LAUSR

Scholars and students of copyright are familiar with the double standard that is often applied when copying pre-existing copyrighted works. As authors, we tend to feel strongly about our own work and creations, which we consider ‘our own’. Webelieve that ‘our’work is original, new, self-made, and crafted out of thin air. We often view those who copy from our works as exploiters who misappropriate or even steal what is rightfully our own. However, when we consider the works that we used while creating our own, we often view copying in a different light: ‘I was inspired’; ‘I already thought of that myself’; ‘this is so trivial, everyone knows it’; or ‘something so basic cannot possibly belong to anyone’. These strikingly different attitudes towards copying may be typical of human nature. As the saying goes, ‘the camel never sees its own hump’. It is much easier to find fault in others and to overlook our own. Yet, there is something unique about the creative process that makes this double standard particularly common. The creative process itself is often opaque and incomprehensible. We listen, watch, observe and absorb facts, symbols, images, narratives, ideas, contexts, connections and links. Once we have processed this new intake, we make it our own. We often feel it is ‘ours’, simply because we comprehend it. The greatest challenge for any copyright regime is to draw the line between what is ‘ours’, and thus requires a license for each and every copying and what is not. In a creative ecosystem of interactive exchange, where works and authors intermingle, these boundaries are often diffused. Abraham Drassinower’s book, What’s Wrong with Copying?, makes a commendable attempt to address this challenge.