v3: re-arranging, update, fixes

* re-arranging: mostly headers
* update: mostly line breaks \\ instead of <br>
* fixes: book index related; typos; add a couple of missing images, etc.

1 files changed, 14 insertions, 16 deletions

diff --git a/data/v3/samples/the_public_domain.james_boyle.sst b/data/v3/samples/the_public_domain.james_boyle.sst
index 142de47..6ad07f1 100644
--- a/data/v3/samples/the_public_domain.james_boyle.sst
+++ b/data/v3/samples/the_public_domain.james_boyle.sst
@@ -6,29 +6,27 @@
 @creator:
  :author: Boyle, James
 
+@date:
+ :published: 2008
+
 @rights:
  :copyright: 2008, James Boyle
  :license: Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike (CC-BY-NC-SA) 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
 
 @classify:
  :topic_register: public domain
-% :subject: #___#
-% :type: #___#
-% :loc: #___#
-% :oclc: #___#
-% :isbn: #___#
 
-@date:
- :published: 2008
+@links:
+ { The Public Domain }http://www.thepublicdomain.org/
+ { James Boyle }http://james-boyle.com/
+ { SiSU }http://sisudoc.org/
+ { sources / git }http://sources.sisudoc.org/
 
 @make:
  :headings: none; none; none; none;
  :num_top: 1
  :breaks: new=:C; break=1
 
-@links:
- {SiSU}http://www.jus.uio.no/sisu/SiSU
-
 :A~ @title @author
 
 1~ Acknowledgments
@@ -203,7 +201,7 @@ In other words, as all this suggests, this chapter is only an introduction to a
 
 1~ Chapter 2: Thomas Jefferson Writes a Letter
 
-On August 13, 1813, Thomas Jefferson took up his pen to write to Isaac McPherson.~{Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Isaac McPherson (August 13, 1813), in The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, ed. Albert Ellery Bergh (Washington, D.C.: The Thomas Jefferson Memorial Association of the United States, 1907), vol. XIII, 326–338 (hereinafter Letter to McPherson), available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html (follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1057).}~ It was a quiet week in Jefferson’s correspondence. He wrote a letter to Madison about the appointment of a tax assessor, attempted to procure a government position for an acquaintance, produced a fascinating and lengthy series of comments on a new “Rudiments of English Grammar,” discussed the orthography of nouns ending in “y,” accepted the necessary delay in the publication of a study on the anatomy of mammoth bones, completed a brief biography of Governor Lewis, and, in general, confined himself narrowly in subject matter.~{For example, attempting to procure a former stable master a position (letter from Thomas Jefferson to Samuel H. Smith [August 15, 1813], available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html [follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1070]), comments on “Rudiments of English Grammar” (letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Waldo [August 16, 1813], in Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. XIII, 338–347), orthography of the plurals of nouns ending in “y” (letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Wilson [August 17, 1813], Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. XIII, 347–348), accepting the necessary delay in the publication of a study on the anatomy of mammoth bones (letter from Thomas Jefferson to Caspar Wistar [August 17, 1813], available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html [follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1095]), and discussing the Lewis biography (excerpt of a letter from Thomas Jefferson to Paul Allen [August 18, 1813], Letters of the Lewis and Clark Expedition with Related Documents 1783–1854, ed. Donald Jackson (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962), 586).<br>It is easy, in fact, reading this prodigious outpouring of knowledge and enthusiasm, to forget the other side of Jefferson and the social system that gave him the leisure to write these letters. Just a few weeks before he wrote to McPherson, he wrote a letter to Jeremiah Goodman about a slave called Hercules who had been imprisoned as a runaway.<br>“The folly he has committed certainly justifies further punishment, and he goes in expectation of receiving it. . . .” Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Jeremiah A. Goodman (July 26, 1813), in Thomas Jefferson’s Farm Book, ed. Edwin Morris Betts (Charlottesville, Va.: American Philosophical Society, 1999), 36. While leaving the matter up to Goodman, Jefferson argues for leniency and for refraining from further punishment. In that sense, it is a humane letter. But this is one of the authors of the Declaration of Independence, full of glorious principles—unalienable rights; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—enunciated in the context of indignation at relatively mild colonial policies of taxation and legislation. How could a man who thought that taxing tea was tyranny, and that all men had an unalienable right to liberty, believe that it was “folly” justifying “further punishment” for a slave to run away? Reading the letter—a curiously intimate, almost voyeuristic act—one finds oneself saying “What was he thinking?”}~ But on the 13th of August, Jefferson’s mind was on intellectual property, and most specifically, patents.
+On August 13, 1813, Thomas Jefferson took up his pen to write to Isaac McPherson.~{Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Isaac McPherson (August 13, 1813), in The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, ed. Albert Ellery Bergh (Washington, D.C.: The Thomas Jefferson Memorial Association of the United States, 1907), vol. XIII, 326–338 (hereinafter Letter to McPherson), available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html (follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1057).}~ It was a quiet week in Jefferson’s correspondence. He wrote a letter to Madison about the appointment of a tax assessor, attempted to procure a government position for an acquaintance, produced a fascinating and lengthy series of comments on a new “Rudiments of English Grammar,” discussed the orthography of nouns ending in “y,” accepted the necessary delay in the publication of a study on the anatomy of mammoth bones, completed a brief biography of Governor Lewis, and, in general, confined himself narrowly in subject matter.~{For example, attempting to procure a former stable master a position (letter from Thomas Jefferson to Samuel H. Smith [August 15, 1813], available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html [follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1070]), comments on “Rudiments of English Grammar” (letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Waldo [August 16, 1813], in Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. XIII, 338–347), orthography of the plurals of nouns ending in “y” (letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Wilson [August 17, 1813], Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. XIII, 347–348), accepting the necessary delay in the publication of a study on the anatomy of mammoth bones (letter from Thomas Jefferson to Caspar Wistar [August 17, 1813], available at http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/jefferson_papers/mtjser1.html [follow “May 1, 1812” hyperlink, then navigate to image 1095]), and discussing the Lewis biography (excerpt of a letter from Thomas Jefferson to Paul Allen [August 18, 1813], Letters of the Lewis and Clark Expedition with Related Documents 1783–1854, ed. Donald Jackson (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962), 586). \\ It is easy, in fact, reading this prodigious outpouring of knowledge and enthusiasm, to forget the other side of Jefferson and the social system that gave him the leisure to write these letters. Just a few weeks before he wrote to McPherson, he wrote a letter to Jeremiah Goodman about a slave called Hercules who had been imprisoned as a runaway. \\ “The folly he has committed certainly justifies further punishment, and he goes in expectation of receiving it. . . .” Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Jeremiah A. Goodman (July 26, 1813), in Thomas Jefferson’s Farm Book, ed. Edwin Morris Betts (Charlottesville, Va.: American Philosophical Society, 1999), 36. While leaving the matter up to Goodman, Jefferson argues for leniency and for refraining from further punishment. In that sense, it is a humane letter. But this is one of the authors of the Declaration of Independence, full of glorious principles—unalienable rights; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—enunciated in the context of indignation at relatively mild colonial policies of taxation and legislation. How could a man who thought that taxing tea was tyranny, and that all men had an unalienable right to liberty, believe that it was “folly” justifying “further punishment” for a slave to run away? Reading the letter—a curiously intimate, almost voyeuristic act—one finds oneself saying “What was he thinking?”}~ But on the 13th of August, Jefferson’s mind was on intellectual property, and most specifically, patents.
 
 Jefferson’s writing is, as usual, apparently effortless. Some find his penmanship a little hard to decipher. To me, used to plowing through the frenzied chicken tracks that law students produce during exams, it seems perfectly clear. If handwriting truly showed the architecture of the soul, then Jefferson’s would conjure up Monticello or the University of Virginia. There are a few revisions and interlineations, a couple of words squeezed in with a caret at the bottom of the line, but for the most part the lines of handwriting simply roll on and on—“the fugitive fermentation of an individual brain,”~{Letter to McPherson, 333.}~ to quote a phrase from the letter, caught in vellum and ink, though that brain has been dust for more than a century and a half. I love libraries. I love the mushroom smell of gently rotting paper, the flaky crackle of manuscripts, and the surprise of matching style of handwriting with style of thought. Today, though, I am viewing his letter over the Internet on a computer screen. (You can too. The details are [in the footnotes].)
 
@@ -255,7 +253,7 @@ _1 We have, then, only one resource left. We must betake ourselves to copyright,
 
 Notice that it is the monopolistic quality of intellectual property that really disturbs Macaulay. His was a generation of thinkers for whom the negative effect of monopolies of any kind (and state-granted monopolies in particular) was axiomatic. He becomes almost contemptuous when one of the supporters of copyright extension declared that it was merely “a theory” that monopoly makes things expensive. Macaulay agrees, tongue in cheek. “It is a theory in the same sense in which it is a theory, that day and night follow each other, that lead is heavier than water, that bread nourishes, that arsenic poisons, that alcohol intoxicates.”~{Ibid., 198–199.}~
 
-These words from Jefferson and Macaulay encapsulate an eighteenth- and nineteenth-century free-trade skepticism about intellectual property, a skepticism that is widely, but not universally, believed to have played an important role in shaping the history of intellectual property in both the United States and the United Kingdom. Certainly the U.S. Supreme Court has offered support for that position,~{Graham v. John Deere, 383 U.S. 1, 7–11 (1966).}~ and, with one significant recent exception,~{Adam Mossoff, “Who Cares What Thomas Jefferson Thought about Patents? Reevaluating the Patent ‘Privilege’ in Historical Context,” Cornell Law Review 92 (2007): 953–1012. In a thoughtful, carefully reasoned, and provocative article, Professor Mossoff argues that Jefferson’s views have been misused by the courts and legal historians, and that if we understand the use of the word “privilege” in historical context, we see that the “patent privilege” was influenced by a philosophy of natural rights as well as the antimonopolist utilitarianism described here. I both agree and disagree.<br> Professor Mossoff’s central point—that the word “privilege” was not understood by eighteenth-century audiences as the antonym of “right”—is surely correct. To lay great stress on the linguistic point that the patent right is “merely” a “privilege” is to rest one’s argument on a weak reed. But this is not the only argument. One could also believe that intellectual property rights have vital conceptual and practical differences with property rights over tangible objects or land, that the framers of the Constitution who were most involved in the intellectual property clause were deeply opposed to the confusion involved in conflating the two, and that they looked upon this confusion particularly harshly because of an intense concern about state monopolies. One can still disagree with this assessment, of course; one can interpret Madison’s words this way or that, or interpret subsequent patent decisions as deep statements of principle or commonplace rhetorical flourishes. Still it seems to me a much stronger argument than the one based on the privilege–right distinction. I am not sure Professor Mossoff would disagree.<br> Professor Mossoff is also correct to point out that a “legal privilege” did sometimes mean to an eighteenth-century reader something that the state was duty-bound to grant. There was, in fact, a wide range of sources from which an eighteenth-century lawyer could derive a state obligation to grant a privilege. Eighteenth-century legal talk was a normative bouillabaisse—a rich stew of natural right, common law, utility, and progress—often thrown together without regard to their differences. Some lawyers and judges thought the common law embodied natural rights, others that it represented the dictates of “progress” and “utility,” and others, more confusingly still, seemed to adopt all of those views at once.<br> Nevertheless, I would agree that some eighteenth-century writers saw claims of common-law right beneath the assertion of some “privileges” and that a smaller number of those assumed common-law right and natural right to be equivalent, and thus saw a strong state obligation to grant a particular privilege based on natural right, wherever that privilege had been recognized by English or U.S. common law. But here is where I part company with Professor Mossoff.<br> First, I do not believe that the most important architects of the intellectual property clause shared that view when it came to patents and copyrights. Jefferson, of course, was not one of those who believed the state was so bound. “Society may give an exclusive right to the profits arising from [inventions], as an encouragement to men to pursue ideas which may produce utility, but this may or may not be done, according to the will and convenience of the society, without claim or complaint from any body” (Letter to McPherson, 334, emphasis added). More importantly, Jefferson’s thinking about patents was infused by a deeply utilitarian, antimonopolist tinge. So, I would argue, was Madison’s.<br> The quotations from Madison which I give later show clearly, to me at least, that Madison shared Jefferson’s deeply utilitarian attitude toward patent and copyright law. I think there is very good reason to believe that this attitude was dominant among the Scottish Enlightenment thinkers whose writings were so influential to the framers. I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that the American Revolution was violently against the world of monopoly and corruption that was the supposed target of the English Statute of Monopolies (itself hardly a natural rights document). Yes, those thinkers might fall back into talking about how hard an inventor had worked or construing a patent expansively. Yes, they might think that within the boundaries of settled law, it would be unjust to deny one inventor a patent when the general scheme of patent law had already been laid down. But that did not and does not negate the antimonopolist and, for that matter, utilitarian roots of the Constitution’s intellectual property clause.<br> Second, while I agree that there were strands of natural right thinking and a labor theory of value in the U.S. intellectual property system, and that they continue to this day—indeed, these were the very views that the Feist decision discussed in Chapter 9 repudiated, as late as 1991—I think it is easy to make too much of that fact. Is this signal or noise? There are conceptual reasons to think it is the latter. Later in this chapter I discuss the evolution of the droits d’auteur tradition in France. Here, at the supposed heart of the natural rights tradition, we find thinkers driven inexorably to consider the question of limits. How far does the supposed natural right extend—in time, in space, in subject matter? It is at that moment that the utilitarian focus and the fear of monopoly represented by Jefferson and Madison—and, for that matter, Locke and Condorcet—become so important.<br> Professor Mossoff is correct to criticize the focus on the word “privilege,” and also correct that the ideas of natural right and the labor theory of value always color attitudes toward intellectual property claims. But it would be an equal and opposite mistake to ignore two points. First, intellectual property rights are profoundly different from physical property rights over land in ways that should definitively shape policy choices. Second, partly because of those differences, and because of the influence of free-trade Scottish Enlightenment thought on the American Revolution in particular, there was a powerful antimonopolist and free-trade sentiment behind the copyright and patent clause. Simply read the clause. Congress is given the power “to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Does this really read like the work of a group of believers in natural right? On the contrary, it reads like a limited grant of power to achieve a particular utilitarian goal. That sentiment—nicely encapsulated in but by no means limited to the words of Jefferson—is still a good starting place for an understanding of intellectual property.}~ historians of intellectual property have agreed.~{See, e.g., Ochoa and Rose, “Anti-Monopoly Origins,” and Edward C. Walterscheid, The Nature of the Intellectual Property Clause: A Study in Historical Perspective (Buffalo, N.Y.: W. S. Hein, 2002). Ochoa, Rose, and Walterscheid stress the antimonopolist concerns that animated some of those who were most active in the debates about intellectual property. They also point out the influence of the English Statute of Monopolies of 1623, which attacked monopolies in general, while making an exception for periods of legal exclusivity for a limited time granted over “sole Working or Making of any Manner of new Manufacture within this Realm, to the first true Inventor or Inventors of such Manufactures which others at the time of the Making of such Letters Patents Grants did not use, so they be not contrary to the Law, nor mischievous to the State, by Raising of the Prices of Commodities at home, or Hurt by Trade, or generally inconvenient.”}~ Jefferson himself had believed that the Constitution should have definite limits on both the term and the scope of intellectual property rights.~{For example, in a letter to Madison commenting on the draft of the Constitution: “I like it, as far as it goes; but I should have been for going further. For instance, the following alterations and additions would have pleased me: . . . Article 9. Monopolies may be allowed to persons for their own productions in literature, and their own inventions in the arts, for a term not exceeding . . . years, but for no longer term, and no other purpose.” Letter from Thomas Jefferson to James Madison (August 28, 1789), in Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. 7, 450–451.}~ James Madison stressed the costs of any intellectual property right and the need to limit its term and to allow the government to end the monopoly by compulsory purchase if necessary.~{“Monopolies tho’ in certain cases useful ought to be granted with caution, and guarded with strictness against abuse. The Constitution of the U.S. has limited them to two cases—the authors of Books, and of useful inventions, in both which they are considered as a compensation for a benefit actually gained to the community as a purchase of property which the owner might otherwise withhold from public use. There can be no just objection to a temporary monopoly in these cases: but it ought to be temporary because under that limitation a sufficient recompence and encouragement may be given. The limitation is particularly proper in the case of inventions, because they grow so much out of preceding ones that there is the less merit in the authors; and because, for the same reason, the discovery might be expected in a short time from other hands. . . . Monopolies have been granted in other Countries, and by some of the States in this, on another principle, that of supporting some useful undertaking, until experience and success should render the monopoly unnecessary, and lead to a salutary competition . . . But grants of this sort can be justified in very peculiar cases only, if at all; the danger being very great that the good resulting from the operation of the monopoly, will be overbalanced by the evil effect of the precedent; and it being not impossible that the monopoly itself in its original operation, may produce more evil than good. In all cases of monopoly, not excepting those in favor of authors and inventors, it would be well to reserve to the State, a right to extinguish the monopoly by paying a specified and reasonable sum. . . . Perpetual monopolies of every sort are forbidden not only by the Genius of free Governments, but by the imperfection of human foresight.” James Madison, “Monopolies, Perpetuities, Corporations, Ecclesiastical Endowments” (1819), in “Aspects of Monopoly One Hundred Years Ago,” Harper’s Magazine, ed. Galliard Hunt, 128 (1914), 489–490; also in “Madison’s ‘Detatched Memoranda,’ ” ed. Elizabeth Fleet, William & Mary Quarterly, 3rd series, 3 no. 4 (1946): 551–552, available at http://www.constitution.org/jm/18191213_monopolies.htm.}~ Adam Smith expressed similar views. Monopolies that carry on long after they were needed to encourage some socially beneficial activity, he said, tax every other citizen “very absurdly in two different ways: first, by the high price of goods, which, in the case of a free trade, they could buy much cheaper; and, secondly, by their total exclusion from a branch of business which it might be both convenient and profitable for many of them to carry on.”~{Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations, pt. 3, Of the Expenses of Public Works and Public Institutions, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1880), 2:339: “When a company of merchants undertake, at their own risk and expense, to establish a new trade with some remote and barbarous nation, it may not be unreasonable to incorporate them into a joint-stock company, and to grant them, in case of their success, a monopoly of the trade for a certain number of years. It is the easiest and most natural way in which the state can recompense them for hazarding a dangerous and expensive experiment, of which the public is afterwards to reap the benefit. A temporary monopoly of this kind may be vindicated, upon the same principles upon which a like monopoly of a new machine is granted to its inventor, and that of a new book to its author. But upon the expiration of the term, the monopoly ought certainly to determine; the forts and garrisons, if it was found necessary to establish any, to be taken into the hands of government, their value to be paid to the company, and the trade to be laid open to all the subjects of the state. By a perpetual monopoly, all the other subjects of the state are taxed very absurdly in two different ways: first, by the high price of goods, which, in the case of a free trade, they could buy much cheaper; and, secondly, by their total exclusion from a branch of business which it might be both convenient and profitable for many of them to carry on.”}~
+These words from Jefferson and Macaulay encapsulate an eighteenth- and nineteenth-century free-trade skepticism about intellectual property, a skepticism that is widely, but not universally, believed to have played an important role in shaping the history of intellectual property in both the United States and the United Kingdom. Certainly the U.S. Supreme Court has offered support for that position,~{Graham v. John Deere, 383 U.S. 1, 7–11 (1966).}~ and, with one significant recent exception,~{Adam Mossoff, “Who Cares What Thomas Jefferson Thought about Patents? Reevaluating the Patent ‘Privilege’ in Historical Context,” Cornell Law Review 92 (2007): 953–1012. In a thoughtful, carefully reasoned, and provocative article, Professor Mossoff argues that Jefferson’s views have been misused by the courts and legal historians, and that if we understand the use of the word “privilege” in historical context, we see that the “patent privilege” was influenced by a philosophy of natural rights as well as the antimonopolist utilitarianism described here. I both agree and disagree. \\ Professor Mossoff’s central point—that the word “privilege” was not understood by eighteenth-century audiences as the antonym of “right”—is surely correct. To lay great stress on the linguistic point that the patent right is “merely” a “privilege” is to rest one’s argument on a weak reed. But this is not the only argument. One could also believe that intellectual property rights have vital conceptual and practical differences with property rights over tangible objects or land, that the framers of the Constitution who were most involved in the intellectual property clause were deeply opposed to the confusion involved in conflating the two, and that they looked upon this confusion particularly harshly because of an intense concern about state monopolies. One can still disagree with this assessment, of course; one can interpret Madison’s words this way or that, or interpret subsequent patent decisions as deep statements of principle or commonplace rhetorical flourishes. Still it seems to me a much stronger argument than the one based on the privilege–right distinction. I am not sure Professor Mossoff would disagree. \\ Professor Mossoff is also correct to point out that a “legal privilege” did sometimes mean to an eighteenth-century reader something that the state was duty-bound to grant. There was, in fact, a wide range of sources from which an eighteenth-century lawyer could derive a state obligation to grant a privilege. Eighteenth-century legal talk was a normative bouillabaisse—a rich stew of natural right, common law, utility, and progress—often thrown together without regard to their differences. Some lawyers and judges thought the common law embodied natural rights, others that it represented the dictates of “progress” and “utility,” and others, more confusingly still, seemed to adopt all of those views at once. \\ Nevertheless, I would agree that some eighteenth-century writers saw claims of common-law right beneath the assertion of some “privileges” and that a smaller number of those assumed common-law right and natural right to be equivalent, and thus saw a strong state obligation to grant a particular privilege based on natural right, wherever that privilege had been recognized by English or U.S. common law. But here is where I part company with Professor Mossoff. \\ First, I do not believe that the most important architects of the intellectual property clause shared that view when it came to patents and copyrights. Jefferson, of course, was not one of those who believed the state was so bound. “Society may give an exclusive right to the profits arising from [inventions], as an encouragement to men to pursue ideas which may produce utility, but this may or may not be done, according to the will and convenience of the society, without claim or complaint from any body” (Letter to McPherson, 334, emphasis added). More importantly, Jefferson’s thinking about patents was infused by a deeply utilitarian, antimonopolist tinge. So, I would argue, was Madison’s. \\ The quotations from Madison which I give later show clearly, to me at least, that Madison shared Jefferson’s deeply utilitarian attitude toward patent and copyright law. I think there is very good reason to believe that this attitude was dominant among the Scottish Enlightenment thinkers whose writings were so influential to the framers. I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that the American Revolution was violently against the world of monopoly and corruption that was the supposed target of the English Statute of Monopolies (itself hardly a natural rights document). Yes, those thinkers might fall back into talking about how hard an inventor had worked or construing a patent expansively. Yes, they might think that within the boundaries of settled law, it would be unjust to deny one inventor a patent when the general scheme of patent law had already been laid down. But that did not and does not negate the antimonopolist and, for that matter, utilitarian roots of the Constitution’s intellectual property clause. \\ Second, while I agree that there were strands of natural right thinking and a labor theory of value in the U.S. intellectual property system, and that they continue to this day—indeed, these were the very views that the Feist decision discussed in Chapter 9 repudiated, as late as 1991—I think it is easy to make too much of that fact. Is this signal or noise? There are conceptual reasons to think it is the latter. Later in this chapter I discuss the evolution of the droits d’auteur tradition in France. Here, at the supposed heart of the natural rights tradition, we find thinkers driven inexorably to consider the question of limits. How far does the supposed natural right extend—in time, in space, in subject matter? It is at that moment that the utilitarian focus and the fear of monopoly represented by Jefferson and Madison—and, for that matter, Locke and Condorcet—become so important. \\ Professor Mossoff is correct to criticize the focus on the word “privilege,” and also correct that the ideas of natural right and the labor theory of value always color attitudes toward intellectual property claims. But it would be an equal and opposite mistake to ignore two points. First, intellectual property rights are profoundly different from physical property rights over land in ways that should definitively shape policy choices. Second, partly because of those differences, and because of the influence of free-trade Scottish Enlightenment thought on the American Revolution in particular, there was a powerful antimonopolist and free-trade sentiment behind the copyright and patent clause. Simply read the clause. Congress is given the power “to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Does this really read like the work of a group of believers in natural right? On the contrary, it reads like a limited grant of power to achieve a particular utilitarian goal. That sentiment—nicely encapsulated in but by no means limited to the words of Jefferson—is still a good starting place for an understanding of intellectual property.}~ historians of intellectual property have agreed.~{See, e.g., Ochoa and Rose, “Anti-Monopoly Origins,” and Edward C. Walterscheid, The Nature of the Intellectual Property Clause: A Study in Historical Perspective (Buffalo, N.Y.: W. S. Hein, 2002). Ochoa, Rose, and Walterscheid stress the antimonopolist concerns that animated some of those who were most active in the debates about intellectual property. They also point out the influence of the English Statute of Monopolies of 1623, which attacked monopolies in general, while making an exception for periods of legal exclusivity for a limited time granted over “sole Working or Making of any Manner of new Manufacture within this Realm, to the first true Inventor or Inventors of such Manufactures which others at the time of the Making of such Letters Patents Grants did not use, so they be not contrary to the Law, nor mischievous to the State, by Raising of the Prices of Commodities at home, or Hurt by Trade, or generally inconvenient.”}~ Jefferson himself had believed that the Constitution should have definite limits on both the term and the scope of intellectual property rights.~{For example, in a letter to Madison commenting on the draft of the Constitution: “I like it, as far as it goes; but I should have been for going further. For instance, the following alterations and additions would have pleased me: . . . Article 9. Monopolies may be allowed to persons for their own productions in literature, and their own inventions in the arts, for a term not exceeding . . . years, but for no longer term, and no other purpose.” Letter from Thomas Jefferson to James Madison (August 28, 1789), in Writings of Thomas Jefferson, vol. 7, 450–451.}~ James Madison stressed the costs of any intellectual property right and the need to limit its term and to allow the government to end the monopoly by compulsory purchase if necessary.~{“Monopolies tho’ in certain cases useful ought to be granted with caution, and guarded with strictness against abuse. The Constitution of the U.S. has limited them to two cases—the authors of Books, and of useful inventions, in both which they are considered as a compensation for a benefit actually gained to the community as a purchase of property which the owner might otherwise withhold from public use. There can be no just objection to a temporary monopoly in these cases: but it ought to be temporary because under that limitation a sufficient recompence and encouragement may be given. The limitation is particularly proper in the case of inventions, because they grow so much out of preceding ones that there is the less merit in the authors; and because, for the same reason, the discovery might be expected in a short time from other hands. . . . Monopolies have been granted in other Countries, and by some of the States in this, on another principle, that of supporting some useful undertaking, until experience and success should render the monopoly unnecessary, and lead to a salutary competition . . . But grants of this sort can be justified in very peculiar cases only, if at all; the danger being very great that the good resulting from the operation of the monopoly, will be overbalanced by the evil effect of the precedent; and it being not impossible that the monopoly itself in its original operation, may produce more evil than good. In all cases of monopoly, not excepting those in favor of authors and inventors, it would be well to reserve to the State, a right to extinguish the monopoly by paying a specified and reasonable sum. . . . Perpetual monopolies of every sort are forbidden not only by the Genius of free Governments, but by the imperfection of human foresight.” James Madison, “Monopolies, Perpetuities, Corporations, Ecclesiastical Endowments” (1819), in “Aspects of Monopoly One Hundred Years Ago,” Harper’s Magazine, ed. Galliard Hunt, 128 (1914), 489–490; also in “Madison’s ‘Detatched Memoranda,’ ” ed. Elizabeth Fleet, William & Mary Quarterly, 3rd series, 3 no. 4 (1946): 551–552, available at http://www.constitution.org/jm/18191213_monopolies.htm.}~ Adam Smith expressed similar views. Monopolies that carry on long after they were needed to encourage some socially beneficial activity, he said, tax every other citizen “very absurdly in two different ways: first, by the high price of goods, which, in the case of a free trade, they could buy much cheaper; and, secondly, by their total exclusion from a branch of business which it might be both convenient and profitable for many of them to carry on.”~{Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations, pt. 3, Of the Expenses of Public Works and Public Institutions, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1880), 2:339: “When a company of merchants undertake, at their own risk and expense, to establish a new trade with some remote and barbarous nation, it may not be unreasonable to incorporate them into a joint-stock company, and to grant them, in case of their success, a monopoly of the trade for a certain number of years. It is the easiest and most natural way in which the state can recompense them for hazarding a dangerous and expensive experiment, of which the public is afterwards to reap the benefit. A temporary monopoly of this kind may be vindicated, upon the same principles upon which a like monopoly of a new machine is granted to its inventor, and that of a new book to its author. But upon the expiration of the term, the monopoly ought certainly to determine; the forts and garrisons, if it was found necessary to establish any, to be taken into the hands of government, their value to be paid to the company, and the trade to be laid open to all the subjects of the state. By a perpetual monopoly, all the other subjects of the state are taxed very absurdly in two different ways: first, by the high price of goods, which, in the case of a free trade, they could buy much cheaper; and, secondly, by their total exclusion from a branch of business which it might be both convenient and profitable for many of them to carry on.”}~
 
 It is important to note, though, that the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century writers I have quoted were not against intellectual property. All of them—Jefferson, Madison, Smith, and Macaulay—could see good reason why intellectual property rights should be granted. They simply insisted on weighing the costs and benefits of a new right, each expansion of scope, each lengthening of the copyright term. Here is Macaulay again, waxing eloquently sarcastic about the costs and benefits of extending the copyright term so that it would last many years after the author’s death:
 
@@ -350,7 +348,7 @@ Of course, we could build a culture around a notion of natural, absolute, and pe
 
 Or perhaps not. Think of the way that Jefferson traced the origins of the mechanical arts used in the elevators and hopper-boys all the way back to ancient Persia. (In Mr. Helprin’s utopia, presumably, a royalty stream would run to Cyrus the Great’s engineers.) Jefferson’s point was that for the process of invention to work, we need to confine narrowly the time and scope of the state-provided monopoly, otherwise further inventions would become impossible. Each process or part of a new invention would risk infringing a myriad of prior patents on its subcomponents. Innovation would strangle in a thicket of conflicting monopolies with their roots vanishing back in time. Presumably the title of Mr. Helprin’s excellent novel would require clearance from Shakespeare’s heirs.
 
-Of course, one could construct a more modest Lockean idea of intellectual property~{The two most influential and brilliant examples are Justin Hughes, “The Philosophy of Intellectual Property,” Georgetown Law Journal 77 (1988): 287–366, and Wendy J. Gordon, “A Property Right in Self-Expression: Equality and Individualism in the Natural Law of Intellectual Property,” Yale Law Journal 102 (1993): 1533–1610. Both of these articles attempt not to use Locke as the basis for a world of absolute right, but instead to focus on the Locke whose world of private property coexisted with a commons—albeit one much diminished after the invention of money. If one goes far enough into the Lockean conception—fine-tuning “enough and as good” so as to allow for a vigorous commons, and the claims of labor so as to take account of the importance of the embedded contributions of culture and science—then the differences between the Jeffersonian view and the Lockean view start to recede in significance. Academics have found the Lockean view attractive, noting, correctly, that Locke is commonly brandished as a rhetorical emblem for property schemes that he himself would have scorned. Yet when one looks at the actual world of intellectual property policy discourse, and the difficulty of enunciating even the simple Jeffersonian antimonopolist ideas I lay out here, it is hard to imagine the nuanced Lockean view flourishing. Consider this comment of Jeremy Waldron’s and ask yourself—is this result more likely from within the Jeffersonian or the Lockean view?<br> Our tendency of course is to focus on authors when we think about intellectual property. Many of us are authors ourselves: reading a case about copyright we can empathize readily with a plaintiff’s feeling for the effort he has put in, his need to control his work, and his natural desire to reap the fruits of his own labor. In this Essay, however, I shall look at the way we think about actual, potential and putative infringers of copyright, those whose freedom is or might be constrained by others’ ownership of songs, plays, words, images and stories. Clearly our concept of the author and this concept of the copier are two sides of the same coin. If we think of an author as having a natural right to profit from his work, then we will think of the copier as some sort of thief; whereas if we think of the author as beneficiary of a statutory monopoly, it may be easier to see the copier as an embodiment of free enterprise values. These are the connections I want to discuss, and my argument will be that we cannot begin to unravel the conundrums of moral justification in this area unless we are willing to approach the matter even-handedly from both sides of the question.<br> After a magisterial study of justifications for the existing world of intellectual property, Waldron concludes, “[t]he fact is, however, that whether or not we speak of a burden of proof, an institution like intellectual property is not self-justifying; we owe a justification to anyone who finds that he can move less freely than he would in the absence of the institution. So although the people whose perspective I have taken—the copiers—may be denigrated as unoriginal plagiarists or thieves of others’ work, still they are the ones who feel the immediate impact of our intellectual property laws. It affects what they may do, how they may speak, and how they may earn a living. Of course nothing is settled by saying that it is their interests that are particularly at stake; if the tables were turned, we should want to highlight the perspective of the authors. But as things stand, the would-be copiers are the ones to whom a justification of intellectual property is owed.” See Jeremy Waldron, “From Authors to Copiers: Individual Rights and Social Values in Intellectual Property,” Chicago-Kent Law Review 68 (1993): 841, 842, 887. That justification seems more plausibly and practically to come from the perspective I sketch out here. See also William Fisher, “Theories of Intellectual Property,” in New Essays in the Legal and Political Theory of Property, ed. Stephen R. Munzer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 168–200.} —building on the notion of “enough and as good” left over for others and drawing the limits tightly enough to avoid the worst of Mr. Helprin’s excesses. But as one attempts to do this systematically, the power of the Jeffersonian vision becomes all the more apparent—at least as a starting place.
+Of course, one could construct a more modest Lockean idea of intellectual property~{The two most influential and brilliant examples are Justin Hughes, “The Philosophy of Intellectual Property,” Georgetown Law Journal 77 (1988): 287–366, and Wendy J. Gordon, “A Property Right in Self-Expression: Equality and Individualism in the Natural Law of Intellectual Property,” Yale Law Journal 102 (1993): 1533–1610. Both of these articles attempt not to use Locke as the basis for a world of absolute right, but instead to focus on the Locke whose world of private property coexisted with a commons—albeit one much diminished after the invention of money. If one goes far enough into the Lockean conception—fine-tuning “enough and as good” so as to allow for a vigorous commons, and the claims of labor so as to take account of the importance of the embedded contributions of culture and science—then the differences between the Jeffersonian view and the Lockean view start to recede in significance. Academics have found the Lockean view attractive, noting, correctly, that Locke is commonly brandished as a rhetorical emblem for property schemes that he himself would have scorned. Yet when one looks at the actual world of intellectual property policy discourse, and the difficulty of enunciating even the simple Jeffersonian antimonopolist ideas I lay out here, it is hard to imagine the nuanced Lockean view flourishing. Consider this comment of Jeremy Waldron’s and ask yourself—is this result more likely from within the Jeffersonian or the Lockean view? \\ Our tendency of course is to focus on authors when we think about intellectual property. Many of us are authors ourselves: reading a case about copyright we can empathize readily with a plaintiff’s feeling for the effort he has put in, his need to control his work, and his natural desire to reap the fruits of his own labor. In this Essay, however, I shall look at the way we think about actual, potential and putative infringers of copyright, those whose freedom is or might be constrained by others’ ownership of songs, plays, words, images and stories. Clearly our concept of the author and this concept of the copier are two sides of the same coin. If we think of an author as having a natural right to profit from his work, then we will think of the copier as some sort of thief; whereas if we think of the author as beneficiary of a statutory monopoly, it may be easier to see the copier as an embodiment of free enterprise values. These are the connections I want to discuss, and my argument will be that we cannot begin to unravel the conundrums of moral justification in this area unless we are willing to approach the matter even-handedly from both sides of the question. \\ After a magisterial study of justifications for the existing world of intellectual property, Waldron concludes, “[t]he fact is, however, that whether or not we speak of a burden of proof, an institution like intellectual property is not self-justifying; we owe a justification to anyone who finds that he can move less freely than he would in the absence of the institution. So although the people whose perspective I have taken—the copiers—may be denigrated as unoriginal plagiarists or thieves of others’ work, still they are the ones who feel the immediate impact of our intellectual property laws. It affects what they may do, how they may speak, and how they may earn a living. Of course nothing is settled by saying that it is their interests that are particularly at stake; if the tables were turned, we should want to highlight the perspective of the authors. But as things stand, the would-be copiers are the ones to whom a justification of intellectual property is owed.” See Jeremy Waldron, “From Authors to Copiers: Individual Rights and Social Values in Intellectual Property,” Chicago-Kent Law Review 68 (1993): 841, 842, 887. That justification seems more plausibly and practically to come from the perspective I sketch out here. See also William Fisher, “Theories of Intellectual Property,” in New Essays in the Legal and Political Theory of Property, ed. Stephen R. Munzer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 168–200.} —building on the notion of “enough and as good” left over for others and drawing the limits tightly enough to avoid the worst of Mr. Helprin’s excesses. But as one attempts to do this systematically, the power of the Jeffersonian vision becomes all the more apparent—at least as a starting place.
 
 The Jefferson Warning will play an important role in this book. But my arguments here have implications far beyond Jefferson’s time, country, or constitutional tradition. In the last analysis, I hope to convince you of the importance of the Jefferson Warning or the views of Macaulay not because they are famous authorities and revered thinkers or because they framed constitutions or debated legislation. I wish to convince you that their views are important because they encapsulate neatly an important series of truths about intellectual property. We should listen to the Jefferson Warning not because it is prestigious but because of its insight. As the Diderot-Condorcet debates point out, the questions on which Jefferson and Macaulay focused do not disappear merely because one embraces a philosophy of moral rights—if anything, they become more pressing, particularly when one comes to define the limits of intellectual property in scope and time. I ask that those readers who remain leery of the Jeffersonian focus concentrate on that last issue. In an era when we have been expanding intellectual property rights relentlessly, it is a crucial one. If the Jefferson Warning produces in my unconvinced reader even a slight queasiness about the likely effects of such a process of expansion, it will have done its job—though in fact the tradition it represented was much richer than a simple utilitarian series of cautions.
 
@@ -503,7 +501,7 @@ As bioinformatics blurs the line between computer modeling and biological resear
 
 Of course, we would hope that in your daily actions you scrupulously observed the rights—all the rights—of the companies that have interests in the texts, tunes, images of celebrities, trademarks, business method patents, and fragments of computer code you dealt with. Did you? Can you be sure? I teach intellectual property, but I admit to some uncertainty. I would not have imagined that a temporary image of a Web page captured in the cache of my browser counted as a “copy” for the purposes of copyright law.~{See James Boyle, “Intellectual Property Policy Online: A Young Person’s Guide,” Harvard Journal of Law & Technology 10 (1996): 47–112.}~ I would have thought that it was fair use for a company to photocopy articles in journals it subscribed to, and paid for, in order to circulate them to its researchers.~{American Geophysical Union v. Texaco, 37 F.3d 882 (2nd Cir. 1994).}~ If a conservative Web site reposted news articles from liberal newspapers with critical commentary, that, too, would have seemed like fair use.~{Los Angeles Times v. Free Republic, 2000 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 5669, 54 U.S.P.Q.2D 1453 (C.D. Cal. 2000).}~ I would have thought that it was beneficial competition, and not a trespass, for an electronic “aggregator” to gather together auction prices or airline fares, so as to give consumers more choice.~{eBay, Inc. v. Bidder’s Edge, Inc. , 100 F. Supp. 2d 1058 (N.D. Cal. 2000).}~ I would not have thought that a search engine that catalogued and displayed in framed format the digital graphics found on the Internet would be sued for infringing the copyrights of the owners of those images.~{Kelly v. Arriba Soft, 336 F.3d 811 (9th Cir. 2003). After initially holding that while thumbnails were fair use, inline links that displayed pictures were not fair use, the court reversed itself and found fair use in both instances.}~ I would not have thought that I might be sued for violating intellectual property law if I tried to compete with a printer company by making toner cartridges that were compatible with its printers.~{After a District Court issued a temporary injunction telling Static Controls that it must cease manufacturing generic toner cartridges that operated in Lexmark printers—indicating it was likely to be found to be violating the Digital Millennium Copyright Act’s “anti-circumvention” provisions—the Appeals Court held that such cartridges did not in fact violate the DMCA. Lexmark International, Inc. v. Static Control Components, Inc. , 387 F.3d 522 (6th Cir. 2004).}~
 
-The examples go on. I know that the “research exemption” in U.S. patent law is very tightly limited, but I would have laughed if you had told me that even a research university was forbidden from doing research unless that research had no conceivable practical or academic worth—in other words that even in academia, in a project with no commercial goal, the research exemption only covered research that was completely pointless.~{Madey v. Duke Univ. , 307 F.3d 1351 (Fed. Cir. 2003), cert. denied, 539 U.S. 958 (2003).}~ Why have an exemption at all, in that case? I would have told an academic cryptography researcher that he need not fear legal threats from copyright owners simply for researching and publishing work on the vulnerabilities of copy protection schemes.~{“When scientists from Princeton University and Rice University tried to publish their findings [on the vulnerabilities in a copy protection scheme] in April 2001, the recording industry claimed that the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) makes it illegal to discuss or provide technology that might be used to bypass industry controls limiting how consumers can use music they have purchased. ‘Studying digital access technologies and publishing the research for our colleagues are both fundamental to the progress of science and academic freedom,’ stated Princeton scientist Edward Felten. ‘The recording industry’s interpretation of the DMCA would make scientific progress on this important topic illegal.’ . . .<br> “SDMI sponsored the ‘SDMI Public Challenge’ in September 2000, asking Netizens to try to break their favored watermark schemes, designed to control consumer access to digital music. When the scientists’ paper about their successful defeat of the watermarks, including one developed by a company called Verance, was accepted for publication, Matt Oppenheim, an officer of both RIAA and SDMI, sent the Princeton professor a letter threatening legal liability if the scientist published his results.” “EFF Media Release: Princeton Scientists Sue Over Squelched Research,” available at http://w2.eff.org/IP/DMCA/Felten_v_RIAA/20010606_eff_felten_pr.html. After a First Amendment challenge to the relevant provisions of the DMCA, the threats were withdrawn.}~ I would not have thought that one could patent the idea of having an electronic Dutch auction on the Internet, working out the daily prices of a bundle of mutual funds through simple arithmetic, or buying something online with one click.~{See, e.g., Robert P. Merges, “As Many as Six Impossible Patents before Breakfast: Property Rights for Business Concepts and Patent System Reform,” Berkeley Technology Law Journal 14 (1999): 615.}~ I would have assumed that celebrities’ rights to control their images should end with their deaths, and that courts would agree that those rights were tightly limited by the First Amendment. Yet, in each of these cases, I would have been wrong, or at least I might be wrong—enough that a sane person would worry. Not all of the expansive claims eventually triumphed, of course, but some did. Guessing which would and which would not was hard even for me, though, as I said, I teach intellectual property law. You, probably, do not.
+The examples go on. I know that the “research exemption” in U.S. patent law is very tightly limited, but I would have laughed if you had told me that even a research university was forbidden from doing research unless that research had no conceivable practical or academic worth—in other words that even in academia, in a project with no commercial goal, the research exemption only covered research that was completely pointless.~{Madey v. Duke Univ. , 307 F.3d 1351 (Fed. Cir. 2003), cert. denied, 539 U.S. 958 (2003).}~ Why have an exemption at all, in that case? I would have told an academic cryptography researcher that he need not fear legal threats from copyright owners simply for researching and publishing work on the vulnerabilities of copy protection schemes.~{“When scientists from Princeton University and Rice University tried to publish their findings [on the vulnerabilities in a copy protection scheme] in April 2001, the recording industry claimed that the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) makes it illegal to discuss or provide technology that might be used to bypass industry controls limiting how consumers can use music they have purchased. ‘Studying digital access technologies and publishing the research for our colleagues are both fundamental to the progress of science and academic freedom,’ stated Princeton scientist Edward Felten. ‘The recording industry’s interpretation of the DMCA would make scientific progress on this important topic illegal.’ . . . \\ “SDMI sponsored the ‘SDMI Public Challenge’ in September 2000, asking Netizens to try to break their favored watermark schemes, designed to control consumer access to digital music. When the scientists’ paper about their successful defeat of the watermarks, including one developed by a company called Verance, was accepted for publication, Matt Oppenheim, an officer of both RIAA and SDMI, sent the Princeton professor a letter threatening legal liability if the scientist published his results.” “EFF Media Release: Princeton Scientists Sue Over Squelched Research,” available at http://w2.eff.org/IP/DMCA/Felten_v_RIAA/20010606_eff_felten_pr.html. After a First Amendment challenge to the relevant provisions of the DMCA, the threats were withdrawn.}~ I would not have thought that one could patent the idea of having an electronic Dutch auction on the Internet, working out the daily prices of a bundle of mutual funds through simple arithmetic, or buying something online with one click.~{See, e.g., Robert P. Merges, “As Many as Six Impossible Patents before Breakfast: Property Rights for Business Concepts and Patent System Reform,” Berkeley Technology Law Journal 14 (1999): 615.}~ I would have assumed that celebrities’ rights to control their images should end with their deaths, and that courts would agree that those rights were tightly limited by the First Amendment. Yet, in each of these cases, I would have been wrong, or at least I might be wrong—enough that a sane person would worry. Not all of the expansive claims eventually triumphed, of course, but some did. Guessing which would and which would not was hard even for me, though, as I said, I teach intellectual property law. You, probably, do not.
 
 In 1950 none of this would have mattered. Unless you were in some related business—as a publisher, broadcaster, film distributor, or what have you—it would have been hard for you to trigger the rules of intellectual property law. If you were in such a business, you were probably very familiar with the rules that governed your activities and well represented by corporate counsel who knew them even better. What’s more, the rules were neither as complex nor as counterintuitive as they are now. They also did not reach as far. The reach of the rights has been expanded, and their content made more difficult to understand, at the exact moment that their practical effect has been transformed. It is not merely that the triggers of intellectual property law can easily be set off by individual footsteps. There are now many more triggers and their trip wires are harder to see.
 
@@ -1090,7 +1088,7 @@ According to the overwhelming majority of sources, “I Got a Woman” stems fro
 
 _1 Musically, soul denotes styles performed by and for black audiences according to past musical practices reinterpreted and redefined. During its development, three performers played significant roles in shaping its sound, messages, and performance practice: Ray Charles, James Brown, and Aretha Franklin. If one can pinpoint a moment when gospel and blues began to merge into a secular version of gospel song, it was in 1954 when Ray Charles recorded “My Jesus Is All the World to Me,” changing its text to “I Got A Woman.”~{Robert W. Stephens, “Soul: A Historical Reconstruction of Continuity and Change in Black Popular Music,” The Black Perspective in Music 12, no. 1 (Spring 1984): 32.}~
 
-That story is repeated in the biography on Charles’s Web site. “Charles reworded the gospel tune ‘Jesus Is All the World to Me’ adding deep church inflections to the secular rhythms of the nightclubs, and the world was never the same.”~{Forever Ray, available at http://www.raycharles.com/the_man_biography.html. }~ Michael Lydon, Charles’s most impressive biographer, simply reports that “Jesus Is All the World to Me” is described as the song’s origin in another published source,~{Michael Lydon, Ray Charles (New York: Routledge, 2004), 419: “Arnold Shaw, in The Rockin’ 50’s says that ‘I Got a Woman’ is based on Jesus is All the World to Me. Because Renald Richard left Ray’s band before the song was recorded, he was not at first properly credited: some record labels list [Ray Charles] alone as the songwriter. Richard, however, straightened that out with Atlantic, and he has for many years earned a substantial income from his royalties.”}~ and this origin is cited repeatedly elsewhere in books, newspaper articles, and online,~{See Stephens, “Soul,” 32. The standard biographical literature also repeats the same story:<br> In 1954 an historic recording session with Atlantic records fused gospel with rhythm-and-blues and established Charles’ “sweet new style” in American music. One number recorded at that session was destined to become his first great success. Secularizing the gospel hymn “My Jesus Is All the World to Me,” Charles employed the 8- and 16-measure forms of gospel music, in conjunction with the 12-measure form of standard blues. Charles contended that his invention of soul music resulted from the heightening of the intensity of the emotion expressed by jazz through the charging of feeling in the unbridled way of gospel.<br> “Ray Charles,” Encyclopedia of World Biography, 2nd ed., vol. 3 (Detroit, Mich.: Gale Research, 1998), 469. Popular accounts offer the same story:<br> This young, blind, black, gravelly-voiced singer brought together the most engaging aspects of black music into one form and began the process of synthesis that led to soul and, ultimately, funk a decade later. He would turn around gospel standards like “My Jesus Is All the World to Me,” recreating it as “I Got a Woman[.]”<br> Ricky Vincent, Funk: The Music, The People, and the Rhythm of the One (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 1996), 121. See also Joel Hirschhorn, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Songwriting (New York: Alpha Books, 2004), 108: “I Got a Woman was Ray’s rewrite of ‘My Jesus Is All the World to Me.’ ”<br> Charles himself was more equivocal about the origins of the song:<br> So I was lucky. Lucky to have my own band at this point in my career. Lucky to be able to construct my musical building to my exact specifications. And lucky in another way: While I was stomping around New Orleans, I had met a trumpeter named Renolds [sic] Richard who by thus time was in my band. One day he brought me some words to a song. I dressed them up a little and put them to music. The tune was called “I Got a Woman,” and it was another of those spirituals which I refashioned in my own way. I Got a Woman was my first real smash, much bigger than [“]Baby Let Me Hold Your Hand[.]” This spiritual-and-blues combination of mine was starting to hit.<br> Charles and Ritz, Brother Ray, 150.}~ though the most detailed accounts also mention Renald Richard, Charles’s trumpeter, who is credited with co-writing the song.~{See Lydon, Ray Charles, 419.}~
+That story is repeated in the biography on Charles’s Web site. “Charles reworded the gospel tune ‘Jesus Is All the World to Me’ adding deep church inflections to the secular rhythms of the nightclubs, and the world was never the same.”~{Forever Ray, available at http://www.raycharles.com/the_man_biography.html. }~ Michael Lydon, Charles’s most impressive biographer, simply reports that “Jesus Is All the World to Me” is described as the song’s origin in another published source,~{Michael Lydon, Ray Charles (New York: Routledge, 2004), 419: “Arnold Shaw, in The Rockin’ 50’s says that ‘I Got a Woman’ is based on Jesus is All the World to Me. Because Renald Richard left Ray’s band before the song was recorded, he was not at first properly credited: some record labels list [Ray Charles] alone as the songwriter. Richard, however, straightened that out with Atlantic, and he has for many years earned a substantial income from his royalties.”}~ and this origin is cited repeatedly elsewhere in books, newspaper articles, and online,~{See Stephens, “Soul,” 32. The standard biographical literature also repeats the same story: \\ In 1954 an historic recording session with Atlantic records fused gospel with rhythm-and-blues and established Charles’ “sweet new style” in American music. One number recorded at that session was destined to become his first great success. Secularizing the gospel hymn “My Jesus Is All the World to Me,” Charles employed the 8- and 16-measure forms of gospel music, in conjunction with the 12-measure form of standard blues. Charles contended that his invention of soul music resulted from the heightening of the intensity of the emotion expressed by jazz through the charging of feeling in the unbridled way of gospel. \\ “Ray Charles,” Encyclopedia of World Biography, 2nd ed., vol. 3 (Detroit, Mich.: Gale Research, 1998), 469. Popular accounts offer the same story: \\ This young, blind, black, gravelly-voiced singer brought together the most engaging aspects of black music into one form and began the process of synthesis that led to soul and, ultimately, funk a decade later. He would turn around gospel standards like “My Jesus Is All the World to Me,” recreating it as “I Got a Woman[.]” \\ Ricky Vincent, Funk: The Music, The People, and the Rhythm of the One (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 1996), 121. See also Joel Hirschhorn, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Songwriting (New York: Alpha Books, 2004), 108: “I Got a Woman was Ray’s rewrite of ‘My Jesus Is All the World to Me.’ ” \\ Charles himself was more equivocal about the origins of the song: \\ So I was lucky. Lucky to have my own band at this point in my career. Lucky to be able to construct my musical building to my exact specifications. And lucky in another way: While I was stomping around New Orleans, I had met a trumpeter named Renolds [sic] Richard who by thus time was in my band. One day he brought me some words to a song. I dressed them up a little and put them to music. The tune was called “I Got a Woman,” and it was another of those spirituals which I refashioned in my own way. I Got a Woman was my first real smash, much bigger than [“]Baby Let Me Hold Your Hand[.]” This spiritual-and-blues combination of mine was starting to hit. \\ Charles and Ritz, Brother Ray, 150.}~ though the most detailed accounts also mention Renald Richard, Charles’s trumpeter, who is credited with co-writing the song.~{See Lydon, Ray Charles, 419.}~
 
 To secular ears, “Jesus Is All the World to Me” is a plodding piece of music with a mechanical, up-and-down melodic structure. It conjures up a bored (and white) church audience, trudging through the verses, a semitone flat, while thinking about Sunday lunch rather than salvation. It is about as far removed as one could be from the syncopated beat and amorous subject matter of “I Got a Woman.” The hymn was the product of Will Lamartine Thompson—a severe-looking fellow with a faint resemblance to an elderly Doc Holliday—who died in 1909 and is buried in the same place he was born, East Liverpool, Ohio. But the words have an earnestness to them that gives life to the otherwise uninspired verse.
 
@@ -1151,7 +1149,7 @@ This stage of Charles’s career is described, rightly, hy and sensual style tha
 
 The connection is striking: two very recent gospel songs, probably by the same author, from which Charles copies the melody, structure, pattern of verses, even most of the title—in each case substituting a beloved sensual woman for the beloved deity. Many others have noticed just how closely Charles based his songs on gospel tunes, although the prevalence of the story that “I Got a Woman” is derived from an early-twentieth-century hymn caused most to see only the second transposition, not the first.~{“If one can pinpoint a moment when gospel and blues began to merge into a secular version of gospel song, it was in 1954 when Ray Charles recorded ‘My Jesus Is All the World to Me,’ changing its text to ‘I Got A Woman.’ The following year, he changed Clara Ward’s ‘This Little Light of Mine’ to ‘This Little Girl of Mine.’ ” Stephens, “Soul,” 32.}~ Borrowing from a fifty-year-old hymn and changing it substantially in the process seems a little different from the repeated process of “search and replace” musical collage that Charles performed on the contemporary works of Clara Ward.
 
-If I am right, Charles’s “merger” of gospel and blues relied on a very direct process of transposition. The transposition was not just of themes: passion for woman substituted for passion for God. That is a familiar aspect of soul.~{Robert Lashley, “Why Ray Charles Matters,” Blogcritics Magazine, December 17, 2005, http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/12/17/032826.php: <br>But it was the staggering, nearly byzantine ambition that encompassed Charles’ musical mind which is the foundation for his art. You can hear it in his first imprint on the pop music world, 1955’s I Got A Woman. The shuffling big beat borrows from Louis Jordan’s big band fusion, the backbeat is 2/4 gospel. The arrangement is lucid, not quite jazz, not quite blues, definitely not rock and roll but something sophisticated altogether. The emotions are feral, but not quite the primitiveness of rock and roll. It is the sound of life, a place where there is an ever flowing river of cool. It, you might ask? Rhythm and Blues, Ray Charles’ invention.<br> A volcano bubbling under the surface, Ray spent the mid 50’s crafting timeless songs as if there were cars on an assembly[.] Start with the blasphemous fusion of Hallelujah I [L]ove Her So and This Little Girl of Mine, where Ray changes the words from loving god to loving a woman, yet, in the intensity of his performance, raises the question if he’s still loving the same thing.<br> The anonymous encyclopedists at Wikipedia agree:<br> Many of the most prominent soul artists, such as Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, Wilson Pickett and Al Green, had roots in the church and gospel music and brought with them much of the vocal styles of artists such as Clara Ward and Julius Cheeks. Secular songwriters often appropriated gospel songs, such as the Pilgrim Travelers’ song “I’ve Got A New Home,” which Ray Charles turned into “Lonely Avenue,” or “Stand By Me,” which Ben E. King and Lieber and Stoller adapted from a well-known gospel song, or Marvin Gaye’s “Can I Get A Witness,” which reworks traditional gospel catchphrases. In other cases secular musicians did the opposite, attaching phrases and titles from the gospel tradition to secular songs to create soul hits such as “Come See About Me” for the Supremes and “99½ Won’t Do” for Wilson Pickett.<br> “Urban Contemporary Gospel,” Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/urban_contemporary_gospel. }~ It is what allows it to draw so easily from gospel’s fieriness and yet coat the religion with a distinctly more worldly passion. Sex, sin, and syncopation—what more could one ask? But Charles’s genius was to take particular songs that had already proved themselves in the church and on the radio, and to grab large chunks of the melody and structure. He was not just copying themes, or merging genres, he was copying the melodies and words from recent songs.
+If I am right, Charles’s “merger” of gospel and blues relied on a very direct process of transposition. The transposition was not just of themes: passion for woman substituted for passion for God. That is a familiar aspect of soul.~{Robert Lashley, “Why Ray Charles Matters,” Blogcritics Magazine, December 17, 2005, http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/12/17/032826.php: \\ But it was the staggering, nearly byzantine ambition that encompassed Charles’ musical mind which is the foundation for his art. You can hear it in his first imprint on the pop music world, 1955’s I Got A Woman. The shuffling big beat borrows from Louis Jordan’s big band fusion, the backbeat is 2/4 gospel. The arrangement is lucid, not quite jazz, not quite blues, definitely not rock and roll but something sophisticated altogether. The emotions are feral, but not quite the primitiveness of rock and roll. It is the sound of life, a place where there is an ever flowing river of cool. It, you might ask? Rhythm and Blues, Ray Charles’ invention. \\ A volcano bubbling under the surface, Ray spent the mid 50’s crafting timeless songs as if there were cars on an assembly[.] Start with the blasphemous fusion of Hallelujah I [L]ove Her So and This Little Girl of Mine, where Ray changes the words from loving god to loving a woman, yet, in the intensity of his performance, raises the question if he’s still loving the same thing. \\ The anonymous encyclopedists at Wikipedia agree: \\ Many of the most prominent soul artists, such as Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, Wilson Pickett and Al Green, had roots in the church and gospel music and brought with them much of the vocal styles of artists such as Clara Ward and Julius Cheeks. Secular songwriters often appropriated gospel songs, such as the Pilgrim Travelers’ song “I’ve Got A New Home,” which Ray Charles turned into “Lonely Avenue,” or “Stand By Me,” which Ben E. King and Lieber and Stoller adapted from a well-known gospel song, or Marvin Gaye’s “Can I Get A Witness,” which reworks traditional gospel catchphrases. In other cases secular musicians did the opposite, attaching phrases and titles from the gospel tradition to secular songs to create soul hits such as “Come See About Me” for the Supremes and “99½ Won’t Do” for Wilson Pickett. \\ “Urban Contemporary Gospel,” Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/urban_contemporary_gospel. }~ It is what allows it to draw so easily from gospel’s fieriness and yet coat the religion with a distinctly more worldly passion. Sex, sin, and syncopation—what more could one ask? But Charles’s genius was to take particular songs that had already proved themselves in the church and on the radio, and to grab large chunks of the melody and structure. He was not just copying themes, or merging genres, he was copying the melodies and words from recent songs.
 
 Was this mere musical plagiarism, then? Should we think less of Ray Charles’s genius because we find just how closely two of the canonical songs in the creation of soul were based on the work of his contemporaries? Hardly. “I Got a Woman” and “This Little Girl of Mine” are simply brilliant. Charles does in fact span the worlds of the nightclub at 3 a.m. on Sunday morning and the church later that day, of ecstatic testimony and good old-fashioned sexual infatuation. But the way he does so is a lot more like welding, or bricolage, than it is like designing out of nothing or creating anew while distantly tugged by mysterious musical forces called “themes” or “genres.” Charles takes bits that have been proven to work and combines them to make something new. When I tell engineers or software engineers this story, they nod. Of course that is how creation works. One does not reinvent the wheel, or the method of debugging, so why should one reinvent the hook, the riff, or the melody? And yet Charles’s creation does not have the degraded artistic quality that is associated with “mere” cut-and-paste or collage techniques. The combination is greater than the sum of its parts. If Charles’s songs do not fit our model of innovative artistic creativity, perhaps we need to revise the model—at least for music—rather than devaluing his work.