Read without seeing: improving access to books for visually impaired persons

Sarah Lux-Lee

On 27 June 2013, the anniversary of Helen Keller's birth, a Diplomatic Conference of the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) adopted the Marrakesh Treaty to Facilitate Access to Published Works for Persons Who Are Blind, Visually Impaired, or Otherwise Print Disabled.  The treaty is intended to ensure that books and other published materials can be made and distributed in formats accessible to people with print disabilities, such as Braille, audio and large print formats.  It does so by obligating its signatories to adopt exceptions to copyright infringement in their domestic laws, to allow accessible copies to be made and distributed within those countries without the need for permission or payment.  It also requires exceptions to enable cross-border circulation of accessible copies of copyright material, in order to reduce the global costs of providing access to copyright works.  Fifty-one countries signed the treaty on 28 June 2013, with several others having followed suit in the months since.  The treaty will enter into force once 20 countries have ratified it.

The treaty is a significant move toward ensuring equality of access to learning materials around the world.  At present, it is estimated that only 5% of the world’s books and published materials are ever published in an accessible format.  In developing countries, where blindness and visual impairment is particularly prevalent, the problem is even more acute, with an estimated 99% of published works never being made available in any accessible format.  The problem is not a technical inability to make the conversions; increasingly, sophisticated technologies are available for the fast and affordable conversion of books and other published materials into Braille, audio and large print versions.  Rather, this “book famine” persists in large part because in many of the world’s content-producing countries the conversion of a published work into an accessible format, and the import or export of such products, would amount to copyright infringement.   

According to a 2006 survey conducted by WIPO, fewer than sixty countries have limitations and exceptions in their domestic copyright laws that enable the creation and distribution of accessible works.  In addition, because of the “territorial” nature of copyright law, the exceptions that do exist in various countries rarely make allowance for the import or export of accessible works, which need to be separately negotiated with rights holders.  The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (Cth) does feature a number of exceptions and a statutory licence relating to the creation and distribution of accessible works; in this sense, Australia is a leader in the effort to ensure equal access and opportunity to those suffering print disabilities.  

The trans-border provisions of the treaty offer the potential for Australia to further enhance its contribution by implementing an additional exception for the import and export of accessible format copies.  This component of the treaty is intended to ensure that the conversion of a published work only needs to occur once, and that the accessible copy can subsequently be made available to those who need it anywhere around the world.  Cross-border circulation of accessible versions of works will enhance access both directly, by increasing the volume of available converted works, and also indirectly by avoiding the costs of unnecessary duplication and freeing resources for the addition of new titles to the global accessible library.  It will have particularly significant implications for blind, visually impaired and print disabled individuals in the developing world.

The adoption of the treaty was a moment of great significance for the beneficiary communities and their advocates, who have worked tirelessly to improve outcomes in this area.  The World Blind Union has expressed hope that the treaty will be an effective step toward the achievement of equality of access, while noting that work in this area is not yet complete:

In plain language, this is a Treaty that should start to remedy the book famine. It provides a crucial legal framework for adoption of national copyright exceptions in countries that lack them. It creates an international import/export regime for the exchange of accessible books across borders. It is necessary for ending the book famine, but it is not sufficient. Countries need to sign, ratify and implement its provisions. Non-profit organizations, libraries, educational institutions and government need to take advantage of these provisions to actually deliver the accessible books people with disabilities need for education, employment and full social inclusion.

Then-Attorney-General Mark Dreyfus QC lauded the agreement as "a landmark copyright treaty, the first of its kind in the history of the multilateral copyright system”. Curiously, despite Australia’s leadership in negotiations and proud reportage of the treaty’s adoption, it was not one of the 51 nations that signed the treaty in June and, at the time of writing, it does not appear to have subsequently signed. Vision Australia and other representative bodies of Australia’s blind, visually impaired and print disabled communities have nevertheless expressed optimism about the future impact of the treaty in Australia and are continuing to work toward signature and ratification.

Image by Diego Molano, made available by Creative Commons licence via Flickr.

Protecting privacy in the digital era

Tessa Meyrick

The arrival late last month of the new heir to the throne was unsurprisingly attended by a flurry of media interest in the UK and beyond, with reports of the royal birth apparently accounting for a staggering 5 per cent of online news content consumed globally on 22 July 2013. When the (yet-to-be-named) Prince George of Cambridge made his first media appearance the following day, every portal, page, RSS and Twitter feed continued to be jammed with details of the Prince's BMI, speculations as to his naming (commiserations to those who'd put their cash on 'James'), and even the Royal swaddle he left wrapped in. 

Somewhere among all this emerged concern (including from the media itself) over how the Royal parents are to construct some semblance of an ordinary life for the Little Prince once the natal storm has passed. In the UK Government's official response to the news of the birth, Lord Hill of Oareford, Leader of the House of Lords, shared with his peers a hope that the Prince (and his no doubt fatigued parents) be given some privacy. The media agreed, with one major UK newspaper at pains to stress that 'no one, and certainly not the media, would want to deny the Duke and Duchess some time alone with their baby son'.

With the UK Government's plan for a new press regulator (set in chain by the Leveson inquiry) put on the back-burner until the Australian spring, it's uncertain which body in the UK will be responsible for ensuring the media comes good on its commitment to honouring the Royals' privacy. In any case, it's also not entirely clear that it’s the conventional media that’s going to need to be held to account.

Prince George is the first future monarch to grow up in an era of social media and under the gaze of many-a-quick-fingered 'citizen journalist' in possession of a smart phone. Which is to say, Prince George's privacy (or lack of it) won't depend purely on the strength and structure of media regulation in the UK, but will also hang on the development of a freestanding right to privacy in that jurisdiction. For the record: there is no such right in the UK, and nor is there in Australia. But if 'the right to be let alone is indeed the beginning of all freedom', then the influence of Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights and the extension of the law in relation to breach of confidence to cover misuse of private information by the Court of Appeal actually puts the UK in comparatively good stead. 

In Australia, the idea that privacy is solely a media regulation issue continues to hold ground. This was helped along by the Federal Government's decision in March this year – expressly in the context of its ill-fated media reforms – to sideline the question of whether Australians should be able to sue for serious invasions of privacy. Concerned that earlier consultations on a privacy tort (the 28 month Australian Law Reform Commission inquiry finalised in 2008 and the Government's own consultations in 2011) showed little consensus on what such a right would look like, the Government has referred the issue to the ALRC for yet another inquiry. That inquiry, 'Protecting privacy in the digital era', kicked off in June. The final report, focusing specifically on the legal design of a statutory cause of action, is due to be delivered in June 2014. Whether that report stays with its earlier counterparts in the 'too hard' basket will remain to be seen.

This piece first appeared on the Allens intellectual property blog, Scintilla.

Recycled music in the digital era

Adrian McGruther

I remember spending countless hours after school, rummaging painstakingly through the ‘new arrivals’ bin of my local second-hand CD store. My meagre income as a suburban paperboy meant the new release section at Brashs Music was well out of my reach (unless I was content settling for a Jason Donovan single in the bargain bin). Having whittled a crate's worth of CDs down to a shortlist of five or six, I was left with the painful decision of which two or three were truly worth shelling out for. Upon arriving home, broke but beaming, I’d invariably discover that one of my new treasures had a deep, long scratch across its surface, right in the middle of a blistering Kirk Hammett guitar solo. Bummer. But, you get what you pay for, I’d remind myself.

Had I gone to school during the digital age, I might’ve turned to a new US-based service, ReDigi, which offers ‘second-hand’ mp3s for sale online.

What is ReDigi?

ReDigi describes its offering as ‘recycled digital media’, but with the benefit that, unlike physical media, its products never scratch or wear out. Users who wish to sell digital music files that they no longer want can ‘upload’ the tracks to ReDigi’s server for other users to purchase and download. ReDigi claims to have what it calls ‘verification’ and ‘hand off’ technology, which ensures that the digital music file is from a legitimate source and that any additional copies of a sold file are also deleted from the user’s computer.

If a copy of a file that has already been sold reappears on a seller’s computer or synced device, and the seller does not delete it after receiving notice from ReDigi, the seller’s account with ReDigi may be suspended or terminated. ReDigi also pays a percentage of sales to the relevant artists and labels. ReDigi is different from file-sharing sites in that each track offered for sale is a unique, identifiable file, and has not been cloned from a master file.

Is it legally legit?

That’s the big question at the moment. Many record labels and industry bodies are casting a raised eyebrow in ReDigi’s direction because the service treads upon a legal grey patch. The way digital music sales normally operate is that when a customer purchases a song, a reproduction of the ‘master’ file is made, which requires a licence from the label or artist.

The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and international record label EMI Music have objected to the legality of the service on the basis that ReDigi is infringing copyright when a 'copy' of the track is made as it is uploaded to ReDigi’s servers. They claim that this copying has not been done with a licence, irrespective of the fact that the original file is removed from the user’s computer once it has been uploaded to ReDigi.

Google has also weighed in on the legal debate by suggesting that a finding against ReDigi could potentially place the legality of cloud computing under…well, a grey cloud.

But in the midst of the current legal stoush, the short-sighted labels appear to be missing the elephant in the room: consumers are willing to pay for music. In an era when music piracy is rampant and labels desperately scramble to give users a commercial incentive to pay for music, the success of a service like ReDigi should be seen as a silver lining.

What does this mean for music lovers and music labels?

Legal hurdles aside, services like ReDigi provide a compromise between the mainstream digital music stores and the illegal (and unreliable) file sharing sites. As songs on digital music stores in Australia now nudge upwards of $2 each, it is unsurprising that consumers are turning to alternative sources.

Though ReDigi shows promising early signs, it is still difficult to assess its potential popularity with music fans. On one hand, the lower price point may be enough to persuade the teetering, borderline 'pirates' to start paying for music. But, humans are creatures of habit, and convincing someone who perceives little value in digital music that they should all-of-a-sudden pay for music, might require some pretty strong arm-twisting. Nevertheless, the concept of second-hand digital music might serve as an acceptable entry-point for those who don’t currently take part in the legitimate music market.

On the other hand, retail consumers rely on trust and seek consistency. One-stop-shops, like iTunes or Amazon (which never 'run out of stock') offer the reliability and consistency that consumers will want. The seamless shopping experience and interactivity offered by the major players is unlikely to be replicated by ReDigi. But ultimately, that is something that will depend on how widely ReDigi is adopted, and the depth of its repertoire.

Would I use it?

Maybe. If I’m confident that I’m not breaking the law, that the file will be compatible with my devices, and if it’s well-priced, then I don’t see why not. But a lot will come down to the user experience. If I have to spend hours on end refreshing the site, trawling for that one pesky Jason Donovan track, then I’m better off trudging down to my local second-hand CD store and putting up with those darn scratches.