medium. I’ve touched upon some of the comparisons that can be made between
an electronic, or otherwise easily replicable product, and a physical,
not-so-easily replicable product. Obviously there are differences, but are these
enough to warrant the claim that ease of replicability implies a revised mode of
ownership? Just because software and digital audio are easy to copy, does that
mean we should? And does the digital nature of some products mean that the
originator of those products should benefit any less than they would have had
that product been in traditional physical form? An argument that may be used in
favor of copyright protection for electronic media is that if an artist or
programmer is hoping to make a substantial living through sale of their work,
then that work should be protected. Why should an article or novel be protected
any less merely because it is published on the World Wide Web, rather than in a
print magazine? In both cases, the original author should have the right to
claim ownership of what they’ve written – especially if someone else stands to
profit by taking that work and unjustly claiming it as their own. Contrastingly,
the author should also have the right to publish their work as public domain, or
anonymously – and thus claiming no ownership rights on it – but we may also
agree that it would be equally unjust if someone were again to take that work as
their own and profit by it (this latter case is different only in that the
original author is not losing out, since they had never planned to profit by
their creation in the first place). In both cases we usually consider it wrong
for the work to be stolen, regardless of what conditions the original author
published it under. Is it feasible to utilize another kind of copyright
protection – one which protects a public domain creation from being unjustly
stolen? This is something like what is happening with GNU/Linux and its source
code; part of its license provides for protection from patents. Or, to quote
from the GNU General Public License itself, "…any patent must be licensed
for everyone’s free use or not licensed at all." This is quite a powerful
idea. The authors of a work of public domain software have ensured that it
remains public domain. The driving concept here is the idea that allowing the
community to directly influence the evolution of the software (by giving them
the source code and all the rights that the original authors have), everyone
benefits. Rather than one company benefitting at the cost of the community (as
is the case with most commercial software) the free software ethic provides a
way for everyone to benefit, and moreover provides protection from those who
would leverage that freedom for personal gain at the expense of the community.
Might this be applied to realms of creation other than software? Just as there
are functional advantages in allowing a community to modify a piece of software,
might there be literary advantages in publishing poems, articles, essays, or
even novels as public-domain works? Or musical advantages to publishing free
sample, drum loop, or song databases? Musicians and writers are known to be a
picky bunch when it comes to letting others tamper with their work – and of
course, those that don’t want their work tampered with can always copyright it
and claim ownership for themselves, just as most software authors copyright
their work and don’t release the source code. But for those who wish to
contribute artistic works to a community-based effort, under the assumption that
others will revise and improve those works, protection should also be offered.
Granted not everyone is capable of improving on someone else’s creation, but as
long as everyone has equal access and privelege to alter those creations, the
best end product will eventually emerge. If you stir up the pot enough, the
cream eventually rises to the top, and it will be there for everyone to share
and benefit from. One of the provisions of United States copyright law is for
the copyright owner to authorize others to have any of the rights that they, the
copyright owners, have. Section 106 of the U.S. Copyright Law grants the owner
of a copyright "…exclusive rights to do and to authorize…" any of
a number of things that we commonly assume to be the rights of a copyright
holder: to reproduce the work, to prepare derivatives of it, to distribute or
sell copies of it, and to present the work publicly. And Section 201d provides
for the owner of a copyright to transfer ownership of that copyright to someone
else, thus giving them all of the same rights – that is, the right to reproduce,
modify, and sell the creation, as well as transfer ownership to someone else.
Sound similar to what I’ve been talking about? A mistake that I often witness
goes something like this: "MP3s are illegal because they’re stolen from the
musician who actually made the song." This misnomer is familiar to anyone
who’s spent any time browsing the MP3 culture on the internet; it’s often
difficult to convince the mistaken party otherwise, since it is indeed common
for MP3 to be used illegally, thanks to its high quality and portability. In the
days when a copyright can be owned on a brand name, a trademark on a simple
phrase, or a legal claim of intellectual ownership of a bunch of zeroes and ones
that exist on someone else’s hard drive, it is easy to assume that simply
because a certain file format is commonly associated with illegal activity, that
format itself is illegal. For a while I’ve argued that we’re already progressing
beyond the conventional idea of owning physical objects, to the modernized
concept of owning ideas and information. Already most of the cost of a compact
disc or software package goes towards its development, advertising and marketing
- all of which are services, rather than substantial realities like a ham and
swiss sandwich. It would only be a small step to remove the physical aspect of
those products entirely; consumers would pay for the privelege of owning the
MP3s of an album, or of running certain software on their computer, of owning
the Acrobat files of their favorite novels, of having a painting by their
favorite artist in their Windows background. But such a reality will push even
further the insecurity of intellectual ownership; currency is already so largely
electronic that perhaps one day the distinction between electronic currency and
electronic property will become so blurred that the two merge. One piece of art,
music, or software would be paid for with another – instant electronic barter.
And then, who will be able to claim ownership of anything?