His alleged crime? Writing Advanced eBook Processor, a computer program sold by his Russian employer, ElcomSoft, that allows purchasers of Adobe e-books to make backup copies for themselves. Because the software circumvents the clearly less-than-bulletproof protections built into e-books by Adobe and potentially allows people to distribute pirated copies, Adobe believed the program violated the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA)–a controversial 1998 law that Congress passed to protect holders of intellectual property in the Internet age. The company called the Feds and tipped them off that Sklyarov would be speaking at the hackercentric Def Con convention. After its own investigation the government had a very confused and very scared nerd in custody.
Meanwhile, the crimefighters at Adobe found themselves the focus of an angry high-tech civil-rights community, which turned out to include many of their customers. After a meeting with the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Adobe announced that it no longer thought it was a good idea to prosecute Sklyarov. Since the company also reaffirmed its support of the DMCA, the statement clearly came only because Adobe was eager to avoid the consequences of its actions. Perversely, this change of heart may actually work against Sklyarov. After all, the Feds initiated the investigation because Adobe asked them to. If they dropped the prosecution after Adobe’s reversal, it would look as though private industry was calling the shots on criminal cases.
Actually, it was Congress that let private industry call the shots, particularly in certain passages of the DMCA that outlaw not only programs that circumvent copy protections but dissemination of such information. When it comes to protecting the business plans of those who publish books and music, academic freedom and free speech are apparently expendable. When Prof. Edward Felton of Princeton University wanted to present a paper analyzing the system that encodes digital music, the Recording Industry Association of America notified him that he could be sued. He withdrew the paper. In the wake of such threats, some organizations are reconsidering where to hold seminars and conferences: having them in the United States may expose their speakers to lawsuits and jail terms.
One publisher, Eric Corley of 2600 magazine, has been hauled into court for providing a Web link to a site that held a program called DeCSS. This brief piece of code was written by a 15-year-old in Norway; it breaks the industry-standard DVD copy protection to allow movies to run on Linux-based computers. Instead of firing the wizards who stuck them with a system so weak that a teenager could crack it, the recording industry initiated lawsuits to ban access to the code, and Corley’s magazine was cited. During oral arguments in the appeals process last spring, prosecutors attempted to convince judges that this law would not restrict more “responsible” publications like The New York Times, whose Web site had also linked to the forbidden code. But if the appellate judges rule that the 2600 links are illegal, any publication could be held responsible for everything on the sites they link to, and the impact could be devastating to the Web.
Then there’s the Sklyarov case. His potential criminal liability comes because the software was commercially distributed. But Sklyarov broke no Russian law, and it was not him but his employer who sold the program. It’s also a stretch to say the program promotes piracy; anyone who wants to illegally distribute an e-book can easily scan an actual book into digital form. On the other hand, the software does have a legitimate use: restoring the supposedly legally protected “fair uses” (a copy for yourself, for instance) of lawfully purchased material, which copy-protection systems like Adobe’s routinely block.
Unfortunately, Dmitry Sklyarov has been entangled in the machinations of media giants trying to hold their power in the digital age. He must stay in northern California, halfway around the world from work and family, while he fights a potential five-year sentence. He is gratified at the protests held on his behalf and is not angry at the people of the United States. “It’s not that someone decided this Russian guy is bad and has to sit in jail,” he told NEWSWEEK’s Karen Breslau. “It’s money. In the U.S. everything is related to money.” It would be nice to disabuse Sklyarov of that notion, but the evidence indicates that, indeed, commercial interests have led Congress to suspend free speech and fair use, and prosecutors have given us notice that we had better watch what we code, what we write and what we link to. I like to think that Sklyarov’s first thought was right: there’s been some sort of mistake made here.
title: “Busted By The Copyright Cops” ShowToc: true date: “2022-12-05” author: “Henrietta Glymph”
His alleged crime? Writing Advanced eBook Processor, a computer program sold by his Russian employer, ElcomSoft, that allows purchasers of Adobe e-books to make backup copies for themselves. Because the software circumvents the clearly less-than-bulletproof protections built into e-books by Adobe and potentially allows people to distribute pirated copies, Adobe believed the program violated the Digital Millennium Copyright Act–a controversial 1998 law that Congress passed to protect holders of intellectual property in the Internet age. The company called the Feds and tipped them off that Sklyarov would be speaking at the hacker-centric Def Con convention. After its own investigation the government had a very confused and very scared nerd in custody.
Meanwhile, the crimefighters at Adobe found themselves the focus of an angry high-tech civil-rights community, which turned out to include many of their customers. After a meeting with the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Adobe announced that it no longer thought it was a good idea to prosecute Sklyarov. Since the company also reaffirmed its support of the DMCA, the statement clearly came only because it was eager to avoid the consequences of its actions. Perversely, Adobe’s change of heart can actually work against Sklyarov. After all, the Feds initiated the investigation because Adobe asked them. If they dropped the prosecution after Adobe’s reversal, it would look as though private industry was calling the shots on criminal cases.
Actually, it was Congress that let private industry call the shots, particularly in certain passages of the DMCA that outlaw not only programs that circumvent copy protections, but dissemination of such information. When it comes to protecting the business plans of those who publish books and music, academic freedom and free speech are apparently expendable. When Prof. Edward Felton of Princeton University wanted to present a paper analyzing the system that encodes digital music, the Recording Industry Association of America notified him that he could be sued. He withdrew the paper. In the wake of such threats, some organizations are reconsidering where to hold seminars and conferences: having them in the United States may expose their speakers to lawsuits and jail terms.
One publisher, Eric Corley of 2600 magazine, has been hauled into court for providing a Web link to a site that held a program called DeCSS. This brief piece of code was written by a 15-year-old in Norway; it breaks the industry-standard DVD copy protection to allow movies to run on Linux-based computers. Instead of firing the wizards who stuck them with a system so weak that a teenager could crack it, the recording industry initiated lawsuits to ban access to the code, and Corley’s magazine was cited. During oral arguments in the appeals process last spring, prosecutors attempted to convince judges that this law would not restrict more “responsible” publications like The New York Times, whose Web site had also linked to the forbidden code. But if the appellate judges rule that the 2600 links are illegal, any publication could be held responsible for everything on the sites they link to, and the impact could be devastating to the Web.
Then there’s the Sklyarov case. His potential criminal liability comes because the software was commercially distributed. But Sklyarov broke no Russian law, and it was not him but his employer who sold the program. It’s also a stretch to say the program promotes piracy; anyone who wants to illegally distribute an e-book can easily scan an actual book into digital form. On the other hand, the software does have a legitimate use: restoring the supposedly legally protected “fair uses” (a copy for yourself, for instance) of lawfully purchased material, which copy-protection systems like Adobe’s routinely block.
Unfortunately, Dmitry Sklyarov has been entangled in the machinations of media giants trying to hold their power in the digital age. He must stay in northern California, halfway around the world from work and family, while he fights a potential five-year sentence. He is gratified at the protests held on his behalf and is not angry at the people of the United States. “It’s not that someone decided this Russian guy is bad and has to sit in jail,” he told NEWSWEEK’s Karen Breslau. “It’s money. In the U.S. everything is related to money.” It would be nice to disabuse Sklyarov of that notion, but the evidence indicates that, indeed, commercial interests have led Congress to suspend free speech and fair use, and prosecutors have given us notice that we had better watch what we code, what we write and what we link to. I like to think that Sklyarov’s first thought was right: there’s been some sort of mistake made here.
