The Supreme Court ruling which could break, or save, the internet

Do you "copy" a website just by reading it?

Last August, I wrote about the High Court ruling which could break the internet. The Newspaper Licensing Agency, which exists to grant licenses to organisations — mainly media monitors — which need to make copies of newspapers, had taken a PR company called Meltwater to court. Meltwater's crime was realising that, rather than photocopying papers and sending them to clients (which undoubtedly requires a license), they could just send them links instead.

Clearly that breaks the NLA's business model, and the agency took Meltwater to court, arguing that even the link-sharing model was a breach of copyright. Astonishingly, they won, with two arguments which betrayed a complete lack of understanding about how the internet works, and which, if they become an accepted part of UK case law, threaten the backbone of social interaction online.

The first argument the NLA made was that the act of sharing a link with a headline was itself potentially infringing on copyright. The judge concurred, arguing that crafting a newspaper headline takes skill and that this headline must be a protected work in its own right.

Traditionally, titles of creative works aren't copyrightable (although they may be trademarkable) which is why, for instance, there are multiple films called the Last Stand and multiple songs called the Look of Love. The ruling effectively makes newspaper headlines into very short poems — which may be true for some, but is unlikely to be the case for most.

The second argument was that, since the act of viewing a webpage involves creating a copy of it on your computer, Meltwater and their clients had infringed the implied license granted by the newspapers, and had to pay for an explicit right to read the content.

Quite apart from the fact that that argument is on shaky legal ground — European case law calls for a temporary copy exemption which covers precisely that type of use — it is also entirely at odds with how the internet works. It is akin to saying that, because you have to make a copy of a book on your retinas to read it, you could be sued for copyright infringement if you breach the "implicit license" that it's not to be read on holiday.

The rulings were appealed once, to the High Court, where both were upheld, and Meltwater — which has been joined by the PR industry's trade body, the PRCA — are now appealing to the Supreme Court. Sadly, they have dropped their objection to the first point of law, which means that newspaper headlines remain copyrighted and that, theoretically, you could be sued for tweeting a link to a piece with its headline if you don't have a license.

On the second point, however, the PRCA is appealing, and argues (correctly) that:

A temporary copy created on the screen of a computer simply as a technical necessity to allow the user to read the article should be considered to be within the temporary copying exception from copyright law. Reading a work should not be considered unlawful simply because one reads the work on a computer or other device as opposed to in print.

The NLA argues that the ruling is unlikely to affect anyone outside their business, but the language of the High Court's judgement is too open for that to be the case. Hopefully the Supreme Court will see sense, and dial back the power it has given copyright holders in favour of internet users nationwide. The case begins on Monday.

A sad mac. Photograph: Etsy/pixelparty

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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The art of the YouTube Poop

What are YouTube Poops and why do we need them now, more than ever?

“The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?”

So, allegedly, said Pablo Picasso in a shrewd attempt to justify his love of putting noses where noses don’t actually go. It is imperative that you now hold this profound quotation firmly in your mind whilst you watch this four minutes and 57 second long clip of Arthur – the cartoon aardvark – being tormented by squirrels.

What you have just seen is an example of the art form primarily known as “YouTube Poop” (YTP). Beginning in the early Noughties, this cultural movement is characterised by confusing and shocking edits of Saturday-morning cartoons, video games, and viral videos. Though the Tens have seen the genre decline in popularity, the YTP is, nonetheless, one of the defining innovations of our era.

Those in the Poop community don’t actually like being labelled as artists, as one Yale student found out when he attempted to define them as such on the University’s technology blog. Though they have been compared to Dadaism, YTPs are more vile, violent, and most importantly, nonsensical than most artworks, but this is precisely why they are an asset to our age. In a world where – sorry Pablo, you got nothing on us – absolutely zero things makes sense, it is time for the YTP to have a comeback.

Despite its seeming randomness, the world of YTP is not without its rules. “Poopisms” are the common techniques and tricks used in videos to ensure they qualify as a true Poop. They include “stutter loops” (the repetition of clips over and over), “staredowns” (freezing the frame on a particular facial expression), and the questionably-named “ear rape” (suddenly increasing the volume to shock the viewer). One of the most humorous techniques is “sentence mixing”: forcing characters to say new sentences by cutting and splicing things they have said.

There are also firm rules about what not to do. Panning across a clip without adding another Poopism at the same time is considered boring, whilst using your own voice to dub clips is seen as amateur. By far the biggest barrier that Poopers* face in creating their videos, however, is the law.

Despite what many eight-year-olds on YouTube think, declaring that something is a “parody” in the description of a video does not make it exempt from copyright laws. The video below – regarded by at least two commenters as “the best YouTube Poop” ever – is missing audio 20 minutes in, as the creator was hit by a copyright claim.

Yet even the iron fist of the law cannot truly stop Poopers, who are still going (relatively) strong after the first YTP was created in 2004. YouTube Poops now even have their own Wikipedia page, as well as a page on TV Tropes and a WikiHow guide on how to create them, and for good measure, avoid them.

YouTube Poops have therefore undoubtedly secured their place in history, and whilst you might wander into a comment section to declare “What have I just watched?”, remember that Pablo Picasso once said: “The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” He almost definitely wasn’t talking about “You are a Sad Strange Little Man” by cartoonlover98, but still.

* The term “Poopists” was rejected by the community for being “too arty”.

 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.