Owning Culture
As books follow music and video onto the internet, Dylan Horrocks warns
that the law may end up stealing the rights of both writers and readers
A spectre is haunting the
world of publishers and authors –
the spectre of the ebook. The iPad,
Kindle, Google Book Search,
digital piracy – if the prophets of
doom are to be believed, these
new technological developments
herald the imminent death of
all we hold dear: books, writing
and civilisation itself. In reality,
of course, we simply don’t know
what these new technologies will
mean in the long run. Perhaps it’s
that very uncertainty that has us
so worried. Some of us are already
mourning the smell of paper,
the spidery cracks along an old
book’s spine, dog-eared pages and
marginal notes.
copyright protect creators and
artists – or can it also be used to
disenfranchise and exploit us? Is it
correct to say someone can ‘own’
a story, an image or an idea? And
what does that do to the culture in
which we all live?
The birth of Superman
Growing up obsessed with
comics, I learned from an early
age that copyright was important.
That strange little ‘c’ in a circle was
prominently displayed on many of
my favourite comics, and I soon
understood it somehow stood for
ownership – like the flag waving
over government buildings. As
I grew older, however, I noticed
Siegel and Shuster lived in poverty
and bitterness as Superman went on
to make DC many billions of dollars
But perhaps the greatest fear
for many editors and authors is
the ease with which digital books
can be copied. We’ve all heard
plenty of horror stories about how
the music and film industries have
been affected by illegal download-ing. Are we about to become the
internet’s next victim? Terrified at
the thought of bankrupt publishers
and dwindling royalties, many of
us are turning to the only weapon
we have in the fight against pirates
and thieves: copyright. Urged on
by those seasoned copyright warriors, the music and film industry
lobbyists, authors are wondering
whether copyright laws shouldn’t
be rewritten for the digital age –
strengthening and extending our
ownership rights, criminalising
infringement and handing out
ever harsher penalties.
Before we jump on the Hol-
lywood lobbyists’ bandwagon,
however, let’s take a moment to
think about how copyright affects
writers and readers. Is ‘intellectual
property’ the best way to describe
our relationship to our work? Does
something odd about those
copyright notices. Many weren’t
in the name of the cartoonist or
author, but instead named a
newspaper syndicate, a publisher
or even a mysterious corporate
‘owner’ such as Disney or Warner
Bros. It became clear that these
ownership flags could be a mark of
conquest, planted by an occupying
power. When I finally heard the
true story of Superman, I began to
understand why.
But there’s another side to the
Superman story, which reveals another equally destructive aspect of
copyright. Superman’s popularity
led to a boom in ‘superhero’ comics, with dozens of new characters
introduced by every publisher
in the business. One in particular, the red-costumed Captain
Marvel (created by C C Beck and
Bill Parker for Fawcett Comics),
became so popular it eventually
overtook even Superman in sales.
Captain Marvel was witty and
clever, with distinctive and playful
art, and helped push the young
American comics industry to new
heights of quality and sophistication. But National, searching for a
way to crush its biggest competitor, sued Fawcett for copyright
infringement.
The case dragged on for years
before Fawcett finally gave up, settling out of court and promising
to shut down the Captain Marvel
line. Many comics fans remember the end of Captain Marvel as
the day their favourite hero was
finally slain – not by alien invaders
or supernatural powers – but by
copyright lawyers. Looking back
today, National’s lawsuit looks
weak indeed. But in the battle
between Superman and Captain
Marvel, the better comic lost.
Mickey and the pirates
Superman wasn’t the only cartoon
character to be fought over in
court. Another landmark case
took place in the 1970s, when
underground cartoonists Dan
O’Neill, Bobby London, Gary
Hallgren, Shary Flenniken and
Ted Richards wrote and drew
Air Pirates Funnies, a series of
comics starring none other than
Mickey and Minnie Mouse, with
plenty of sex, drugs and subversive
politics. The Air Pirates served
as a commentary on the sanitised
corporate dominance of our culture.
Naturally, Disney sued for copyright
infringement (and won), much to
O’Neill’s glee. The courtroom battle
soon turned into political theatre.
Some of Disney’s own cartoonists
