Gables (or any of Montgomery’s other works) in Canada was protected until January 1, 1993, almost a decade longer than in the US, Montgomery having died in April 1942.

The lapse of copyright on Anne in both the US and Canada has not, however, stopped the Montgomery estate and the Government of Prince Edward Island, which has set up the Anne Authority, from vigorously pursuing legal action against any usurpers of the Anne trademarks that they have registered. A couple of years ago they threatened the US producers of an Anne spin off, a musical called Anne of Green Gables: A New Musical, with a lawsuit for trademark violation. The producers countersued, claiming that Anne was as much in the public domain as Shakespeare. In the end, both sides dropped their suits and the musical continued in production.

The US Extends its Term in 1998: Why?

While Anne’s copyright lapsed in Canada later than in the US, ever since the US extended its terms of copyright from “life plus 50” to “life plus 70” in 1998, the shoe is normally on the other foot. There are critics in the US that claim Congress passed the extension to satisfy the Walt Disney Company, given that some of Disney’s corporate copyrights were close to expiring, notably the copyright on Mickey Mouse. Steamboat Willie first appeared in 1928. As I wrote in a blog post a couple of years ago, (The Mickey Mouse Copyright Extension Myth: A Convenient “Straw Man” to Attack), that is hogwash. Of course, Disney was not opposed to extending the term of copyright protection, but whatever lobbying it did was not the primary reason for the US action. The main motivation was to bring US copyright into line with that of the EU. The EU had harmonized its copyright term (which varied widely between member states) to a common “life plus 70” standard in 1993. Since the extra 20 years were beyond the required Berne minimum, the EU was free to apply a reciprocity clause, which it did in order to encourage other countries to follow its example. It would extend the longer period of protection to non-EU authors only if EU authors received similar protection in the other country. This was a permitted derogation from the normal national treatment rule in Berne whereby any member state was required to accord a foreign copyright holder equivalent treatment to that provided to its own nationals.

The adding of an additional 20 years to US copyright protection had an additional wrinkle beyond going from “life plus 50” to “life plus 70” for post-1978 works. When the US changed its term to life of the author plus 50 years back in 1978 , recall that it instituted a provision for works protected under the old regime (where protection began from the date of publication) by rounding up the period of protection post-publication to 75 years. When it added 20 years to the “life plus” formula in 1998, Congress also added 20 years to the protection afforded works published pre-1978. Thus, these earlier works were now protected for 95 years from the date of publication.

Steamboat Willie

This leads us to Steamboat Willie and the frenzy that took place amongst public domain advocates when Willie entered the public domain on January 1 of this year. Almost every US broadcast and media outlet had a lead article on this “amazing development”, but Canadians were not spared. The CBC, Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, and others–even some Canadian law firms—breathlessly touted the entry of the mouse into the public domain, without bothering to even reference how Canadian copyright law applied. Some of them simply picked up a syndicated AP story, but none bothered to mention the salient but apparently unreportable fact that Willie was already in the public domain in Canada–and had been for two years! Apparently nobody noticed.

All the nonsense about works entering the US public domain on January 1 each year is designed to promote the narrative that these works have somehow been released from bondage, and that new explosions of creativity using the stories and characters are about to appear. Winnie the Pooh was the star of the show back in 2022, with the CBC grabbing the story, neglecting to mention that author A.A. Milne’s works had been in the public domain in Canada since 2007, (50 years after Milne’s passing). It’s total rubbish, with the new “creative works” emerging from this process leaving more than a little to be desired.

Why was Willie in the Public Domain in Canada but not the US?

This is yet another copyright rabbit hole to explore. Hang on. Willie entered the public domain in the US in 2024 because of the 95 year rule mentioned earlier. Pre-1978 published US works are subject to this rule (unless the copyright was not renewed in the 28^th year). Thus, Steamboat Willie, having first appeared in 1928, entered the public domain in the US this January. But Canada does not apply this rule. Its term of protection is based on the life of the author or authors (in the case of joint authorship). In the case of Steamboat Willie, there were two co-authors who held the copyright, Walt Disney and Ub Iwerks.

In his blog post “Mickey Mouse and the public domain”, copyright officer at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Donald Taylor, takes us through the details. Disney and Iwerks were the creators of the character. Disney died in 1966, Iwerks (a noted animator who created many Disney characters), died in 1971. With joint authorship, the term is based on the lifespan of the last survivor. Thus, in Canada, under the “life plus 50” rule that prevailed until the end of 2022, Steamboat Willie went into the Canadian public domain on January 1, 2022. Had Iwerks not died until 1972, the extended term that became effective in Canada on December 30, 2022 would have protected Willie in Canada until 2042. I wonder what the Canadian media outlets who prattled on earlier this year about Willie’s public domain entry on January 1 would have had to say then?

Willie and the Rule of the Shorter Term in Europe

There is even one more wrinkle in this, as pointed out by Taylor. Some countries have been applying the “life plus 70” rule for many years. In Germany it has been in effect since 1971, therefore in theory Willie should be protected in Germany until 2042. However, under something called the “rule of the shorter term”, (which allows the EU to apply the “shorter term” i.e. “life plus 50” to countries that do not match the EU’s “life plus 70” term), there is a provision that if a work enters the public domain in the country of its origin, then it will also be in the public domain of a country implementing the “rule of the shorter term.” Brazil does not apply this rule, so Willie is protected there until 2042, but he is now in the public domain in Germany. Incidentally, the EU’s application of the shorter term rule (the US does not apply it) provided additional benefits for Canadian authors when Canada extended its term in 2022, since Canadian works in the EU now get full national treatment, i.e. equal treatment with EU authors of “life plus 70”. What a rabbit hole!

When it comes to copyright, there is always something new to explore, a new wrinkle, a rabbit hole if you will. If there is one lesson that we can draw from all this, it’s don’t assume that what applies in the US when it comes to copyright (or any other law, for that matter) has any direct bearing on the situation in Canada, no matter what you see on TV, read in the Canadian press or hear on the CBC.

Editor’s Note: This post has been updated. The second and third paragraphs in the section headed “Anne of Green Gables” have been modified to explain that the work did not fall into the public domain in the US in 1964 (56 years after publication), only to have its copyright revived and extended after the implementation of the US Copyright Act of 1976. Rather, it continued to be protected as a result of a series of interim extensions passed by Congress until the enactment of the 1976 Act, at which time the term of pre-1978 works was extended by an additional 19 years, to 75 years from date of publication. As a result, in the case of Anne of Green Gables, its US copyright expired in 1983, as stated.

The Economics of Copyright: Incentives and Rewards (It’s Important to Get them Right)

Image: Shutterstock

Two years ago, in April 2022, the US Copyright Office (USCO) appointed its first Chief Economist, Dr. Brent Lutes. Many national Intellectual Property Offices have such a position, e.g, UK IPO, IP Australia, EUIPO, and WIPO. (Notably, Canada’s Intellectual Property Office–CIPO–does not). All these positions have broad responsibility for assessing the economics of IP generally, covering patent, trademark, industrial designs as well as copyright. In the US, the Patent and Trademark Office has its own Chief Economist. However, Lutes’ USCO position appears to be the only one related exclusively to assessing the economic impact of copyright. The position sits within the Office of Policy and International Affairs and is composed of a small team of economists, providing the Register of Copyrights, Shira Perlmutter, with policy-relevant research on economic issues related to copyright.

In an interview conducted last month, Lutes talked about the economic goals of copyright in terms of enhancing social welfare. He noted the goal of copyright is to contribute to the welfare of society by promoting access to creative works, now and in the future, through market based behavioural incentives. The goal of the Office of Chief Economist is to gather more information to inform policy making, such as the geographic distribution of copyright activity or the demographic characteristics of creators. As but one example, is racial or ethnic diversity related to creativity? The economic issues surrounding AI and copyright, both pro and con, is another field of research the USCO will be exploring.

In addition to finding the right economic levers to stimulate production of creative works, economic studies of copyright also demonstrate the enormous impact copyright-based industries have on national economic welfare. While the impact can depend on what economic multipliers are used and how direct versus indirect benefits are calculated, there is no question that copyright industries in most economies are very significant as job creators and multipliers. For example, IP Australia in its most recent annual report estimates that cultural and creative activity contributes about 6% of Australian GDP annually, with design, fashion, publishing, broadcasting, electronic and digital media and film being the primary industries involved. In the US the figures are even more impressive. According to the International Intellectual Property Alliance, in 2021 (the last year for which statistics are apparently available), core copyright industries in the US, defined as those industries “whose primary purpose is to create, produce, distribute or exhibit copyright materials”, added $1.8 trillion to US GDP, accounting for 7.76% of the economy. Total copyright industries, a definition that includes industries partially dependent on copyright, such as fabric, jewellery or toys and games, account for another trillion USD, even when only a portion of their total value is included in the copyright calculation.

The UK Intellectual Property Office published its IP survey in 2022, comparing the role of patents, trademark, registered industrial designs and copyright. While copyright industries were on the low side for exports (£4.7 billion as opposed to patents at £120.6 billion, copyright’s “non-financial value-added output” (IP data is not available for the financial industries, thus the description of “non-financial”) trounced that of patent industries by almost 2:1. As with the US IIPA study, the UK report accounted for the degree to which certain industries depend on copyright, categorizing them as core, interdependent, partial or non-dedicated support industries, adjusting the amount of copyright contribution accordingly. Book publishing, for example, is considered a 100% copyright industry and its value is calculated as such, whereas for an industry such as paper manufacturing, only 25% of the value was included in the calculation of copyright benefits. This methodology followed that of the World Intellectual Property Organization, aka WIPO, which also conducts economic studies as well as assists national authorities with their own. Economists are careful people, not prone to exaggeration, and consistent methodology is important to ensure accurate measurement and reporting.

WIPO worked with the Department of Canadian Heritage to produce a report in 2020 on “The Economic Impact of Canada’s Copyright-Based Industries”. As with other deep dives on the economic benefits of copyright, this study produced similar notable statistics. For example, while many copyright opponents in Canada were deploring the extension of the copyright term of protection in Canada, arguing that the result would be an outflow of royalties to foreign rights-holders because Canada was a net importer of copyrighted materials, the Heritage report established that “Canada has exported more copyright-related services than it has imported, maintaining a trade balance surplus from 2009 ($2.5 billion) to 2019 ($5.6 billion)”. In actual fact, extending the copyright term in Canada brought with it the additional benefit of a reciprocal extended term in many foreign countries for Canadian works, clearly benefiting Canadian rights-holders. The Heritage study went on to document a range of other important outcomes such as employment (over 600,000), contribution to GDP ($95.6 billion) and percentage of GDP (4.9%). All figures are based on 2019 data. No update has been published since. It is just as well that Heritage Canada took the lead in preparing this report since the government department holding lead statutory responsible for copyright in Canada, the mammoth Department of Industry, Science and Economic Development (ISED), unfortunately seems to treat copyright as but a tiny pimple on its elephantine rump.

While the studies cited above highlight the economic contribution that copyright industries make to national economies in terms of jobs and wealth generation, let us not forget the key point that Dr. Lutes underlined regarding the social welfare contribution of copyright through using market-based incentives to promote and encourage creativity and investment in creative outputs. It is hard, if not impossible, to put a dollar amount on the social welfare benefits of creative expression and cultural sovereignty, but they are immense if incalculable. Without copyright, not only would existing content-based industries be unable to thrive and expand, but the formula to encourage new, original content would be missing.

Notwithstanding the importance of a robust copyright framework for both economic and social welfare, creators and content-based copyright industries are facing major challenges today. Some are technological, like the emergence of generative AI; some behavioural, such as a wide tolerance, even acceptance, of piracy and free riding. The struggle against piracy is ongoing and protracted, a cat and mouse game. Free riding is what AI developers are doing on the backs of content creators through unauthorized training of AI models on copyrighted content, with resultant legal challenges. There is also the question of whether wholly AI generated works should be accorded copyright protection. As the Copyright Alliance has observed, the Copyright Clause in the US Constitution is premised on the promotion of the “progress of science and useful arts” by protecting for a limited period of time the writings and discoveries of authors and inventors. Given that premise, it should be self-evident that creator incentivization is not applicable to machines, which do not need nor comprehend economic incentives to create.

Free riding is also what the education sector has been doing in Canada under the specious umbrella of “education fair dealing”, introduced through copyright amendments in 2012 that broadened the scope of fair dealing. Since then, the “education industry” at the public, secondary and post-secondary level has been siphoning off economic value from writers and other creators to the tune to date of over CAD$200 million. Their legalized renunciation of collective reprographic licensing is ostensibly to benefit students but is in fact a transfer of wealth from creators to the bottom line of educational institutions. If a key objective of copyright is to incentivize creation of new content, such as materials used by educational institutions to teach students, then the current interpretation of education fair dealing in Canada upends a key rationale for granting copyright protection in the first place. (As a footnote, I should add that not all arguments in favour of copyright are based solely on economic incentives. There is also the question of natural justice and equity, providing authors with a degree of control over works they have created).

Since court challenges have unfortunately proven ineffective, the remedy for Canada’s education fair dealing fiasco is for the Government of Canada to amend the Copyright Act so that rightsholders are properly compensated when their works are used in Canada. Both the copyright collective in English Canada, Access Copyright and its Québec counterpart, Copibec, recently called for legal clarification of the nature and extent of educational fair dealing.

Thorough documentation of the contribution that copyright makes to economic and social welfare helps substantiate the case for adequate legal frameworks, including combatting piracy and ending copyright free riding. Sound economic data are essential to sound policy making. The initiative of the US Copyright Office to appoint a Chief Economist helps to meet these goals and is to be commended. Should the Canadian Intellectual Property Office ever create such a position, its first task should be to evaluate the full economic and social costs of the current short-sighted interpretation of fair dealing in Canada’s education sector in terms of its negative long-term impact on creativity and cultural sovereignty in the country.

The Scottish writer Thomas Carlyle may have described economics as the “dismal science”, an oft-quoted remark, but rather than being dismal it is in fact just the opposite; it sheds light on the importance of copyright to maintaining a well-functioning, equitable and culturally rich modern society.

More Balanced Interpretation of US “Transformation” Fair Use Test gives Rightsholders Better Leverage to Protect their Works

Photo: Author

A couple of recent cases in the US involving (mis)appropriation of copyrighted photographs indicate the tide may be changing with respect to the interpretation of what constitutes fair use, moving from a very liberal interpretation of “transformation” that has been used in recent years to justify unauthorized reproduction of copyrighted works by making them into “something (allegedly) new”, to a more balanced interpretation where the rights of the original creator/rightsholder are given greater weight. These cases are Andy Warhol Foundation v Goldsmith, decided by the US Supreme Court in May of 2023 and now, just last week, two cases (Graham v Prince and McNatt v Prince) in New York District Court. These involved photographers Donald Graham and Eric McNatt who had sued prominent appropriation artist Richard Prince and two well-known galleries, Gagosian and Blum & Poe, for copyright infringement. A final judgment was entered in these cases wherein Prince was found liable for willful infringement of the photographs, required to pay damages totalling five times the value of the infringing works he sold, plus paying the plaintiff’s legal costs, while also being restrained from reproducing, modifying, or distributing the contested artwork that was developed from the appropriated photographs. This is a big deal for photographers and other creators whose work is appropriated by others without authorization on the pretext of “transformation”. It could even have a ripple effect outside the US.

Last week my blog post was about photography, looked at through a historical lens from a copyright perspective. Photographers initially had a struggle to gain copyright protection for their works, at least in the US, but for many years now have enjoyed the benefits of such protection. However, just because photographs are recognized as copyright protected works doesn’t mean that infringement does not occur on a regular basis, or that photographers have not had their work appropriated without authorization as a result of court rulings interpreting what constitutes fair use (in the US).

For those readers not immersed in the minutiae of copyright, what follows is a brief explanation about fair use in the US and fair dealing in Canada. (Others may choose to skip to the next paragraph). Fair use is the provision in US law that allows users to reproduce parts of copyrighted works without permission or authorization from the rights holder, subject to various limitations and conditions. Unlike in Canada or a number of other countries where legal exceptions to copyright are based on a specified list of “fair dealing” purposes, the US fair use list is only illustrative. There is a four-part test in the US that courts use to judge whether an unauthorized use constitutes fair use. The four factors that are weighed are; (1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes; (2) the nature of the copyrighted work; (3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and (4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work. The “transformation test”, which has been an important factor in determining fair use in the US in recent years, comes in under the first category of the purpose and character of the use. Transformative use has been interpreted by US courts to mean the addition of new expression or meaning to an original work to create something new with a different purpose. Parody, which is both a fair dealing exception in Canada and one of the illustrative fair use categories in the US, is such an example where the original work is transformed to give it a new and different meaning. But transformation in the US can involve much more than just parody. The 2015 Google Books case (Authors Guild v Google Inc) where Google was sued for copyright infringement for unauthorized scanning and display of copyrighted works was decided, in Google’s favour, on the basis of “transformation”. The US Court of Appeals found that, “Google’s making of a digital copy to provide a search function is a transformative use, which augments public knowledge by making available information about Plaintiffs’ books without providing the public with a substantial substitute for matter protected by the Plaintiffs’ copyright interests in the original works…”. Notably Google, in settling an earlier case with US publishers, had agreed to limit the public display of a copied work to no more than 20 percent of its contents. The transformative use argument has been used as a fair use defence in a number of US copyright cases, including some involving photography. In these cases, the entire photograph was taken without authorization but then “transformed” by the addition of some new content.

One notable such case is Cariou v Prince, finally decided on appeal in 2013. In this case, Richard Prince successfully claimed fair use for his adaptation of photographs taken by French photographer Patrick Cariou. Prince did a series of paintings that incorporated photos of Rastafarians taken from Cariou’s book “Yes, Rasta”. The Appeal Court found that Prince’s paintings were not only sufficiently transformative to be different works, but they did not compete with the original in the marketplace. This case was part of a trend where US courts successively widened the interpretation of fair use based on a liberal application of the transformation principle.

The antidote to Cariou is the more recent Warhol v Goldsmith case, mentioned above. In this case, celebrity photographer Lynn Goldsmith sued the Warhol Foundation for copyright infringement in 2017 after she learned that her 1981 photograph of the noted singer-songwriter-musician Prince, who died in 2016, (not Richard Prince the artist, just to confuse things), had been used by Warhol (who himself died in 1987) to create a series of 14 silk screen images back in 1984. At the time, Goldsmith had been paid $400 by the publisher Conde Nast for a one time use of her photograph as an artist’s reference for Warhol to create an image for a Vanity Fair article about Prince, Purple Fame, published in November 1984. However, she was unaware that Warhol had created a whole series of prints from her photo. Years later, Vanity Fair paid the Warhol Foundation $10,000 for use of another of the prints in the series, Orange Prince, in an article to mark Prince’s death. Goldsmith was neither paid nor credited. She sued (actually countersued) for infringement after the Foundation sought a declaratory judgment that the creation of the series was fair use. It was an uphill battle for Goldsmith against a very wealthy and well-known Foundation, but in the end she won. The US Supreme Court decided in May of 2023 that Goldsmith’s copyright had been infringed—but only in the one instance regarding the use of Orange Prince, which was seen as a market substitute for Goldsmith’s original photograph. The ruling was 7-2 with Justice Sotomayer writing “Goldsmith’s original works, like those of other photographers, are entitled to copyright protection, even against famous artists”.

The doors of transformative use, swinging wide open for the past couple of decades, had just closed a bit. It is not irrelevant to note that the transformative use argument is the main fair use defence put forward by AI developers to justify their unauthorized scraping and ingestion of copyrighted content to train generative AI algorithms. Now, on the heels of the Warhol v Goldsmith decision, we have the outcome of the two photographer’s cases against Richard Prince and the galleries. This suggests that the seemingly open-ended “transformation” standard in the US is changing, or at least that the Supreme Court’s Warhol decision is sending a message that open season on photographers (and other creative works) by appropriation artists may be coming to an end.

One of the two photography cases against Richard Prince goes back almost eight years, to about the time that Prince prevailed in the Cariou case. Graham, whose 1998 photograph “Rastafarian Smoking a Joint” was appropriated by Prince, launched his suit in 2016. McNatt’s suit, for infringement of his photograph of musician Kim Gordon, came four years later. Last year Richard Prince tried to get the cases dismissed, but the judge refused. Prince had added very little to the photographs, mostly some gibberish text, yet the “artworks” were sold for substantial sums and exhibited in the prestigious Gagosian Gallery, a co-defendant.

The cases did not go to trial by jury. On January 25, a final judgement was entered by the parties and accepted by the court in which Prince agreed to pay the damages, which were far in excess of what statutory damages would have been. While Richard Prince’s attorneys are claiming that the artist did not admit infringement, the fact that he decided to avoid going to trial and agreed to the damages is a pretty realistic appraisal of what the likely outcome of a trial would have been. Unlike a “settlement”, which the two photographers refused, a “final judgement” is not subject to a confidentiality agreement as to the terms. According to legal counsel representing the photographers, they rejected a confidential settlement (where damages could have been higher) because they wanted the appropriation issue exposed. They succeeded.

It is impossible to know precisely what impact the Warhol/Goldsmith case had on this outcome, but it is surely not coincidental that after almost eight years of litigation (in the case of plaintiff Graham) that Richard Prince decided to put this behind him and cut his losses just months after the Supreme Court’s decision. After Warhol, the Prince case marks another example of some restoration of balance to the interpretation of transformative use. It is not enough to simply add a few features to an original work, and claim it is somehow “transformed” into something entirely different. The lawyer representing the photographers described this as a David versus Goliath case, where a couple of individual photographers took on a major artist and gallery–and won. This demonstrates that fair use as applied in the US clearly has limits and that even the rich and famous can be called to account.

It remains to be seen whether this trend, which started with Warhol, will continue but it is a positive sign for artists wanting to protect their work from unauthorized reproduction and appropriation. The Warhol case has no direct legal impact outside the United States, of course, but it has been taken note of elsewhere. It could mark a turning of the tide. Proponents of further widening copyright exceptions in Canada by modifying fair dealing criteria to be illustrative, as in the US, rather than prescriptive as is currently the case, (by inserting “such as” when describing fair dealing categories) will take little comfort from this. The false allure of more permissive unauthorized copying propped up by the US transformative use doctrine has already seeped across many borders. Now perhaps the counter trend will also spread.

With respect to the Warhol case, one Canadian IP lawyer has stated “I think SCOTUS’s application of fair use to the facts, in this case, will be persuasive to Canadian courts when they have to apply fair dealing to similar facts.” While the transformation doctrine does not directly apply in Canada, it has some applicability with respect to parody. We shall see in time what the long-term impact may be. But from the perspective of creators everywhere, reinserting some much-needed balance into the US fair use transformation standard is a welcome and important development as copyright law continues to evolve.

Tag: Fair Dealing

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