Read Online The Case for Copyright Reform by Christian Engström, Rick Falkvinge - Free Book Online
Authors: Christian Engström, Rick Falkvinge
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went to publishers and distributors, and creators were
left starving, due to the copyright monopoly. (Just like today.)
A person in France named Victor
Hugo would take the initiative to try to level the playing field by
internationalizing a French tradition known as droit d’auteur, “writer’s right”, into the copyright monopoly.
Also, he would try to make the copyright monopoly international: until now, it
had just been a national monopoly. A French writer could sell his monopoly to a
French publisher, and the publisher would enjoy monopoly powers in France, but
not in Germany or the United Kingdom. Hugo sought to change this.
Paradoxically, the copyright and patent monopolies were forgotten when
free market laws were enacted across Europe in the mid-1800s. Patent law still
talks about “prevention of disloyal competition” as justification for its
existence, which is a remnant from when guilds dictated products, craftsmen,
and prices. If a business practices loyal
competition in their industry segment today, we raid them at dawn and haul
their ass to court. The copyright monopoly is a similar remnant from the
printing guild of London.
Victor Hugo would try to balance the immense powers of the publishers by
giving creators some rights under the copyright monopoly as well, unfortunately
impoverishing the public further. (It is important here to remember that there are
three parties to the copyright conflict: creators, publishers, and
the public. Ironically, the publishers, who are the party least necessary to
sustain a culturally rich society, are the ones with the by far strongest
position in the monopoly’s design.)
While Hugo didn’t live to see the fruition of his initiative, the Berne
Convention was signed in 1886. It said that countries should respect the
copyrights of other countries, and an agency — BIRPI — was set up
as watchdog. This agency has mutated, grown and swelled and is today WIPO,
which still
oversees the Berne Convention, which has also swelled, mutated and
been hijacked twice. (More on this in the next section.)
So, at this point, there are four aspects of the copyright monopoly,
which have more differences between them than similarities:
1. The commercial monopoly to fixations of a work. This is the original monopoly
granted to London’s printing guild in exchange for censorship.
2. The commercial monopoly to performances of a work. If somebody performs a
work publicly on a for-profit stage, the monopoly holder has a right to demand
money.
3. The droit
moral to be acknowledged as
creator. The right for an author or artist to be acknowledged as creator of his
or her work, acting as protection against counterfeiting and against
plagiarism.
4. The droit
moral to veto an improper performance of the work. If an artist feels that a performance slights the work or
the name of the artist, they have the right to deny that performance the light
of day.
The droits morals are very
different in nature from the commercial monopolies in that they cannot be sold
or transferred. This sets them sharply apart from the justification that
convinced the British Parliament to re-enact the copyright monopoly in 1709.
It is also noteworthy how often these four aspects are deliberately
confused to defend the most controversial and damaging of the monopolies, the
commercial monopoly on fixations (and later duplication). You will often hear
people from the copyright industry defending the monopoly by asking “would you
want somebody else to take your work and claim it was theirs?”. However, this
is the quite uncontroversial third part, the droit moral of attribution and
credit, which cannot honestly be used to defend any of the two commercial
monopolies.
The United States didn’t like moral rights, by the way, so they stayed
outside of the Berne Convention until they could use it for leverage against
Toyota a hundred years later. We’ll return to that
left starving, due to the copyright monopoly. (Just like today.)
A person in France named Victor
Hugo would take the initiative to try to level the playing field by
internationalizing a French tradition known as droit d’auteur, “writer’s right”, into the copyright monopoly.
Also, he would try to make the copyright monopoly international: until now, it
had just been a national monopoly. A French writer could sell his monopoly to a
French publisher, and the publisher would enjoy monopoly powers in France, but
not in Germany or the United Kingdom. Hugo sought to change this.
Paradoxically, the copyright and patent monopolies were forgotten when
free market laws were enacted across Europe in the mid-1800s. Patent law still
talks about “prevention of disloyal competition” as justification for its
existence, which is a remnant from when guilds dictated products, craftsmen,
and prices. If a business practices loyal
competition in their industry segment today, we raid them at dawn and haul
their ass to court. The copyright monopoly is a similar remnant from the
printing guild of London.
Victor Hugo would try to balance the immense powers of the publishers by
giving creators some rights under the copyright monopoly as well, unfortunately
impoverishing the public further. (It is important here to remember that there are
three parties to the copyright conflict: creators, publishers, and
the public. Ironically, the publishers, who are the party least necessary to
sustain a culturally rich society, are the ones with the by far strongest
position in the monopoly’s design.)
While Hugo didn’t live to see the fruition of his initiative, the Berne
Convention was signed in 1886. It said that countries should respect the
copyrights of other countries, and an agency — BIRPI — was set up
as watchdog. This agency has mutated, grown and swelled and is today WIPO,
which still
oversees the Berne Convention, which has also swelled, mutated and
been hijacked twice. (More on this in the next section.)
So, at this point, there are four aspects of the copyright monopoly,
which have more differences between them than similarities:
1. The commercial monopoly to fixations of a work. This is the original monopoly
granted to London’s printing guild in exchange for censorship.
2. The commercial monopoly to performances of a work. If somebody performs a
work publicly on a for-profit stage, the monopoly holder has a right to demand
money.
3. The droit
moral to be acknowledged as
creator. The right for an author or artist to be acknowledged as creator of his
or her work, acting as protection against counterfeiting and against
plagiarism.
4. The droit
moral to veto an improper performance of the work. If an artist feels that a performance slights the work or
the name of the artist, they have the right to deny that performance the light
of day.
The droits morals are very
different in nature from the commercial monopolies in that they cannot be sold
or transferred. This sets them sharply apart from the justification that
convinced the British Parliament to re-enact the copyright monopoly in 1709.
It is also noteworthy how often these four aspects are deliberately
confused to defend the most controversial and damaging of the monopolies, the
commercial monopoly on fixations (and later duplication). You will often hear
people from the copyright industry defending the monopoly by asking “would you
want somebody else to take your work and claim it was theirs?”. However, this
is the quite uncontroversial third part, the droit moral of attribution and
credit, which cannot honestly be used to defend any of the two commercial
monopolies.
The United States didn’t like moral rights, by the way, so they stayed
outside of the Berne Convention until they could use it for leverage against
Toyota a hundred years later. We’ll return to that
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