UlasanAnime.com – The discussion around copyright infringement, particularly concerning fan-created content like fansubs and fan art, often gets bogged down in legalistic arguments. However, the core issue at stake is the broader concept of legitimizing fandom itself. This isn’t just about the economics of fansubbing or the legality of creating derivative works; it’s about how fans express their passion and how this expression interacts with the creators and industries they admire.
The current legal framework, designed for a different era, often places fans in an adversarial position with publishers and creators. This creates a divide that hinders collaboration and overlooks the potential benefits that a recognized and legitimized fandom can bring. The author argues that instead of viewing fan activities solely through the lens of infringement, there’s a need to explore avenues that allow these activities to coexist, and even thrive, within a legal and ethical framework.
Consider the act of cosplay. Fans spend considerable time and money creating costumes that resemble their favorite characters. While this is often seen as a harmless and even beneficial aspect of conventions, it technically involves the unauthorized use of intellectual property. A lawyer might argue that fans should license the right to create such costumes or purchase them from official vendors. This highlights the pervasive nature of copyright concerns, extending even to activities that are widely accepted and celebrated within the fan community.
The author points out that the current situation, where fans are protected from legal action primarily by their poverty and the prohibitive cost of lawsuits, is unsustainable and counterproductive. This legal barrier prevents a natural collaboration between fans and publishers, even when both parties might benefit from it. The debates surrounding doujinshi culture at events like Comiket, and legal actions taken by companies like Blizzard and Sony against fan creations, are symptomatic of this larger problem.
This isn’t about advocating for a free-for-all where intellectual property is disregarded. Instead, it’s about recognizing that the existing system is failing to adapt to the evolving landscape of fan engagement. The author draws a parallel to open-source coding, where collaborative efforts and public domain principles have fostered innovation. The current approach, often framed as “supporting the artists,” can become a moral and ethical quagmire, especially when the value of the art itself is overshadowed by the transactional aspects of IP ownership.
The central argument is that the focus should shift from “supporting the artists” to “supporting the arts.” This subtle but significant change in perspective acknowledges that the ultimate beneficiaries are the art forms themselves, which in turn can indirectly support the creators. By valuing the art, fans can assert their identity through their commercial choices, demonstrating genuine appreciation for the works they love.
This perspective also underscores the intrinsic value of intellectual property. IP is not a mere commodity like a mass-produced item; it is an expression of creativity. The failure to treat it as such, by both fans and the industry, is a lingering consequence of industrial-era thinking that hinders progress in the 21st century.
Legitimizing fandom also means acknowledging the natural human desire to share what delights us and to create derivative works. History shows that many successful creative ventures, including anime companies in North America, originated from fans who sought to legitimize their passion. This drive to create and share is fundamental to human expression and should not be outlawed.
Furthermore, the author emphasizes the importance of collaboration between fans and companies. People are willing to pay for anime and other media, but the current systems for extracting this payment are often inefficient and can stifle creativity. A rational dialogue between publishers and consumers is crucial to developing better models for this exchange. Initiatives like AoDVD are steps in the right direction, but the conversation needs to extend beyond such platforms.
Legitimizing fandom also serves to legitimize creators. It bridges the gap between those who create and those who appreciate their work. The author cites the example of the dispute between J.K. Rowling and the creators of the Harry Potter Lexicon, illustrating how current copyright laws can create friction even when fan contributions are invaluable. While such disputes might be less common in the US anime industry due to the financial standing of most anime companies, the underlying issue remains.
In essence, the path forward involves a confrontation between fans and companies, rooted in a shared love for the artistic works. The legal framework should not be solely focused on financial gains but on fostering the enterprise of artistic creation. Rights and entitlements must come with responsibility, and laws should encourage practices that are flexible rather than rigid. It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition; limited rights can still allow for successful business models.
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The author concludes by advocating for a form of “fight” that is not about aggression but about a death of self in service of love for others. This fight is against complacency, greed, and the past’s grip on the future. It’s about making conscious choices with one’s money, as “where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.” The silent majority who choose not to spend money also play a role. As fans, there’s an obligation to share their passion, which serves as a barometer for the health of the industry.
The author reflects on the legal implications of copyright, noting that it’s “a little more than LOL copyright.” This is a personal reflection, almost a commentary on their own previous writings. They express gratitude to other bloggers and publications for furthering the conversation, which has helped them realize the viability of dealing with issues like fansubbing outside the strict confines of the law.
While acknowledging that a complete legitimization of fandom might be a distant dream, the author sees it as a crucial starting point. The core idea is to legitimize “fandom” in its entirety, not just specific practices like fansubbing. The author clarifies that the post is not solely about the economics of these activities but about the broader lifestyle and future of how people engage with creative content.
An example is given with the popular manga and anime creators CLAMP. The author describes a hypothetical scenario involving a CLAMP-loving, cosplaying teenager. This scenario is presented as a relatively benign example of what could be considered copyright infringement. It doesn’t involve explicit content, doesn’t necessarily tarnish CLAMP’s intellectual property, and crucially, doesn’t cause financial loss. Moreover, cosplay is a widely accepted and celebrated practice, even in commercial venues, often enhancing the atmosphere of conventions and providing great photo opportunities.
The question is then posed: is casual, fan cosplay considered fair use? While it’s non-commercial and transformative, it involves copying entire elements and could potentially conflict with commercial practices by rights holders. The author highlights the legal reality: a lawyer could argue that fans cannot legally create costumes resembling these characters without proper licensing or purchasing from authorized vendors. This is presented as the unfortunate state of affairs.
While an individual might not face legal repercussions due to the lack of incentive for copyright owners to pursue them, the situation changes when fans aim to scale up their activities. Starting a cosplay cafe, selling doujinshi, creating monetized AMV collective websites, or forming fansub/scanlation organizations all fall under copyright infringement, with weak fair use defenses at best. The author notes that fans are currently protected by their financial limitations and the prohibitive costs of legal action.
However, the underlying issue remains: copyright law itself acts as a barrier to collaboration between fans and the publishers who depend on them. This legal divide is particularly evident in the context of Comiket and doujinshi culture, but the problem is widespread. The author recalls instances where authors and entities like Blizzard and Sony have taken legal action against fan uses of their intellectual property.
The author contrasts this with collaborative enterprises like open-source coding, where public domain strength challenges monopolies. The current situation is not merely about restoring balance or fighting against perceived exploitation in the name of “supporting the artists.” Even when considering potentially problematic fan-created content, the author questions whether the industry or any organization has addressed the low pay of animators in Japan, Korea, China, or Vietnam. The industry, it seems, has other pressing issues, and fans, by extension, are often indifferent.
The core message is reiterated: It’s about legitimizing fandom. This is framed as an issue of free speech, not free access to content without cost. The latter is seen as a byproduct that will persist. The author critiques the “They Might Be Pirates” mentality of some media companies, questioning its rationality and effectiveness in expanding revenue. They pose a rhetorical question about the feasibility of combating such “piracy” and the potential cost of maintaining a rigid “pristine world order.” A more cost-effective alternative is proposed: legalization.
The first step towards legitimizing fandom, according to the author, is for fans to “be legit.” This involves making a statement about their identity and their engagement with the media they love. For most, this translates to purchasing anime and merchandise they genuinely like, asserting their identity through commercial impact like any good capitalist. Despite personal reservations about the design quality and value of certain premium releases, the author buys them because they are personally appealing.
The author emphasizes that the motivation for purchasing should be genuine appreciation for the product, not solely to “support the artist.” They express skepticism about the value of certain artists and suggest that direct donations might be more effective than supporting them through third-party channels that take substantial cuts. This leads to a critical question about the artists working for publishers: what does it say about them if the system relies on a “support” model that can become a moral and ethical quagmire? The fundamental principle of charging for intellectual property is that IP and services have intrinsic value.
This intrinsic value is presented as the crux of the copyright debate. Fans must value the content they enjoy; if they don’t, they cannot expect publishers and creators to value their work. Conversely, the middleman must value creators’ work beyond mere business as usual. The author critiques the common misconception that people should be compensated for their labor regardless of the product’s quality. Even if a “crappy product” is consumed similarly to a high-quality one, it doesn’t inherently deserve payment. Intellectual property is not a fungible commodity like soap or iPods. The failure to treat IP as IP is a significant impediment to progress, a sin committed by both fans and the industry.
This objectification of artistic expression is likened to the objectification of women.
The author proposes a shift in language: “support the arts” instead of “support the artists.” This resonates more with the average consumer who is more familiar with the art itself than its production or financing. Ultimately, supporting the arts is seen as a more truthful reflection of how things work and will indirectly support the artists.
Adopting the “support the arts” perspective opens up a different world and underscores the importance of legitimizing fandom. Fans naturally want to share what delights them and create derivative works. Historically, this has been the genesis of many creative industries, including anime companies in North America. This process of creation and derivation is a fundamental aspect of human history and artistic evolution.
It’s also about working together, too. The author asserts that people are willing to pay for anime and mass media in general. The challenge lies in efficiently extracting this money and directing it to the creators without stifling creativity. Fans, the author believes, are willing to collaborate with companies to explore new options for this exchange. The extremes are presented: either forceful acquisition of payment or entirely free content with donations. A rational dialogue between publishers and consumers is deemed essential, requiring active listening from both sides.
This ongoing dialogue, it is argued, will help identify what works for both fans and businesses. Platforms like AoDVD are seen as valuable, but the effort should not stop there. Other tools are available and should be utilized.
The author points out that many creators and animators are fans themselves, making the legitimization of fandom inherently beneficial for creators as well. This is seen as a necessary step to reduce the distance between creators and those who appreciate their work. The dispute between J.K. Rowling’s plans for an official Harry Potter encyclopedia and the fan-made Harry Potter Lexicon is cited as an example of how the current copyright industry clashes with the shrinking distance between fandom and creators, encroaching on the territory of intermediaries.
While acknowledging that such issues might be less likely in the US anime industry due to the financial constraints of most anime companies, the author warns that it’s not impossible. The hypothetical scenario of Nausicaa.net being shut down by Disney for publishing a book on Studio Ghibli illustrates this potential risk.
In summary, the author believes that fans and companies can effectively address issues like fansubbing and doujinshi by confronting each other honestly and with mutual affection, recognizing their shared passion for the content. The legal barriers protecting licensees often obstruct this process when they are focused solely on financial gains rather than the artistic enterprise. This places fans on the defensive and companies in the role of oppressors, when in reality, both might be struggling.
Fans may have the freedom to express themselves, but corporate executives are constrained by existing laws. The author clarifies that this is not an argument for discarding rights but for recognizing that rights and entitlements come with responsibilities. Laws should encourage industry practices that are adaptable, not rigid. It’s not an all-or-nothing situation; limited rights can still support business models for selling merchandise and DVDs. The author questions the utility of holding onto exclusive rights if they cannot be effectively leveraged.
The concluding advice is to “fight for your rights,” but not through aggression. In a Christian context, this fight begins with self-denial in service of love for others. It’s a struggle against complacency, greed, and the forces that hinder progress. This fight is only violent in love. The author emphasizes that voting with one’s money speaks louder than words, referencing a biblical principle. Even louder is the silent majority who choose not to spend money. However, as fans, there is an obligation to advocate for what they are passionate about, as this is part of their role. The author uses the example of “Momotato” and his reduced posting frequency as a barometer for the industry’s health. This serves as a concluding, albeit non-sequitur, thought for the lengthy post.
