European court rules that downloads are resaleable

Licence agreements can't stop your statutory rights, the ECJ rules

The European Court of Justice has ruled that consumers have the right to resell downloaded software as "used", even if the software is sold under a license that prevents it.

The case (pdf) concerned Oracle, the enterprise computing company, which sued a German firm UsedSoft. Oracle allows customers who have paid for a license to download copies from their website for use on up to 25 computers, as well as offering free access to updates, and it does so under an agreement which gives the customer "a non-transferable user right for an unlimited period, exclusively for their internal business purposes".

UsedSoft allows that license to be resold, contravening Oracle's agreement. It buys the access to the download site from users, and sells that access on.

The court was asked to consider whether the European first sale doctrine applies to downloads. For physical goods, it has long been held that exclusive rights to distribution are exhausted after the first sale. So, for example, HMV can have the exclusive right to sell One Direction's new album, but they cannot prevent you buying the album and then selling it on yourself – even if they make you sign something beforehand. It decided that when a right to use software for an unlimited period of time is exchanged for money, that constitutes a sale, and thus the first sale doctrine applies.

Importantly, the court also ruled that the right to updates is sold on, preventing one possible route around the judgement. Oracle must treat owners of second-hand software the same as those who buy it new for the purpose of software updates.

The right to resell still requires the first owner to remove the software, and it doesn't allow you to "split" multi-user licenses and sell off unused capacity. But it is nonetheless a major blow for users in the digital age.

However, although the judgment gives users the legal right to resell software, it doesn't mandate that retailers make that right practical to exercise. If you want to resell your copy of Angry Birds, you'll have to give your entire iTunes account over to whoever wants to use it. A thriving resale market is unlikely to emerge anytime soon.

The eponymous "Angry Birds", whom you may now resell. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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