One might not expect Moravia of the 1820s to be a hotbed of copyright litigation. But a major dispute unfolded there, pitting two distinguished rabbis against each other, expressing their disparate views of copyright protection under Jewish law. The two figures in question are Mordekhai Banet and Moses Sofer, each regarded as a Torah giant. Yet their views were absolutely opposed, although each purported to apply existing Jewish law precedent to the matter at hand. Historical investigation reveals a surprising "back-story" at work here. This article investigates the dispute, paying particular attention to the works at issue. It exposits some of the mysterious expression articulated by Rabbi Banet in his dispute with Hatam Sofer, and shows how it developed.

This article continues the investigation initiated by the author's Rabbi Banet's Charming Snake. It continues the investigation into copyright litigation of the 1820s, but this time the venue is Slovakia, whose chief rabbi was the legendary Moses Sofer, known as "the seal of the scribes" (Hatam Sofer). The article shows how Hatam Sofer and his adversary, Mordekhai Banet, attempted to vindicate Jewish law at the same time that the forces of Enlightenment gave new impetus to secular authority. The Beit Din (Jewish law court) thus found itself beseiged, as a 'judicial arms race" unfolded between religious and secular authorities. The article places this copyright case at the vortex of that struggle. It also shows how the dispute between rabbis of the nineteenth century rehearsed perennial disputes over the nature of copyright protection -- disparate points of view that find an analog in England of the nineteenth century, and which continue until today.

Is copyright a property right? That question raises a host of thorny theoretical issues regarding the foundational underpinnings of both copyright and property. The notion that if copyright is “property,” it will or should resemble a perpetual, absolute, pre-political property right, has repeatedly infused judicial proceedings, legislative enactments, and public debate in both common law and civil law countries as well.

Like their common law and civil law counterparts, Jewish law jurists have engaged in protracted debate about whether copyright is a property right. Recent decades have seen numerous rabbinic court decisions, responsa (rulings in disputes or advisory opinions coupled with a lengthy exegesis on Jewish law in answer to questions posed), scholarly articles, and blog entries on such issues as whether it is permissible, without license from the author or publisher, to republish a book after the rabbinic printing privilege has expired; to copy and distribute software or sound recordings; to perform music in wedding halls; to make copies for classroom use; and to download songs from the Internet. And like in secular law, but for somewhat different reasons, the characterization of copyright as “property” has significant doctrinal consequences for resolution of these controversies in Jewish law.

There are numerous, and at times profound, differences in the terminology, form of argument, doctrinal specifics, and overarching legal framework of Jewish law and secular law in this area and others. Nonetheless, the arguments within the Jewish law debate have some intriguing parallels with those of secular law copyright. In fact, one finds the direct, if largely unstated, influence of secular copyright just below the surface in the debate about whether copyright is property in Jewish law.

From its earliest manifestations, copyright law has struggled to deal with the equitable and efficient division of value and control between creators and the enterprises that distribute their works. And for almost as long as copyright has existed, there has been concern about creators getting the short end of the stick in their dealings with distributors. Since 1909, Congress has sought to protect authors and their families by allowing them to grant their copyrights for exploitation and then, decades later, to recapture those same rights. After judicial interpretation of the 1909 Act frustrated this intent by upholding advance assignments of renewal terms, Congress spoke unambiguously in 1976: “Termination of the grant may be effected notwithstanding any agreement to the contrary . . . .” Yet recent decisions in the Ninth and Second Circuits have eviscerated that clear Congressional command by permitting a grantee to renegotiate the terms of the grant so as to frustrate recapture by the author’s family. After critically analyzing these decisions, this article provides a comprehensive framework for restoring the integrity and clarity of the termination of transfer provisions.

The dawning of the digital age has brought the Supreme Court’s Sony “staple article of commerce” doctrine to center stage in legal and policy discussions about the proper role and scope of copyright protection. To technology companies, it represents a vital safe harbor for product design; to the content industries, this doctrine remains an Achilles heel. The origins of this doctrine have always been somewhat obscure. With nary a peak at the text or the legislative history of the then-recently enacted overhaul of the copyright system, the Supreme Court adverted to patent law to determine the scope of indirect liability – a fundamental issue that would loom large in the shift from the analog to the digital distribution platform for content. A slim majority of the Supreme Court justified this interpretation of the Copyright Act of 1976 on the basis of a vague assertion of “historic kinship” between patent and copyright.

This article scrutinizes this critical logical premise. Part I exhaustively reviews the litigation and correspondence of the justices to understand why the Court paid so little attention to the legislative materials and so much to the patent law. It finds that gaps in the information provided to the Court, in conjunction with the justices’ lack of familiarity with copyright law generally and the Copyright Act of 1976 in particular, led the Court astray. Part II tests the “historic kinship” premise, finding that it cannot withstand scrutiny. Had the Court traced the origins of copyright and patent back to their source, it would have seen that they both derive from a common wellspring: tort principles. Concerns about patent misuse and improper leveraging of monopoly power led the courts, and later Congress, to carve out an express safe harbor in patent law for those selling “staple articles of commerce” – products suitable for substantial non-infringing uses. Part III demonstrates that the 1976 Copyright Act envisioned that courts would continue to use the traditional tort wellspring, informed by the distinctive challenges of copyright enforcement. This would have brought the reasonable alternative design framework of products liability law into play. The article shows that this approach would almost certainly have resulted in the same outcome that the Sony Court reached, but of critical importance, it would have provided a more sound and dynamic jurisprudential framework for calibrating liability as new technologies develop. Part IV examines Sony’s legacy, showing that subsequent legislative activity, court decisions, and the marketplace reflect a practical reality that lies closer to the reasonable alternative design standard than a broad “staple article of commerce” safe harbor. In reality, Sony’s “staple article of commerce” doctrine has proven largely symbolic and unworkable, as Congress, the courts, and businesses in the marketplace have sought to promote product innovation without unduly jeopardizing copyright protection. The failure to recognize that reality, however, breeds doctrinal confusion, distorts case law evolution, and stultifies the larger policy debate over copyright protection in the digital age.

The Supreme Court’s indirect copyright liability standard, derived in Sony Corporation of America v. Universal City Studios from patent law and reasserted in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. v. Grokster, Ltd, is widely seen as creating a safe harbor for distributors of dual use technologies. Yet, when one looks to cases decided since Sony, legislative enactments, and the decisions of technology companies in the marketplace, a very different reality emerges. This article explores and explains the broad gulf between the idealized (and idolized) Sony safe harbor and the practical reality. It shows that the law in many respects reflects the tort principles that undergird copyright liability more generally.