Teresa Scassa - Blog

A recent decision of the Ontario Supreme Court offers a relatively rare glimpse into how copyright laws are applied to artistic works in Canada.

The plaintiff in this case, visual artist Malcolm Rains, painted a series of oil paintings over a period of 22 years. He calls this series the “Classical Series” and it currently comprises over 200 paintings. Each of these paintings is a still life of a sheet of crumpled paper against a particular background. The defendant is visual artist Lucian Bogdan Molea. In 2000, Molea began painting still lifes of crumpled paper. Rains brought suit against Molea, arguing that he had infringed his copyright in individual canvases, as well as in his series as a compilation.

Justice Chiappetta began her analysis by considering whether copyright subsisted in the individual canvasses painted by Rains and in the series. She found that the plaintiff’s canvasses met the standard of originality set out by the Supreme Court of Canada, notwithstanding the fact that the he “employed commonplace tropes used by painters for centuries”. The paintings emanated from Rains and were not copies of other works; they also reflected an exercise in skill and judgment that was more than trivial. She rejected the argument that the paintings amounted to an unprotectable merger of idea and expression. Justice Chiappetta noted that the idea was to paint a still life of a crumpled piece of paper; the expression of the idea was found in each individual painting. Recognizing copyright in the paintings did not give Rains a monopoly over the idea.

Although she found that each painting was protected by copyright, Justice Chiappetta reached a different conclusion with respect to the series. It was argued that the series was itself a distinct work, namely, a compilation. To be protected, a compilation must be an original expression that reflects an exercise of skill and judgment. In the case of the series of paintings, there was a concept, and a progression of canvases, but there was not the exercise of skill and judgment necessary to create a compilation. She explained: “There is no originality in the label itself, there is no skilful organizational aspect of the Classical Series that warrants protection for the series as a whole.” (at para 17) The paintings were not specifically selected and/or arranged as part of a collection; rather, the series was an open-ended and evolving category of works. Justice Chiappetta also rejected arguments that the series should be considered a compilation because it evokes a common feeling or “gestalt”. She stated: “it would be unwise to extend copyright protection to the visual perception of an artistic work, which is intangible and subjective.” (at para 22).

Having determined that copyright subsisted in the plaintiff’s individual paintings, Justice Chiappetta next considered whether Molea’s works infringed upon those copyrights. At the outset she dismissed any similarities between the works that were due to “common, long-established artistic techniques”. She also found that these similarities represented “a substantial part of the respective works.” (at para 30) She noted that painting crumpled paper “has been employed as a model since the French Academy was founded in 1664”. (at para 35) Painting it on a flat surface had similarly been around for at least 200 years. She also noted that the choice of certain colours for backgrounds also reflected long established practices. However, Justice Chiappetta was careful to clarify that she was not imposing a “novelty” standard for the protection of artworks under copyright law; rather, an artist: “cannot establish infringement by relying on his use of the noted unoriginal, commonplace, historical painting techniques. This would be akin to Shakespeare relying on his use of iambic pentameter in his writing or Drake relying on his use of 16 bars to a verse in his music.” (at para 40). In other words, the scope of protection available to copyright works must not be so broad as to give rightsholders a monopoly over techniques or practices. Ultimately she found that there were sufficient dissimilarities between the works to conclude that Rains’ canvasses were not the result of copyright infringement, but were original works in their own right.

In rejecting arguments that the defendant’s works might be mistaken for those of the plaintiff, Justice Chiappetta also made an important distinction between a confusion analysis and the analysis required for copyright infringement. A confusion analysis is more common in trademark law, where the question is whether the defendant’s trademark creates confusion in with that used by the plaintiff. Since a trademark is meant to serve as an indicator of source; misrepresenting one’s products or services as those of another is at the heart of trademark infringement. In the copyright context, however, it is not enough to argue that the work of one person is evocative of the work of another, absent proof of infringement. In the words of Justice Chiappetta: “it would be unwise to establish confusion as the test for colourable imitation of an artistic work. This test by its very nature lends itself to the subjective nuances of comparison [. . . ]”. (at para 44) “Confusion” in the context of art might be the result of the use of fairly similar techniques or methods. Further, copyright law allows for independent creation – the creation of even identical works can be tolerated so long as one was not the result of copying of the other.

Justice Chiappetta’s findings on the issue of access are also interesting. Because independent creation is always a theoretically possible explanation of substantially similar works, there must be some evidence that the defendant had access to the works that he or she allegedly copied. In this case, it was clear that Molea had previously seen a number of canvasses in Rains’ series. However, Justice Chiappetta found that this general access to a broad spectrum of work by Rains was not sufficient. Rather, it was necessary to show specific access to those particular works which were allegedly copied. She also refused to presume access on the basis that Molea had only commenced painting canvasses featuring crumpled paper after his move to Canada, when he would first have been exposed to the works of Rains. She found that Molea had provided a logical explanation for the evolution of his work over time.

This case is interesting in its application of copyright principles to the visual arts in a context where it is necessary to separate both concept and techniques and methods from the work itself. A finding of infringement in a case such as this would make it difficult for anyone to paint a crumpled piece of paper without fear of a finding of copyright infringement.

The federal government is calling for comments on its Year One progress on Canada’s Action Plan for Open Government. The government is seeking feedback on two main questions, namely: how it has done in meeting its commitments under the Action Plan; which commitments still require the most attention. They are also seeking more general feedback in the form of comments or suggestions regarding its Open Government initiative. The consultation opened on August 19, 2013 and will close on September 9, 2013.

My colleague Michael Deturbide and I are very honoured to have been awarded the 2013 Walter Owen Book Prize for our new book Electronic Commerce and Internet Law in Canada, published by Wolters Kluwer (CCH). We are very grateful to the Foundation for Legal Research, which awards this prize, and which also has been a strong pillar of support for legal research in Canada.

Back in March I wrote about a decision of the Federal Court of Appeal in a dispute over rights in nautical charts and maps. At issue was whether the matter should be resolved on summary judgment or whether it should proceed to trial. The Court decided that it should go to trial. In reaching its decision in the case, the Court made a comment in passing on the wording of a federal government licence agreement that was relevant to the dispute. This comment, which is reproduced in my earlier report on the case, puzzled over the government’s claim in its licence to copyright in its data, given that it was entirely clear in law that there could be no copyright in data.

Leave to appeal this decision to the Supreme Court of Canada has just been denied by that Court. This means that the decision of the Federal Court of Appeal stands, and that the matter should now proceed to trial. The case raises some very interesting copyright issues and will be worth following.

Is there any such thing as a free app? In Albilia v. Apple inc, Justice Pierre Nollet of the Quebec Superior Court authorized a class action law suit against Apple in relation to the collection of personal information by third party application (app) developers via Apple devices such as the iPhone and the iPad.

The petitioner alleges that Apple encourages and supports the development of third party apps as a means of bolstering the popularity and sales of its devices. He also alleges that Apple permits third party app developers to harvest personal the information of users from their devices without their knowledge or consent. In particular, he alleges that such information may include precise location information, the unique device identifier, the user’s name, gender, age, postal code and time zone, information about activities performed using the app. He also alleges that this ongoing harvesting of personal information uses up the resources of the devices without the permission of the device owners. The class action is similar to two others that have been filed in the United States against Apple.

Although the petitioner initially sought to certify a Canada-wide class of affected persons, the judge limited the class to Quebec residents. He did so because the petitioner had failed to establish that the laws in relation to privacy across Canada were equivalent to those in Quebec. Indeed, although there are some similarities, it is fair to say that both the Civil Code of Quebec and the Quebec Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms offer both different and quite likely more extensive protection for privacy than do the laws in the common law provinces and territories.

Justice Nollet ultimately certified two classes for the law suit. The first consists of:

all residents in Quebec who have purchased or otherwise acquired an iPhone or iPad (“iDevice”) and who have downloaded free Apps from the App Store onto their iDevices since December 1, 2008 through to the present.

A second class relates specifically to concerns about the collection of geolocation information. This class consists of:

all residents in Quebec who have purchased or otherwise acquired an iPhone and turned Location Services off on their iPhones prior to April 27, 2011 and have unwittingly, and without notice or consent transmitted location data to Respondents’ servers.

The questions to be explored in the class action law suit include issues regarding whether the respondent Apple facilitated profiling of individual users or disclosed personal information without users’ consent to third party app developers. Other issues include whether location information could be collected from devices even after the location services functions are turned off by the user. The litigation also involves issues relating to consent by users to information gathering practices by both Apple and app developers. In bringing his motion the petitioner referred to a recent study by Eric Smith that detailed the information collecting practices of iPhone apps.

The collection of personal information from mobile devices – including data about a user’s online activities and detailed location information – raises significant privacy concerns. Many “free” apps may use information gathering as a means of generating a revenue stream; the information gathered may have nothing to do with the functions of the app itself. Users of mobile devices may not be sufficiently aware of the detailed location information that can be collected and shared when the location functions of their device are turned on; alternatively, they may turn these functions on specifically to enable certain useful features of their device without realizing that the same information may also be collected and used by apps whose functions are completely unrelated to their location. As with many other contexts, the user who downloads apps may have little time or attention to allocate to reading the detailed user agreements and privacy policies that may accompany their new apps. While courts may continue to insist that users are bound by these agreements, there is a growing concern that the sheer number, complexity and length of such agreements makes informed consumer consent virtually impossible on a consistent basis.

Class action law suits advance with glacial speed, and it is not likely that the questions raised in this dispute will be answered any time soon. Yet it is important that they be asked both here and in other contexts. The burden of privacy, in particular of protecting one’s personal information from unwanted profiling and surveillance, is becoming increasingly challenging for individuals. Not only is it difficult to grasp the full range of information that is being collected, by whom, and for what purposes, as we engage in perfectly ordinary day-to-day activities, secondary access to this information by third parties, including police and other state authorities is not at all transparent. In addition to greater scrutiny of data collection practices, attention must also be paid to the issue of consent, which is increasingly becoming a fiction in the face of turgid and impenetrable legal texts accompanying every small piece of software in our lives.

Last year Canada (finally) responded to the changes wrought by the internet and amended the Copyright Act to address, among other things, the creation, reproduction and dissemination of works in a digital environment. The Supreme Court of Canada has also recently re-emphasized the need to interpret the law in a technologically neutral manner. These developments, however, may still not be enough to prepare us for the new wave of digital reproduction technology that is coming with 3-D printing. As was the case with other digital reproduction technologies, 3-D printing technology is now moving from very expensive devices predominantly in the hands of corporate owners, to increasingly inexpensive technology on the verge of becoming popularized among ordinary consumers. This shift is similar to those which we have already seen with respect to personal and mobile computing.

Three-dimensional objects of widely varying complexity can now be printed using this technology using a variety of materials. A recent news story has even reported on the potential for this technology to print organs for transplant. The printers are evolving to use a wide range of materials that go well beyond the initial plastics and polymers.

Three-dimensional printing is likely to present some significant challenges for intellectual property regimes. This is certainly the thrust of a recent article on the subject in the World Intellectual Property Review (WIPR). Unlike 2-D printing, which is predominantly useful in reproducing works protected by copyright, 3-D printing affects copyright, patent, industrial design and trademark law. We are not far from a future where individuals widely use online file sharing networks to widely distribute plans that will allow for the reproduction of all manner of 3-D objects, including utilitarian objects, replacement parts, jewellery, toys, guns, uniquely configured, eye-catching products, miniatures and action figures based on copyright protected characters from books or movies.

Canada’s IP laws – like those of other countries – may not be fully ready to deal with the challenges posed by affordable and accessible 3-D printing. In the first place, the reproduction of 3-D objects may implicate one or more IP statutes. Three-dimensional objects that are artistic in nature are often protected by copyright law; the drawings or plans for the making of three-dimensional objects may also be protected as artistic works under copyright law. The visual appearance and design features of utilitarian objects can be protected through industrial design registration. Three-dimensional features of objects may, if they are distinctive of their trade source, be protected as trademarks. Functional 3-D items may also be protected under patent law. Clearly, there is IP protection available for 3-D items, but it is highly fragmented which will likely make it harder for individuals and companies to understand the parameters of legal activity. Further, while copyright law has been substantially revised to deal with the challenges posed by easy digital reproduction and the online dissemination of works, the other regimes have not received attention in this regard. Much has also been done to address the different ways in which copyright law may be infringed online – this includes a number of important new defences to copyright infringement that seek to create balance, along with an adjustment of statutory damages available where copying is non-commercial in nature. The other IP laws in Canada are not well adapted to copying by private individuals for non-commercial purposes. Three-dimensional printing may thus bring with it a paradigm shift which will no doubt create tensions between IP owners and users that may ultimately have to be addressed by the legislature. Yet we are still grappling with old-tech IP reform. For example, a new IP Bill C-56, currently before Parliament, addresses counterfeiting under both the trademark and copyright regimes, but the focus of these amendments is on the movement of goods across borders, and on enhancing the available measures to stop the importation of infringing works. Just as the law is moving towards addressing the flow of counterfeit goods across the border, counterfeiting may soon shift to digitally networked 3-D printers, the online dissemination of plans and designs, and small scale reproduction of works by multiple and widely dispersed individuals.

The Alberta rock band named Jr. Gone Wild has been in the news after Alberta’s Department of Culture ordered it to stop using a modified version of the province’s official emblem as part of the band’s logo. A photo of the band’s logo can be viewed along with the Edmonton Journal article on this issue.

A law titled the Emblems of Alberta Act makes it an offence to use “for commercial or business purposes” the armorial bearings of Alberta without consent. It is also an offence to use “any design so nearly resembling the armorial bearings of Alberta or any portion of them as to be calculated to deceive”. Although the band is using the arms for commercial purposes (it is selling T-Shirts emblazoned with its logo), it is not clear that this use of the modified design is calculated to deceive anyone. It remains an open question whether anyone viewing the logo would be led to believe that the band is in any way the official rock band of Alberta.

The Minister of Culture has also enacted regulations governing official emblems. According to these regulations, the emblem can be reproduced, used or displayed for non-commercial purposes so long as the use or display is in good taste. Commercial use is also permitted under certain conditions. These are that the use:

(a)    is free from any implication that the commercial or business purposes have any approval or accreditation from the Government,

(b)    is based on original drawings obtained from the Government, and

(c)    conforms, in the opinion of the Minister, to good taste.

The regulations are not clear about whether a modified version of the emblem can be used at all. For example, it is not clear whether the “good taste” requirement relates to modifications, or simply to the context in which the emblem is to be used. According to the story in the Edmonton Journal, it is not yet clear whether the band will change its logo and dispose of its unsold merchandise, or whether it will disregard the Minister’s order.

It is not unusual for governments to pass laws to protect their official emblems and insignia. For example there are similar statutes in Saskatchewan (with much stiffer penalties), and in Manitoba. There is certainly a public interest in ensuring that people are not misled into believing that certain products or services have been offered or endorsed by the government when they have not. Provincial arms, crests and flags are also listed as prohibited marks under s. 9(1)(e) of the Trade-marks Act. This means that these marks, or ones “so nearly resembling as to be likely to be mistaken” for them may not be adopted or used “in connection with a business, as a trade-mark or otherwise”. Thus there is ample law to protect against misuse of these signs or symbols.

The question is, of course, what the limits of freedom of expression are when it comes to the insignia of government, or other public symbols. According to the report in the Edmonton Journal, the band sees itself as “just doing art”. Artistic expression is, of course, protected expression in Canada. Yet like other of Canada’s civil liberties, it is subject to “reasonable limits demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.

The Royal Canadian Mint recently backed down from a demand for licensing fees from a musician who used images of the penny on his album cover. There was also considerable controversy in Nova Scotia in the mid-2000’s when a company charged with the maintenance and operation of the Bluenose II began demanding licensing fees from local businesses who used the name or image of the iconic schooner. Of course, in each of these cases it was the symbol or name itself that was used, and not a modified version. And, while iconic, the penny and the Bluenose are not official insignia of government. The question remains as to how the balance should be struck between the public interest in the protection of official arms and insignia and the public interest in the freedom to use these insignia as a vehicle for expression.

Canada’s Privacy Commissioner, Jennifer Stoddart, along a number of her international counterparts and the commissioners of B.C., Quebec and Alberta have issued a joint letter written to the CEO of Google raising concerns about privacy in relation to Google Glass. This product, still at the beta stage, consists of a kind of interactive mobile computer worn as eyeglasses. Among other things, the glasses have the capacity to record audio and video data, and will be able to run all manner of third party applications.

The Commissioners are justifiably concerned about a product that once launched might raise a host of new and troubling privacy issues. In the letter they call on Google to enter into a dialogue with data protection commissioners with a view to ensuring that the design of the product and of its applications respects privacy values.

What is interesting in this letter is the frank admission by the commissioners of their own precarious jurisdiction when it comes to this technology. While there is no doubt that Google Glass poses significant privacy risks, they are not necessarily ones which would fall within the scope of private sector data protection laws in Canada. These laws generally apply to organizations that collect, use and disclose personal information in the course of commercial activity. Certainly, some of the concerns raised in the letter fall within the scope of these laws. For example, the Commissioners demand to know what information Google might itself collect via Glass when it is in use by individuals. They also seek to know what information will be shared with third parties, including the developers of apps for this product. These are clearly questions that fall within the scope of data protection legislation, as Google is clearly an organization that collects, uses and discloses personal information in the course of commercial activity.

However, Glass will also have privacy implications as between the wearers of the technology and those persons who may fall within the field of view of the user. The Commissioners specifically address the use of this product to surreptitiously film or record individuals. This is a serious privacy concern. It is one that is already raised by the recording capacity of smartphones and tablets; the particular concern with Glass is that it will be possible to be even more surreptitious in making such recordings. Yet the privacy issues raised by this type of activity are not ones to which private sector data protection legislation would apply. For example, the federal Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act (PIPEDA) specifically does not apply to “any individual in respect of personal information that the individual collects, uses or discloses for personal or domestic purposes and does not collect, use or disclose for any other purpose.” The scope of this exception is potentially very broad; the law would not apply, for example, to recordings made by individuals and posted to their Facebook accounts or to YouTube.

The Commissioners, of course, are well aware of this gap in their powers. In their letter they explicitly acknowledge it: “We are aware that these questions relate to issues that fall squarely within our purview as data protection commissioners, as well as to other broader, ethical issues that arise from wearable computing.” Nevertheless, they use the opportunity presented by the privacy issues within their mandates to raise the “broader ethical issues”.

This gap in jurisdiction over privacy is of growing importance. Where once high powered technologies of surveillance were only affordable by professionals, low cost, high powered technology is increasingly moving into the hands of ordinary individuals. In addition, the ability to disseminate audio and video recordings to a global audience – also something that was once only within the powers of established private sector corporations – is now something that can be done by any individual with an internet connection. As the corporate intermediaries become obsolete, so too do data protection laws that are framed exclusively around private sector actors engaged in commercial activity. The appropriate legislative response is not clear; legislated limits on how individuals can interact with and communicate information about themselves and their experiences would raise significant freedom of expression issues.

The data commissioners’ letter to Google is thus most interesting. Acknowledging both the limits of their powers and the enormous gap in the protection of the public in a rapidly changing information technology environment, they have chosen to publicly raise both privacy and ethical issues with Google. Law- and policy-makers should be watching and should be thinking about how this gap should be filled.

With little fanfare, the Canadian government has released its much awaited, newly revised Open Government Licence. The previous version that had been available on its Open Data site was a beta version on which public comments were invited. The government has also published its Open Government Licence Consultation Report, which summarizes and discusses the comments received during the consultation process.

The revised version of the licence is an improvement over its predecessor. Gone is the claim to database rights which do not exist in Canada. (These rights do exist in the UK, the Open Government Licence of which was a template for the Canadian licence). The new licence also discards the UK term “personal data” and replaces it with “personal information”, and it gives this term the meaning ascribed under the federal Privacy Act. The language used in the licence has been further simplified, making it even more accessible.

It should be noted that Alberta’s new open government licence – released as part of the launch of its open government portal earlier this year – is very similar to V2.0 of the federal government licence. There are some minor formatting differences, and a few changes in wording, most of which can be explained by the different jurisdiction (for example, the definition of “personal information” refers to Alberta’s Freedom of Information and Protection of Privacy Act). The similarities between the two licences are no coincidence. Although the Alberta licence was made public prior to the release of the federal government’s V2.0, work has been going on behind the scenes to move towards some form of federal/provincial consensus on the wording of open government licences with a view to ensuring that there is legal interoperability between data sets released by different governments in Canada. The efforts to reduce barriers to interoperability (whether legal or technical) are important to the ability of Canadians to work with and to integrate different data sets in new and innovative ways. Thus not only is the COGL V2.0 to be welcomed, so are the signs that cooperation and coordination may lead to a greater legal interoperability of open government licences across Canada.

The US government is in damage control mode after it was leaked to the press this week that it had established a massive surveillance program under which it obtained comprehensive communications data from telecommunications and technology companies. Privacy advocates have decried this secret and massive data mining exercise.

Canadians should not sit back complacently to watch this unfolding spectacle south of the border. It was only last year that our own government tried to introduce legislation that would have provided for the building of the physical and legal infrastructure for substantially increased Internet surveillance. Although Bill C-30 was ultimately defeated, there are nonetheless other laws already on the books that leave Canadians vulnerable to unwarranted and invisible surveillance. For years privacy advocates in Canada have been warning of legal provisions that allow police and national security agencies to seek personal information from private sector companies, and that allow these companies to hand over this information without a court order and with no accountability.

The first of these provisions is s. 7(3)(c.1) of the Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act, which provides that an organization “may disclose personal information without the knowledge or consent of the individual” where the disclosure is made to a government actor that has made a request for the information, and has indicated that the information may be related to national security issues, may be relevant to an investigation related to the enforcement of any law, or is sought for the purpose of “administering” any federal or provincial law.

The second provision is s. 487.014 of the Criminal Code, which provides that no court order is required for a law enforcement official “to ask a person to voluntarily provide to the officer documents, data or information that the person is not prohibited by law from disclosing.” In other words, as long as no other law prohibits such a disclosure, the information may simply be handed over.

Both PIPEDA and the Criminal Code permit private sector companies in Canada to voluntarily disclose the personal information of their customers to police officers or national security officials without the knowledge or consent of the individuals in question, and without an order from a judge. Companies may still refuse to make such disclosures without being ordered to do so by a court, and while some do in some circumstances, plenty of others do not. According to the federal Privacy Commissioner, “We have no way of knowing for certain the number, scale, frequency of, or reasons for, such disclosures although we understand that they are substantial.”(The Case for Reforming the Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act at p. 13). Nothing obliges companies to disclose to the public how many requests for information they receive or with how many they have voluntarily complied. Similarly, nothing obliges public authorities to disclose how many requests they make, to what companies, or for what types of information.

Given the vast amounts of personal information of increasingly fine detail that private sector companies collect about all of us, this should be a matter of some concern. Telecommunications companies can match our personal information to IP addresses, which in turn can be linked to all of our online activities. Telecommunications companies also have rich stores of data regarding our calling activities; in the case of smart phones, this information may also include fine-grained location information. Other companies gather our location information, as well as information about our purchases, transactions, conversations, friends, associates and activities. These vast stores of information in the private sector may be simply a request away from disclosure to authorities – and we may never know just how much information is being shared or in what circumstances.

In response to this highly troubling set of circumstances, the federal Privacy Commissioner, Jennifer Stoddart, recently called for reforms to PIPEDA that would impose some level of accountability where public authorities access information in this manner. In a document titled The Case for Reforming the Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act the Commissioner recommended that the law be amended to require private sector organizations “to publicly report on the number of disclosures they make to law enforcement under paragraph 7(3)(c.1), without knowledge or consent, and without judicial warrant, in order to shed light on the frequency and use of this extraordinary exception.”

This call for greater transparency in determining just how often the personal information of Canadians is disclosed to government authorities without the knowledge or consent of the individual and without judicial authorization is well-timed. As disturbing as the news of the US surveillance program is, we should not lose sight of the fact that there are vast personal information resources that sit within easy reach of our own government and its officials – and that there are laws currently on the books that facilitate easy and virtually traceless access to it.