Tag: infringement

TPLFA: Protecting Predatory Infringers

Post author By IPPI
Post date August 20, 2025

Blog post by Michael Doane

The CEO of a small technology-based company with many groundbreaking patents in its field once asked me what the point was of obtaining patents when the company simply did not have the resources to enforce them. Although patents provide many benefits, the ability to enforce them against infringers is paramount. Patent infringement litigation is euphemistically referred to as “The Sport of Kings” due to the burden imposed by massive legal fees and the redirection of resources away from the core business to litigation support. The American Intellectual Property Law Association estimates that the median cost of patent litigation is approximately $5 million with a median cost of $600,000 for cases in which less than $1 million is at risk.[1] The cost of patent litigation is inflated by large well-funded infringers engaging in what they prefer to call efficient infringement but is more properly called predatory infringement. From their perspective, it is more efficient to infringe and engage in protracted litigation in district court and before the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) than to compensate the innovator at a properly negotiated market rate. Because of the high cost of litigation, they infringe because “they can get away with it . . .”[2] facing at worst a long delayed and potentially lower court-imposed royalty rate, assuming the patent owner survives the expense of litigation. Litigation funding or, in other words, third party investment in the potential outcome of litigation, is a step toward levelling the playing field by providing access to small innovators to the expensive enforcement mechanisms that are supposed to be available to all patent owners and not just a select few.

As if predatory infringement were not enough, a patent owner with limited internal resources now faces the prospect of third-party litigation funding being made unavailable to them. Recently, Senator Tillis tacked a bill known as the Tackling Predatory Litigation Funding Act (TPLFA) onto the One Big Beautiful Bill. Although it was ultimately removed on procedural grounds, it is highly likely that the TPLFA will be introduced as a standalone bill in the near future. Interestingly, the TPLFA does not make litigation funding illegal; instead it seeks to make litigation funding unprofitable. To discourage litigation funding, “qualified litigation proceeds” are to be taxed at “the highest rate of tax imposed by section 1 for such taxable year, plus 3.8 percentage points.”[3] In other words a penalty in excess of 40% is imposed on the proceeds of any litigation funding agreement paid to any third party that is not an attorney representing the party.[4]

Although the term “predatory” is in its title, the TPLFA does not purport to define or identify that which is predatory, but rather simply imposes this penalty on the proceeds from any litigation funding regardless of the nature and purpose of the litigation. Is it predatory for a small innovator to obtain the necessary resources to enforce its patents against a large well-funded infringer? Why should legitimate patent litigation be deemed predatory simply because the patent owner must seek outside resources to enforce its rights?

The other justification for TPLFA is China. The spectacle of purported Chinese investors targeting U.S. business through litigation funding is used as a strawman by those seeking limits on litigation funding to jury-rig some type of national security argument. Alleged fears of foreign investors gaining access to confidential information are properly and effectively handled by protective orders which limit access to attorneys. Ironically, most if not all the predatory infringers raising such concerns manufacture the vast majority of their products in China and certainly almost none manufacture in the United States.

In addition to the TPLFA, efforts are being made to impose disclosure requirements on those relying on litigation funding. The Litigation Transparency Act of 2025 would require an innovator relying on litigation funding to “disclose in writing to the court and all other named parties to the civil action the identity of any person (other than counsel of record) that has a right to receive any payment or thing of value that is contingent on the outcome of the civil action. . .”[5] along with a copy of the agreement. These disclosure requirements are meant to discourage litigation funding by imposing additional burdens on the patent owner while acting as a distraction from the real issue in such cases—patent infringement. As noted in the E-Discovery Model Order developed by the Federal Circuit Advisory Council the key and most consequential issues in patent litigation are:

what the patent states,
how the accused products work,
what the prior art discloses, and
the proper calculation of damages.[6]

The identity of those that may or may not be providing financial support for the litigation could not be more irrelevant to these issues.

The TPLFA and Litigation Transparency Act are being touted as litigation reform but are actually designed to limit the ability of small, less-resourced innovators to obtain the funding necessary to enforce their patent rights. Predatory infringers wish to maintain the expensive patent litigation system to enforce their own intellectual property rights, including against each other, without the annoyance of small innovators enforcing their intellectual property rights. Thus, they pursue their claimed reform around the edges by making intellectual property enforcement expensive and unprofitable. If the true goal is to eliminate predatory litigation funding, such activity should be specifically defined and identified so it can be properly addressed. Adopting the overbroad expedient of imposing an absurdly high tax on all litigation funding revenue to render it unprofitable further restricts access to the U.S. judicial system by small innovators. Requiring disclosure from the plaintiff, but not the defendant, imposes another burden and also provides the defendant with an expectation of exactly how long they will need to protract litigation … just long enough to use up the funding. The effect of these bills would be to keep patent litigation a Sport of Kings.

[1] 2023 Report of the Economic Survey, American Intellectual Property Law Association.

[2] Colleen V. Chien, Holding Up and Holding Out, 21 MICH. TELECOMM. & TECH. L. REV. 1, 20 (2014).

[3] Id. at Sec. 2: Litigation Financing, Pg. 2, 7-17.

[4][4] Id. at Sec. 2: Litigation Financing, Pg. 3, 9-17.

[5] H.R. 1109, 119th Cong. (2025) (Litigation Transparency Act of 2025).

[6] Federal Circuit Advisory Council, An E-Discovery Model Order and Model Order Regarding E-Discovery In Patent Cases at 2 (2011).

The arguments and views in this blog post are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of IPPI or of any other organization.

Tags infringement, litigation, Michael Doane, patent, TPLFA

Ninth Circuit Narrows Copyright Owner’s Ability to Receive Multiple Statutory Damages Awards

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date March 17, 2021

The following post comes from Liz Velander, a recent graduate of Scalia Law and a Research Assistant at CPIP.

By Liz Velander

A recent Ninth Circuit ruling limits the amount a copyright owner can be awarded in statutory damages. In Desire v. Manna, the court found that the Copyright Act only lets owners collect a single award per infringing work in cases with joint and several liability. It held that the Act does not authorize multiple statutory damages awards where one infringer is jointly and severally liable with all other infringers, but the other infringers are not completely jointly and severally liable with one another. Its decision reduced the district court’s award of statutory damages from $480,000 to $150,000.

The facts of the case are as follows: Desire, a fabric supplier, purchased a floral textile design and registered it with the U.S. Copyright Office in June 2015. A few months later, Desire sold a few yards of fabric bearing the design to Top Fashion, which it used to secure a garment order from a clothing retailer. When Desire and Top Fashion later disagreed on the price for more fabric, Top Fashion took the design to rival supplier Manna. Manna then passed the design along to an independent designer, who in turn gave it to a textile manufacturer with instructions to modify it. Manna registered a copyright in the resulting altered design with the U.S. Copyright Office in December 2015.

Manna began selling fabric bearing the altered design to various manufacturers, which used it to create garments that they sold to various clothing retailers. Desire sued Manna, the manufacturers, and the retailers for copyright infringement. As alleged, Manna infringed Desire’s copyright by selling fabric bearing the altered design to the manufacturer defendants. The manufacturer defendants then each allegedly committed a separate ac of infringement in their sales to the individual retail defendants, who in turn allegedly committed acts of infringement in their sales to consumers. Desire did not allege that the manufacturer defendants infringed in concert, nor that the retail defendants acted in concert to infringe Desire’s copyright.

The district court granted partial summary judgment for Desire. It concluded that Desire owned a valid copyright entitled to broad protection and that there were no triable issues of fact as to Desire’s ownership of the initial design or Manna’s and others’ access to it. But there remained issues of triable fact as to whether the altered design was substantially similar to the original and whether defendants willfully infringed. The district court held that if Desire prevailed on these issues, the supplier would be entitled to seven statutory damages awards with joint and several liability imposed amongst Manna, the manufacturer defendants, and the retail defendants.

A jury returned a verdict for the plaintiff, finding that Manna, Top Fashion, and one other defendant, manufacturer ABN, willfully infringed the initial design, and that two other defendants, manufacturer Pride & Joys and retailer 618 Main, innocently infringed. Desire elected to claim statutory damages in lieu of actual damages, as permitted under 17 U.S.C. § 504(c)(1). Under § 504(c), a statutory damage award is limited to $30,000 for innocent infringement and $150,000 for willful infringement.

The jury awarded Desire statutory damages totaling $480,000 after two defendants settled. The district court divided liability under its pre-trial ruling as follows:

1. $150,000 against Manna individually, for copying the design and distributing the fabric bearing the altered design to the manufacturer defendants.

1. $150,000 against Manna and Top Fashion jointly and severally, for Top Fashion’s sale of infringing garments.

1. $150,000 against Manna and ABN jointly and severally, for ABN’s sale of infringing garments.

1. $20,000 against Manna and Pride & Joys jointly and severally, for ABN’s sale of infringing garments to 618 Main.

$10,000 against 618 Main, Pride & Joys, and Manna jointly and severally, for 618 Main’s display and sale of infringing garments to consumers.

The parties appealed. The Ninth Circuit affirmed in part, reversed in part, and vacated the judgment awarding Desire multiple awards of statutory damages. The court began by affirming the district court’s determinations at summary judgment that Desire owned a valid copyright and that the original design was entitled to broad copyright protection. But the Ninth Circuit concluded that the district court erred by permitting multiple statutory damages awards.

The Ninth Circuit looked at the text of § 504(c)(1) to determine whether it authorizes multiple statutory damages awards where one infringer is jointly and severally liable with all other infringers, but the other infringers are not completely jointly and severally liable with one another. § 504(c)(1) permits an owner to recover “an award of statutory damages for all infringements involved in the action, with respect to any one work, for which any one infringer is liable individually, or for which any two or more infringers are liable jointly and severally.”

The Court concluded that the plain meaning of § 504(c)(1) precludes multiple awards of statutory damages when there is only one work infringed by a group of defendants that have partial joint and several liability among themselves through a prime tortfeasor that is jointly and severally liable with every other defendant. It reasoned that “an award” clearly means one award, and the use of the word “any” means that, if all infringers in the action were jointly and severally liable with at least one common infringer, then all defendants should be treated as one unit.

In this case, Manna was alleged to be the tortfeasor lynchpin. Because “‘an award’ clearly means one award,” and Manna was jointly and severally liable with every other defendant, Desire was entitled to only one statutory damage award per work. The court concluded that its interpretation was most consistent with the Copyright Act’s goal of providing adequate compensation for infringement without giving copyright owners a windfall. However, it acknowledged that its ruling could also run afoul of the purposes of the Act if a copyright owner decided to sue separate infringers in separate actions.

The court wrote in a footnote that “if Manna were not involved at all and Pride & Joys, ABN, and Top Fashion had independently infringed, there could be three awards, even though Pride & Joys, ABN, and Top Fashion were each jointly and severally liable with others in their separate distribution chains. . . . This view treats groups of jointly and severally liable defendants that are not jointly and severally liable with other groups identically to individually liable infringers.”

In a lengthy dissent, Judge Wardlaw disagreed with the majority’s interpretation of § 504(c)(1). She explained that the majority’s decision means “a copyright plaintiff can seek only one award of statutory damages when it joins in a single lawsuit members of independently infringing distribution chains that trace back to a common infringing source. But if the plaintiff brings separate lawsuits against each infringer, or it simply cuts the common source defendant at the top of the chain out of the case, a separate statutory damages award is available against each defendant.”

The majority ultimately decided that such risk was outweighed by the potential for disproportionate awards and the fact that multiple lawsuits could still be filed (and consolidated), regardless of the Court’s ruling on this point. “But even if we are wrong in our appraisal of the multiple-lawsuit risk, as our approach is the only one consistent with the text of Section 504(c)(1), it is not our job to reweigh the merits of several possible approaches.” Given the stark differences in the majority and the dissent regarding the language of § 504(c)(1), this decision could form the basis for further splits and result in an en banc or certiorari petition.

Tags § 504(c)(1), copyright, Copyright Act, Copyright Office, damages, design, infringement, Judge Kim McLane Wardlaw, Liz Velander, Ninth Circuit, statutory damages

Publishers v. Audible: An Army of Red Herrings

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date September 18, 2019

a gavel lying on a desk in front of books Audible has now filed its response to the publishers’ request for a preliminary injunction—twice. It filed the exact same brief to argue that it shouldn’t be preliminarily enjoined (Dkt. 34) and to argue that the complaint should be dismissed for failure to state a claim (Dkt. 41). Unfortunately for Audible, the repetition of fallacious arguments doesn’t make them true. You may have heard that a group of geese is a “gaggle” and that a group of crows is a “murder.” Groups of animals are often known by somewhat peculiar collective nouns. Perhaps less well-known is that a group of herrings—those foraging fish that favor shallow, temperate seas—is called an “army.” Audible’s response includes so many irrelevant distractions that it can accurately be described as an army of red herrings.

Audible argues that this should be a contract dispute, not a copyright case, and that Captions is nevertheless fair use—no matter who is doing the copying. Indeed, the one thing that Audible apparently wants to avoid discussing in detail is the one thing that I find interesting in this case, namely, who directly causes the various prima facie infringements of the publishers’ rights to occur. Audible’s response makes clear that it would rather jump straight to the fair use analysis without first analyzing exactly who is causing what to occur. But that fair use analysis only makes sense if we know who is doing the copying. The factors would be applied differently to Amazon, Audible, or its users, and Audible’s response elides such distinctions even though they are crucial.

In my last post about this case, I discussed how Audible was likely to cite cases such as Sony and Cablevision in arguing that it doesn’t make the copy, the user does, and that’s fair use. Remarkably, Audible does suggest that the user makes the copy, but it relegates this claim to the preliminary, factual background section of the brief—it’s not actually part of its main argument section. But this does give us some idea of what Audible will argue once it’s forced to clarify its theory of the case. Perhaps most interesting of all, Audible explains how the third-party Amazon Transcribe feature operates within Captions, and it’s less favorable to Audible than I had originally suggested.

Audible explicitly states that “a listener generates Audible Captions.” So that tells us who Audible thinks is doing the copying—and it’s not Audible. There are no citations to any case law, and there’s no explanation of why it’s the user doing the copying. Just the ipse dixit that it’s so. Audible then explains that the transcriptions are not, as I suggested in my last post, simply done in real time via Amazon Transcribe. That may be true in part, but the entire audiobook file is also sent to Amazon where it is converted into text and then sent back to the user. And that entire transcription is then stored on the user’s device, albeit in an encrypted file. Moreover, once one user requests a transcription, a cached copy of the file is then stored for 90 days on the server, and any subsequent user requesting a transcription of the same work in that time frame will get the cached copy—not a new transcription.

This business with the cached copy opens up another can of copyright worms, one that Audible presumably is not looking forward to discussing. Not only is there a full copy of the text on the user’s device, but there’s also another copy on the server. And there’s no doubt that both copies are fixed since there’s no argument that they exist for a mere transitory duration. Furthermore, the fact that the same source copy is being sent to different users destroys any claim under Cablevision that Audible might make that these are not public distributions. The Second Circuit there held that the transmissions weren’t public since there was a unique source copy that was used for each transmission to an individual user. While I don’t see how that holding survives Aereo, the cached copy here takes that argument off of the table.

Audible spills much ink arguing that Captions is not a replacement for the text of the underlying book since the experience with the same text of the transcription is different. For example, unlike an e-book, Captions displays at most 20 words at a time that is synchronized to the audio. And this “audio-first experience” has different punctuation, there are no page numbers, and the user can only scroll through the text by first scrolling through the audio. Of course, it’s true that there are differences between the user experience with Captions and an e-book, but these differences are irrelevant to the publishers’ prima facie copyright claims. Just because the user experiences the work differently doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been all sorts of actionable copying enabling that experience. These differences may be relevant to fair use, but not one of them matters for determining who is doing what.

After throwing its users under the bus by claiming that they make the copies with Captions, Audible sidesteps any actual analysis of that issue by arguing instead that the publishers failed to properly plead their copyright claims. The crux of Audible’s argument is that, since it has license agreements with the publishers to sell and produce audiobooks, the publishers have waived their right to sue for copyright infringement to the extent Audible’s conduct is licensed. Audible then argues that the burden is on the publishers to plead the licenses and conduct that exceeds their scope (or a violation of their conditions precedent) in order to state a copyright claim. And since the publishers didn’t plead any reason why the licenses wouldn’t permit Audible’s copying of the audiobooks, Audible argues that the case against it should be dismissed.

Audible correctly states the law, but not its application here. When the existence of a license is not in question, the copyright owner bears the burden of proving that the alleged infringer exceeded its scope or breached its condition. And Audible is certainly correct in arguing that it is a “licensed, paying user of the audiobooks from and for which it created Audible Captions.” Audible has licenses for the audiobooks, and the publishers didn’t plead them. The fallacy of this argument, however, is that the publishers’ copyright claims are not directed to those audiobook licenses—or even to those audiobooks. The publishers only claim infringement of the underlying works, that is, the literary works from which the sound recordings of the audiobooks are derived. Audible is probably violating various rights in the audiobooks as well, but the publishers have not brought those claims.

That the publishers are suing over the original books, and not the derivative audiobooks, is clear from the face of the complaint. The publishers charge Audible with “unlawfully creating derivative works of, reproducing, distributing, and publicly displaying unauthorized copies of the Works,” and the works identified are the registered, literary works of which the publishers are legal or beneficial owners. The complaint explicitly alleges that “Audible did not seek a license for the creation and provision of the transcriptions provided to consumers” and that “it has only been authorized to deliver the work in audiobook format.” If Audible turned an audiobook into a movie, the publishers would not have to plead that Audible thus exceeded the scope of its license for the simple reason that there was no such license to create the derivative movie in the first place.

The fact that the allegedly infringing transcriptions have as their source the licensed audiobooks doesn’t matter; what matters is that the transcriptions violate the publishers’ rights in the underlying literary works. For the bulk of audiobooks at issue that Audible didn’t create, i.e., the ones that were provided by the publishers or third parties, Audible had no license to create derivative works of any kind. And for the few audiobooks that Audible itself may have created under license—though Audible noticeably doesn’t claim to have a license to create derivatives of any of the specific works-in-suit—it only had a license to create the derivative sound recordings embodied in the audiobooks. Audible’s hand-waving about licenses is easily dismissed because, quite simply, there was never any license to create the derivative literary works over which it is being sued.

Despite the army of red herrings summoned to obfuscate its theory of exactly who is doing the copying in this case, the burden falls squarely on Audible to establish the existence of any license that may justify its actions. And the fact that Audible failed to mention any such license speaks volumes. Audible instead jumps straight to fair use, making the incredible claim that providing the text of the audiobook is somehow completely different than providing the text of the underlying book itself because the former allows users to “understand and engage with the audiobook they purchased.” I’ll leave the absurdity of Audible’s fair use argument for another day, but for now I’d like the court to sort out the preliminary issue of who is doing what. And that appears to be a conversation that Audible would rather not have.

Tags Aereo, Audible, Cablevison, copyright, copyright infringement, direct infringement, fair use, infringement, license, publishers, red herring, Sony

Publishers v. Audible: VCRs and DVRs to the Rescue?

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date September 7, 2019

a remote pointed at a TV screen showing a sports game On August 23, a group of publishers, including Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, and Simon & Schuster, sued Audible for copyright infringement. Audible, which is a subsidiary of Amazon, sells and produces audiobooks, and it planned to launch a new speech-to-text feature on September 10. The feature, dubbed Audible Captions, would automatically convert the licensed audio of an audiobook into unlicensed text that appears on the user’s screen as the audiobook is played. In a video posted to YouTube on August 2, Audible mentions that Captions is powered by Amazon Transcribe, which appears to provide real-time transcriptions by sending audio to Amazon’s servers where it is converted to text and then sent back to the user.

The publishers allege that, through its Captions feature, Audible infringes their reproduction, adaptation, public distribution, and public display rights, either directly or indirectly, and they’ve moved for a preliminary injunction. The crux of their argument as to direct liability is that Audible—and not the user—directly causes the various infringements to occur. The publishers don’t specifically mention the role of Amazon or its Transcribe feature in their arguments, though they do note that “Audible has further arranged for software programs and servers” to create the unlicensed text. But it seems quite likely that Audible will use distinctions over exactly who is doing what—the user, Audible, or Amazon—to argue that its role in the copying is too remote to make it a direct infringer.

Audible has agreed to forgo enabling Captions for the publishers’ works until the court rules on the preliminary injunction motion, and its response is due this coming Friday, September 13. Other than the hint that it will likely argue fair use since it believes that the Captions feature will “help kids,” Audible has not tipped its hand as to what it will argue on the merits of the publishers’ prima facie infringement case. But, given the law in the Second Circuit where the publishers have filed suit, we can certainly guess what it will argue.

In a recent article at Ars Technica, Timothy B. Lee suggests that Audible is likely to rely on two seminal copyright cases in its defense: Sony v. Universal and Cartoon Network v. CSC Holdings (aka Cablevision). Lee points out the role of Amazon’s cloud-based Transcribe service in Audible’s automated captioning process, and he contends that it “strengthens the company’s argument that it can do this without a license from publishers.” With Sony, Lee references the Supreme Court’s holding that unauthorized time-shifting can be fair use, and he further notes that, while cases like this can be unpredictable, the courts might decide that automated speech-to-text conversion is likewise fair use.

Of course, there are significant differences between the time-shifting in Sony and the transcription that occurs with Captions. Sony time-shifting created a copy of an audiovisual work without changing its work-of-authorship category, and both the original broadcast and the copy made with the VCR were audiovisual works. With Captions, by contrast, the audiobook, which is a sound recording, gets transformed into a literary work. This isn’t merely creating a copy of a work to watch later; it’s creating an entirely different—though derivative—work. And, of course, in making this derivative work, a reproduction also occurs since the two works are substantially similar. But Captions nevertheless is an entirely different beast than time-shifting, or even space-shifting for that matter, since it in fact creates a new—and separate—work of authorship.

Moreover, the analysis in Sony turned on copying by the user, not Sony itself, and thus the fair use factors were applied differently than they would be here with the publishers’ direct liability claims. Most notably, the first and fourth factors here heavily favor the publishers since Audible’s for-profit use isn’t transformative and causes harm to an established market. Indeed, Audible itself currently offers Immersion Reading, where licensed audiobooks are combined with licensed e-books, allowing the user to follow along with the text while listening to the audio. Importantly, the user must purchase both the audiobook and the e-book to use this functionality in the Audible App.

Turning to Cablevision, Lee argues that “Audible’s case will likely be strengthened by the fact that its app never creates or saves a permanent, full transcript of an audiobook” since “the software only displays a few words on the screen at a time.” To be sure, the buffer copies at issue in Cablevision, which existed for at most 1.2 seconds before being automatically overwritten, were held to be unfixed and thus not copies that could give rise to infringement liability. But Lee misconstrues the import of this holding: There was no doubt that a work could be copied by chopping it up into little pieces at a time; the question was whether those pieces existed for more than a transitory duration. Unlike the buffer copies at issue there, the copies here are clearly fixed since the user can pause the text in Captions and keep it on the screen indefinitely.

Lee notes Cablevison’s holding that it was the user, and not Cablevision itself, that caused a copy to be made with the cloud-based DVR. And he posits that Audible will argue that it thus has the right to distribute “software tools that allow customers to do speech-to-text conversion.” I agree, and I think Audible is very likely to argue that it doesn’t make the copy, the user does, and that’s fair use. But I disagree with Lee’s further claim that, if the transcription actually takes place on Amazon’s servers, the “publishers are likely to argue this means Amazon—not users—are creating the transcripts.” If the publishers thought that Amazon was making the copies, Amazon would have been named as a defendant. It wasn’t—and for good reason.

As I understand the facts, I don’t think it’s likely that Amazon would be directly liable for the copying that takes place with its Transcribe feature. That system is fully automated, and Amazon plays no role in selecting or supplying the content that gets converted. The same, however, is not true for Audible. The publishers claim that Audible is a direct infringer since it selects which specific audiobooks have the Captions feature enabled and integrates the functionality for making the unauthorized transcriptions within its Audible App. To analyze this claim, we must determine whether Audible’s actions are sufficiently proximate such that Audible itself can be said to be doing the copying, and for that we need to look no further than the Cablevision opinion itself.

Cablevision turned on whether the remote-storage DVR (RS-DVR) was more analogous to a VCR or a video-on-demand (VOD) service. With a VCR, the user who pressed the record button supplied the necessary volition to be held liable as a direct infringer—not the company that manufactured and sold the VCR, which had no control over the content that was recorded. With VOD, by contrast, the user still pressed the button to initiate the streaming, but the service provider was the one that could be held directly liable since it selected and supplied the works that were available on its service. Cablevision’s cloud-based DVR fell somewhere in between, and the Second Circuit held that it was more like a VCR since Cablevision did not control the specific content that its users could record and stream:

Cablevision, we note, also has subscribers who use home VCRs or DVRs (like TiVo), and has significant control over the content recorded by these customers. But this control is limited to the channels of programming available to a customer and not to the programs themselves. Cablevision has no control over what programs are made available on individual channels or when those programs will air, if at all. In this respect, Cablevision possesses far less control over recordable content than it does in the VOD context, where it actively selects and makes available beforehand the individual programs available for viewing. For these reasons, we are not inclined to say that Cablevision, rather than the user, “does” the copying produced by the RS–DVR system.

Lee mentions that the “courts could decide that Amazon plays too active a role in the conversion process to portray itself as a passive supplier of technology like the maker of a VCR.” I think this is very likely, but only as to Audible, not Amazon. As noted above, Amazon Transcribe is a passive system; it will transcribe any audio that it receives. Captions, on the other hand, only transcribes the specific works that Audible has decided ex ante to include. The user can’t transcribe every sound recording on a device or even every audiobook within the Audible App. Audible instead chooses the specific works within its App that the user is allowed to convert into a derivative, literary work. And it’s this selection of the specific content that makes Audible more like a VOD service than a VCR or DVR.

The Supreme Court opinions in ABC v. Aereo—both the majority opinion by Justice Breyer and the dissent by Justice Scalia—buttress this conclusion. Like Cablevision, Aereo supplied a cloud-based DVR, though the content available on Aereo’s service depended on what was publicly available via over-the-air transmissions. The Aereo majority held that it was Aereo, and not the user, that caused the transmission to occur when the user pressed a button to initiate the streaming, and this was true even though Aereo had no control over the specific content that was made available to the user. The Court held that Aereo’s role in the copying—by setting up in-house antennas, transcoders, and servers that would retransmit television broadcasts to the public—was sufficiently proximate to render it the direct infringer.

In dissent, Justice Scalia took a far more limited view of the volition necessary to hold a service provider directly liable. Relying on Cablevision, Justice Scalia argued that direct liability “demands conduct directed to the plaintiff’s copyrighted material,” and since Aereo did not select the specific content to be streamed, he would have held that it could not be directly liable. Indeed, he argued that a VOD service could be directly liable precisely because the “selection and arrangement by the service provider constitutes a volitional act directed to specific copyrighted works and thus serves as a basis for direct liability.” In his estimation, “Aereo does not ‘perform’ for the sole and simple reason that it does not make the choice of content.”

Thus, even under Justice Scalia’s narrow view of direct liability, Audible can quite reasonably be said to have crossed the line from being a passive conduit to an active participant in the copying because Audible itself selects the specific works that can be transcribed with its Captions feature. Once Audible files its response brief this coming Friday, I hope to then take a deeper dive into these fascinating issues. And perhaps then I’ll discuss the secondary liability issues that I ignored in this post. But for now I’ll conclude by saying that, by making its Captions feature available only for the specific works that it selects, Audible will have an uphill battle in arguing that it’s more like a VCR or DVR than a VOD service.

Tags adaptation, Aereo, Amazon, Audible, Cablevision, copyright, copyright infringement, direct liability, DVR, indirect liability, infringement, public performance, publishers, reproduction, streaming, VCR, VOD

Twenty Years Later, DMCA More Broken Than Ever

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date April 24, 2019

With Section 512 of the DMCA, Congress sought to “preserve[] strong incentives for service providers and copyright owners to cooperate to detect and deal with copyright infringements that take place in the digital networked environment.”[1] Given the symbiotic relationship between copyright owners and service providers, Congress meant to establish an online ecosystem where both would take on the benefits and burdens of policing copyright infringement. This shared-responsibility approach was codified in the Section 512 safe harbors. But rather than service providers and copyright owners working together to prevent online piracy, Section 512 has turned into a notice-and-takedown regime where copyright owners do most of the work. This is not what Congress intended, and the main culprit is how the courts have misinterpreted Section 512’s red flag knowledge standards.

Several provisions in Section 512 demonstrate that Congress expected service providers to also play a role in preventing copyright infringement by doing some of the work in finding and removing infringing material. In order to benefit from the safe harbors, service providers must designate an agent to receive takedown notices, respond expeditiously to takedown notices, act upon representative lists, implement reasonable repeat infringer policies, and accommodate standard technical measures. But it’s also clear that service providers have the duty to remove infringing content even without input from copyright owners. As the Senate Report notes, “Section 512 does not require use of the notice and take-down procedure.”[2] And the knowledge provisions in Section 512 reflect this. Absent a takedown notice, service providers must, “upon obtaining . . . knowledge or awareness” of infringing material or activity, “act[] expeditiously to remove . . . the material” in order to maintain safe harbor protection.[3]

Under Section 512, there are two kinds of knowledge that trigger the removal obligation without input from the copyright owner—actual and red flag. For sites hosting user-uploaded content, actual knowledge is “knowledge that the material or an activity using the material on the system or network is infringing”[4] and red flag knowledge is “aware[ness] of facts or circumstances from which infringing activity is apparent.”[5] Thus, actual knowledge requires knowledge that specific material (“the material”) or activity using that specific material (“activity using the material”) is actually infringing (“is infringing”), while red flag knowledge requires only general awareness (“aware[ness] of facts or circumstances”) that activity appears to be infringing (“is apparent”). There are similar knowledge provisions for search engines.[6]

Importantly, actual knowledge refers to “the material,” and red flag knowledge does not. It instead refers to “infringing activity”—and it’s not the infringing activity, but infringing activity generally.[7] However, with both actual and red flag knowledge, the service provider is obligated to remove “the material.”[8] With actual knowledge, the service provider doesn’t have to go looking for “the material” since it already has actual, subjective knowledge of it. But what about with red flag knowledge where the service provider only knows of “infringing activity” generally? How does it know “the material” to take down? The answer is simple: Once the service provider is subjectively aware of facts or circumstances from which infringing activity would be objectively apparent[9]—that is, once it has red flag knowledge—it has to investigate and find “the material” to remove.[10]

The examples given in the legislative history, which relate to search engines, show that red flag knowledge puts the burden on the service provider. As the Senate Report notes, merely viewing “one or more well known photographs of a celebrity at a site devoted to that person” would not hoist the red flag since the images might be licensed or fair use.[11] However, sites that are “obviously infringing because they . . . use words such as ‘pirate,’ ‘bootleg,’ or slang terms . . . to make their illegal purpose obvious . . . from even a brief and casual viewing” do raise the red flag.[12] And a search engine “that views such a site and then establishes a link to it . . . must do so without the benefit of a safe harbor.”[13] Thus, Congress didn’t want search engines worrying about questionable infringements on a small scale, but it also didn’t want search engines to catalog sites that are clearly dedicated to piracy. And, most importantly, red flag knowledge kicks in once a service provider looks at something that is “obviously pirate”—even if it’s an entire website.[14]

So how has Congress’s commonsensical plan worked out? Not very well. As of today, Google indexes nearly 1.5 million results from the infamous pirate site, The Pirate Bay.[15] Like the examples in the legislative history, The Pirate Bay has the word “pirate” in its title, and a brief viewing of the site reveals its obvious, infringing purpose. And it’s not like Google hasn’t been told that The Pirate Bay is dedicated to infringement—nor that it needs to be told. According to data from the Google Transparency Report,[16] the search engine has received requests to remove over 4 million URLs from thepiratebay.org domain alone. There are many other related domains, such as thepiratebay.se, that have received millions of requests as well. In fact, Google tells us that it has received requests to remove over 4 billion URLs from its search engine due to copyright infringement, with many domains receiving more than 10 million requests each.

So how is it that Google can index The Pirate Bay and not be worried about losing its safe harbor? The answer is that the courts have construed Section 512 in a way that contradicts the statutory text and Congress’s intent. They’ve all but read red flag knowledge out of Section 512 and placed the burden of policing infringement disproportionately on the copyright owner. And by narrowing the applicability of red flag knowledge, the courts have perversely incentivized service providers to do as little as possible to prevent infringements. Instead of looking into infringing activity of which they are subjectively aware, they are better off doing nothing lest they gain actual, specific knowledge that would remove their safe harbor protection.

A brief traverse through the case law, especially in the Second and Ninth Circuits, shows how the red flag knowledge train has been derailed. In Perfect 10 v. CCBill, the Ninth Circuit held that domains such as illegal.net and stolencelebritypics.com—the very sort of indicia mentioned in the legislative history—were not enough to raise the red flag.[17] According to the court, “describing photographs as ‘illegal’ or ‘stolen’ may be an attempt to increase their salacious appeal, rather than an admission that the photographs are actually illegal or stolen.”[18] While that’s certainly possible, it’s not likely. And it defies common sense. The Ninth Circuit concluded: “We do not place the burden of determining whether photographs are actually illegal on a service provider.”[19] But this misses the point, and it conflates red flag knowledge with actual knowledge.

The Second Circuit in Viacom v. YouTube held that the “difference between actual and red flag knowledge is . . . not between specific and generalized knowledge, but instead between a subjective and an objective standard.”[20] The court arrived there by focusing on the removal obligation, reasoning that “expeditious removal is possible only if the service provider knows with particularity which items to remove.”[21] And it rejected an “amorphous obligation” to investigate “in response to a generalized awareness of infringement.”[22] By limiting red flag knowledge to specific instances of infringement, the Second Circuit severely curtailed the obligations of service providers to police infringements on their systems. The entire point of red flag knowledge is to place a burden on the service provider to investigate the infringing activity further so that the specific material can be removed.[23]

The Ninth Circuit followed suit in UMG Recordings v. Shelter Capital, holding that red flag knowledge requires specificity.[24] The court reasoned that requiring “specific knowledge of particular infringing activity makes good sense” because it will “foster cooperation” between copyright owners and service providers “in dealing with infringement” online.[25] This “cooperation,” according to the Ninth Circuit, would come from takedown notices sent by copyright owners, who “know precisely what materials they own, and are thus better able to efficiently identify” infringing materials than service providers, “who cannot readily ascertain what material is copyrighted and what is not.”[26] Of course, this is not the shared-responsibility approach envisioned by Congress, and it conflates the red flag knowledge standards with the obligation to respond to takedown notices—separate provisions in Section 512.

Perhaps the most significant gutting of red flag knowledge can be found in the Second Circuit’s opinion in Capitol Records v. Vimeo.[27] The district court below had held that it was a question for the jury whether full-length music videos of current, famous songs that had been viewed by the service provider amounted to red flag knowledge.[28] But the Second Circuit disagreed that there was any jury question: “[T]he mere fact that a video contains all or substantially all of a piece of recognizable, or even famous, copyrighted music and was to some extent viewed . . . would be insufficient (without more) to sustain the copyright owner’s burden of showing red flag knowledge.”[29] That this gloss on red flag knowledge “reduces it to a very small category” was of “no significance,” the Second Circuit reasoned, since “the purpose of § 512(c) was to give service providers immunity, in exchange for augmenting the arsenal of copyright owners by creating the notice-and-takedown mechanism.”[30]

The Second Circuit thus held as a matter of law that there was no need for the factfinder to determine whether the material was so obviously infringing that it would raise the red flag. How is this a question of law and not fact? The court never explains. More importantly, this flies in the face of what Congress provided for with red flag knowledge, and it demotes Section 512 to being merely a notice-and-takedown regime where copyright owners are burdened with identifying infringements on URL-by-URL basis. Giving service providers a free pass when confronted with a red flag turns the Section 512 framework on its head. And it enables service providers to game the system and build business models on widespread, infringing content—even if they welcome it—so long as they respond to takedown notices. The end result is that an overwhelming amount of obvious infringements goes unchecked, and there’s essentially no cooperation between service providers and copyright owners as Congress intended.

[1] S. Rep. No. 105-190, at 40 (emphasis added); see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 49.

[2] Id. at 45; see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 54.

[3] 17 U.S.C. § 512(c)(1)(A)(iii); see also 17 U.S.C. § 512(d)(1)(C).

[4] Id. at § 512(c)(1)(A)(i) (emphasis added).

[5] Id. at § 512(c)(1)(A)(ii) (emphasis added).

[6] See id. at §§ 512(d)(1)(A)-(B).

[7] See 4-12B Nimmer on Copyright § 12B.04[A][1][b][ii] (“By contrast, to show that a ‘red flag’ disqualifies defendant from the safe harbor, the copyright owner must simply show that ‘infringing activity’ is apparent—pointedly, not ‘the infringing activity’ alleged in the complaint.” (emphasis in original)).

[8] 17 U.S.C. § 512(c)(1)(A)(iii)

[9] S. Rep. No. 105-190, at 44 (“The ‘red flag’ test has both a subjective and an objective element. In determining whether the service provider was aware of a ‘red flag,’ the subjective awareness of the service provider of the facts or circumstances in question must be determined. However, in deciding whether those facts or circumstances constitute a ‘red flag’–in other words, whether infringing activity would have been apparent to a reasonable person operating under the same or similar circumstances–an objective standard should be used.”); see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 53.

[10] Id at 48 (“Under this standard, a service provider would have no obligation to seek out copyright infringement, but it would not qualify for the safe harbor if it had turned a blind eye to ‘red flags’ of obvious infringement.”); see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 57.

[11] Id.; see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 57-58.

[12] Id.; see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 58.

[13] Id. at 48-49; see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 58.

[14] Id. at 49; see also H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(II), at 58.

[15] See The Pirate Bay, available at https://www.thepiratebay.org/.

[16] See Google Transparency Report, available at https://transparencyreport.google.com/.

[17] See Perfect 10, Inc. v. CCBill LLC, 488 F.3d 1102 (9th Cir. 2007).

[18] Id. at 1114.

[19] Id.

[20] Viacom Int’l, Inc. v. YouTube, Inc., 676 F.3d 19, 31 (2d Cir. 2012).

[21] Id. at 30.

[22] Id. at 30-31.

[23] See, e.g., H.R. Rep. No. 105-551(I), at 26 (“Once one becomes aware of such information, however, one may have an obligation to check further.”).

[24] UMG Recordings, Inc. v. Shelter Capital Partners LLC, 718 F.3d 1006 (9th Cir. 2013).

[25] Id. at 1021-22.

[26] Id. at 1022.

[27] Capitol Records, LLC v. Vimeo, LLC, 826 F.3d 78 (2d Cir. 2016).

[28] Capitol Records, LLC v. Vimeo, LLC, 972 F. Supp. 2d 537, 549 (S.D.N.Y. 2013) (“[B]ased on the type of music the videos used here—songs by well-known artists, whose names were prominently displayed—and the placement of the songs within the video (played in virtually unaltered form for the entirety of the video), a jury could find that Defendants had ‘red flag’ knowledge of the infringing nature of the videos.”).

[29] Capitol Records, 826 F.3d at 94 (emphasis in original).

[30] Id. at 97.

I presented this at the Fordham IP Conference on April 25, 2019. My oral presentation is here, and the accompanying slides are here.

How the Supreme Court Made it Harder for Copyright Owners to Protect Their Rights—And Why Congress Should Fix It

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date March 7, 2019

U.S. Supreme Court building Earlier this week, the Supreme Court handed down its decision in Fourth Estate v. Wall-Street.com, a case examining the registration precondition to filing a suit for copyright infringement in the federal district courts. While I agree with the Court’s exegesis of the statute at issue, it’s worth noting how the Court’s construction leaves many, if not most, copyright owners in the lurch. Under the Court’s holding, in fact, this very blog post could be infringed today, and there’s very little that could be done to stop it for many months to come. As the Court noted in Harper & Row v. Nation, “copyright supplies the economic incentive to create and disseminate ideas.” The Court’s holding in Fourth Estate, by contrast, disincentivizes dissemination since it undermines effective copyright protection and prejudices the public interest in the production of, and access to, creative works. Again, I don’t blame the Court for this outcome—in fact, I think it’s correct. The problem, as I’ll explain, lies in the unfortunate fact that nowadays it takes too long to register a copyright claim. And that’s something that Congress needs to fix.

The issue in Fourth Estate is straightforward. Under the first sentence of Section 411(a) of the Copyright Act, “no civil action for infringement of the copyright in any United States work shall be instituted until preregistration or registration of the copyright claim has been made in accordance with this title.” Some courts, like the Ninth Circuit, have applied the so-called “application approach,” finding that “registration . . . has been made” when the copyright owner delivers a complete application to the Copyright Office. Other courts, like the Tenth Circuit, have applied the so-called “registration approach,” where “registration” is not “made” until the Register of Copyrights has acted upon the application (by either approving or rejecting it). Confounding the analysis is the fact that other sections of the Copyright Act alternatively delineate registration as something done by the applicant or by the Copyright Office.

In the decision below, the Eleventh Circuit applied the registration approach, affirming the district court’s dismissal of Fourth Estate’s complaint since the Register of Copyrights had not yet approved or denied its application to register. The Supreme Court, in a unanimous decision by Justice Ginsburg, affirmed: “We hold . . . that registration occurs, and a copyright claimant may commence an infringement suit, when the Copyright Office registers a copyright.” The issue for the Court was one of pure statutory construction, and the problem for proponents of the application approach is that the second sentence of Section 411(a) clearly indicates that registration is something done by the Copyright Office. It provides, as an exception to the first sentence, that a copyright owner can nevertheless sue for infringement once the application materials “have been delivered to the Copyright Office in proper form and registration has been refused.”

Justice Ginsburg reasoned: “If application alone sufficed to ‘ma[ke]’ registration, § 411(a)’s second sentence—allowing suit upon refusal of registration—would be superfluous.” I’ve always found this to be the better argument, and I’m not surprised to see it front-and-center in the Court’s analysis. Why would applicants need an exception that turns on the subsequent action of the Copyright Office if merely delivering a completed application sufficed? As Justice Ginsburg noted, the application approach “requires the implausible assumption that Congress gave ‘registration’ different meanings in consecutive, related sentences within a single statutory provision.” I think the Court got this one exactly right, and I don’t find arguments to the contrary to be particularly persuasive.

That said, let me now explain why it’s wrong—well, at least why it’s bad for millions of copyright owners and why Congress should fix it ASAP.

The purpose of the registration approach and other similar provisions in the Copyright Act (such as the availability of statutory damages or attorney’s fees) is to incentivize timely registration, which is no longer a prerequisite to copyright protection as it was under the Copyright Act of 1909. Under the current Copyright Act, copyright protection nominally exists once a work is fixed in a tangible medium of expression, and registration is no longer mandatory. (I say “nominally” because the Court’s holding in Fourth Estate ensures that, as a practical matter, countless works with respect to which copyright owners have exclusive rights on paper in fact have no immediate rights in the real world since they can’t actually file suit to quickly stop any ongoing infringement.) However, the incentive-to-register theory makes little sense in the context of the debate over the proper interpretation of Section 411(a) itself as the works being sued upon must be registered under both the application and registration approaches.

With due respect to the Copyright Office, processing a registration application is primarily a ministerial act. The vast majority of applications are granted—97% in 2017 according to the latest available data from the Copyright Office (though 29% of those applications required correspondence with the applicant). Are we really withholding remedies for all copyright owners because of the remaining 3%? And even for the 3% of applications that are denied, the copyright owner can still sue for infringement, asking the district court to reassess the agency’s refusal. No matter what the Copyright Office does with the application, whether it grants or denies, the copyright owner ultimately can sue. And, under the third sentence of Section 411(a), the Register of Copyrights can even “become a party to the action with respect to the issue of registrability of the copyright claim.” So it’s not like the Register can’t have a say should the application be in that slim minority of questionable ones that may merit intervention.

To its credit, the Supreme Court acknowledged that its holding would cause problems for copyright owners—but it also overplayed the exceptions to the registration approach that Congress put in place to alleviate some of these issues. For example, Justice Ginsburg pointed out that Section 408(f) empowers the Register of Copyrights to establish regulations for the preregistration of certain categories of works. Under this regime, as Justice Ginsburg noted, “Congress provided that owners of works especially susceptible to prepublication infringement should be allowed to institute suit before the Register has granted or refused registration.” That’s great for that particular subset of copyright owners, but what about everyone else? And what about authors who publish their works just as soon as they create them? Moreover, Justice Ginsburg’s blithe comment that copyright owners “may eventually recover damages for the past infringement” ignores the fact that injunctive relief to stop the actual, ongoing infringement is unavailable until the registration is processed by the Copyright Office.

The Court laments such policy ramifications: “True, the statutory scheme has not worked as Congress likely envisioned. Registration processing times have increased from one or two weeks in 1956 to many months today.” And this gets to the heart of the problem: The time it takes the Copyright Office to process an application has significantly increased over the years. Just four years after the Copyright Act of 1976 went into effect, the delay was “5 to 6 weeks.” And, as of October 2018, the delay has grown to an “average processing time for all claims” of “7 months.” Indeed, the fastest the Copyright Office processes an application now is one month, and the longest it takes is an incredible 37 months. The following illustration from the Copyright Office breaks this down with more particularity:

To be clear, I don’t think these delays are the Copyright Office’s fault. In fact, I think it’s Congress’s fault for not giving the agency more resources to do the very things that Congress requires it to do. Regardless, the fact remains that even copyright owners who do everything that the Copyright Act expects them to do in order to obtain the greatest protection for their works at the earliest that they can reasonably do so are still left without remedies should—or, perhaps more likely, when—infringement occur once they release their works to the world. The aforementioned constitutional goal of dissemination is thus undercut by the subservient goal of registration, for rational copyright owners would be less motivated to disseminate their works by the right to exclude when that right is in fact illusory. If Congress really wants authors to promote progress via dissemination of new works, it should adjust Section 411(a) to provide for immediate protection to all works, whether registered or not. It can still incentivize registration by limiting the remedies available, but it shouldn’t make it so that there are none.

To see the injustice, one need look no further than this very blog post. According to the Copyright Act, this post was protected the moment it was fixed in a tangible medium of expression (i.e., yesterday evening). Should the copyright owner—presumably the university where I work as this is a work made for hire—have filed for registration as quickly as possible (i.e., this morning), there still would be no way to obtain any injunctive relief while the Copyright Office processes the application. Preregistration was never an option as this post is not a literary work that is protected by the exception for certain works prone to prepublication infringement under Section 202.16 of the CFR. Even if the university had done everything that it was supposed to do as early as it could reasonably have done so to ensure the utmost copyright protection for this post, it could do nothing in the courts to stop an infringer who willfully exploits this post for profit until the Copyright Office acts upon the application—a lifetime for infringement in the digital age. (There is an option to expedite review for $800, but that amount of money is not reasonable for most people.)

Perhaps a takedown notice could be issued under Section 512 of the DMCA, but if there’s a counternotice, the university could not bring suit in the designated 10-14 day window to prevent the service provider from restoring the infringing material since there’s been no registration and thus it cannot sue for infringement. Despite having done everything Congress expected, the university would be powerless to stop the ongoing infringement of its exclusive rights in this post for perhaps several months into the future. And any argument that damages will compensate for infringements occurring before the Copyright Office got around to acting on the application is undercut by the fact that courts routinely grant preliminary injunctive relief precisely because the harm from infringement is irreparable—money damages cannot make the copyright owner whole.

The absurd result of all this is that the promise of exclusive rights in one’s original work of authorship is practically meaningless given the registration approach under Section 411(a). No doubt, Congress intended this disability to act as a stick in order to encourage the carrot of remedies should those rights be infringed. But the reality is that numerous copyright owners who do everything right get the stick and not the carrot—at least until the Copyright Office happens to process their applications. In the meantime, these copyright owners cannot be faulted for thinking twice before disseminating their works. Since enforcement of their rights is precluded through no fault of their own, what else does Congress expect them to do? A right without a remedy is senseless, and given the millions of original works that are created each day, Congress’s promise of copyright protection for new works may be one of the most illusory rights in modern times. Now that the Supreme Court has clarified Section 411(a), it’s time for Congress to fix it.

Tags copyright, Copyright Office, Devlin Hartline, Digital Millennium Copyright Act, DMCA, exclusive rights, Fourth Estate, infringement, registration, Section 411, Section 512, Supreme Court, USCO, Wall-Street.com

Infringement Patent Theory

Explaining Efficient Infringement

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date May 11, 2017

By Adam Mossoff & Bhamati Viswanathan

files labeled as "patents" In a recent New York Times op-ed, “The Patent Troll Smokescreen,” Joe Nocera used in print for the first time the term, “efficient infringement.” This pithy phrase quickly gained currency if only because it captures a well-known phenomenon that has been impossible to describe in even a single sentence. Unfortunately, some commentators are confused about the validity of this term. This is understandable, because no one has yet described exactly what it means, especially in comparison to the similar commercial practice of “efficient breach” in contract law.

In a nutshell, efficient infringement occurs when a company deliberately chooses to infringe a patent given that it is cheaper than to license the patent. The reason it is cheaper is what makes it hard to explain briefly: a slew of legal changes to the patent system by Congress, courts, and regulatory agencies in the past ten years have substantially increased the costs and uncertainties in enforcing patents against infringers.

Accused infringers now can very easily invalidate patents, either in court or at the “patent death squad” known as the Patent Trial and Appeal Board. If a patent owner runs this gauntlet after several years of costly litigation and obtains a judgment in its favor, courts are increasingly refusing to award injunctions for anyone other than manufacturing companies. What is left for the patent owner is only damages, but changes in the legal rules for awarding damages have made damage awards very minimal compared to the actual economic harms suffered by a patent owner (a 2015 PricewaterhouseCoopers study found that median damage awards in 2014 were at their second lowest level in the past 20 years).

The result of all of this is that a company economically gains from deliberately infringing patents. It pays less in either legal fees or in court-ordered damages than it would have paid in a license negotiated with a patent owner. This is efficient infringement.

As a term in the legal policy debates, efficient infringement draws some inspiration from the well-known economic model of “efficient breach” in contract law. But the two seem very different, at least superficially. Thus, efficient infringement needs further explanation by way of a more explicit comparison to efficient breach theory.

The model of efficient breach posits an overall net gain in social welfare from a willful breach of contract. It supposes a scenario in which one contracting party has an opportunity to obtain a higher payment for its goods or services, producing a profit that exceeds any damages from a breach of contract that would be paid to the other contracting party. Thus, the contracting party breaches: it receives the higher payment, it pays the other contracting party its “expectancy interest” (lost profits), and it pockets its net profits. Everyone wins and society is better off, at least according to this highly stylized and abstract economic model.

In practice, though, one rarely finds cases in which this opportunistic breach of contract works. The losses suffered by a victim of a breach of contract easily exceed mere profits, and courts account for this by awarding reliance and restitution damages, as well as punitive damages for deliberate misconduct like opportunistic breach of contract. Other legal claims, such as tortious interference with a contract and equitable claims for rescission and restitution, provide additional sources of relief for victims of willful breaches of contracts. In fact, one reason contracting parties negotiate liquidated damages provisions in their agreements is to limit liability for these widely recognized costs that go beyond mere expectancy interests.

These additional damages reflect the total costs created by strategic, opportunistic breaches of contract. These include institutional and systemic harms in eroding reasonable reliance on contractual commitments, lost investments made on the basis of contractual commitments, lost opportunities to pursue other commercial transactions, reputational harms, and so on. A victim of an opportunistic contract breach, for example, can seek the equitable remedy of rescinding the contract and seek restitution to disgorge the willful bad actor of his wrongful gains at the expense of the victim.

This is why one usually finds successful efficient breach only in hypothetical examples in economic textbooks or in law review articles, and not in actual court cases. As one of the scholars who first coined this term in 1977 recently observed, “efficient breach is both a null set as well as an oxymoron.” Or, as Professor Gregory Klass similarly notes, efficient breach is a “dead letter,” although he still believes it “remains a great teaching tool.”

Recognizing this difference between theory and practice is key in understanding the parallels between efficient breach and efficient infringement. In theory, efficient breach considers only the lost profits in a one-off case of contract breach, and it thus sounds like a gain in social welfare because everyone benefits. But, in practice, contracting parties and courts recognize the total individual and systemic costs caused by willful violations of legal rights, whether a contract right or a property right. The same is true for efficient infringement, in both theory and practice.

Theoretically, efficient infringement posits a breach of a legal right that enhances both private and social welfare. The company benefits privately because it pays less via a patent infringement lawsuit in either legal fees (invalidating the patent) or in a compulsory license (court-awarded damages). Society is better off, too, because the company engaging in efficient infringement has more resources to put to productive endeavors, as opposed to paying for use of an invalid patent (a monopoly) or in making a larger wealth transfer payment on the basis of a negotiated license.

In the real world, though, efficient infringement creates more costs than merely the lost licensing profits for the patent owner, or the lost patent itself. The more fundamental problem with efficient infringement is that it undermines the proper functioning of the patent system. It frustrates the promise of the reward to the innovator for one’s inventive labors. Once inventors know that the deck of (legal) cards is stacked against them and that they will suffer efficient infringement, they will create less patentable innovation. Without legal security in stable and effective property rights, venture capitalists will not invest in inventors or startups and the innovation economy will suffer.

The important point is that these negative dynamic efficiency effects from efficient infringement are systemic in nature. This is similar to the concern about systemic costs represented by such causes of action for willful breach of contract as restitution and disgorgement of wrongful gains. As a matter of real-world practice, the costs created by efficient infringement are similar to the broader private and systemic costs created by opportunistic breaches of contract—both threaten the viability of legal institutions and the policies that drive them, such as incentivizing investments and promoting commercial transactions.

Tags Adam Mossoff, Bhamati Viswanathan, breach of contract, efficient breach, efficient infringement, equitable remedy, infringement, injunction, patent death squad, patent infringement

ITC Trademarks

CPIP Founders File Amicus Brief on Behalf of 11 Law Professors in Converse v. ITC

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date February 3, 2017

CPIP Founders Adam Mossoff & Mark Schultz filed an amicus brief today on behalf of 11 law professors in Converse v. International Trade Commission, a trademark case currently before the Federal Circuit.

In late-2014, Converse filed a complaint with the International Trade Commission alleging that more than thirty companies, including Skechers, Walmart, New Balance, and Highline, were violating Section 337 of the Tariff Act of 1930 by importing and selling infringing shoes. Converse owns a registered trademark on the midsole of its iconic Chuck Taylor All Star shoe, including the signature toe cap, toe bumper, and midsole stripes:

An administrative law judge found that Converse owns a valid registered trademark and that each respondent sold at least one infringing knock-off. That opinion was later reversed by the Commission, which held that Converse’s registered trademark was invalid. In the Commission’s opinion, Converse failed to prove that its iconic midsole had acquired secondary meaning—though it nevertheless found that Converse’s trademark would have been violated had it been valid. Converse has now appealed that ruling to the Federal Circuit.

The amicus brief filed by Professors Mossoff & Schultz argues that the Commission failed to properly consider the fundamental role of trademark law in securing the productive labors of companies like Converse that create famous products like its Chuck Taylor All Star shoe. The brief was co-signed by Professors Gregory Dolin, Christopher Frerking, Hugh Hansen, Jay Kesan, Irina D. Manta, Kristen Osenga, Eric Priest, Ted Sichelman, and Saurabh Vishnubhakat.

The Summary of Argument from the amicus brief is copied below:

SUMMARY OF ARGUMENT

This case deals with one of the most iconic, long-lived brands in the footwear industry: the Chuck Taylor athletic shoe. As one of the first massively successful athletic shoe products—selling hundreds of millions of pairs over the past 80 years—the name and design of these athletic shoes is an exemplar of the successful commercial goodwill that trademark law is intended to promote and secure to innovative commercial enterprises like Converse. Unfortunately, the International Trade Commission (Commission) chose to ignore the fundamental importance of investment in goodwill—to trademark law generally and to the establishment of secondary meaning specifically.

The appellant addresses the numerous doctrinal and factual infirmities with the Commission’s decision, and thus amici offer an additional legal and policy insight into this case that is necessary to understand the full scope of the Commission’s error: the Commission contradicted a fundamental precept of modern trademark law that it secures the valuable goodwill created by companies like Converse through their productive labors in creating, manufacturing and marketing iconic, famous products like the Chuck Taylor athletic shoes. See Qualitex v Jacobson, 514 U.S. 159, 163-64 (1995) (“The law thereby encourages the production of quality products, and simultaneously discourages those who hope to sell inferior products by capitalizing on a consumer’s inability quickly to evaluate the quality of an item offered for sale.”).

In addition to protecting consumers from significant costs and other harms imposed on them by commercial pirates, it is a longstanding, fundamental policy in trademark law to secure the valuable goodwill created by innovative commercial enterprises in selling products in the marketplace. See, e.g., Partridge v. Menck, 5 N.Y. Ch. Ann. 572, 574 (1847) (stating a trademark owner “is entitled to protection against any other person who attempts to pirate upon [its] goodwill”). Courts recognize these two key, mutually reinforcing policies in trademark law—securing goodwill and protecting consumers—as two sides of the same coin. See Groenveld Transport Efficiency v Lubecore Intern., Inc., 730 F.3d 494, 512 (6th Cir. 2013) (“Trademark law’s likelihood-of-confusion requirement . . . incentivizes manufacturers to create robust brand recognition by consistently offering good products and good services, which results in more consumer satisfaction. That is the virtuous cycle envisioned by trademark law, including its trade-dress branch.”). These two policies necessarily work together to ensure that trademark law functions properly.

In this case, the Commission disregarded the dual policies that animate trademark law by focusing solely on consumer issues while denying Converse its justly earned legal protection for its long-established and valuable goodwill. Thus, amici believe that the Commission’s decision should be reversed solely on the grounds of this contradiction of fundamental trademark policy. This is a case in which commercial pirates have undoubtedly “tread closely on the heels of [a] very successful trademark,” and thus are within the “long shadow which competitors must avoid” that is cast by Converse’s valuable goodwill in its famous mark—the Chuck Taylor athletic shoe design. Kenner Parker Toys Inc. v. Rose Art Industries, Inc., 963 F2d 350, 353-54 (Fed. Cir. 1992) (quotations and citations omitted).

To read the amicus brief, please click here.

Tags Adam Mossoff, Chuck Taylor All Star, Converse, Federal Circuit, goodwill, infringement, International Trade Commission, ITC, labor, law professor, Mark Schultz, trademark

Criminal Copyright Infringement is Crime of "Moral Turpitude"

Post author By Joshua Grove
Post date September 26, 2016

Cross-posted from the Law Theories blog.

This past Friday, the Board of Immigration Appeals held that criminal copyright infringement constitutes a “crime involving moral turpitude” under immigration law. The Board reasoned that criminal copyright infringement is inherently immoral because it involves the willful theft of property and causes harm to both the copyright owner and society.

The respondent, Raul Zaragoza-Vaquero, was indicted in 2012 for selling illicit CDs of popular artists including Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga, and Jennifer Lopez over a five-year period. After a three-day trial, the jury found Zaragoza-Vaquero guilty of criminal copyright infringement under Section 506(a)(1)(A), which makes it a crime to “willfully” infringe “for purposes of commercial advantage or private financial gain.” The crime was a felony under Section 2319(b)(1) because it involved the “reproduction or distribution, . . . during any 180-day period, of at least 10 copies or phonorecords, of 1 or more copyrighted works, which have a total retail value of more than $2,500.” Zaragoza-Vaquero was sentenced to 33 months in prison and ordered to pay $36,000 in restitution.

Under immigration law, an alien who has been ordered removed from the United States may ask the Attorney General to cancel the removal order. However, there is an exception for “any alien convicted of . . . a crime involving moral turpitude,” in which case the Attorney General is powerless to cancel the removal. Zaragoza-Vaquero was ordered removed in early 2015, and the Immigration Judge pretermitted his application to have the removal order cancelled by the Attorney General. The Immigration Judge held that criminal copyright infringement is a “crime involving moral turpitude,” thus making Zaragoza-Vaquero ineligible for such cancellation. On appeal, the Board agreed, rejecting Zaragoza-Vaquero’s bid to have the Attorney General consider his removal.

Even though crimes of “moral turpitude” have been removable offenses since 1891, Congress has never defined what the phrase means nor listed the crimes that qualify. That job instead has been left to immigration judges and the federal courts. In 1951, the U.S. Supreme Court noted that “crimes in which fraud was an ingredient have always been regarded as involving moral turpitude.” Indeed, many property crimes have been held to involve “moral turpitude” when committed willfully because there is the criminal intent to defraud the property owner of its rights. “Moral turpitude” has thus been found to exist in numerous crimes against property, including arson, burglary, embezzlement, extortion, blackmail, bribery, false pretenses, forgery, larceny, receiving or transporting stolen goods, and check or credit card fraud.

Crimes against intellectual property have likewise been found to involve “moral turpitude.” For example, the Ninth Circuit held in 2008 that the use of counterfeit marks, in violation of state law, is “a crime involving moral turpitude because it is an inherently fraudulent crime.” The Ninth Circuit reasoned: “Either an innocent purchaser is tricked into buying a fake item; or even if the purchaser knows the item is counterfeit, the owner of the mark has been robbed of its value. The crime is really a species of theft. . . . The commission of the crime necessarily defrauds the owner of the mark, or an innocent purchaser of the counterfeit items, or both.”

Similarly, the Board of Immigration Appeals held in 2007 that trafficking in counterfeit goods, in violation of federal law, is a crime of “moral turpitude.” The Board reasoned that the conviction required the federal prosecutor to prove that the defendant “intentionally trafficked” and “knowingly used a spurious trademark that was likely to confuse or deceive others.” Even though the statute did not require proof that the defendant had the specific intent to defraud, the Board held that such trafficking involved “moral turpitude” because it is “inherently immoral” to willfully exploit the property owner and the public.

Turning back to Zaragoza-Vaquero, the Board defined “moral turpitude” as “conduct that shocks the public conscience as being inherently base, vile, or depraved, and contrary to accepted rules of morality and the duties owed between persons or to society in general.” The Board then noted that trafficking in counterfeit goods has been held to be a crime of “moral turpitude” because it involves (1) “theft of someone else’s property,” (2) “proof of intent to traffic,” (3) “societal harm,” and (4) “dishonest dealing and deliberate exploitation of the public and the mark owner.”

Reasoning by analogy to these trafficking cases, the Board ultimately held that criminal copyright infringement “must also be a crime involving moral turpitude.” Criminal copyright infringement statutes “were enacted to protect a form of intellectual property,” and offenses “must be committed willfully, meaning that a defendant must voluntarily and intentionally violate a known legal duty not to infringe a copyright.” The Board noted that criminal copyright infringement “also involves significant societal harm,” since “piracy” has “harmed the film and recording industries, including actors, artists, and musicians.” It pointed to a recent report by the Government Accountability Office, which found that “intellectual property crimes cause negative effects on health, safety, and lost revenue.”

The Board’s holding that criminal copyright infringement is a crime of “moral turpitude” thus extends the long line of cases finding that crimes against property are inherently immoral when the criminal intentionally defrauds the owner of its rights. While many will surely balk at the suggestion that there’s anything immoral about criminal copyright infringement, I think the Board reached the right conclusion—both in the moral and legal sense. A defendant such as Zaragoza-Vaquero, who for years willfully infringed for profit, has acted in a way that shocks the conscience and has shown a conscious disregard for the rights of others. And while prosecutors need not show the specific intent to defraud in securing such a conviction, the element of willfulness suffices to establish the intent to defraud the copyright owner of its property.

Tags Board of Immigration Appeals, copyright, counterfeit mark, criminal copyright infringement, criminal intent, Devlin Hartline, immigration law, infringement, intent to defraud, Law Theories, moral turpitude, specific intent, willfully

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