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Administrative Agency Commercialization Copyright Copyright Licensing Infringement Innovation Internet Legislation Supreme Court Uncategorized

Letter on FCC Set-Top Box Regulation Once Again Confuses the Issue

Washington, D.C. at nightLast week, a group of law professors wrote a letter to the acting Librarian of Congress in which they claim that the current FCC proposal to regulate cable video navigation systems does not deprive copyright owners of the exclusive rights guaranteed by the Copyright Act. The letter repeats arguments from response comments they  filed along with the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF), accusing the Copyright Office of misinterpreting the scope of copyright law and once again bringing up Sony v. Universal to insist that copyright owners are overstepping their bounds. Unfortunately, the IP professors’ recurring reliance on Sony is misplaced, as the 30-year-old case does not address the most significant and troubling copyright violations that will result from the FCC’s proposed rules.

In 1984, the Supreme Court in Sony held that recording television shows on a personal VCR was an act of “time-shifting” and therefor did not constitute copyright infringement. The court also ruled that contributory liability requires knowledge, and such knowledge will not be imputed to a defendant based solely on the characteristics or design of a distributed product if that product is “capable of substantial noninfringing uses.” But while this precedent remains good law today, it does not apply to the real concerns creators and copyright owners have with the FCC’s attempt to redistribute their works without authorization.

The FCC’s proposed rules would require pay-TV providers to send copyrighted, licensed TV programs to third parties, even if the transmission would violate the agreements that pay-TV providers carefully negotiated with copyright owners. A different group of IP scholars recently explained to the FCC that by forcing pay-TV providers to exceed the scope of their licenses, the proposed rules effectively create a zero-rate compulsory license and undermine the property rights of creators and copyright owners. The compulsory license would benefit third-party recipients of the TV programs who have no contractual relationship with either the copyright owners or pay-TV providers, depriving creators and copyright owners of the right to license their works on their own terms.

This unauthorized siphoning and redistribution of copyrighted works would occur well before the programming reaches the in-home navigational device, a fact that the authors of the recent letter to the Librarian of Congress either don’t understand, or choose to ignore. Creators and copyright owners are not attempting to “exert control over the market for video receivers,” as the letter suggests. The manufacture and distribution of innovative devices that allow consumers to access the programming to which they subscribe is something that copyright owners and creators embrace, and a thriving market for such devices already exists.

As more consumers resort to cord cutting, countless options have become available in terms of navigational devices and on-demand streaming services. Apple TV, Roku, Nexus Player and Amazon Fire Stick are just a few of the digital media players consumers can choose from, and more advanced devices are  always being released. But while the creative community supports the development of these devices, it is the circumvention of existing licenses and disregard for the rights of creators to control their works that has artists and copyright owners worried.

Sony has become a rallying cry for those arguing that copyright owners are attempting to control and stymie the development of new devices and technologies, but these critics neglect the substantial problems presented by the transmission of digital media that Sony couldn’t predict and does not address. In the era of the VCR, there was no Internet over which television was broadcast into the home. In 1984, once a VCR manufacturer sold a unit, they ceased to have any control over the use of the machine. Consumers could use VCRs to record television or play video cassettes as they pleased, and the manufacturer wouldn’t benefit from their activity either way.

The difference with the current navigation device manufacturers is that they will receive copyrighted TV programs to which they’ll have unbridled liberty to repackage and control before sending them to the in-home navigation device. The third-party device manufacturers will not only be able to tamper with the channel placement designed to protect viewer experience and brand value, they will also be able to insert their own advertising into the delivery of the content, reducing pay-tv ad revenue and the value of the license agreements that copyright owners negotiate with pay-TV providers. The FCC’s proposal isn’t really about navigational devices, it’s about the control of creative works and the building of services around TV programs that the FCC plans to distribute to third parties free of any obligation to the owners and creators of those programs.

The authors of the letter conflate two distinct issues, misleading influential decision makers that may not be as well versed in the intricacies of copyright law. By stubbornly comparing the copyright issues surrounding the FCC’s proposed rules to those considered by the Supreme Court in Sony, they craftily try to divert attention away from the real matter at hand: Not what consumers do with the creative works they access in the privacy of their own homes, but how those works are delivered to consumers’ homes in the first place.

It’s curious that after many rounds of back-and-forth comments discussing the FCC’s proposal, proponents of the rules still refuse to address this primary copyright concern that has been continuously raised by creators and copyright owners in corresponding comments, articles, and letters (see also here, here, here, and here). Perhaps the authors of the recent letter simply do not grasp the real implications of the FCC’s plan to seize and redistribute copyrighted content, but given their years of copyright law experience, that is unlikely. More probable is that they recognize the complications inherent in the proposal, but do not have a good answer to the questions raised by the proposal’s critics, so they choose instead to cloud the issue with a similar-sounding but separate issue. But if they truly want to make progress in the set-top box debate and clear the way for copyright compliant navigational devices, they’ll need to do more than fall back on the same, irrelevant arguments.

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Antitrust Commercialization DOJ High Tech Industry Innovation Inventors Patent Law Patent Licensing Uncategorized

Busting Smartphone Patent Licensing Myths

closeup of a circuit boardCPIP has released a new policy brief, Busting Smartphone Patent Licensing Myths, by Keith Mallinson, Founder of WiseHarbor. Mr. Mallinson is an expert with 25 years of experience in the wired and wireless telecommunications, media, and entertainment markets.

Mr. Mallinson discusses several common myths concerning smartphone patent licensing and argues that antitrust interventions and SSO policy changes based on these myths may have the unintended consequence of pushing patent owners away from open and collaborative patent licensing. He concludes that depriving patentees of licensing income based on these myths will remove incentives to invest and take risks in developing new technologies.

We’ve included the Executive Summary below. To read the full policy brief, please click here.

Busting Smartphone Patent Licensing Myths

By Keith Mallinson

Executive Summary

Smartphones are an outstanding success for hundreds of handset manufacturers and mobile operators, with rapid and broad adoption by billions of consumers worldwide. Major innovations for these—including standard-essential technologies developed at great expense and risk primarily by a small number of companies—have been shared openly and extensively through standard-setting organizations and commitments to license essential patents on “fair, reasonable, and non-discriminatory terms.”

Despite this success, manufacturers seeking to severely reduce what they must pay for the technologies that make their products possible have widely promoted several falsehoods about licensing in the cellular industry. Unsubstantiated by facts, these myths are being used to justify interventions in intellectual property (IP) markets by antitrust authorities, as well as changes to patent policies in standard-setting organizations. This paper identifies and dispels some of the most egregious and widespread myths about smartphone patent licensing:

Myth 1: Licensing royalties should be based on the smallest saleable patent practicing unit (SSPPU) implementing the patented technology, and not on the handset. The SSPPU concept is completely inapplicable in the real world of licensing negotiations involving portfolios that may have thousands of patents reading on various components, combinations of components, entire devices, and networks. In the cellular industry, negotiated license agreements almost invariably calculate royalties as a percentage of handset sales prices. The SSPPU concept is inapplicable because it would not only be impractical given the size and scope of those portfolios, but it would not reflect properly the utility and value that high-speed cellular connectivity brings to bear on all features in cellular handsets.

Myth 2: Licensing fees are an unfair tax on the wireless industry. License fees relate to the creation—not arbitrary subtraction—of value in the cellular industry. They are payments for use of essential patented technologies, developed at significant cost by others, when an implementer chooses to produce products made possible by those technologies. The revenue generated by those license fees encourages innovation, and is directly related to the use of the patented technologies.

Myth 3: Licensing fees and cross-licensing diminish licensee profits and impede them from investing in their own research and development (R&D). Profits among manufacturers are determined by competition among them, including differences in pricing power and costs. Core-technology royalty fees, which are charged on a non-discriminatory basis and are payable by all implementers, are not the cause of low profitability by some manufacturers while others are very profitable. Cross-licensing is widespread: It provides in-kind consideration, which reduces patent-licensing costs and incentivizes R&D.

Myth 4: Fixed royalty rates ignore the decreasing value of portfolio licenses as patents expire. Portfolio licensing is the norm because it is convenient and cost efficient for licensor and licensee alike. All parties know the composition of the portfolio will change as some patents expire and new patents are added. Indeed, this myth is particularly fanciful given that the number of new patents issued greatly exceeds the number that expires for the major patentees. In fact, each succeeding generation of cellular technology has represented and will continue to represent a far greater investment in the development of IP than the prior generation.

Myth 5: Royalty charges should be capped so they do not exceed figures such as 10% of the handset price or even well under $1 per device. There is no basis for arbitrary royalty caps. It is not unusual for the value of IP to predominate as a proportion of total selling prices, in books, CDs, DVDs, or computer programs. Market forces—not arbitrary benchmarks wished for or demanded by vested interests and which do not reflect costs, business risks, or values involved—should also be left to determine how costs and financial rewards are allocated in the cellular industry with smartphones.

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Commercialization Innovation Inventors Patent Licensing Uncategorized

Google’s Patent Starter Program: What it Really Means for Startups

The following guest post comes from Brad Sheafe, Chief Intellectual Property Officer at Dominion Harbor Group, LLC.

By Brad Sheafe

Recalling its rags-to-riches story of two guys with nothing but a great idea, a garage, and a hope of making the world a better place, Google recently announced its new Patent Starter Program. As part of its commitment to the culture from which it came, Google claims that it simply wants to help startups navigate the patent landscape by assigning them certain patents while it receives a license back. It describes the situation as follows:

The world of patents can be very confusing, cumbersome and often distracting for startups. All too often these days, the first time a startup has to deal with a patent issue is when a patent troll attacks them. Or when a prospective investor may ask them how they are protecting their ideas (“You don’t have any patents???”). These problems are the impetus behind the Patent Starter Program[.]

There are of course many tendentious assertions here – from the well-established definitional problems with the use of the pejorative term “patent troll,” which is often used to attack startups, to the untrue statement that patents are “distracting” for startups (which is false, as any person who watches Shark Tank knows). But we will not go over this well-tread territory here. For our purposes, this statement is notable because it is couched entirely in terms of a desire to help other tech startups. But when one looks at the specific details of the Patent Starter Program (PSP), it’s quite clear that it is designed to benefit Google as well – perhaps even most of all.

On its face, the PSP is advertised as an opportunity for the first 50 eligible participants (“startups or developers having 2014 Revenues between US $500,000 and US $20,000,000”) to select 2 families from Google’s patent portfolio out of an offering of between 3-5 families of Google’s choosing. These families are intended to be broadly relevant to the participant’s business, but Google makes no guarantee that they will be, and there is no “re-do” if the participant doesn’t like what Google offers the first time.

In exchange for access to these patents, many are not paying attention to the fine print that creates some significant contractual restrictions on anyone who uses the PSP. First and foremost, the patents cannot be used to initiate a lawsuit for infringement. They can be used only “defensively,” that is, if the participant is sued for infringement first. In fact, if a participant does choose to assert the supposedly-owned patent rights outside of Google’s terms, the Patent Purchase Agreement punishes the startup by requiring “additional payments” to be made to Google.

The boilerplate text of the Agreement states that this additional payment will be $1 million or more! Although specific payments may end up varying from this based on the negotiating tactics of the startups who make use of the PSP, the punitive nature of this payment is clear. For an undercapitalized startup that is just starting out in the marketplace and perhaps still living on the life support provided by venture capitalists, a $1+ million payment is a monumental charge to write down. This is especially the case if the startup is simply exercising a valid legal right that is integral to all property ownership – the right to keep others from trespassing on one’s property.

Additionally, participants in the PSP must also join the LOT Network (LOT stands for “License on Transfer”), which presents itself as a cross-licensing network committed to reducing the alleged “PAE problem.” Members of the LOT Network must “grant a portfolio-wide license to the other participants” in the LOT Network, but “the license becomes effective ONLY when the participant transfers one or more patents to an entity other than another LOT Network participant, and ONLY for the patent(s) actually transferred.”

On its face, this might still seem a reasonable concession for the “free” acquisition of some of Google’s patents. But the fine print makes it clear that there are additional burdens agreed to by the startup. First, the LOT Network agreement includes all of the participant’s patents, and not just those it acquires from Google. Second, even if one decides later to withdraw from the LOT Network, the agreement explicitly states that all of the patents owned by the participant at the time of withdrawal will continue to remain subject to the terms of the LOT agreement. The LOT Network thus operates in much the same way Don Corleone viewed membership in the “family” – people are welcome in on certain non-negotiable terms, and good luck ever getting out.

These all add up to be incredibly onerous and surprising restrictions on startups, which often need flexibility in the marketplace to adopt their business models. But as the old, late-night television commercials used to say, “But wait, there’s more!” If the terms and conditions of the LOT Network seem highly limiting on the rights associated with patent ownership and overly broad in terms of who gets a license to the applicant’s patents, there’s an even greater surprise in the license-back provisions of Google’s Patent Purchase Agreement. Once one wades through the legalese, it becomes clear that while a participant in the PSP and LOT Network nominally owns the patents granted by Google, these patents are effectively licensed to everyone doing anything.

There is substantial legalese here that is clearly “very confusing, cumbersome and . . . distracting for startups,” the very charge leveled by Google against the patent system as the justification for the PSP and LOT Network. We’ll break it all down in a moment, but here’s the contractual language that creates this veritable universal license. The agreement gives Google, its “Affiliates” (defined to include any “future Affiliates, successors and assigns”), and its “Partners” (defined as “all agents, advisors, attorneys, representatives, suppliers, distributors, customers, advertisers, and users of [Google] and/or [Google] Affiliates”) a license to the patents Google grants to the participant if the participant were ever to allege infringement by any of these partners through their use of any of Google’s “Products” (defined as “…all former, current and future products, including but not limited to services, components, hardware, software, websites, processes, machines, manufactures, and any combinations and components thereof, of [Google] or any [Google] Affiliates that are designed, developed, sold, licensed, or made, in whole or substantial part, by or on behalf of that entity”).

So let’s review: A startup can acquire some patents from Google, but only from the handful of patents that Google itself picks out (which may or may not relate to the participant’s business). The startup must agree to an incredibly broad license-back provisions and promise not to assert any ownership rights (unless the participant gets sued first) on penalty of $1+ million payment to Google. And the startup is bound to join the LOT Network, where Google execs are on the Board of Directors, which further reduces the rights not only in the patents granted by Google, but in the startup’s entire portfolio of patents, including most importantly patents not acquired from Google.

To be fair, Google is far from the only large corporation to take advantage of its size and financial strength to mold public perception, markets, and even government policy to its liking. Some might even turn a blind eye, calling it “good business” and accepting such behavior as the price we all must pay for the products and services that established corporations like Google offer. To some extent, there is some truth in this – most of us use Google’s services every day and many of us working in the innovation industries continue to be impressed with its innovative approach to those services and its products.

When it comes to the underpinnings of the innovation economy – the startups that drive economic growth and the patent system that provides startups with legal and financial security against established market incumbents (again, as any episode of Shark Tanks makes clear) – the restrictive contractual conditions in the PSP and LOT Network give one pause. After all, Google began as a startup relying on fully-licensable IP, despite the fact that Google apparently wants us all to forget about its founding page-rank patent (Patent No. 6,285,999, filed on January 9, 1998). One will search in vain in Google’s corporate history website, for instance, for evidence of Larry Page’s patent. Yet it’s well-established that Google touted this “patent-pending” search technology in its announcement in 1999 that it had received critical venture-capital funding.

The next Google is out there, counting on the same patent rights to be in place for it to rely upon just as Google did in the late 1990s. Instead of making every effort to collapse the very structure on which its success was built, shouldn’t Google be the first to defend it? Competition will always be the greatest motivator for those who have what it takes to compete – and with its balance sheet and world-renowned collection of bright, inventive minds, Google should not be afraid of competition. Or worse, give the appearance of promoting competition and then use that appearance to dupe potentially competitive startups into emasculating the intellectual property those startups need to actually compete.

So, if Google and its far-flung business partners in the high-tech sector want to support startups on terms that are reasonable for both the startup and Google given their relative positions, there is certainly nothing wrong with this. But, Google shouldn’t hide behind the bugaboos of “patent trolls” and the supposed “complexity” of a patent system designed to benefit small innovators in order to drive a largely one-sided partnership while hiding behind confounding legalese that certainly does not match its feel-good rhetoric to startups, to Congress, or to the public.

If an established company wants to support innovation by providing worthy startups with the stepping stones they need for success, then go for it! Everyone should be 100% behind that concept – but that is not what Google’s PSP or the LOT Network represent. These aren’t stepping stones to successful innovation, but rather they are deliberately fashioned and enticingly placed paving stones that lead to the shackling of startups with terms and covenants that give the appearance of ownership but strip away the very rights that make that ownership meaningful – and all the while Google benefits both from the relationship and the public perception of munificence. When one is using someone else’s idea, one should compensate them for it, and the nature of the license and the compensation should certainly match what one is saying publicly about this agreement.

All we can ask, Google, is that you treat others as you were treated in the past as a startup, and now approximately fifteen years later as a market incumbent just, well, Don’t Be Evil.

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Commercialization Copyright Copyright Licensing History of Intellectual Property Innovation Internet Legislation Uncategorized

Making Copyright Work for Creative Upstarts

The following post is by CPIP Research Associate Matt McIntee, a rising 2L at George Mason University School of Law. McIntee reviews a paper from CPIP’s 2014 Fall Conference, Common Ground: How Intellectual Property Unites Creators and Innovators.

By Matt McIntee

cameraIn Making Copyright Work for Creative Upstarts, recently published in the George Mason Law Review, Professor Sean Pager demonstrates how the current copyright system can be improved to better support creative upstarts. Pager defines “creative upstarts” to include “independent creators and producers who (a) are commercially-motivated; (b) operate largely outside the rubric of the mainstream commercial content industries; and (c) therefore lack the kind of copyright-related knowledge, resources, and capabilities that mainstream players take for granted.” Though these upstarts depend on their copyrights to make a living, they often find it difficult to effectively navigate the copyright system.

Pager explains how the copyright system generally benefits sophisticated users. For example, the Copyright Act contains hyper-technical language that can be difficult for naïve users to traverse. Pager pilots through this strikingly complex legal regime and determines that there are ample opportunities to afford better copyright protection to creative upstarts without diluting the copyrights held by others. He offers several proposals geared towards protecting the interests of creative upstarts, and he explains how the copyright system was designed without these features in mind.

One of Pager’s proposals is that we lower copyright registration costs, which potentially deter creative upstarts from registering their works. He notes that registration, obtaining accurate copyright information, and clearing copyrights are among the chief costs associated with obtaining copyright protection. A $35 registration fee may seem insignificant due to the benefits that come with it, but these costs can add up quickly for creative upstarts who generate large volumes of works. For example, graphic artists typically create many original works in order to build their portfolios, and the registration costs could be prohibitive.

Pager also notes that the Copyright Office’s searchable database increases costs for creative upstarts by adding valuable time to the process. The database is supposed to be complete and catalogued so that persons can easily search for accurate copyright information, but unfortunately this is not always the case. As a result, many creative upstarts have to spend precious time sifting their way through incomplete records and clearing copyrights instead of spending their time creating.

Tracing the history of the current regime, Pager explains how the copyright system assumes that artists seeking copyright protection have ample resources, such as lawyers, production facilities, manufacturers, and money. When the system was designed, policymakers structured it to support a “capital intensive process” that required significant investment and risk. But as Pager notes, the industry has shifted, and creative upstarts now form the bulk of content creators. A copyright system designed for artists recording on 8-track tapes is no longer appropriate in the digital age.

Pager offers a number of incremental steps to reform copyright law with the goal of making it more favorable to creative upstarts while still protecting the other players in the field. Though he acknowledges that there is no “magic bullet” solution, Pager argues that “improvements must come through a combination of substantive, procedural, and institutional reforms that yield incremental improvements across the entire copyright system.” And with such a comprehensive approach, he notes that certain tradeoffs will have to be made.

Substantively, Pager discusses how reducing systemic complexity is “deceptively simple.” While replacing “fuzzy standards with bright-line rules” would to some degree enhance certainty, Pager notes that “bright lines quickly become blurred” in a “world of fast-changing technologies and business practices.” He proposes instead that a “more realistic fallback goal would be to couple open-ended standards with clear safe harbor provisions or explicit examples.” Under this system, “standards would have room to evolve” while “their core meaning would be anchored as a starting point.”

Regarding procedural reforms, Pager suggests a “small claims dispute resolution” mechanism to drastically reduce costs for creative upstarts by providing them with a quick way to pursue infringement claims. Right now, copyright claims are exclusively within the jurisdiction of the federal district courts, an impractical and expensive route for independent artists. The Copyright Office has put forth a proposal for such a mechanism, but Pager argues that there is a “fatal flaw” since the process “would only be available on a voluntary basis.” By allowing “better-resourced adversaries” to opt out, the Office’s proposal leaves creative upstarts vulnerable.

Pager proposes that the Section 512 notice-and-takedown procedures could be improved to better support creative upstarts. Currently, creators are burdened by both the number of takedown notices required and the lack of access to the “trusted sender” facilities available to major participants. As Pager notes, the House Judiciary Committee addressed these issues as recently as March of 2014, but questions remain concerning who will bear the costs and how the transition will be implemented.

Turning to the registration system, Pager suggests three reforms that would benefit creative upstarts. First, having a single registry for authors to register their works, rather than a multitude of public and private registries, would reduce administrative burdens. Second, registration records would be more efficiently maintained through a tiered-fee system that charges more to larger content creators in order to subsidize the costs of smaller upstarts. Lastly, removing the timely registration requirement for enhanced damages, coupled with small claims dispute resolution reform, would provide cost-effective enforcement mechanisms.

Finally, Pager explains how technology can play a pivotal role in helping creative upstarts. One example is updating the Copyright Office website to provide more basic information about the copyright system. This information is currently scattered all over the Internet, and it could be organized to make it more user-friendly and less “lawyerly.” Another example is implementing software similar to TurboTax that actively assists authors when registering their copyrights. There would first have to be substantive changes in the law to allow for such software, but Pager believes that this technology would be incredibly helpful to those navigating the registration system.

Creative Upstarts is a fascinating look into the world of creative upstarts. With their interests and the interests of the larger copyright ecosystem in mind, Pager skillfully traverses our complicated copyright regime and identifies ample opportunities to improve copyright protections for creative upstarts. The twenty-first century is a digital age, and creators and innovators have the technological ability to produce creative works right on their laptops. Pager’s hope is the Copyright Act will be updated to address the realities of this modern world for creative upstarts.

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Administrative Agency Antitrust Commercialization Economic Study FTC Innovation Inventors Legislation Patent Law Patent Licensing Patent Litigation Uncategorized

How Rhetorical Epithets Have Led the FTC Astray in its Study of Patent Licensing Firms

We’ve all heard the narrative about patent licensing firms, often referred to pejoratively as “patent trolls.” These patent owners, who choose to license their innovations rather than build them, are the supposed poster-children of a “broken” patent system. It’s as if commercializing one’s property, just like a landlord leases his land for another to use, is suddenly a bad thing. Nevertheless, the power of this “troll” rhetoric cannot be denied. Many provisions in 2011’s Leahy-Smith America Invents Act were aimed at starving out these “trolls,” and no less than five bills currently under consideration in the House and Senate seek to further deflate their sails.

Another example of the powerful appeal of the “patent troll” rhetoric is that the agencies charged with enforcing antitrust law have also been convinced that there is something amiss with the commercial licensing of patented innovation in the marketplace. This has been a key feature of the deployment of patented inventions in America’s innovation economy since the early nineteenth century, as scholars have shown. Last year, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) instigated its own investigative study of what it calls “patent assertion entities” (PAEs), which is merely a more formal and neutral-sounding synonym for the popularized “patent troll” epithet.

In a new paper published in the George Mason Law Review, Sticks and Stones: How the FTC’s Name-Calling Misses the Complexity of Licensing-Based Business Models, CPIP Senior Scholar Kristen Osenga takes a closer look at the FTC’s ongoing study of PAEs and finds that it is destined to fail for two simple, yet inescapably obvious, reasons.

The first is the basic definitional problem of the FTC’s characterization of PAEs, which puts all patent licensing firms in the same boat. Failing to take a more nuanced approach, Osenga warns, “fires up the rhetoric but obscures thoughtful discussion and debate about the issue.” Building upon her previous work, she explains:

[T]he real problem is that patent licensing firms are treated as a homogenous category, with no attention paid to the wide range of business models that exist under the patent licensing firm umbrella. The categorical determination of patent licensing firms as “problems” imputes to a large, diverse group of firms the negative actions and qualities of a small number of bad actors.

Since not all “trolls” are alike, Osenga cautions, it’s “naïve and inaccurate” to lump them all together. And when the FTC makes this mistake, it leads to a situation “where words actually can hurt, much more so than sticks and stones.” The FTC’s study is explicitly “premised on a one-size-fits-all conception of patent licensing firms.” Rather than shedding much-needed light on the complex innovation ecosystem, the study promises to squander the opportunity by failing to recognize that not all “trolls” are the same.

Osenga notes that the FTC is uniquely situated to obtain nonpublic information about how these patent licensing firms operate using its investigative power under Section 6(b) of the FTC Act. Unfortunately, however, the study is premised on the faulty notion that the only upside of patenting licensing firms is to “compensate inventors.” But this focus on patents-as-incentives misses the forest for the trees, Osenga urges, as it fails to account for the larger patent-commercialization network:

[T]here are many steps between invention and the introduction of an actual product to the market and consumers. These steps include transforming an idea in to a marketable embodiment, developing facilities to produce the marketable embodiment, creating distribution channels to bring the embodiment to the consumer, and making the consumer aware of the new product. Each of these steps requires its own additional resources in the form of both capital and labor.

The FTC study, like many patent skeptics, fails to consider the benefits of the division of labor that patent licensing firms represent. Not every inventor is willing or able to bring an invention to the marketplace. Osenga’s point is that patent licensing does more than simply compensate inventors for their troubles; it creates liquid markets and solves problems of asymmetrical actors and information. These exchanges increase innovation and competition by playing the role of match-maker and market-maker, and they place valuable patents into the hands of those who are better positioned to exploit their worth.

Osenga points out that there are indeed possible negative effects with patent licensing firms. For example, they sometimes engage in ex post licensing, waiting to offer licenses until after the would-be licensee has already adopted the technology. These firms can be better positioned litigation-wise since their potential exposure is typically less than that of the infringers they sue. Finally, patent aggregators tend to have greater market power, and it can be difficult to judge the quality of any given patent that’s asserted when they offer to license their entire portfolio.

As with all things, Osenga stresses, there’s both good and bad. The problem is figuring out which is greater. The FTC could conduct a study that reveals a “detailed understanding of the complex world of patent licensing firms,” she laments, but that’s not what the FTC is doing:

[T]he configuration of the study is slanted in such a way that only part of the story will be uncovered. Worse still, the study has been shaped in a way that will simply add fuel to the anti-“patent troll” fire without providing any data that would explain the best way to fix the real problems in the patent field today.

This leads to the second problem with the FTC study, which follows as a necessary, logical consequence from the first definitional problem: There are serious methodological problems with the study that will undermine any possible empirical conclusions that the FTC may wish to draw.

Osenga says that the FTC’s study is simply not asking the right questions. Painting a complete picture of complex licensing schemes requires more than just counting the number of patents a firm has and adding up the attempts to negotiate license deals. To really get to the bottom of things, she contends, the FTC should be asking why patentees sell their patents to licensing firms and why licensing firms buy them from patentees. Better still, ask them why they decided to become patent licensing firms in the first place.

This insight is powerful stuff. It’s not enough to simply ask these firms what they’re doing; to really understand them, the FTC must ask them why they’re doing it. And the results are likely to be varied:

Some, of course, begin with this business model in mind. Others invent new technology but are unable to successfully commercialize it themselves, despite making efforts to do so. Still others exist as practicing entities for years or decades before something changes—supply change issues, rampant infringement by competitors, and regulatory initiatives—and they are no longer able to exist as a viable practicing entity.

Similarly, the FTC could ask them what kind of firms they are, and these answers are also likely to be diverse. Osenga’s point is that the FTC’s questions aren’t designed to showcase the vast differences between the various types of patent licensing firms. If the FTC wants to get to the bottom of how these firms affect innovation and competition, the first step should be to realize that they’re not all the same. The FTC’s study is as clumsy as those who refer to all such firms as “patent trolls,” and the lack of nuance going in will unfortunately produce a study that lacks nuance coming out.

In the end, Osenga agrees that deterring abusive behavior is a good thing, and she worries about innovation and competition. However, unlike many in patent policy debates, she is also concerned that the rhetoric is having an undue influence on policymakers. Throwing all patent licensing firms under the “patent troll” bus will not get us the narrowly-tailored reforms that we need. Sadly, the FTC’s approach with its ongoing study appears to have swallowed this rhetoric wholesale, and it seems unlikely that the results will be anything but more fuel for the “patent troll” pyre.

Categories
Commercialization High Tech Industry Innovation Intellectual Property Theory Internet Inventors Law and Economics Patent Law Patent Licensing Patent Theory Software Patent Uncategorized

The Commercial Value of Software Patents in the High-Tech Industry

In CPIP’s newest policy brief, Professor Saurabh Vishnubhakat examines the important role patents play in commercializing software innovation and supporting technology markets. He explains how a proper understanding of this commercial role requires a broader view of patents in software innovation than the all-too-common focus on a small handful of litigated patents and legal questions of patentability and patent quality. He concludes that the flexibility and efficiency of the patent system fosters the emergence of new markets for the exchange of technology and knowledge.

Read the full brief: The Commercial Value of Software Patents in the High-Tech Industry

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Commercialization Copyright Copyright Licensing Copyright Theory History of Intellectual Property Innovation Intellectual Property Theory Internet Law and Economics Uncategorized

Copyright’s Republic: Promoting an Independent and Professional Class of Creators and Creative Businesses

By Mark Schultz and Devlin Hartline

The following essay is the first in a series of CPIP essays celebrating the 225th anniversary of the Copyright Act by recognizing the rich purposes, benefits, and contributions of copyright. This series of essays will be published together in a forthcoming collection entitled “Copyright’s Republic: Copyright for the Last and the Next 225 Years.”

The current academic and policy discussion of copyright focuses on balancing the gross economic benefits and harms of copyright. A more complete understanding of copyright can account for both the needs and rights of individuals and the public good. Copyright is important because it helps creators make an independent living and allows them to pursue and perfect their craft. In short, it enables a professional class of creators.

The creative industries benefit from this independence too. They must find a market, but they are not beholden to anybody but their customers and shareholders in choosing what creative works to promote. This enables a richly diverse cultural landscape, with movie studios, television channels, record labels, radio stations, and publishers specializing in vastly different types of material.

To understand the importance of a professional class of creators, it’s helpful to understand the paradoxical role of money in creativity. While some are quick to say, “It’s not about the money,” in some essential ways, it really is about the money. Certainly, for some creators, the proposition is straightforward. As the eighteenth-century poet Samuel Johnson famously and cynically proclaimed: “No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.” For countless others, however, creative endeavors hardly bring riches. And even commercial creators frequently leave money on the table rather than do something they find distasteful. Nevertheless, money is important.

This seeming paradox can be resolved by considering the role of money overall in creative work. We can take creators at their word: There are many nonmonetary factors that influence and incentivize creativity, such as love, independence, curiosity, and passion. In fact, thinking about the money can hurt the creative process. But while creators may not “do it for the money,” the money is what makes it possible for them to spend their time honing skills and creating high-quality works. The money endows a professional class of creators and the various creative industries and channel partners that support them. This vibrant ecosystem – empowered by copyright – generates a rich diversity of cultural works.

Creative individuals, like every other human being, need to eat, and, like most of us, they need to work to eat. The real question is, what kind of work are they able to do? Some notable creators have worked in their spare time, but many of the greats thrive most when they can merge their avocation with their vocation. They get better at creating when their work is creation.

There is, of course, more than one way to fund professional creation – patronage, tenured university teaching, and commercial markets founded on copyright are notable ways to do it. One of the virtues of a commercial property rights system is that it fosters creative independence.

The independence afforded by a commercial system based on property rights is highlighted by contrasting it with the greater constraints under other systems. Before the first modern copyright statute passed nearly three centuries ago, many creators depended heavily on the patronage system. Wealthy patrons funded creative efforts by either commissioning works directly or employing creators to staff positions where they were given time to develop new works. To be sure, many great works were produced under this system – the musical compositions of Johann Sebastian Bach and Joseph Haydn stand testimony to this fact.

However, the economic benefits of patronage often came at the expense of the personal autonomy and integrity of these creators. As the old adage goes, “he who pays the piper calls the tune.” Sometimes these constraints were quite direct. When Johann Sebastian Bach attempted to leave the service of one of his patrons to go work for another, the former patron refused to accept his resignation and briefly had him arrested.

More important, patrons had tremendous say in the work of composers. They could decide what and when the composers wrote. They might not appreciate the value of the works created for them. For example, Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos are now recognized as works of genius. Unfortunately, the noble to whom they were dedicated, Christian Ludwig, the Margrave of Brandenburg, was apparently indifferent. The score sat on his shelf, unperformed and unappreciated, for decades. The concertos were not published until nearly 150 years later, after being rediscovered in an archive.

For these reasons, many composers dreamed of financial independence. For example, the composer Joseph Haydn once celebrated leaving behind the patronage of the Esterhazys, which was rather secure and relatively undemanding. Haydn moved to London, where he became the eighteenth-century equivalent of a successful rock star – in demand for his services and making lots of money. London had a private market – not yet so much supported by copyright and publishing as by private commissions and paid performances. In any event, Haydn prospered. In fact, at one point he wrote letters urging his friend Mozart to join him in London as soon as possible, unabashedly rhapsodizing over the money to be made there.

Still, he was now on his own, earning his own pay rather than being kept by a patron. For Haydn, artistic independence trumped economic security:

How sweet this bit of freedom really is! I had a kind Prince, but sometimes I was forced to be dependent on base souls. I often sighed for release, and now I have it in some measure. I appreciate the good sides of all this, too, though my mind is burdened with far more work. The realization that I am no bondservant makes ample amend for all my toils.

Haydn, Letter to Maria Anna von Genzinger, September 17, 1791

The modern copyright system, beginning with the English Statute of Anne in the early eighteenth century, freed creators from the restrictive patronage system. Like patronage, copyright offered creators the financial support they needed so that they could devote themselves to their craft. Unlike patronage, however, it gave them much-needed personal autonomy and artistic independence.

Beethoven, a young contemporary and student of Haydn working at the end of the patronage era, was able to support himself. His facility at performing his own difficult work helped him make a living. But he also used and supported copyright. He would often publish his works first in England to ensure that they received copyright there. He also lobbied the German states for a copyright law.

For Beethoven, too, money was important for the artistic independence it provided:

I do not aim at being a musical usurer, as you think, who composes only in order to get rich, by no means, but I love a life of independence and cannot achieve this without a little fortune, and then the honorarium must, like everything else that he undertakes, bring some honor to the artist.

Ludwig van Beethoven, Letter to publisher, August 21, 1810

The era of patronage was long ago, but human nature has not changed in the decades and centuries since. Creators still face the dilemma of trying to support themselves while maintaining independence. Every economic arrangement imposes some constraints, but some impose more than others.

A good example of how modern copyright enables individual creators to enjoy independence while supporting themselves is provided by the career of photographer Michael Stern. Stern is a hard-working creative entrepreneur – one 30-minute video he made required 103,937 photographs and 900 hours to produce. Stern doesn’t depend on subsidies or grants; rather, he values the independence he gets from being self-employed. He explains:

“The real benefit of being a self-employed photographer,” he says, “is that I can move through life on my terms and do what I want in the way I want to do it. That freedom drives me.” But, it’s not for everybody, he warns. “Nobody loves you like your mother, and even sometimes not even her. So ya gotta do it for yourself. If you don’t, you won’t have the drive needed to reach your goals.”

Instead of creating works that conform to the limited demands of their patrons, creators supply their works to the marketplace, where the demands of consumers are far more diverse. This proves beneficial to creators and society alike. Creators from all walks of life and with all sorts of interests can find the market that will support them, and this fosters a rich cultural landscape encompassing multiple political and social views.

Copyright fulfills its constitutional purpose of promoting progress by incentivizing creators through the grant of marketable rights to their works, but these rights do more than simply lure creators with the hope of economic benefits. Just as crucially, these rights endow creators with substantial personal autonomy while respecting their individuality and dignity. This fosters a creative environment conducive to the creation of high-quality works with enduring social value.

Copyright is a market-based system that supports a professional class of creators who rely on the value of their rights in order to make a living. These marketable rights have also given rise to entire creative industries that lend critical support to professional creators, and through the division of labor these industries enable professional creators to accomplish great feats that would be impossible if they worked alone.

The numbers testify to copyright’s success in helping to create a professional class of creators in the United States. As a recent report on the creative industries enabled by copyright found, there are 2.9 million people employed by over 700,000 businesses in the United States involved in the creation or distribution of the arts. They accounted for 3.9 percent of all businesses and 1.9 percent of all employees.

This creative ecosystem enables professional creators to produce the sorts of high-quality works that society values most. The popularity of these works in the marketplace makes them commercially valuable, and this in turn compensates professional creators and the creative industries that support them for creating the works that society finds so valuable.

This virtuous circle benefits creators and the public alike – just as the Framers had envisioned it. Copyright is not only doing its job, it is doing it well. The number of works available in the market is incredible – certainly more than anyone could ever possibly consume. And the diversity of voices able to connect with audiences in the marketplace makes our cultural lives all the more fulfilling.

Categories
Commercialization Copyright Copyright Licensing Copyright Theory History of Intellectual Property Innovation Intellectual Property Theory Internet Law and Economics Uncategorized

Copyright’s Republic: Copyright for the Last and the Next 225 Years

By Mark Schultz and Devlin Hartline

This past Sunday marked the 225th anniversary of the first U.S. Copyright Act. As we move well into the twenty-first century, a claim that copyright no longer “works” in the “digital age” has become commonplace – so commonplace, in fact, that it’s arguably the dominant cliché in modern copyright discussions. Like many clichés, it contains a tiny grain of truth wrapped in a huge ball of glib, unhelpful, and even harmful generalizations.

Before one can understand what the future of copyright and the creative industries could and should look like, one should first appreciate what the first 225 years of copyright has given to the United States. Copyright laid the foundation for, and continues to support, the largest, most enduring, and most influential commercial culture in human history. That commercial culture is uniquely democratic, progressive, and accessible to both creators and audiences.

Could the Copyright Act profitably be revised? In theory, perhaps, and thus there is a grain of truth in the clichés about modernizing copyright. The 1976 Copyright Act and many of its subsequent amendments are overburdened with detailed regulatory provisions contingent on outdated assumptions about technology and business. They also sometimes embody political compromises that reflect circumstances that have long since passed. However, we should pause before hastening to replace yesterday’s contingencies with those of today. And we should also pause – indefinitely – before overturning the entire enterprise on the grandiose assumption that the Internet has changed everything.

Before we can understand what the future of the creative industries could and should look like, we need to appreciate what we have achieved and how we achieved it. The American creative industries are everything the Founding generation that drafted the 1790 Copyright Act could have dreamed – and so much more. Through its press, news media, and publishing industries, the U.S. has perpetuated the spirit of the Enlightenment’s Republic of Letters, with lively, reasoned, and sustained public discussions and debates about values, science, and politics.

The U.S. has produced a creative industry that enlightens and edifies while also diverting and distracting billions of people with its cultural products. This vast commercial creative marketplace allows professional writers, artists, musicians, actors, filmmakers, game designers, and others to make a living doing something that fulfills them and their audience. The U.S. has achieved much based on the twin foundations of free expression and copyright, securing the right to express oneself freely while securing the fruits of the labors of those who craft expressions.

The past thus has much to teach the future, while inevitably yielding to change and progress. Copyright should continue to secure the many values it supports, while being flexible enough to support innovation in creativity and business models.

On this occasion of the 225th anniversary of the first U.S. Copyright Act, the Center for the Protection of Intellectual Property (CPIP) is recognizing the essential contribution of copyright and commercial culture to the United States. To that end, CPIP will be publishing a series of essays highlighting the fact that, contrary to the facile narratives about copyright that dominate modern discussions, copyright isn’t simply a law designed to incentivize the creation of more creative stuff. It has much richer purposes and benefits. Copyright:

  • Supports a professional class of creators.
  • Enables a commercial culture that contributes to human flourishing.
  • Serves as a platform for innovation in both the arts and sciences.
  • Promotes a free republic.

U.S. copyright law has achieved these lofty goals for the last 225 years, and it will continue to do so—but only if we let it and help it do so. In many important ways, U.S. culture and politics has been so shaped by the commercial culture created by copyright that it rightly can be called Copyright’s Republic.

Part I: Copyright Promotes an Independent and Professional Class of Creators and Creative Businesses

Categories
Antitrust Commercialization DOJ FTC High Tech Industry Injunctions Innovation Intellectual Property Theory International Law Patent Law Patent Licensing Patent Theory Reasonable Royalty Remedies Software Patent Uncategorized

Curbing the Abuses of China’s Anti-Monopoly Law: An Indictment and Reform Agenda

The following is taken from a CPIP policy brief by Professor Richard A. Epstein.  A PDF of the full policy brief is available here.

Curbing the Abuses of China’s Anti-Monopoly Law:
An Indictment and Reform Agenda

Executive Summary

There are increasing complaints in both the European Union and the United States about a systematic bias in China’s enforcement of its Anti-Monopoly Law (AML).  In an extensive report on China’s abuse of its antitrust laws in advancing its own domestic economic policies, for instance, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce noted among many examples a recent action against Microsoft in which Chinese antitrust authorities used a “speculative possibility of licensor hold-up” following Microsoft’s acquisition of Nokia to justify a decree under the AML to “cap license fees for domestic licensees of mobile handset-related software.”

Although the biases in the enforcement of the AML against foreign companies are rooted in systemic problems in China’s political and legal institutions, the abuses are particularly evident in the patent space.  FTC Commissioner Joshua Wright has recognized the “growing concern about some antitrust regimes around the world using antitrust laws to further nationalistic goals at the expense of [intellectual property rights] holders, among others.” He specifically mentioned China as one such antitrust regime that may be finding encouragement or at least rationalization in recent FTC and DOJ actions that presume that “special rules for IP are desirable . . . and that business arrangements involving IP rights may be safely presumed to be anticompetitive without rigorous economic analysis and proof of competitive harm.”

This same theme has been recently echoed by FTC Commissioner Maureen Ohlhausen, who explained that recent American decisions on standard essential patents (SEP), such as the FTC’s use of its merger review power to enforce settlement agreements on SEPs against Bosch and Google, have “created potentially confusing precedent for foreign enforcers.”  This concern was brought home to her when she witnessed Chinese officials invoke these recent FTC actions against Bosch and Google to justify their per se claim under the AML that “an ‘unreasonable’ refusal to grant a license for a standard essential patent to a competitor should constitute monopolization under the essential facilities doctrine.”

Such broad propositions pave the way for Chinese officials to favor domestic, state-run companies who incorporate foreign patented innovation in their own domestic products and services.  These unfettered notions of “unreasonable” conduct become weapons that let Chinese officials force down prices of foreign goods to promote their own nationalist economic policies. Unfortunately, as Commissioner Ohlhausen observed just this past September, recent U.S. antitrust enforcement actions are giving Chinese officials grist for their industrial policy mill.

It is critical that American legal authorities do not give aid and comfort to China’s discriminatory treatment of foreign companies under the AML by the way in which American regulators either speak about or take action on SEPs or other issues relating to patented innovation in this country.  The antitrust laws should not be applied so as to single out patents or any other intellectual property rights for special treatment; all property deployed in the marketplace should be treated equally under the competition laws.

The unfortunate situation in China is one example of a dangerous set of practices which could spread to other countries, motivated either by imitating what China has done or retaliating against its abuses.  The risk is that the disease can spread all too easily.  Until reforms are implemented in both the substance of the AML and the enforcement practices of the Chinese authorities, American policymakers and enforcement authorities should do everything they can to avoid aiding this misuse of antitrust as a domestic economic policy cudgel.


Curbing the Abuses of China’s Anti-Monopoly Law:
An Indictment and Reform Agenda

Richard A. Epstein

I. Introduction

There is a loud chorus of complaints from both the European Union and the United States about a systematic bias in China’s enforcement of its Anti-Monopoly Law (AML).  This bias is evident in a wide range of economic sectors and companies. The Economist reports that China has imposed extra-heavy antitrust penalties on foreign automobile manufacturers, such as Daimler, including a record $200 million penalty on a group of ten Japanese car-parts firms, and the New York Times reports that China has imposed another $109 million penalty on six companies selling infant milk formula.  China has also initiated antitrust enforcement actions against American high-tech companies, such as Microsoft and Qualcomm, and there is an ongoing Chinese probe of Qualcomm (a firm for which I have consulted unrelated issues), which is said to be done with an effort to force a reduction in the prices that it charges for its advanced wireless technology, which China needs to implement a new 4G system for mobile phones.  Similarly, in a wide-ranging report on China’s abuse of the AML to advance domestic industrial policy, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce noted many examples, including a recent action against Microsoft in which Chinese antitrust authorities used its acquisition of Nokia as a basis for a completely “speculative possibility of licensor hold-up” to justify a decree to “cap license fees for domestic licensees of mobile handset-related software.” It is no wonder that many commentators are repeatedly stressing the distinctive foreign focus of China’s recent antitrust activities.

Chinese public officials insist that their stepped-up enforcement of the AML  is even-handed.  “Everyone is equal before the law,” asserted Li Pumin, the head of the National Development and Reform Commission, which takes the lead in investigating foreign firms.  But others in China disagree.  More market-oriented Chinese writers have lamented how China’s commitment to market processes has reversed course since the adoption of the AML law, as China is now using this law as an industrial policy cudgel in promoting its own domestic firms at the expense of foreign ones. Its recent behavior, which provoked expressions of concern from American antitrust officials at both the Federal Trade Commission and the Department of Justice, suggests that this is indeed the case.

II. The Chinese Anti-Monopoly Law

The current situation is an unwelcome reversal of the initial optimism that surrounded the adoption of the AML in 2008, and so a quick overview of the AML’s provisions is necessary.  Hailed at the time as “a tremendous leap forward for China,” the law adopts, at least in the abstract, many of the standard categories of antitrust analysis found in the United States and in the European Union.  In Article 3, it contains the standard prohibitions against horizontal arrangements that raise prices, reduce output, or divide territories, subject to an exemption under Article 15 for agreements that improve technical standards or upgrade consumer products.  The AML also bans “abuse of dominant market positions by business operators,” which under Article 17 includes setting prices in “selling commodities at unfairly high prices or buying commodities at unfairly low prices;” or in selling goods at below costs, refusals to deal, and tie-in arrangements, all “without any justifiable cause.”[i]

In many ways what is most notable about the AML is the extent to which it imitates the major features, both good and bad, of the more developed competition law applied in the United States and the European Union.  But by the same token, it is quite clear that the Chinese law is embedded in a different set of institutional arrangements.  Two elements stand out.

First, the AML reflects the unique Chinese approach to “market socialism” that was first implemented by Deng Xiaoping’s reform policies in the late 1970s as “socialism with Chinese characteristics.”  Article 4 of the AML thus attempts to square the circle: “The State constitutes and carries out competition rules which accord with the socialist market economy, perfects macro-control, and advances a unified, open, competitive and orderly market system.”

Second, the socialist legacy reflected in Article 4 has resulted in an extensive system of state-owned industries in China, and Article 7 of the AML provides special controls, exemptions and protections for this sector of the Chinese economy:

Industries controlled by the State-owned economy and concerning the lifeline of national economy and national security or the industries implementing exclusive operation and sales according to law, the state protects the lawful business operations conducted by the business operators therein. The state also lawfully regulates and controls their business operations and the prices of their commodities and services so as to safeguard the interests of consumers and promote technical progresses.

The scope of Article 7 offers instructive clues toward understanding the current situation.  Its text refers to entire “industries,” not just individual firms, that are given special treatment under the AML. It still speaks in terms of constraining the ability of “industries” to engage in any abusive practices, which at least in principle serve as the basis for competition-focused anti-monopoly law.

Unfortunately, the odds of it remaining focused in this constructive way are necessarily reduced because of its dual operation with respect to both state-owned enterprises (SOEs) and foreign corporations.  The SOEs have a built-in preferential position that can manifest itself in two ways.  Either they can get gentle slaps on the wrist for offenses that prompt far harsher sanctions against private companies, especially foreign companies who are either suppliers or competitors with SOEs, or the SOEs could prod Chinese anti-monopoly enforcement authorities to take action against their foreign competitors.  The AML can all too easily function as a new form of protectionism by virtue of its differential application to foreign firms vis-à-vis SOEs doing business in China.

The difficulties here are increased, moreover, by the structural decision to parcel out enforcement of the AML to several agencies. The National Development and Reform Commission has the lead with respect to enforcement over monopoly agreements.  The State Administration of Industry and Commerce deals with abuses of dominant position.  The division of enforcement authority between these agencies makes it much harder to impose uniform standards on the overall operation of the system. This split in enforcement authority increases the risks of differential enforcement and, more worrisome, the misuse or discriminatory use of the AML.

Therefore, it is evident that no evaluation of the operation of the Chinese anti-monopoly system can be made solely on the basis of the statutory terms in the AML itself.  So much depends on the oft-concealed enforcement practices of the relevant public authorities, who are given very broad powers of inspection and investigation under AML Article 39, which empowers the AML enforcers to run investigations “by getting into the business premises of business operators under investigation or by getting into any other relevant place,” or by forcing them to respond to interrogatories “to explain the relevant conditions” to the public authorities.” Chinese officials also have the power to examine or duplicate all business papers and to seize and retain relevant evidence, and to examine bank records and accounts.  The only procedural protection contained in Article 39, if it can be called that, is that a “written report shall be submitted to the chief person(s)-in-charge of the anti-monopoly authority” before the investigation is approved.  What kind of report and how it is to be reviewed are not stated, even though these substantive and procedural issues are subjects of volumes of statutory, regulatory and decisional law on administrative procedure in the United States and Europe.  Even more significant, there is no mention anywhere in the AML of any probable cause or warrant requirement that must be demonstrated before any independent judicial body.

III. Rule of Law

At the root of the many complaints about the Chinese approach to competition law is the constant concern that its antitrust enforcement practices are inconsistent with the rule of law.  Its legal system invites arbitrary and differential enforcement of anti-monopoly standards.  In dealing with these rule of law issues, it is incumbent to note that they address a critical mix of concerns about both substantive standards and administrative enforcement.

As a general rule of thumb, the more precise the particular rules of conduct that receive government enforcement, the better the prospects to avoid both rule of law violations and the general perception of such government violations.  In this regard, it is worth noting that the ordinary rules of property, contract and tort score very well under this general standard.  As I have argued in my book Design For Liberty:  Private Property, Public Administration and the Rule of Law, these common law rules have several key structural features that facilitate rule of law values.

First, the basic norm with respect to private property is that all other persons need only follow the basic norm “keep off” to comply with the system.  The simplicity of this command means that anyone can follow it regardless of the size of the polity in which this rule operates.  The same command works as well in China with 1.4 billion people as it does in New Zealand with a population just under 4.5 million people.

Second, the content of this simple rule is easily known and understood, so that no one need give special notice of what it requires to the many people who are bound by it.  It is no small deal to have a rule that is not promulgated by statute, which is thereafter interpreted by dense pages of administrative text to which the public has only imperfect knowledge, and which both small and large businesses are able to interpret and apply only with the aid of professional intermediaries such as trade associations and law firms.

Third, the simple rule in question works as well in poor countries as in rich ones, so that there is no awkward transition in rules with increasing development over time.  At this point, the property rules are complemented by the contract rules that allow people within broad limits to decide their own agreements for the provision of goods and services, so that in most cases the key function of the state is to enforce the agreement as designed, not to improve upon its terms with flights of legislative or judicial fancy.

The Chinese AML does not, and cannot, exhibit anything like the requisite level of overall clarity.  In order to determine whether a horizontal arrangement violates the antitrust law, for example, it is necessary to have some sense as to the scope of the market, and the nature of the agreement, to see whether it is or is not in restraint of trade.  It is also necessary to gather evidence about practices that can span both continents and years.  The AML’s standards for dealing with abusive practices are even looser; for example, there is no clear metric by which to determine whether prices are unfairly high or unfairly low. Another nagging question is what it means under the AML for goods to be sold at below cost, because it is completely unclear if the metric is average or marginal cost.  No matter which is chosen, the difficulties of estimation further the scope for abuse of administrative discretion.

This nagging uncertainty about the basic operating rules prompted the late Ronald H. Coase to quip to me long ago in a conversation only partly in jest: “If prices move up in any market, it is surely the result of monopolization. If they remain constant, it is surely the result of market stabilization arrangements.  If they go down, it is surely the result of predation” (quoting from memory).  Coase’s quip ruefully reflects the modus operandi of the Chinese AML.  Since any and all price movements could be associated with some violation of the AML, it follows that in principle no party, and no group of firms, is immune from investigation and criminal prosecution, regardless of how it conducts its own business.  And owing to the vastness of the multinational businesses who are targeted, these investigations can exert a large influence on the behavior of firms and on their key employees who bear the brunt of those investigations, where they are subject to the possibility of criminal sanctions in addition to emotional wear and tear.

IV. The Patent Dimension

The dangers of this system are apparent and easily understood. With respect to accusations of secret horizontal arrangements and price gouging arrangements, the risk comes in the form of extensive and exhaustive investigations that are intended to stifle and not promote competition in the marketplace.  In dealing with these issues, it is critical that our American legal authorities do not give aid and comfort to China’s aggressive regulation of foreign businesses enterprise by the way in which American regulators address similar issues in this country.  We live today in an intensely global environment, and any actions in the United States that overstate the role of the antitrust laws can easily be used as reasons to expand antitrust application overseas.

The point applies to all areas of law, but has especial importance in connection with patents, given that technology that is available in one country is instantly available in all. After the Supreme Court handed down eBay v. MercExchange in 2006, injunctive relief is no longer presumptively available for patent infringement in the United States.  As Professor Scott Kieff, now of the International Trade Commission, and I have written, eBay eased the way for Thailand to impose its regime of compulsory licensing for pharmaceutical patents, at far below market rates.

Evidently, decisions like eBay do not go unnoticed by foreign nations, where they set up a climate in which the weak enforcement of patent rights becomes par for the course.  That same development happens most emphatically in the crossover area between patent and antitrust law.  In general, the proper application of the antitrust law does not single out patents for special treatment of the antitrust laws.  A clear articulation of this principle was recently made by FTC Commissioner Joshua D. Wright in his 2014 Milton Handler Lecture:  “Does the FTC Have a New IP Agenda,”  which stressed the importance of the “parity principle” that states a central tenet in the Department of Justice/Federal Trade Commission 1995 Antitrust Guidelines for the Licensing of Intellectual Property:  “Agencies apply the same general antitrust principles to conduct involving intellectual property that they apply to conduct involving any other form of tangible or intangible property.”

The parity principle is critical to successful antitrust enforcement because it places an important fetter on the arbitrary use of government power, which increases greatly if any government, China included, could use a wide catalogue of novel arguments to justify some deviation from the general rule.  Indeed, this parity principle is an extension of what I have termed elsewhere as the “carry over” principle, which means that intellectual property rights in general should be based on the rules that are applicable to other forms of property, subject only to deviations required by the distinctive features of property rights in information, which chiefly relates to their finite duration to allow for the widespread dissemination of information. But once that key adjustment is made, the standard rules for property used elsewhere, including the rules for injunctive relief, should continue to apply.

Yet as Commissioner Wright mentioned, recent FTC and DOJ actions presume that “special rules for IP are desirable . . . and that business arrangements involving IP rights may be safely presumed to be anticompetitive without rigorous economic analysis and proof of competitive harm.” Commissioner Wright has also recognized the “growing concern about some antitrust regimes around the world using antitrust laws to further nationalistic goals at the expense of [intellectual property rights] holders, among others.” He specifically mentioned China as one such antitrust regime that may be finding encouragement or at least rationalization in these recent actions against IP owners by American antitrust agencies.

This same theme has been recently echoed by FTC Commissioner Maureen Ohlhausen, who noted how foreign nations invoke “‘competition fig leaves’ to address other domestic issues or concerns.” More specifically, Commissioner Ohlhausen explained how this tendency has manifested itself in the debate over standard essential patents (SEPS), that is those patents that are incorporated in setting key technical standards that allow for the interoperability of various technical devices.  She also noted how recent American decisions on SEPs have “created potentially confusing precedent for foreign enforcers.”  That concern was brought home when Chinese officials invoked recent FTC enforcement actions against Bosch and Google SEPs to justify a per se claim under the AML that “an ‘unreasonable’ refusal to grant a license for a standard essential patent to a competitor should constitute monopolization under the essential facilities doctrine.” Such broad propositions pave the way for Chinese officials to favor domestic, state-run companies who incorporate foreign patented innovation in their own domestic products and services.  These unfettered notions of “unreasonable” conduct become weapons that let Chinese officials force down prices of foreign goods to promote their own nationalist economic policies. Unfortunately, as Commissioner Ohlhausen observed just this past September, recent U.S. antitrust enforcement actions are giving Chinese officials grist for their industrial policy mill, by insisting that their heavy-handed antitrust action against foreign patent owners “has support in U.S. precedent,” such as the Google and Bosh settlements.

V. Enforcement Abuses

The suppression of patent licensing rates charged to domestic Chinese firms is just one example of how the AML enforcers have a built-in invitation to run massively intrusive and expensive investigations into any firms. These investigations are unhampered by any clear legal definition of relevance and are undertaken without regard to the high costs incurred by firms seeking to comply with the officials’ edicts, both administrative and reputational.  In some cases, the charge falls within the yawning gap in the AML concerning limits on its enforcement practices.  For example, the European Union Chamber of Commerce has found  that China engages in administrative intimidation, which is intended to short-circuit formal hearings, and forces parties charged to appear before tribunal hearings without the assistance of counsel and without involving their own governments or chambers of commerce in the process.

It is of course impossible for any academic sitting in the United States to make any estimation of the actual level of abuse in any one individual case. But the simple point here is that the Chinese authorities are already low on credibility because of the way in which they conduct themselves in so many other areas.  It takes no great imagination to connect the dots between China’s anti-monopoly investigations of foreign companies doing business in China proper with the Chinese government’s hostile response to the Hong Kong protests against the high-handed way in which Chinese authorities are stifling homegrown democratic activities by insisting on government vetting of all candidates for public office to weed out those who might oppose China’s national agenda.   And it takes no great leap in imagination to realize that the same aggressive attitude that China now takes on territorial issues with Vietnam and Japan can spill over to these investigations. It is also well known that China blocks (censors) service supplied by the mainstays of the internet and social media, including Google, Facebook, Wikipedia, and Twitter, which would provide ample opportunity for information about government (and private) abuses to be widely spread.

It also looks as though the lack of any formal protections in the AML investigative process opens up the entire system to these forms of abuse.  The lack of any reliable reporting on these matters is consistent with wide-scale abuse because of this simple stylized threat: “Be silent and take your punishment and we shall reduce the penalties.  Speak about the matter in public and the penalties will increase.”  These threats are all too credible within a tightly run collectivist society.  The legal system may give little or no relief, and even if the courts were somehow attuned to the civil liberties and procedural issues, the lack of any clear standards for what counts as either a violation or an appropriate penalty reduces the chances that judicial intervention could be used to slow down an official juggernaut.

VI. Reforms

China needs to do more than make bland and predictable protestations that the AML applies on even terms for all players.  The question is how?  At the most basic level, one way to get rid of this problem is to spin off all SOEs into private hands, preferably by bona fide auctions, so that there is less risk of political influence displacing the rule of law.  That path is of course hampered by China’s explicit commitment to socialist principles in the AML and everywhere else.

There is, however, no reason why that has to create an insuperable barrier.  Socialist principles are also inconsistent with private ownership of the means of production, and with the belief that open competition in the marketplace will assure the highest level of social output for any given set of resources. In a sense, the 2007 adoption of the AML itself should be regarded as an implicit rejection of the principles of the socialist economy found in Article 4, because it assumes private companies and a functioning free market.  It should take only a little imagination to push the cycle one step further by privatizing key government industries with auctions or other schemes of devolution, and the Chinese government has already proven resourceful in finding ways to explain how such free market reforms are consistent with its preexisting socialist system.

Even if this approach is not undertaken, it should still be possible to make reforms internal to the AML itself that are not likely to reduce its economic benefits but could do much to control its adverse effects. Within the American system, a strong distinction is taken between the horizontal arrangements that are governed under Section 1 of the 1890 Sherman Act and the variety of vertical arrangements that are covered under the monopolization provisions of Section 2.  The argument in favor of this distinction turns on the anticipated rate of social return from the enforcement of these two provisions.

With the Section 1 prohibition on contracts in restraint of trade, the nature of the societal loss is generally easy to figure out.  The horizontal arrangements that restrict output, raise prices or divide territories do not result only in the transfer of wealth from consumers to producers, but also a reduction in overall social wealth by removing those transactions that could take place for mutual benefit at the competitive price, but which will be foreclosed when the cartel raises its price to the monopoly level. As noted earlier, the Chinese AML tracks that approach, at least on paper.  The enforcement questions here are not easy, but since there is a clear sense of what the wrong is, it should be possible to obtain evidence from examining evidence of cooperation, including from disgruntled employees of the given firms.  And the matter can be helped along immeasurably by rules that waive treble damages to the first cartel member that reports the cartel practices.  These rules apply with great force in the current American enforcement efforts, much of which has been directed toward international cartels.

The dynamics under Section 2 of the Sherman Act are quite different.  In these instances, it is hard to develop a simple explanation as to why various kinds of vertical arrangements are harmful to consumer welfare.  In many cases, the practices that are undertaken by the dominant firm are also undertaken by their smaller rivals that have no element of market power.  The clear implication of this simple point is that the practices that are routinely attacked as restrictive are also practices that have efficiency benefits.  Any effort to ban or punish these factors could both stifle useful innovations and distort the competitive balance between firms of different size.

The situation gets even worse when the only charge leveled under the AML is that prices are “unfairly high” or “unfairly low,” which is just asking for trouble.  At one level the impetus behind this claim is that certain products are sold at higher (or lower) prices in China than in the United States or the European Union. But these simple price comparisons miss so many of the relevant marketplace complications.  Higher prices could stem from higher costs in distribution or in compliance with local laws.  Lower prices could result from the simple fact that the fixed costs of producing these goods are allocated to the home market where demand is higher, such that the foreign sales at a lower price improve the welfare of both the firm (which gets a chance to expand markets and recover an additional fraction of its fixed costs) and its Chinese customers, who get the benefit of low prices that forces local firms to reduce their costs.  It follows therefore that the Chinese antitrust system could do well to narrow the class of offenses that are said to be practiced by dominant firms, avoiding confusing and unclear terms such as “unfair” prices.

Once a sharper definition of monopolization activities is adopted, it reduces the pressure on the enforcement system to engage in overbroad and unfettered investigations or prosecutions, and thus the risks of massive abuse.  Nonetheless, it is a grim fact of life that the investigation of cartel-like behavior is always intrusive, precisely because these arrangements are always carried out in secret, which requires extensive government efforts to ferret them out.  But in this regard, it is imperative that China reform its antitrust system for the benefit of both its own citizens and foreign companies investing in China. It should adopt procedural protections that impose some definitive and clear checks on how investigators can behave in ways that avoid both massive human rights violations on the one hand and routine investigative abuses on the other.

At this point, it is necessary to add into Chinese law the same kinds of safeguards that are commonplace in most countries with respect to other forms of criminal investigation, whether crimes of violence or drug offenses, or simple cases of fraud and nondisclosure in financial circles and elsewhere.  The point here is that the most dangerous sentence in the English language—“trust me I am from the government”—translates perfectly into Chinese.  It is not enough that the abuse stops.  It is absolutely imperative that the appearance of abuse ceases as well.  Those reforms are not beyond the power of the Chinese legal system to implement, but it will take a long overdue switch from the inquisitorial types of system that socialist countries have found all too congenial in the political and economic sphere.

In urging these major antitrust reforms, it is imperative to put the Chinese position into global perspective. The Chinese government is not the only government that uses its anti-monopoly laws as a cudgel to achieve other political or economic objectives.  It has lots of company worldwide.  There are, more specifically, other illustrations of abuse in the United States and the European Union.  The American system is overly exuberant in its discovery processes, especially with respect to international operations under the 1995 guidelines of the United States Department of Justice and the Federal Trade Commission. It offers shameless protection to American export cartels under the Webb-Pomerene Act, passed in 1918 at the end of World War I, when the need for free trade could hardly have been greater. The European Union thrives on broad definitions of “abuse of dominant position” under Article 102 of its 2009 Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union.  The enforcement in many other nations, such as India, with its endless protectionist practices, is also in need of major reform.

In dealing with all these multi-national issues, the fundamental insight is that free trade across international borders offers the best hope for the amelioration of the human condition, especially in developing or underdeveloped countries.  It is widely understood that tariffs and other restrictions impede the flow of goods across international borders, which is why the World Trade Organization maintains global free trade as its primary objective.  The general attack on explicit entry restrictions by foreign firms and goods has borne much fruit in recent years, although there is still work to be done.  But it is precisely because tariffs and other barriers to entry are public and thus verifiable that it is (relatively) easy to control their abuse.

The success of the WTO in controlling these practices does not put to rest the protectionist impulses that have generated too many obstacles to free trade.  The differential enforcement of the anti-monopoly laws poses major dangers in this regard, for the same laws that protect against anticompetitive practices are all too often used to achieve the very abuse that they are intended to guard against.  Commissioner Ohlhausen bluntly puts the point: “Critics claim that China is using its antitrust law to promote industrial policy.” The unfortunate situation in China is but one example of that dangerous set of practices, which unchecked could spread to other countries, motivated either by imitating what China has done or retaliating against its abuses.  The risk is that the disease can spread all too easily.  Other nations can protest against these practices. But ultimately it is for China itself to throw aside the shackles that disadvantage foreign firms and the Chinese people alike.

 

Endnotes:

[i] The AML also contains a prohibition against mergers that lead to “concentration of business operators that eliminates or restricts competition or might be eliminating or restricting competition,” but this is not addressed in this brief essay.  These prohibitions cover only a few large transactions, none of which involve ordinary commercial practices that are the subject of the anti-monopoly and abuse of practice provisions at issue in the current applications of the AML.

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Cohen et al. “Patent Trolls” Study Uses Incomplete Data, Performs Flawed Empirical Tests, and Makes Unsupportable Findings

PDF summary available here

I.   Introduction

A recent draft study about patent licensing companies entitled “Patent Trolls: Evidence from Targeted Firms is making the rounds on Capitol Hill and receiving press coverage. This attention is unfortunate, because the study is deeply flawed and its conclusions cannot and should not be relied upon. If the draft paper is ever published in a peer reviewed journal, it will certainly need to be greatly revised first, with its most notable results likely changing or disappearing.  In sum, the study should receive no credit in policy debates.

The study, by Lauren Cohen, Umit G. Gurun, and Scott Duke Kominers, finds that non-practicing entities (NPEs) are “opportunistic” because they target defendants that (1) are cash-rich (particularly compared to practicing entity patentees), (2) operate in industries that “have nothing to do with the patent” in suit, (3) are staffed by small legal teams, and (4) are busy with numerous non-IP cases. Additionally, the authors conclude that defendants that lose in patent litigation with NPEs on average have marked declines in subsequent R&D expenditures, on the order of $200 million per year. On this basis, the authors suggest “the marginal policy response should be to more carefully limit the power of NPEs.” One of the authors has been circulating this unpublished study to congressional staffers to make the case that NPEs have a large negative effect on US innovation.

II.   Critique of the Study

Professor Ted Sichelman, University of San Diego School of Law, and an expert in empirical studies of patent litigation, critiques the most recent, publicly available version of the Cohen et al. study in detail in his response paper, “Are Patent Trolls ‘Opportunistic?”.[1] He finds that the study’s dataset is incomplete and unrepresentative, its theoretical model is flawed, and its empirical models are unsound. Professor Sichelman concludes that neither their findings nor policy prescriptions are justified. Major weaknesses in the study are as follows:

  • The study’s public firm defendant dataset in current version of paper is incomplete and unrepresentative
  • The study relies on proprietary, unverified coding from PatentFreedom that groups together numerous NPE types (including individuals, R&D shops, and IP holding companies of operating companies), but in making its policy recommendations, the study assumes all NPEs are patent aggregators
  • The study’s finding that NPEs sue cash-rich defendants may simply be driven by the fact that NPEs tend to target software, Internet, and finance-related companies for reasons unrelated to cash holdings, but these companies simply happen to have larger cash-holdings than the average publicly traded company
  • When comparing NPE behavior to that of operating companies, the study improperly includes operating company suits in which the patentees primarily seek injunctions, which are not cash-driven suits
    • Our belief is that NPEs and operating companies alike that primarily seek royalties are likely to seek defendants with enough cash to pay likely damage awards and—like a seller of goods ensuring that a buyer has sufficient cash to pay for those goods—there is nothing “opportunistic” in this behavior
  • NPEs asserting patented technology that is different from the primary industry of the accused infringer are typically not going “after profits unrelated to the patents”
    • For instance, the use of patented computer hardware, software, or technical equipment may occur in any industry and provide a competitive advantage relative to others using non-patented technology
  • The study’s datasets and variables to determine the size of law firm and the number of pending cases are incomplete and flawed
  • The authors’ finding that R&D of accused infringers is differentially affected by a “loss” is based on a very small dataset of “wins” (n=35)

In sum, there is no support for the study’s policy recommendation “to more carefully limit the power of NPEs.” In this regard, we reiterate our view that any plaintiff targeting defendants with enough cash to satisfy a damages judgment is simply ordinary litigation behavior. According to Professor Sichelman, there is “massive risk aversion by many small NPEs” and “large uncertainty in [patent] cases” that may cause any patentee primarily seeking money damages to assert its patents against defendants who can pay their bills.

Finally, in making their policy proposals to restrict NPEs, Cohen et al. rely on the discredited study of Bessen and Meurer (2014) to argue that NPEs do not channel a large percentage of funds received back to inventors. As Schwartz and Kesan (2014) have shown, Bessen and Meurer’s study is inapplicable to most NPEs, because only 12 publicly traded aggregators were examined, and even for those 12 aggregators, Schwartz and Kesan persuasively argue that Bessen and Meurer’s findings are wrong. Indeed, there is ample evidence that many patent aggregators return 50% of net recoveries in litigation or licensing (i.e., after paying for attorneys’ fees and related costs) and that many NPEs are individuals, R&D shops, and other entities that effectively keep 100% of the net returns from recoveries.

As such, the Cohen et al. (2014) study should receive no credit in congressional policy debates. Indeed, another leading academic at a recent conference expressed surprise and dismay that this early-stage study was being circulated by its authors throughout Congress.

Notes:

[1] The authors presented new material in response to Sichelman’s critique at a recent conference, but as far as we know, they have not made any of it available to the general public. As such, we focus on Sichelman’s critique of the most recent, publicly available version of the study.