by Steve Jordan
Some companies regarded the public dissatisfaction with security, and took the long view: They reasoned that it made more sense to give the software away, and allow users to spread it as far as they could; eventually, the software could become effectively ubiquitous in the market; then they would secure updated versions of the software, forcing any customers to pay for future versions. Microsoft and Adobe were two of the largest practitioners of this market saturation method, allowing customers to disseminate their most popular (and most expensive) programs, until those programs and operating systems were considered indispensible to customers. Then they instituted DRM systems on subsequent versions, and told the customers it was up to them to upgrade, or use something else. Customers, deciding it was easier to simply pay for new software than to start over with new software to replace it, grumbled aplenty, but they paid up. Today, Microsoft and Adobe make millions on their software applications, because they had gotten the customers hooked like junkies on free samples before they started forcing them to pay for their next fix.
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The first e-books were largely offered for free to consumers. But as time went by, e-book writers and publishers decided that they should be able to profit off of their works, as any other artist or craftsman was so deserving. They soon began to charge for their e-books, at varying prices depending on whether they considered their e-books as equal products to printed books, or tried to assign a unique value to them based on the realities of the software market.
But after years of offering the e-books for free, charging anything for e-books did not sit well with many consumers. They fought the concept vehemently, and frequently rebelled against the writers and publishers by deliberately putting their purchased e-books online for others to download for free.
This inexorably led e-book writers and publishers to seek ways of securing their content, and they began to investigate the same DRM systems that had been used to secure software applications. Some of the first DRM systems for e-books involved establishing a code for the e-book reading software or hardware, and matching the e-book to that code, to insure only that one application or device could read the e-book. Other methods involved entering a code such as the customer’s ID information, or perhaps the credit card used to purchase the e-book, in order to unlock the e-book and allow it to be read.
Customers were not exactly thrilled to see security attached to e-books, but the first e-book readers were happy enough to have e-books to read. So most of them agreed to the security method imposed by whatever book they bought, thought no more about it, and enjoyed themselves with their e-books. Unfortunately, there were some hidden catches regarding the security methods, most of which could be attributed to a lack of foresight on the part of the DRM designers, which would turn about and bite the desire for security in the rear.
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The first DRM-related problems began occurring when consumers upgraded their reading hardware, either to take advantage of newer technology, or because their old hardware had become lost or damaged. Just like the problems consumers faced with software when replacing their computers, many discovered that some security-burdened e-book applications would no longer play on new hardware. In many cases, new versions of the software could be downloaded, only to discover that the serial number of the old software application had to be entered into the new application for it to read the e-books registered to it. This was often a problem, as the old hardware and software wasn’t always available (if it had been lost, stolen or thrown away once the new hardware was obtained), and most users needed that old software to supply their registration numbers for the new software. And in some cases, simply entering the serial numbers wasn’t that straightforward, and stymied the efforts of consumers. Some DRM systems used the customers’ credit card numbers as their security code… not taking into account that, if those cards were replaced later, consumers might not keep the original number handy to open e-books a few years down the line. When this happened, entire collections of e-books were rendered so much electronic dross, unable to be played on the new hardware and software. Any e-books that had been paid for were similarly lost, and many vendors were not sympathetic to consumers’ requests for fresh copies of the e-books, or for refunds.
The next problems were caused by e-book sellers who were perhaps too hasty in entering the e-book market, or who did not do well once they were in business. After a few years, some of the many companies that had gone into business selling e-books found themselves unprofitable or struggling, and decided to cut their losses and close their doors. Some of these companies used security systems that required their direct interaction to fix any problems that arose, for instance, changing the serial number on a software application or a purchased e-book after files were corrupted or replaced. But when they closed, there was no one to provide that support to consumers.
Over time, most consumers would find themselves either replacing hardware or software, or needing support from now-defunct companies to continue to access their e-books. In most of these cases, consumers found themselves out of luck, the e-books they had paid for suddenly gone, without even a dust jacket to mark their passing. This caused a furor in consumer circles against any e-book that was secured by any DRM system, and especially those that were paid for, because it was assumed that sooner or later, some electronic glitch or an action by the company who sold the book would duly destroy what they had bought. This led to the impression voiced by many consumers that e-books with security were not “bought,” but “rented.” And the consumers felt that if that was the case, either the books’ “rental” prices ought to be lower, or there should be no DRM attached to them at all.
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Some of the consumers who had felt like they had been “stung” by what they considered to be unscrupulous business practices (no one had told them in advance that their e-books could be so transitory) took out their frustrations by venting their wrath at the booksellers, by exploring the darker reaches of the web for free-to-download copies of their lost e-books that had been put online illegally by other consumers, or by posting their own e-books online for others to take for free. Those consumers who believed in Free-For-All web content openly supported their efforts, and clandestine websites sprang up to share the copywritten content freely.
During this time, amateur hackers began writing and disseminating software that was designed to “break” the DRM attached to many of the e-book programs. Once the DRM was removed, the e-book could be copied, converted to other formats, and read on any number of devices, present and future, by the owner. This was already the situation that consumers had gotten used to with music, and their ability to record the cut on an album, say, to cassette, and later to MP3, for private use as they saw fit. They saw no reason why e-books should be any different, so those consumers who were tech-savvy-enough to use the cracking software downloaded it and applied it to their books. And some of them turned around and put those e-books onto the illegal downloading and peer-to-peer sites, making them available to others… often as a direct and blatant defiance of those who placed the DRM software on the e-book in the first place.
The legality of the DRM-cracking software varied from country to country, according to their copyright laws: While the software was outright illegal in some places, it was legal to have, but not to use, in some countries… or legal to have, strictly speaking legal to use, but any subsequent cracked e-books would themselves be considered illegal, in other countries, etc. And in some places it was legal to own, legal to use, legal to keep cracked e-books, and even legal to disseminate them on peer-to-peer sites (more on this in Chapter 14).
Whatever the laws stated, it was clear that the governments were not of the same mind when it came to protecting e-book authors and publishers trying to make a living. Faced with a lack of government support, e-book publishers sought ways to make DRM more robust and harder to crack. Unfortunately for them, the basic architecture of the computer made it virtually impossible for them to accompl
ish their goal… as hackers were eager to prove. As fast as a new DRM system was created, a hacker would gleefully break it, and quickly disseminate his cracking software to the world. A war of DRM escalation had begun, with both sides seen as the aggressor by the other, apparently no chance that one side or the other would capitulate, and no end in sight.
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As the DRM wars raged on, the public began to unilaterally debate the usefulness of having DRM at all: It seemed to only hinder a customer’s ability to obtain, to use, or to keep, e-books; and it was often as easy to crack as a padlock made of balsa wood. There seemed to be no point to using a security method that was not secure, and that actually discouraged customers.
The need for DRM was entwined with authors’ and publishers’ desire to profit from their work; unfortunately, the bulk of the public was still mostly unsympathetic to their desires. The majority of consumers were still vocal about their desire for free content, or they paid lip-service to paying for content but didn’t think twice about downloading any free content they found, however legal. Authors who tried to join into these conversations in their own defense, were often challenged by Anarchist consumers urging them to give up their creations for their web-based Utopia. Publishers were accused of being the worst of greedy Capitalists, and worse, and advised to stand aside and let progress roll… or, better yet, to stay right where they were so progress could roll right over them.
A few tried to conceptualize these Utopian worlds, and the ways in which authors would be compensated for their works. Most of these schemes involved tax-sponsored government doles, or a revival of the old patronage system that had largely fallen under the Capitalist system. None of their ideas, however, could manage to provide compensation for any but a few lucky authors, and at any rate, they would take government cooperation to establish these new systems. In short, they were pie-in-the-sky ideas that no one was even taking to the government to propose.
Some enthusiasts suggested a more benign form of DRM would be as successful as the existing security methods, but less obtrusive to customers: This “social DRM” would do no more than encrypt the purchasers’ name, and possibly other identifying information such as a social security or credit card number, into an otherwise-unsecured e-book; the idea being that a combination of civic responsibility, and an aversion to making their private information public, would keep e-book buyers from disseminating the works. Unfortunately, even these measures were capable of being removed or spoofed, and they might provide a further danger if unintentionally lost or stolen (or disseminated with someone else’s name and identifying information intentionally embedded within).
The Anarchists stated flatly that DRM was pointless because it was impossible to implement with 100% success, and they loved to point out that all it took was for one person to bootleg an e-book and put it on the web… even a minority of one would release a book to the Free-For-All world. Therefore, they reasoned, authors and publishers should simply accept their fate as producers for the masses, and give the e-books away.
This callous attitude—often expressed, ironically, by people who actually had their own paying jobs, and who would never consider working for free, but just as often by those who had not yet entered the job market and did not have a grasp on the fact that the world, like it or not, ran on money—was nothing short of a base insult to authors, and if anything, only encouraged them to seek out more secure methods of selling their wares.
This incredible economic and philosophic disconnect between authors/publishers and consumers served to drive a larger and larger wedge between them. Authors and publishers began to lose all confidence that e-books would ever be anything but a money drain on them, and consumers seemingly refused to budge on DRM, or even the need to pay for e-books. DRM was the 800-pound gorilla in the room, not totally under anyone’s control, not totally benevolent even when treated kindly, and simply by virtue of its imposing presence, hindering any hope of cooperation between the two sides.
14: Copyright—From here to eternity
Another problem that was making things difficult for e-books was the reality of copyright law. A centuries-old concept that had been formalized over the years, it was nonetheless unprepared to deal with the modern issues concerning electronic files.
There has always been a general understanding among humans (morally, at least) that the creator of something should be the first one to benefit in some way from it. The basic concept goes all the way back to the successful hunter getting the first meat of a kill. As civilization became more agrarian, then more metropolitan, the concept was extended to other forms of invention or creation that improved the group’s lot. This included the earliest writings, which were jealously guarded by the owners and dispensed as they saw fit, usually making them popular or powerful in the process. In those days, the possibility of a party copying another party’s work was so rare, thanks to limited literacy and a generally busier population with no time for sitting about and manually reproducing writings, as to make document reproduction easy to control.
With the invention of the Gutenberg press, the ability to replicate written works in volume became cheaper and easier. The concept of copyright was born out of economic necessity, as leaders needed better control over a populace that could more easily reproduce the works of another and thereby gain what was considered another man’s profit by established (moral) right. (This was often the power and profit base of the leaders themselves, many of whom had specifically come into power through the possession of written documents and the information they dispensed from within.)
As set forth in most countries (there are still differences from sovereign state to sovereign state), copyright law designates a period of time during which the registered creator of a product is given exclusive right to distribute and profit from that work. The intention was to encourage the creation of new works by guaranteeing the first of any profits made would go to the creator, as a monetary incentive to make the effort in the first place (as opposed to not taking the time to create things they would not profit from). For countries like the United States of America, fresh from a revolutionary split from its mother country and aching for new ways to develop their new world, encouraging creation (and invention) was a no-brainer, and it helped to establish the U.S. as one of the most innovative countries of the era, partly thanks to the protections given to its innovators.
The earliest copyright laws were written loosely and concerned small territories and individual countries. But by 1886, enough countries had adopted the formal concept of copyright law to necessitate the Berne Convention, establishing a common set of copyright rules for all countries to follow. It is still in effect to this day, and is endorsed by the overriding majority of countries in the world.
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Although copyright laws are common fixtures in countries throughout the world, the social and political realities of those countries vary, and those realities influence or impact their copyright laws accordingly. Although this was an issue primarily for governments and a few major corporations not long ago, the digital era has opened up a global market, accessible by individuals as easily as conglomerates.
As individuals took to the web and began seeking and sharing digital files, the copyright laws of one country were sometimes at-odds with the wishes of a citizen of another country. To the individual, the only issue was whether or not another country’s laws applied to them personally… and in most cases, the conclusion reached, often based on a position of greed more than right, was a firm “No.” And with little likelihood of the authorities intervening within or across political boundaries, given the uncontrolled nature of the web, individuals exercised their ability to take what they wanted, and ignored copyright laws—even their own—in that pursuit.
The problem seemed to be relatively isolated at first, though an occasional publisher might get in touch with an individual with a “cease and desist” letter. But eventually, the copyright owners began speaking out in web forums, un
derstandably questioning the acts of others who shared their works with others without due compensation to the artists. The result was a fracturing of opinion into three basic camps, and within those were nationalistic sub-camps, all of which had their own solutions.
One camp stated that the copyright that applied in an author’s home country should be enforced on his work, wherever it went in the world… in other words, an American receiving the work of a British author would be bound by British copyright law in his rights to use or redistribute the work. Needless to say, this was popular with creators, but unpopular with those who were already bound by their own country’s laws, and who saw no reason why they should adhere to another country’s laws for any reason. While some were willing to entertain copyright concepts that were essentially similar to those in their country, copyright concepts that were radically different from their own were summarily dismissed.
Another camp believed that the existing copyright laws needed an overriding international law that all other sovereign copyright laws had to adhere to as a base, sort of a more refined and all-inclusive version of the Berne Convention laws. Although this idea seemed logical, it fell under the same problem as the believers in the first camp; that is, each country felt their laws should be the overriding laws that every other country should follow, and the very different laws of another country would be unacceptable to them.
And finally, the third camp represented the free-for-all Anarchists, who insisted that copyright was useless when it came to digital files, and so it might as well be abolished. This group simply ignored the creators’ insistence that they deserved some fair compensation, and the consumers who insisted that a copyright solution could be found with some honest effort, and continued to argue for their Utopian ideal to start today. These three camps and their subcamps made up the ongoing, vocal, at times virulent, discussions about the future of copyright in a global digital economy.
