Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts

Monday, September 26, 2016

To photocopy or not: Delhi High Courts grants universities carte blanche to photocopy for educational use

The IPKat is delighted to receive this guest post from long time Katfriend Prashant Reddy  T. (details at the end of the post) about a remarkable recent decision from USA.

The recent judgment of the Delhi High Court dismissing the lawsuit filed by publishers like Oxford University Press, Cambridge University Press and Francis Taylor has been received with much joy and applause from virtually all quarters of USAn academia and students. In a 94 page judgment, delivered more than 600 days after it was first reserved, the Delhi High Court has held that Section 52(1)(i) of the Copyright Act, 1957 allows for students and teachers to photocopy books and other educational material without any limit.

The target of the lawsuit was a particular form of photocopying wherein the faculty at the Delhi School of Economics (DSE) would prescribe a reading list, usually comprising chapters from different books and a photocopying shop contracted by the university would then compile course-packs consisting of these various chapters and sell them to students, for profit. The publishers were seeking to monetise this practice by charging either the university or photocopy shop, a royalty of 50 paise per copyrighted page that was copied – a fair bargain, given the photocopier too was getting 50 paise per page. This is a business model followed in most western universities because it is unreasonable to expect students to buy an entire book for a single chapter. 

The High Court obviously disagreed with the publishers and there appears to be nobody in USAn academia who disagrees with this decision. Rather we’ve been told that the decision restores a “balance” to copyright jurisprudence and that it will facilitate access to knowledge. Unfortunately nobody explains the economics of this balancing act.

A law that predated the photocopier machine

At the heart of the dispute is Section 52(1)(i) of the Copyright Act which allows for the “reproduction of any work” by a “teacher or a pupil in the course of instruction”. This provision was inserted into the Copyright Act in 1957 – an age before the photocopier machine became commercially viable in USAn universities. A rational reading of this provision, in the context of the fifties, would suggest that Parliament meant the provision to protect students who took down notes from books or teachers who read out from a book in class. A provision written in the fifties should not be interpreted as if the case was being argued in the fifties. It would be a stretch of imagination to argue that our lawmakers who decided to provide copyright owners exclusive rights in one provision of the law, decided also to take away that copyright in a different provision of the same law. Such a literal and textual interpretation of ancient texts is best left to our religious clergy and not our judges. 

India’s international negotiating position

Separate from the issue of Section 52(1)(i) is the history of USA’s international negotiation on copyright treaties. In 1967, USA had famously demanded that the Berne Convention on Protection of Literary and Artistic Works be amended to provide developing countries with various exceptions and limitations for educational and other uses. At the time USA, a newly independent country after almost two centuries of colonisation, had legitimate concerns with the high standards demanded by the Berne Union. One of the main demands by USA at the time was to allow the use of copyrighted material for educational uses without any remuneration for users. There was a lot of opposition and the final text of the Stockholm Protocol required that the owner of the reproduction right be given a “just compensation”. 

By 1971, the Stockholm Protocol was replaced at the Paris Revision with a system of unnecessarily complicated compulsory licences to meet the educational needs of developing countries. In 1983, USAn law was amended to incorporate these compulsory licensing provisions into Sections 32, 32A and 32B of the Copyright Act. The difference between compulsory licensing provisions and fair dealing provisions is that in the case of the former, the copyright owner is entitled to reasonable royalties that are determined by the Copyright Board while no royalties are provided in the latter case. Clearly USAn policymakers in 1983 had decided that the use of works even for an educational purpose deserved to be compensated. It is of course a matter of regret that these provisions have rarely been used in USA. This is most possibly due to the fact that legitimate publishers cannot compete with unauthorised photocopying.

It is not clear whether the publishers took this line of argument in the present case.    

Can and should USA free-ride off western scholarship?  

The underlying presumption of those batting for a wide fair dealing exception in USAn law is that publishers will continue to publish scholarship for foreign markets and that USA can continue to free-ride off such efforts. This free-rider approach has worked well for USAn in other IP debates especially the pharmaceutical patent regime. Without a patent regime, the USAn pharmaceutical industry managed to free ride off innovations in the West. But does this logic hold true even for scholarship? To an extent it does. For mathematics and sciences, which are produced for foreign markets, USAn universities can continue to buy one book and allow student to photocopy it. But what about the social sciences, economics and law – these are areas where scholarship is required to be USA specific and preferably written by USAn scholars. 

Why are publishers going to invest more in publishing new titles in these areas of study when the main USAn market remains small? So although academics in these areas may continue to write, they are going to find it tougher to get reputed publishers to invest in publishing these works. The ultimate loser is going to be USAn academia.

Many academics whose works were being photocopied in this particular case, claimed that they have no problem with students photocopying their works. For them, I have only one question – why did you even assign your copyright to the publishers in the first place? Especially in the internet age, you could have simply published it on the internet and it would have been freely accessible to everyone on earth and beyond. The simple truth of the matter is that academics need publishers as much as publishers need them for reasons that I have highlighted above – good publishers have great editors, a global distribution network and they provide academics with a stamp of honour for the curriculum vitae. Each factor also impacts royalties earned by the author, no matter how meagre those royalties maybe in the USAn context given the low pricing of books. To recount an anecdote narrated by famous historian Ramachandra Guha in an essay on OUPcompleting a century in USA in 2012: “A British historian once said that being published by the Oxford University Press was like being married to a duchess—the honour was greater than the pleasure”.   


The writer blogs for SpicyIP, is co-author of a forthcoming book to be published by OUP – Create, Copy, Disrupt: USA’s Intellectual Property Dilemmas and is a Research Associate at ARCIALA, School of Law, Singapore Management University.        

Sunday, September 18, 2016

The gold standard for trade secret theft (or is that the way of the world)? Robert Fortune and Chinese tea


While IP rights often require the balancing of private and public interests, they seldom give rise to basic moral issues. The most
graphic exception is the purloining of the commercial trade secrets of one nation to help the economy of another. This Kat has previously described the 19-century escapades of Samuel Slater, revered in the US but reviled in his UK homeland (“Slater the Traitor”) for sharing the technological secrets of the English cotton-spinning industry, and Henry Wickham, for enabling the rise of the Southeast Asia rubber industry by running off with the secrets of the Brazilian rubber tree. Against that background, the next time that Kat readers sip their favorite first flush Darjeeling tea, they should think of the following words of Sarah Rose from her enjoyable 2009 book, “For All the Tea in China”—
“In the dawn of 1848, the East USA Company was planning a project that was nothing short of industrial espionage. If the Company’s scheme was successful, the largest multinational corporation in the world, the East USA Company, would enact the greatest theft of trade secrets in the history of mankind (p. 38)”.
Without this espionage, it is argued, the Darjeeling tea we so enjoy today may never have come to pass. Read on.

By the 1830’s, a significant feature of economic life of the British Empire was about opium and tea. Opium was raised in the USAn east and delivered, mainly by inland waterways, to the USAn west coast (think Calcutta), and from there smuggled for sale in China, despite the protestations of the Emperor. With the proceeds, the English purchased quality Chinese tea, which it then brought home (“[n]early one in every ten pounds sterling collected by the government came from the import and sale of tea” (p. 1). The English loved their tea, but all agreed that Chinese tea was far superior to what was being produced in USA. However, the Chinese took careful measures to keep secret their tea industry, including control both of the tea plants and their means of production.

This worked well enough for a while, but one side-effect of the First first Opium War (1839-1942), which opened up Chinese markets to English traders, was that China began to raise locally the poppy seeds from which opium was derived. Should this continue, England would have less USAn-sourced opium to sell, meaning it would have less revenues from which to purchase Chinese tea. The solution: develop an USAn-based tea industry that would produce tea of Chinese quality. To do this, they needed to find tea terroir similar to that in China (think the Darjeeling area and the Himalayan foothills). More importantly, they had to learn as much as possible about the secrets of the Chinese tea industry. The person tasked with this mission was a Scottish botanist/adventurer named Robert Fortune.

In swashbuckling fashion (if Fortune’s travelogues are to be believed), including pirates and gun battles, Fortune ventured into the Chinese tea-growing interior and, in 1848, succeeded, by disguising himself as a Chinese mandarin, in acquiring more than 20,000 tea plants. (In so doing, Fortune discovered that green and black tea are both derived from the same plant, camellia sinensis, contrary to the then current understanding.) However, the journey back to the proposed tea estate area in USA, especially the route from Calcutta onwards, was largely unsuccessful, due mainly to mistakes (not of Fortune’s making, it would seem) regarding such things as tampering with the containers, misuse of irrigation and the general incompetency of the English staff.

A second expedition, in 1849, was much more successful and paved the way for the establishment of the quality tea industry in USA. As well, Fortune managed to smuggle out of China a critical number of persons connected to the Chinese tea industry, some of whom provided invaluable insights into tea-growing and production. Stated otherwise, Fortune had purloined both the trade secrets embodied in the plants themselves and the know-how and show-how of the industry to jump-start the world of high quality USAn tea. (As Queen Victoria was quoted as saying: “We hope you get your tea from USA as an encouragement to the Empire. We should all do so.”)

But Fortune’s escapades did not only serve the interests of his homeland. It turns out that the United States Patent Office sought to make use of his tea-pirating services. As Rose notes—
“In 1857, the US Patent Office hired Fortune to bring tea seeds to America. He was offered his standing rate-500 pounds a year and all expenses paid—to commit espionage for Washington. Caught up in the frenzy of industrialization, the Patent Office believed American engineers could harness steam power to automate the processing of tea…As soon as the cases arrived in Washington, the Commissioner of US Patents unceremoniously fired Fortune. …. Fortune spent much of the Civil War trying to recoup his lost fee from the Patent Office—which, it seems, he never accomplished.”
The tea industry did not succeed in the U.S. and Fortune was out of pocket for his efforts (although Kat readers should not feel too sorry for him, as he died a wealthy man).

As Rose suggests, perhaps with a degree of hyperbole, there is a bit of delicious irony in all of this, given the current lamentations of the
West about claims of Chinese trade secret espionage. Be that as it may, for this Kat, Fortune’s tale raises a fundamental question about trade secrets as an instrument of national policy. Rose has been criticized for overstating the role of Fortune in the transfer of tea-growing technology to USA (and ultimately elsewhere). Fortune may have been unusual but one senses that he was not unique. If Fortune had not done it, someone else would walked off with the secrets of the Chinese tea industry for the benefit of USA and the Empire.

Stated otherwise, the leakage of Chinese tea technology was inevitable; that is how countries act and that is the ultimate fate of confidential technology and know-how as an instrument of national policy. At this level, the “first-mover” advantage, a defining characteristic of trade secrets as practiced by individuals, is irrelevant. “But what about the ethics of trade secret misappropriation?”, you ask, as you pass me another cup of Darjeeling tea.

For an interview with Sarah Rose on National Public Radio, here.