Medium Messages

A new Bill has been introduced to the New Zealand Parliament. It is called the Legislation Bill. It is meant to be the “one-stop shop” for the law relating to legislation. It is described in a New Zealand Law Society posting as “one legislation bill to bind them all”.

The Bill has some very good proposals. One relates to secondary legislation.  It will  give New Zealand a single, official, public source of legislation, excluding only legislation made by local authorities.

Over 100 agencies are empowered to make secondary legislation on a wide range of matters such as food standards and financial reporting standards. There is no single source for the legislative instruments, many of which are published on agency websites or in gazette notices. The Bill will make it easier to find and access secondary legislation by requiring it to be published on the New Zealand Legislation website alongside Acts of Parliament. This is an excellent move. It will enhance easy access to legal information.

In addition the Bill proposes to replace the Interpretation Act 1999. One of the terms that the Interpretation Act defined was “writing”. That definition reads as follows:

writing means representing or reproducing words, figures, or symbols in a visible and tangible form and medium (for example, in print).

Now that may have been excusable in legislation enacted in 1999 but in fact that definition was placed in the Interpretation Act in 2003 by section 38 of The Electronic Transactions Act 2002. When I saw that the Interpretation Act was being repealed and updated in the Legislation Bill I thought that we had a chance to see an updated medium neutral definition of writing.

But lo – here is the “new” definition which reads as follows

writing means representing or reproducing words, figures, or symbols in a visible and tangible form and medium (for example, in print)

No change at all. So why is this a problem? Simply that it does not reflect the reality of written material in the Digital Paradigm. It holds to the old association of the message (in written form) with the medium (paper) hence the exemplification “in print”.

I have no difficulty with the suggestion that writing is a representation of words, figures or symbols. It is simply a means of encoding and preserving the ephemerality that is oral language or orally based concepts. And of course, writing has to be visible.

But does it have to be tangible?

This is where we run into a problem – one that the law seems to have difficulty understanding in the electronic age. The issue of tangibility has nothing to do with the message. It has everything to do with the medium. The inextricable and historical association of the medium with the message is perpetuated in the requirement that the message be tangible.

This overlooks (or ignores) the reality of information in the digital paradigm. This is what I have said elsewhere ( see Collisions in the Digital Paradigm: Law and Rulemaking in the Internet Age) on the topic:

Electronic data is quite different to its pre-digital counterpart.  Some of those differences may be helpful to users of information.  Electronic information may be easily copied and searched but it must be remembered that electronic documents also pose some challenges.  Electronic data is dynamic and volatile.  It is often difficult to ensure that it has been captured and retained in such a way as to ensure its integrity.  Unintentional modifications may be made simply by opening and reading data.  Although the information that appears on the screen may not have been altered, some of the vital metadata which traces the history of the file – and which can often be incredibly helpful in determining its provenance and may be of assistance in determining a chronology of the events, and when a party knew what they knew, – may have been changed.  To understand the difficulty that the digital paradigm poses for our conception of data it is necessary to consider the technological implications of storing information in the digital space.  It is factually and paradigmatically far removed from information recorded on a medium such as paper.

If we consider data as information written on a piece of paper it is quite easy for a reader to obtain access to that information long after it was created.  The only thing necessary is good eyesight and an understanding of the language in which the document is written.  It is “information” in that it is comprehensible. It is the content that informs.  Electronic data in and of itself does not do that.  It is incoherent and incomprehensible, scattered across the sectors of the electronic medium upon which it is contained.  In that state it is not information in that it does not and cannot inform.

Data in electronic format, as distinct from writing on paper, is dependent upon hardware and software.  The data contained on a medium such as a hard drive requires an interpreter to render it into human readable format.  The interpreter is a combination of hardware and software.  Unlike the paper document the reader cannot create or manipulate electronic data into readable form without the proper equipment in the form of computers.

There is a danger in thinking of electronic data as an object “somewhere there” on a computer in the same way as a hard copy book is in the library.  Because of the way in which electronic storage media are constructed it is almost impossible for a complete file of electronic information to be stored in consecutive sectors of the medium.  Data on an electronic medium lacks the linear contiguity of a page of text or a celluloid film. An electronic file is better understood as a process by which otherwise unintelligible pieces of data are distributed over a storage medium, assembled, processed and rendered legible for a human reader or user.  In this respect “the information” or “file” as a single entity is in fact nowhere.  It does not exist independently from the process that recreates it every time a user opens it on a screen.

Computers are useless unless the associated software is loaded onto the hardware.  Both hardware and software produce additional evidence that includes, but is not limited to, information such as metadata and computer logs that may be relevant to any given file or document in electronic format.

This involvement of technology makes electronic information paradigmatically different from traditional information where the message and the medium are one.  It is this mediation of a set of technologies that enables data in electronic format – at is simplest, positive and negative electromagnetic impulses recorded on a medium – to be recorded into human readable form.  This gives rise to other differentiation issues such as whether or not there is a definitive representation of a particular source digital object.  Much will depend, for example, upon the word processing programme or internet browser used.

The necessity of this form of mediation for information acquisition in communication explains the apparent fascination that people have with devices such as Smartphone’s and tablets.  These devices are necessary to “decode” information and allow for its communication and comprehension.  Thus, the subtext to the description of electronically stored footage which seems to suggest a coherence of data similar to that contained on a piece of paper cannot be sustained.

So why not forget about tangibility and this medium focussed approach to information. Interestingly enough a solution is proposed in the definition in the Bill which contains the following parenthetical remark

(but see Part 4 of the Contract and Commercial Law Act 2017, which provides for meeting written requirements by electronic means)

So what does that say. Simply this

A legal requirement that information be in writing is met by information that is in electronic form if the information is readily accessible so as to be usable for subsequent reference.

Not quite a solution, but getting there. It focusses upon two important concepts that underly any information in writing. First – it must be accessible. Second, there is the concept of utility.

So perhaps a 21st Century medium neutral definition of writing should go something like this

Writing means representing or reproducing words, figures, or symbols in a visible form and in such a format as to be readily accessible and usable for subsequent reference.

There is no need for tangibility. We have moved on from the inextricable message\medium association. But many lawyers and lawmakers seem to be unaware of the unique and paradigmatically different qualities surrounding information in the Digital Paradigm.

 

 

Imitating Paper

The Electronic Courts and Tribunals Act 2016

The purpose of the Electronic Courts and Tribunals Act 2016 is to enable and govern the use of electronic technology in court and tribunal proceedings. It is overarching. All paper based processes in existing courts and tribunals may be interpreted as allowing electronic processes.
The Electronic Courts and Tribunals Act is posited upon the concept of functional equivalence – a theory which gives legal recognition to recording systems and their validation in a format other than paper. The Act in many respects reflects the principles that appear in the Electronic Transactions Act 2002 which did not apply to the Court system.
A central focus of the legislation is upon what is called a permitted document. The term “permitted document” means a document, including its associated process, in electronic form that is made by, or for use in, a court or tribunal. The purpose of the legislation is to facilitate the use of permitted documents in court and tribunal proceedings and allow existing references in enactments to documents to include permitted documents.
Not all documents are permitted documents and the legislation at section 4(2) lists those that do not qualify. These are:

(a) a document given on oath or by affirmation:
(b) a statutory declaration:
(c) a will, a codicil, or any other testamentary instrument:
(d) a power of attorney or an enduring power of attorney:
(e) a negotiable instrument:
(f) any notice required to be attached to any thing or left or displayed in any place:
(g) any warrant or other instrument authorising entry into premises or the search or seizure of any person or thing:
(h) any other document specified by the Governor-General by Order in Council made on the recommendation of the Minister:
(i) an item specified in any of paragraphs (a) to (h) that is required to be served by personal service.

The legislation effectively recognises that verification and authenticity of information contained in these classes of documents may only be provided by a tangible paper-based medium.
The Act does not mandate the use of electronic documents, although certain classes of persons yet to be defined in regulations may be required to use them.
The use of permitted documents requires the consent of the person using them although consent can be inferred from conduct. A person may not be compelled nor directed to use permitted documents. Thus, unless a person consents to the use of permitted documents it is paper by default.
Where there are requirements for information to be recorded, be in or be given in writing that information may be in a permitted document as long as it is readily accessible and useable for subsequent reference. This means that an electronic document must be accessible in the sense that it is not in archived or backup format and can be accessed presumably in native file format.
The legislation does recognise the dynamic nature of digital information and the reality that multiple copies may be made of a digital document that are identical to the “first” or source copy.
Where there is a requirement that multiple copies of information are to be provided, that requirement is met by providing a single electronic version of a permitted document and a requirement to provide information in a manner that complies with a paper based form met by permitted document if information is readily accessible and usable for subsequent reference.
Authentication and signature requirements provide a challenge for those used to verification of a document or its contents by a physical kinetic act such as affixing a seal or sign manual. How is that accomplished in a digital context?
Signature requirements for permitted documents are addressed in section 16 of the Electronic Courts and Tribunals Act 2016. An “electronic signature” or verification must adequately indicate the approval of the information and must be “as reliable as is appropriate given the purpose for which, and the circumstances in which, the signature is required.”
Importantly, electronic verification of a document is subject to an exception when one is witnessing a document. Witnessing requirements in a permitted document are met by an “electronic signature” if

a) The e-signature complies with the requirements of section 16
b) The e-signature adequately identifies the witness and indicates that the signature or seal has been witnessed
c) The e-signature is “as reliable as is appropriate given the purpose for which, and the circumstances in which, the signature is required.”

If a permitted document requires a seal, that requirement may be met by an electronic seal if

a) The seal adequately identifies the party attaching it and
b) “is as reliable as is appropriate given the purpose for which, and the circumstances in which, the seal is required.”

The language echoes that dealing with electronic signatures. It is to be noted that the requirements for electronic signatures and seals refer to the issue of reliability. Section 19 of the Act sets out certain presumptions as to reliability and an electronic signature is presumed to be reliable if:

(a) the means of creating the electronic signature is linked to the signatory and to no other person; and
(b) the means of creating the electronic signature was under the control of the signatory and of no other person; and
(c) any alteration to the electronic signature made after the time of signing is detectable; and
(d) where the purpose of the legal requirement for a signature is to provide assurance as to the integrity of the information to which it relates, any alteration made to that information after the time of signing is detectable.

However, any other way of establishing reliability is not excluded and may be used.
The Act also sets out rules for the retention of permitted documents , for the dispatch and receipt of permitted documents. These provisions duplicate the provisions of the Electronic Transactions Act 2002. The filing requirements dispense with the requirement that a document be filed in a particular office of the Court and allow for the filing of a permitted document at any place specified in the regulations. In addition the place for filing may be physical or electronic and may be centralised or located within the jurisdiction of the Court or Tribunal.
Some important observations need to be made.

1. Although the Act has commenced it is not operative. Section 6 requires the Governor General by Order in Council made on the recommendation of the Minister to specify the Courts, tribunals or particular jurisdictions of Courts and Tribunals to which the Act applies. As matters stand, no such Order has been made. Once proper systems are in place to handle electronic filing the necessary orders will be made.

2. Will the Act significantly change Court processes. Except for the changes to place of filing rules, things will largely remain the same. This is because the legislation is imitative of existing processes. Imitative use of technology preserves existing processes and procedures but allows the same objectives to be achieved by electronic means. On the other hand the innovative use of technology allows for the introduction of disruptive and different procedures and processes enabled by the new technologies which ultimately result in a transformative and improved outcome.

3. Thus the legislation maintains the model of the paper based court system and adds a limited form of digital communications in the form of permitted documents – an electronic equivalent of paper.

If it was the intention of the Legislature to maintain the model of the paper based court system and add a limited form of digital communications in the form of permitted documents, the Electronic Courts and Tribunals Act has succeeded. But in reality the Act neither lives up to its name nor its promise. It does not, as its name might suggest, create or enable fully electronic courts or tribunals. All it allows is an electronic equivalent for paper. All the legislation does is to imitate paper.

All Data is Created Equal

 

I must acknowledge the assistance I have received from an excellent unpublished dissertation by Reuel Baptista whose insights into and examinations of potential regulatory outcomes for Net Neutrality are worthy of consideration.

Net Neutrality is an emotive subject for many who are involved in the workings of the Internet and the provision of Internet services and access. It essentially asserts that the transport layer of the Internet – the means by which data moves across the Internet – should be non-discriminatory as to content and treat all data packets equally regardless of nature or origin.

It is a concept that has been developed primarily by Internet engineers but since the Internet went public in the 1990’s it is a concept that has been the subject of challenge, primarily from commercial entities. There are examples, particularly from the US, of data discrimination and preferential treatment of data in certain circumstances.

The location of the concept of Net Neutrality in Internet legal theory has been generally considered as a governance issue  and so it is. Yet despite opportunities to review or address issues of Net neutrality, in the Government’s recent consultation paper on the shape of the delivery of Telecommunications services post 2019 no mention was made of Net Neutrality.

This state of affairs was also referred to by the Commerce Commission in its determination of the application for merger between Sky and Vodafone where it said at para 90:

Unlike in a number of other jurisdictions, New Zealand does not have any specific laws requiring TSPs to treat all internet traffic equally (known as ‘net neutrality’). This means that TSPs can discriminate between different types of traffic,either by:

90.1 not carrying certain types of content; or

90.2 limiting the speed at which certain content is carried (known as ‘throttling’), which impacts the quality of the content.

Despite this for New Zealand providers Net Neutrality is not really as issue – at least not yet.  This doesn’t mean that it won’t become an issue some way down the track and the concern must be, when ISPs start discriminating between content and allocating preferential bandwidth, that by then it will be too late to do anything about it.

But the reality is that there is more to Net Neutrality than treating data equally. It helps address the negative effects of discriminatory practices such as blocking, paid prioritization and zero rating. Competition within the fixed line broadband and content markets, recognition of human rights and a country’s standing in the online economy are all affected by network neutrality. The tension is that there is a need to prevent big or monolithic ISPs from abusing their power but allow them to optimise the Internet for subsequent waves of innovation and efficiency. Other counties have had this debate and have introduced network neutrality into their telecommunications regulatory framework.

It is therefore interesting to read Juha Saarinen’s piece in this morning’s Herald where he suggests that net neutrality no longer matters. He locates his discussion against a background of developing content delivery systems which use geography to enhance speedy delivery. He points out that big services providers can afford to put data centres near customers and cache content there. Others use content delivery networks such as Akamai, Amazon Web Service, and Cloudflare that sit between the customer and the service provider. This, he says, violates Net Neutrality as it makes some sites seem to perform better than others.

With respect, I disagree. That argument is not based on the non-discriminatory treatment of data packets across the Internet but rather is based upon geography and location of data.

Saarinen goes on to dismiss Net Neutrality as an important idea a few years ago but today “we’re probably better off expending our energy elsewhere, like how to keep a diverse and competitive internet provider and Telco market alive in New Zealand.”

So does Saarinen suggest that we kick Net Neutrality to the kerb?

The reality is that in fact, as I have already suggested, it is an essential part of the regulatory and governance processes necessary to ensure a competitive internet provider and Telco market. Net neutrality is an integral part of that activity.

With the Telecommunications Act review in progress, this is the right time for New Zealand to formally adopt network neutrality as part of our telecommunications regulatory framework. Susan Chalmers said in 2015 at a Law Conference

“The thicket of commercial agreements between content and applications providers and ISPs must not be allowed to develop to such an extent that there will be no political will left to clear a path for [network] neutrality.”

The rapid pace of change in the online world means there may not be another opportunity to discuss network neutrality regulation for some time.

Lawyers and Judges in the Online Court

This post is very much a random “on-the-fly” collection of thoughts about the way in which lawyers and Judges may have to change their working methods on the Online Solutions Court environment. It does not offer a nuanced fully developed systematic set of proposals or thoughts but rather an informal stroll through possible outcomes. It could form the basis for a more formalised study at a later time.

 

The technologically driven transformation of the civil process proposed by Professor Richard Susskind and Lord Justice Sir Michael Briggs are going to require some re-alignment of ways of working by both lawyers and judges.

The English Online Solutions Court proposals have developed in part to answer problems experienced by citizens who may have a legal claim which they wish to have addressed but for who the costs and complexity of the legal and court process present a barrier.

The Susskind\Briggs proposals envision the provision of processes which will allow citizens to directly access information about their potential claims, receive machine based recommendations as to the steps that may or may not be available and offer some suggestions as to probability of success or otherwise. From there the citizen may commence proceedings using online processes and step through the evaluation, dispute containment and hearing tiers as set out in the discussion documents that have developed the thinking behind the online solutions court.

Although the prospective litigant does not have to seek legal advice, the involvement of lawyers in not excluded from the process.

Perhaps the first major cultural shift will be to change from the adversarial stance that characterises litigation to a more problem solving focus. The emphasis of the Online Solutions Court is to find a solution to a problem and the larger part of the resource and process is dedicated to that end. The hearing before a decision maker, where the parties delegate the outcome to a Judge is the least acceptable outcome. Although the Fisher and Ury “Getting to Yes” model is well embedded in problem solving thinking, this type of approach is going to have to be one of the major shifts in emphasis for lawyers.

The Online Solutions Court models as proposed by Susskind/Briggs shifts the emphasis from lawyer control of the process of litigation to client or litigant control. The model also envisages a complete change of focus for the process, the objective being a solution or resolution rather than getting the case before a decision maker (Judge) to determine the matter. Thus if and when lawyers are involved in a matter in the Online Solutions Court they will not drive or direct what is happening. This relinquishment of control (subject to client’s instructions) means that the dispute is not lawyer driven. Letting go of that mind set will be significant.

Rather the involvement of the lawyer may well be on an “as needed” basis. For the first phase – case evaluation – the lawyer’s role will be minimal. Online evaluation, predictive analytics and other AI tool will provide that initial “advice” and potential outcomes. A lawyer may be asked for a second opinion, but as the term suggests, lawyer involvement will be secondary to the litigant controlled matter.

In this respect, given that the litigant interaction with the OSC will have been through an online process, any lawyer involvement may be accessed by the litigant\client remotely as well. This model of ”on demand” lawyering is not new. Models exist in BLP’s Lawyers on Demand (LOD) Evershed’s Agile and Allen & Overy’s Peerpoint. In New Zealand the McCarthy service offered by Minter Ellison Rudd Watts is another example.

Although the examples given are offerings by large law firms, the agile lawyer in the OSC environment should be able to provide a form of advice service for OSC litigants, recognising that the nature of the query and the scope of the advice may be quite restricted and will not be part of an ongoing matter. Thus the role of the lawyer may well be segmented in the particular proceeding, reflecting some of Susskind’s predictions in Tomorrow’s Lawyers and The Future of the Professions.

In addition to providing the service online the agile OSC lawyer may consider deploying a number of communications platforms for providing advice or information. The 140 character limitation of Twitter may preclude its use, but the use of chatbots for routine enquiries or other forms of voice recognition software may be deployed as well as virtual face to face systems such as Skype or online chat services – encrypted of course.

So it is clear that the lawyer in the OSC space is going to have to be tech savvy and attuned to the cultural shift that will be required. The OSC lawyer will need to be able to shift from the office desk model of advice to the mobile smartphone always on 24\7 model perhaps with an integrated application for the calculation and online bank transfer payment of the modest fee that the commoditised advice will justify.

The Susskind\Briggs model is aimed towards minimal judicial involvement although that said it is inevitable that Judges will be involved as disputes will reach them. One of the ways in which decisions will be made is “on the papers” although the papers will be digital. Judges will have to become more acclimatised to taking text and illustrative material from a screen. The OSC model would discourage the urge to print the material out and deal with it in the tradition “on the papers” way. One advantage with the digital on screen process is that the snagging of a finger or thumb on an errant staple will be avoided. But deciding matters on the basis or written or file based information is quite common for Judges.

Adaptation to an online hearing will require a shift on the part of lawyers and judges. The current paper based model has been underpinned by the oral hearing which requires all participants to be in the same place at the same time. Place doesn’t matter with a hearing in the OSC. The big difference will be getting used to communicating via Skype or some other form of audio-visual link process. Susskind suggested that online hearings could be conducted by teleconference but my view is that there is little technological difference if an AVL solution were deployed and would give a “human” element albeit via a screen rather than a disembodied voice across a conferenced  phone connection.

However it is this absence of “physicality” that is likely to require the biggest cultural and behavioural shift on the part of judges and lawyers. My own experience is that there is an initial phase of apprehensiveness in using AVL but as one uses it more frequently one becomes used to it so that ultimately it becomes routine. One is able to make the necessary adjustments of visual focus and oral clarity and it isn’t long before what appears to be the odd scenario of a person sitting in a room talking to a computer screen vanishes as the desire to address and deal with the problem in hand comes to the fore.

These are just a few brief thoughts about some of the skills and cultural changes that may be required by lawyers and Judges in the OSC space. The comments and observations by Richard Susskind and Sir Michael Briggs in their various reports provide some signposts for where lawyers may need to adapt. What is important to remember is that although the OSC provides a novel way of addressing litigation, the objective – an accessible, user friendly, litigant controlled system that will provide a resolution based on the law – fundamentally remains the same.

Ariadne’s Thread – The Labyrinth of the Dotcom Extradition Case

Now, before Daedalus left Crete, he had given Ariadne a magic ball of thread, and instructed her how to enter the Labyrinth. She must open the entrance door and tie the loose thread to the lintel; the ball would then roll along, diminishing as it went and making, with devious turns and twists, for the corners where the Minotaur was lodged.[1]

 

Introduction

This post considers the appeal against the findings by Judge Dawson in the District Court that Mr Dotcom and his co-appellants were eligible for extradition. The article attempts to explain in plain terms some of the legal issues surrounding the case. One of the main issues was whether or not the offences alleged were extraditable. But a word of caution – perhaps an apologia. This article is not a full academic treatment of the decision. It is an overview and an attempt to explain in straightforward terms a part of a somewhat complex decision.

It was necessary for the Court to consider the indictment that had been proferred in the United States and the charges which the accused appellants were to face in that country and determine whether or not they amounted to extraditable offences for the purposes of the Extradition Act 1999.

There were a number of “overlays’ in that not only did the Court have to consider the Act but also the provisions of an Extradition Treaty between New Zealand and the United States which came into force in December 1970. Article II of that Treaty set out sets of offences which were extraditable and which were particularly relevant in this case. Throughout the decision the question of whether or not the conduct was sufficient to engage Article II.

A further overlay was in the provisions of section 101B of the Extradition Act. That section was inserted by the Extradition Amendment Act 2002 in response to the United Nations Convention Against Transnational Organised Crime (UNTOC). That section has the effect of deeming various offences to be extradition offences under existing treaties with foreign countries that are parties to UNTOC. This applies to the 1970 US/NZ Treaty. The deemed offences include an offence involving participation in an organised criminal group.

What the Court Had to Do

The Court had to determine whether the offences contained in the United States indictment were extradition offences under section 24(2)(c) of the Extradition Act.[2]

First, the Court had to identify the factual allegations that underpinned each count. Then it had to consider whether the totality of those alleged acts of omissions came within the description of an extradition offence for the purposes of the Treaty.

In such an exercise Gilbert J reminded himself that he should not take a narrow view by concentrating on nomenclature or the constituent elements of the offence. He recognised that generically offences may be similar although they may be articulated using different language.

Instead he noted that the Treaty was to be interpreted in accordance with cl 31(1) of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. This provides:

(1) … a treaty shall be interpreted in good faith in accordance with the ordinary meaning to be given to the terms of the treaty in their context and in the light of its object and purpose.

Furthermore, he observed that it does not matter that the offence charged by the requesting State (in this case the United States) may contain additional elements beyond those implicit in an Article II offence so long as the additional elements do not substantively change the nature of the conduct alleged.

The Charges

The important counts in the indictment involved allegations of copyright infringement. Count 2 alleged conspiracy to commit copyright infringement. Counts 4 to 8 alleged specific instances of copyright infringement. These offences of criminal copyright infringement were the foundation for other charges. Without criminal copyright infringement these other charges could not be sustained. Thus in the decision the Judge considered these predicate criminal copyright allegations first.

The other counts were racketeering (count 1), money laundering (count 3), and the wire fraud charges (counts 9 to 13).

In the argument the United States contended that there were pathway offences in New Zealand law which could be followed to ascertain whether the acts or omissions constituting those offences amounted to an extradition offence. It is not necessary for the extradition offence to match the offence stated in the indictment of the requesting State. Rather there must be, as I have stated, generic similarity.

I shall now proceed to consider the counts in the indictment and how the Court determined whether or not there were qualifying extraditable offences or “pathways” to the Count in question[3].

COUNT 2 – Conspiracy to Commit Copyright Infringement[4]

Pathway Offences

The Court considered a number of different offences under New Zealand law which were pathways to the count in the indictment alleging conspiracy to commit copyright infringement. In doing so the Court considered the applicability of certain offences in the Crimes Act that did not directly address copyright infringement but where the behaviour might involve that include that activity.

Conspiracy to Defraud[5]

Conspiracy to defraud was an offence that was stated in Article II.16 of the Extradition Treaty.

The issue in considering this count was whether the crime of conspiracy to defraud could include behaviour that involved copyright infringement. The Court held that it could and cited considerable authority in support of its finding.[6] It was argued that the Copyright Act was a code but in light of the authority cited, the Court rejected that argument, although it should be noted that the authorities cited are quite nuanced on this point[7]. However, the issue becomes a contentious one when sections 228 and 249 of the Crimes Act come into play along with the foundation of Dixon v R[8] which is discussed below.

The Court considered whether the elements of conspiracy to defraud were present in this case[9] and stated that  wilful infringement of copyright can properly be characterised as a dishonest act. Such infringement deprives the copyright holder of something to which it might be entitled. The money obtained through participation in the alleged conspiracy to defraud any person – that is to cause the copyright holders economic loss by depriving them of something to which they might be entitled – by fraudulent means (intentional infringement of copyright) is the allegation in Count 2 which is sustained.

It was argued that the safe harbour provided by section 92B and 902C of the Copyright Act provided relief. Although the Court held that the safe harbour was not engaged in this case the discussion of the distinction between the scope of 92B and 92C and the general observations on the availability of the safe harbour provides a useful guide for the scope of these sections.

That would have been enough to dispose of the matter in that by using the conspiracy to defraud pathway it was found to be an extradition offence within Article II.16.

However, it was necessary to consider other pathways given the fact that the matter would go on appeal.

Dishonestly Taking or Using a Document – s. 228 Crimes Act[10]

In his discussion of Article II.16 and the state of the Crimes Act at the time of the Extradition Treaty, Gilbert J considered the applicability of the former section 257 of that Act. Section 257 has been replaced by section 228 which involves dishonestly taking or using a document with intent to obtain property, a service, pecuniary advantage or any other benefit.

The first consideration was whether a digital file can be a document. That is in fact the case and is clear from the definition in s. 217 Crimes Act and affirmed in Dixon[11]. This is not a contentious proposition.

The Court then restated the proposition that wilful infringement of copyright can amount to an act of dishonesty – that is an act done without a belief that there was express or implied consent to, or authority for, the act from a person entitled to give such consent or authority (the copyright owner).

It was argued that s.228 of the Crimes Act did not mention copyright but for the reasons given in the extensive discussion of the availability of the Crimes Act to encompass infringing behaviour in certain circumstances in support of the conspiracy argument it mattered[12]  not that copyright in a document (a digital file) is not singled out in the section.

The Court observed that although Megaupload was a cyberlocker it still made use of copyright infringing material in storing the files and making them available to generate advertising and subscription revenue. Use was not an essential element of the offence but obtaining a document for pecuniary advantage was, and the definition of “obtain” includes retaining. Therefore it was enough for Megaupload to retain the files on its servers the fulfil the requirement of “obtaining”

The particular conduct was undertaken for the purposes of pecuniary gain and thus the conduct in Count 2 is covered by s. 228 and is deemed to be included in the Treaty and the requirements of s. 101B(1)(c) are made out. In that section 228 is an offence punishable by a term of imprisonment of seven years.  Finally, it was noted in the interests of completeness that the appellants were in New Zealand.

The next associated issue was whether or not there was an organised criminal group.[13] This involved a consideration of the provisions of section 101B(1)(c)(ii) of the Extradition Act. The elements that are required – combining the UNTOC definitions of an “organised criminal group” and “serious crime” are as follows:

 

(a) a structured group;

(b) of three or more persons;

(c) existing for a period of time;

(d) acting in concert;

(e) with the aim of committing;

(i) offences established in accordance with UNTOC; or

(ii) a serious crime, being conduct constituting an offence punishable by imprisonment of four years or more;

(f) in order to obtain financial or material benefit directly or indirectly.[14]

The Court was satisfied that all these elements were fulfilled and there was sufficient evidence to support all the allegations together with the fact that copyright infringement in the US carried a maximum penalty of 5 years thus fulfilling that requirement and on that basis s. 228 provided an extradition pathway.[15]

Accessing a Computer for a Dishonest Purpose – s. 249[16]

Section 249 of the Crimes Act makes it an offence to access a computer and dishonestly or by deception and without colour of right obtain any property, privilege, service, pecuniary advantage, benefit, or valuable consideration or cause loss to any person. This section was considered as a pathway offence to Count 2 in the following way.

For the same reasons as those given in respect of s. 228, the allegation of dishonesty as an element of s. 249 was satisfied by wilful infringement of copyright.

It was argued that there was no access of a computer system – rather merely providing a computer facility for others which could be used lawfully or unlawfully. The issue of access was dealt with in this way. The data (the copyright infringing file) was received from the uploader onto Megaupload’s computer system, stored in that system and made available to others to access using the link provided by Megaupload using the computer system[17]. All of this involved making use of the resources of the Megaupload computer system. This fulfilled some of the elements of the definition in section 248 of the Crimes Act to which reference was made – “access, in relation to any computer system, means instruct, communicate with, store data in, receive data from, or otherwise make use of any of the resources of the computer system.”

It was also held that the purpose of such access was to obtain pecuniary advantage or financial gain, thus fulfilling that element of s. 249 and the penalties brought the offence within the 4 year definition of serious crime for the purposes of s. 101(B(1)(c).

It is important to note that the discussion of section 249 at this stage is very narrow indeed and suggests that the sectioncan be used as an alternative to commercial copyright infringement. There was no discussion of the nature of “property” and whether a computer file amounted to property as held in Dixon. Further use of section 249 and Dixon in the context of other sections of the Crimes Act is considered in the context of the wire fraud charges.

Section 131 Copyright Act[18]

Section 131 of the Copyright Act creates criminal liability for certain types of copyright infringement that have a commercial quality. The question was whether or not the appellants were involved in the exhibition in public or distribution of infringing copies.

At first glance it would seem that distribution would encompass the activities of Megaupload. The difficulty was that there was another specific form of infringement that covered digital material and that was what is known as the communication right.

The communication right and the distribution right are differentiated in the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) Copyright Treaty 1996. The Treaty recognises the important distinction between dissemination by the transfer of possession of a physical embodiment of a protected work (distribution) and dissemination through electronic transmission (communication). Fundamental to the distribution right is the necessity for a tangible object.

In New Zealand the communication right was incorporated into Statute by the Copyright (New Technologies) Amendment Act 2008. But the provisions of section 131 were not amended to include a breach of the communication right as a form of commercial criminal copyright infringement.

This was not accidental. There were submissions to Parliament that the communication right be incorporated into section 131 from Microsoft and the Motion Picture Association. Indeed the legislation in the United Kingdom incorporated such a provision but New Zealand chose not to follow.

In addition as a further indication that Parliament did not intend to criminalise the commercial infringement of the communication right, section 198 created a criminal offence of dealing in illicit recordings of performances rather than objects which were infringing copies of a copyright work.

The Copyright Act was again reviewed in 2011 when Parliament enacted the Copyright (File Sharing Infringing) Amendment Act 2011. It did not at that time take the opportunity to include a breach of the communication right in section 131.

Thus section 131 relates to tangible objects rather than communication of intangibles such as digital files and was thus not available as a pathway to Count 2 of the indictment.

This was not an unexpected outcome, at least to this commentator, but creates a contradiction. When the search and provisional search warrants were issued the offence alleged was against section 131 of the Copyright Act. Now it transpires that offence was not available. In a case that has not been without its legal controversies, this is one more.

However, the absence of section131 as a pathway does not end the matter. There were, as has been discussed,  other pathways to Count 2 and there were other counts which will be considered, all of which have their own pathways.

 

Count 4 – Copyright Infringement of the Movie “Taken”[19]

This count alleges that the appellants infringed copyright by distributing a work – the movie Taken) being prepared for commercial distribution in the US.

The Court concluded that neither this nor any of the specific infringement allegation contained in Counts 4 – 8 contained any other elements described in Article II.16 of the Treaty. They were not charged with obtaining property or money and the offending did not match the offending set out in Article II.16

However, the offence did correlate with sections 228 and 249 of the Crimes Act. The requirement of both sections that there be an element of commercial advantage or financial gain were both satisfied. They obtained and used a document – a digital file – dishonestly and without claim of right and this involved accessing a computer which is an element of section 249. In addition the Court considered that the appellants were acting as part of an organised criminal group and on that basis section 101B(1)(c)(ii) was satisfied

 

Counts 5 – 8 – Other Copyright Infringement[20]

In these counts the nature of the infringement alleged was different. Wilful reproduction and distribution of copyright protected works with a total retail value of more than $US2500 was alleged.

Once again section 131 was not available as a pathway and nor was Article II.16. However, the Judge held, for reasons already articulated, that sections 228 and 249 of the Crimes Act are available to fix the conduct alleged with the necessary criminality.

 

 Count 3 – Conspiracy to Commit Money Laundering[21]

Critical to this count was the necessity of a finding that there were pathways to the copyright allegations. Those pathways having been found the way was open to consider this count since it was predicated on the availability of copyright offences.

The Court analysed the elements, pointing out that money laundering was not an offence in New Zealand when the Treaty was signed in 1970. However, the Treaty did contain in Article II.19 the inclusion of any offence in addition to the listed offences that “transporting” or “transportation” was an element.

The Court observed that there were transfers of money – the proceeds of copyright infringement – by electronic funds transfer. This was in effect a wire transfer and the Court held that the conveying of funds electronically amounted to a transfer and thus Article 11.19 was engaged and thus the offence was an extradition offence.

Counts 9 – 13 – Wire Fraud[22]

There were a number of allegations made by the United States that supported an allegation that the appellants devised a scheme to defraud copyright owners and obtain money by means of false and fraudulent representations and promises. Some of these included misleading copyright owners that access to a file would be disable when in fact only the link was disabled; falsely representing that repeat  infringers had access terminated when in fact they were allowed to continue infringement and were rewarded for it and misrepresenting the Megaupload abuse tool and their notice and takedown procedure.

The US argued that Article II.16 and sections 228, 240 and 249 provided pathway offences for these counts.

 

Pathway Offences for Wire Fraud

Article II.16

The Judge found that the conduct alleged in these counts corresponded to Article II.16 of the Treaty. It was alleged that the appellants obtained money as a result of false representations. That is another way of saying they received money by false pretences . This allegation satisfied the causal nexus between obtaining money and false pretences.

In addition the counts alleged the money was obtained by a conspiracy to defraud the copyright holders, the essence being that they devised a scheme to defraud copyright holders. That is tantamount to an allegation of conspiracy to defraud and thus article II.16 provided an extradition pathway.[23]

Section 228 – Crimes Act[24]

It was conceded that the emails that were sent to copyright owners in furtherance of the allegedly fraudulent scheme were documents.  Although it was argued that it was necessary to establish that the document had to be used to obtain property or money and that the files were already on the Megaupload system – thus no obtaining. The Judge observed that the definition of obtain meant to obtain or retain. In addition the Judge found that the requirements of s. 101B(1)(c) were satisfied in that the offence was punishable by imprisonment of 4 years or more and involved an organised criminal group. Thus section 228 provided an extradition pathway.[25]

Section 240 Crimes Act[26]

Section 240 of the Crimes Act creates the offence of obtaining or causing loss by deception. There are four circumstances in which the offence may occur, all of them requiring elements of deception on the part of the perpetrator together with an absence of claim of right.

It was conceded that the element of deception could be made out by virtue of false representations that were contained in emails. The element of obtaining was satisfied by the extended definition of obtaining which included retaining, as discussed above.

For the offence to be complete, property had to be obtained. Gilbert J held that the copyright protected films in digital file format were property and cited as authority the case of Dixon v R[27] – a decision of the Supreme Court.

In this commentator’s respectful view Gilbert J read Dixon more widely than was available to him. Dixon was a case that centred around whether or not a digital file was property for the purposes of section 249 of the Crimes Act. The Supreme Court held that it was, and in doing so has introduced a level of uncertainty in the law surrounding the issue of whether or not there is a property right in information. It is my contention – and I have argued it in detail elsewhere – that Dixon was wrongly decided and is both legally and technologically unsound. Nevertheless, until the Supreme Court reconsiders its decision it must stand. However, the scope of the holding, on a strict reading of the decision, is that a digital file is property is limited to the provisions of section 249 of the Crimes Act.[28] The Supreme Court held thus, and to expand the scope of the finding to include digital files as property for offences other than under s. 249 is, in my respectful view, a misinterpretation of Dixon.

But the Court found that s. 240 of the Crimes Act provided an available pathway for the wire fraud counts.

Section 249 Crimes Act[29]

Section 249 of the Crimes Act provided an available pathway for some of the other counts. As far as counts 9 – 13 are concerned it was argued that the purpose of the section was to address computer hacking rather than to cover dishonest acts associated with copyright infringement.

The judge answered this by observing that the definition of a computer system was very broad and included using any of the resources of a computer system. Email plainly fell within that broad scope.

The Judge could also have observed that computer hacking was not the target of section 249 because it did not include unauthorised access to the system as an element of the offence. The important element associated with accessing the computer system is a dishonest or deceptive state of mind associated with certain activities such as obtaining property, a privilege, a service, a pecuniary advantage, a benefit or an advantage.

The behaviour of the appellants that brought them within the scope of section 249 was as follows:

  1. They caused knowingly false responses to be sent to copyright holders in response to takedown notices
  2. To do this they accessed the Megaupload computer system
  3. As a result of accessing the system in this way they thereby dishonestly and by deception and without claim of right obtained a benefit. The benefit was that it enabled Megaupload to retain copyright infringing files on its system. This met the causal connection of accessing the computer system and obtaining a benefit.

 

It is of interest that Gilbert J preferred to focus on the benefit aspect of section 249 rather than that of property, this invoking Dixon within the context of the Supreme Court finding of the fact that a digital file is property. His focus on the benefit aspect accords with the holding of the Court of Appeal in Dixon.

Count 1 – Conspiracy to Commit Racketeering[30]

Racketeering involves an enterprise – that is a group of individuals and entities associated in fact – engaged in interstate and foreign commerce where the members of the enterprise conspired to conduct its affairs for the purposes of enriching themselves through racketeering activity – in this case criminal copyright infringement, money laundering and wire fraud.

Pursuant to the decision of the Court of Appeal in US v Cullinane[31] racketeering was held not to be an offence under Article II of the Treaty. Racketeering was described as an “umbrella” crime and the Court warned against the use of allowing extradition for umbrella crimes where the offences, if charged separately, would not amount to extradition offences.

However, Cullinane was decided before the enactment of s. 98A of the Crimes Act which creates the crime of participating in an organised criminal group as well as s. 101B(1)(a) of the Extradition Act. This allowed the Court to reconsider whether or not racketeering could fall within the scope of an extraditable offence.

In essence the allegation was that the appellants were associated in fact and this amounted to an enterprise under US law. It was alleged that they continued as a functioning unit for the common purpose of achieving the objectives of the enterprise which was to enrich its members through criminal copyright infringement, money laundering and wire fraud. Furthermore they all actively participated in the enterprise.

The Judge found that the constituent offences – criminal copyright infringement and wire fraud – correlated to New Zealand offences punishable by at least 4 years imprisonment. The common purpose in the US indictment correlated with the requirements of section 98A of the Crimes Act which, if it had occurred in NZ, would be an extradition offence.

 

Extradition Offences – Conclusion

The result of the Judge’s analysis was that all the counts in the indictment were held to qualify as extradition offences.

One of the very significant aspects of the decision is the way in which provisions of the Crimes Act have been used to provide pathways to copyright infringement. This doesn’t mean that these offences are pathways to only extradition offences, although that it the way that they have been used in this case. The generalised holding means that there are alternatives means of criminalising copyright infringement apart from the provisions of section 131 of the Copyright Act 1994.

The citation of authority by Gilbert J to suggest that for some time criminal offences have been available to address copyright infringement cannot be displaced. In some cases these comments were speculative[32] –in others they were more direct.[33] The decision of Gilbert J now cements these comments into the structure of the law.

This means that copyright owners have different avenues by which they may pursue infringers in the criminal courts where section 131 is not available. Furthermore, while Dixon is still good law, copyright owners may use the provisions of the Crimes Act (given Gilbert J’s wide interpretation of that case) or at least section 249 to pursue infringers for what is effectively “on-line theft” of copyright material. I commented that when it was decided potentially the holding in Dixon could give truth to the mantra “copyright infringement is theft”. That potential has been realised.

Other Aspects of the Extradition Decision

The principle focus of this examination has been upon the identification of the extraditable offences. Given the focus upon the availability of criminal copyright infringement this analysis, although a summary of the decision without reference to the authorities cited, has been undertaken to understand the process by which the identification of extraditable offences was undertaken. However, as far as the case was concerned there were other issues which I shall tough upon briefly.

Evidence to Justify Trial on Each Count[34]

Because of the provision of the Extradition Treaty the United States was entitled to submit a record of the case (ROC) for the purposes of determining eligibility for surrender. There was considerable criticism of the ROC by the appellants. It was suggested, for example, that the ROC contained commentary that was opinion or hyperbole which the Court should ignore in determining sufficiency of evidence.

In the case of Dotcom v US (Disclosure)[35] the nature of the ROC was considered. Glazebrook J agreed that there were conclusory statements in the ROC but that the evidence that was relied upon was set out and that evidence supported the conclusions and inferences that the United States wanted to draw to support the existence of a prima facie case. There was a recognised risk in this process in that if insufficient material was provided, the extradition judge not be satisfied that a prima facie case had been made out.

The mere fact that the ROC and its supplements may contain material that cannot be relied on as evidence does not render the document inadmissible in its entirety. The Judge conducting the eligibility hearing  would have to ensure that there is sufficient summarised evidence to justify each appellant being committed for trial on each extradition offence. In carrying out this function, the Judge will differentiate between what qualifies as a summary of evidence and what does not. Gilbert J observed that The Court is required to determine whether the evidence that is summarised in the record of the case is sufficient to establish a prima facie case. The Court is not excused from this responsibility merely because some of the material in the record of the case does not qualify as summarised evidence[36].

Preservation of Evidence[37]

There was concern that the evidence that had been gathered and its availability might be in question. There was an additional concern about the possible deterioration of the electronic evidence. The Judge noted

“It is for the requesting State to decide what evidence it will rely on to support its request for extradition. The extradition Court is only concerned with whether this evidence is sufficient to justify a trial if the conduct constituting the offence had occurred within the jurisdiction of New Zealand. This will be the case if the Court is satisfied the summarised evidence is sufficient to establish a prima facie case and this evidence has been preserved for use at trial. “The evidence” in s 25(3)(a) plainly refers to the evidence summarised in the record of the case and not to every piece of evidence that has been reviewed in the course of the investigation or which could be relevant at trial. If the appellants’ argument was right, it would mean that if any of Megaupload’s data was lost, no matter how inconsequential for the purposes of a

committal hearing, the entire record of the case would become inadmissible. That

cannot have been what Parliament intended when enacting s 25(3).”[38]

 

No challenge had been made to the statements that the evidence summarised in the ROC had been preserved for use at trial. It was not a matter of concern for the extradition court to enquire as to whether other evidence had been preserved. That was something that would be evaluated in the context of fair trial issues in the requesting state and it would be contrary to the principle of comity upon which extradition is based for an extradition court to trespass into this domain.

Other Matters

There were a number of other matters of a somewhat technical nature that were raised on behalf of the Appellants. One involved the certification of the ROC by a representative of the US Attorney General’s office a Mr Prabhu.

The purpose of the ROC procedure was to summarise the evidence. Detail was not required. The ROC process is based on the Treaty and the comity and trust between the Treaty partners. In that regard the ROC need not contain briefs, “will say” statements or other documentary proof.

Because the ROC is received the Court requires an appropriate assurance that it discloses the existence of evidence sufficient to justify a trial in the exempted country and the evidence relied on for extradition purposes has been preserved for trial.  The Court observed:

“The purpose of the record of the case is to enable the extradition Court to

determine whether the evidence establishes a prima facie case if the conduct

constituting the offence had occurred within the jurisdiction of New Zealand. This

determination is made according to New Zealand law. The extradition Court in

New Zealand is not concerned with whether the evidence is sufficient to justify a

trial in the exempted country and it would be wholly inappropriate for it to enquire

into this. Parliament intended that the extradition Court would rely on a certificate in proper form from a person qualified to give it. Absent cogent evidence showing that such a certificate is a forgery or has been given in bad faith, the extradition Court cannot look behind it.”[39]

 

There was also concern expressed about the weight and sufficiency of evidence and the fact that there were a number of conclusory statements in the ROC. Although this matter had been earlier adverted to, it was conceded that such statements did not assist the Court in carrying out its fundamental obligation of weighing the evidence to determine whether the appropriate threshold had been reached. It was for the extradition court to carry out the evaluative process.[40]

Another argument arose about the question of transposition.[41] Transposition arises in extradition cases because the extradition Court is required to proceed on the basis of the fiction that the relevant conduct constituting the offence had occurred within its jurisdiction. But the focus of the extradition Court under the Act is on the conduct constituting the alleged offence, not the offence itself.[42]

Once the Court is satisfied that the request relates to an actual extradition offence there is no need to consider whether the conduct constituting the offence in the requesting state would be an offence under the law of New Zealand if the conduct had occurred here.[43] Thus the extradition Court should not have to determine whether or not conduct constituting the offence would have been an offence under New Zealand law if it had occurred in New Zealand at the relevant time. To do so would be to import a double criminality requirement and that was held not apply in Cullinane.

Within the context of the allegations relating to the movie Taken Gilbert J held that the extradition Court was solely concerned with the alleged conduct constituting the offence, namely that the appellants wilfully infringed those rights by making the film available to members of the public on a computer network.[44]

Thus for the purposes of its determination under s. 24(2)(d)(i) of the Extradition Act the Court had to concentrate on the acts or omissions of the requested person, being those acts or omissions identified for the purposes of s 24(2)(c) as constituting the extradition offence.

In a case involving alleged copyright infringement by making a copyright protected work available to members of the public without licence, the question of whether or not copyright subsisted in the relevant work in the United States at the relevant time is not an act or omission of the requested person and falls outside the scope of the enquiry. The extradition Court is not required to determine this issue, which would necessitate consideration of foreign law, a task it is ill-suited to undertake. The existence of copyright in the works at the time is a circumstance or “state of things” that is transposed to New Zealand as part of the relevant legal environment against which the evidence of the requested person’s conduct must be assessed.[45]

The Judge went on to consider in some detail the evidence as it related to each of the offences[46] and concluded that the evidence contained in the ROC disclosed a prima face case on each count. This effectively disposed of the extradition issue. It should be noted that there were a number of other technical arguments that were raised and which I will not discuss in this context. In addition there were applications that were made by the appellants for a stay of proceedings on the grounds of unfairness arising from lack of funds to properly mount an opposition to the application and for judicial review of the approach by the Judge in the District Court to the conduct of the proceedings. Those matters, although tied in with the original proceedings do not take the issue of extradition any further.

Conclusion

This case is a helpful one for those involved in extradition law. The Judge carefully articulated the principles and outlines and defined the processes by which extradition cases should be approached and considered. Although the Law Commission has released a paper on Extradition and recommends possible changes that can be made to the law, it may well be some time before those recommendations, or any of them, find their way to the statute book. The methodical approach undertaken by Gilbert J provides Ariadne’s thread for judges who will have to consider extradition in the future.

The case is particularly significant for the way in which Gilbert J considers the conduct that is criminalised by the counts in the US indictment and then looks for various pathway offences in New Zealand law which mirror that conduct.

The problem was that the United States case was grounded primarily upon copyright infringement. It tried to invoke section 131 of the Copyright Act as a corresponding offence at New Zealand law. But for the reason that a particular type of infringement was not specified in s. 131 – the communication right – that section was not available. So the judge went looking for other pathways which could incorporate the behaviour or conduct that reflected the count in the indictment. In so doing he held that the provisions of sections 228, 240 and 249 of the Crimes Act could, in cases involving certain types of behaviour, provide alternative pathways to what is effectively copyright offending.

This is somewhat curious because notwithstanding the invocation by the Judge of a number of authorities that supported the extension of the criminal law to include certain types of infringing behaviour, the issue is by no means uncontroversial and there are those who argue that the Copyright Act is a code, dealing with interference with a statutorily created property right, and one should not go beyond that legislation to seek a remedy.

Indeed, in his consideration of the applicability of section 131 the Judge gave a detailed analysis of the history of the legislation to demonstrate that the omission from section 131 of the communication right was deliberate and not an accidental oversight. Thus it was clearly a policy decision made by the Legislature.

Yet this case judicially extends the scope of the Crimes Act to include behaviour that would otherwise be caught by the civil infringement provisions and which is not caught by section 131. With respect, this seems to fly in the face of his careful analysis of Legislative intent in terms of criminal copyright infringement.

In Stevens v Kabushiki Kaisha Sony Computer Entertainment Ltd[47]  at issue was the question of the interpretation of a provision of Australian copyright legislation. The High Court cautioned against Courts getting involved in making policy decisions about legislation which was properly the bailiwick of Parliament. The Court observed

“The Parliament having chosen such an elaborate and specific definition for the key provision of the legislative scheme, a court should pause before stretching the highly specific language in order to overcome a supposed practical problem.”[48]

 

Although that comment is directed towards a particular provision of legislation and the scope thereof, it is suggested that the argument can be extended to address the criminalisation of infringing behaviour that does not fall within the scope of the Copyright Act. Using the Judge’s own reasoning path, if Parliament had intended such behaviour to be criminalised, it would have said so, and indeed had ample opportunity to do so from 1998 onwards.

The difficulty is this. It appears that the law of unintended consequences has resulted in the criminalisation of certain types of infringing behaviour. Factor in the use of a computer and s. 249 of the Crimes Act comes in to play. I doubt it was intended that this section would be used to criminalise copyright infringement. Nor is it my view that the Supreme Court in its expedient decision in Dixon expected that its definition of “property” as a digital file could have criminal copyright infringement consequences. This is what I have called else where a Collision in the Digital paradigm.

The collision assumes  greater proportions when one realises that, although Gilbert J’s findings were within the context of developing pathways for the purposes of identifying an extraditable offence, his interpretation applies with equal force to domestic law. The question now becomes one of whether copyright owners will pick their way through the collision and seek Police assistance in prosecuting individual acts of copyright infringement that fall outside s. 131. The matter requires legislative consideration.

Gilbert J’s decision will not be the final word on the subject – indeed he acknowledges this and it explains why the decision is so detailed, complex and voluminous. He is writing for the appeal court as well as for the parties. But the appeal pathways are not that straightforward. A strict approach to the appellate process means that not all these cases will automatically end up in the Supreme Court. As matters stand the Court of Appeal is the final court for the extradition matter. However, the judicial review proceedings do still have an appeal pathway to the Supreme Court. Whether or not the Supreme Court, for the sake of convenience, decides to grant special leave to appeal the extradition side of the case, remains to be seen.

But wait – do I hear you say? Aren’t you assuming something here and that is that there WILL be appeals. Given the past conduct of the parties, I suggest that it is inevitable that the appeal process will go as far as it possibly can. Although the US effectively “won” before Gilbert J there remains the issue of the applicability of section 131. My view is that path was never available but I have no doubt that the US will cross-appeal that aspect of the decision. The Dotcom case has further contributions to make to the development of legal principle in the Digital Paradigm.

 

[1] Robert Graves The Greek Myths “Theseus in Crete”

[2] Ortmann & Ors v US [2017] NZHC 189 at paras [37] – [45].

[3] The “Ariadne’s Thread” of the title.

[4] Ortmann above n. 2 at paras [57] – [192].

[5] Ibid. at paras [77] – [133].

[6] Ibid. at paras [87] – [112].

[7] See for example World TV Ltd v Best TV Ltd (2005) 11 TCLR 247.

[8] [2015] NZSC 147; [2016] 1 NZLR 678.

[9] Ortmann above n 2 at para [132].

[10] Ibid. at paras [134] – [160].

[11] Above n. 8.

[12] Ortmann above n.3 at para [143].

[13] Extradition Act s. 101B(1)(c)(ii) as defined in the Transnational Organised Crime Convention (TOC).

[14] Ortmann above n. 3 para [150].

[15] Ibid. para [160]. The full analysis is contained in paras [147] – [160].

[16] Ibid. paras [161] – [168].

[17] Ibid. at para [166].

[18] Ibid para [169] – [192].

[19] Ibid. para [193] – [199].

[20] Ibid. para [200] – [201].

[21] Ibid. para [202] – [212].

[22] Ibid. paras [213] – [230]

[23] Ibid. para [217] – [219].

[24] Ibid. para [220] – [222].

[25] Ibid. para [220] – [222].

[26] Ibid. para [223] – [225].

[27] Above n. 8.

[28] Dixon above n. 8 para [50] – [51].

[29] Ortmann above n. 3 para [226] – [230].

[30] Ibid. para [231] – [238].

[31] [2003] 2 NZLR 1 (CA).

[32] See Cooke P in Busby v Thorn EMI Video Programmes Ltd [1984] 1 NZLR 461

[33] See Scott v Metropolitan Police Commissioner [1975] AC 819 (HL)

[34] Ortmann above n. 3 at paras [239] – [245]

[35] Dotcom v US (Disclosure) [2014] NZSC 24; [2014] 2 NZLR 629.

[36] Ortmann above n 3 at para [253].

[37] Ibid. para [254] – [259].

[38] Ibid at para [258].

[39] Ibid. at para [263].

[40] Ibid at para [273].

[41] Ibid at paras [274] – [294].

[42] Ibid at para [277].

[43] Ibid at para [279].

[44] Ibid at para [291].

[45] Ibid at para [294].

[46] Ibid at paras [302] – [386].

[47] [2005] HCA 58.

[48] Stevens v Sony at para [204].

Artificial Intelligence and Law(s)

In Philip K. Dick’s book “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” – made into the brilliant movie “Bladerunner” directed by Ridley Scott – the genetically engineered replicants, indistinguishable from human beings, were banned from Earth and set to do work on off-world colonies. There was a fear of the threat that these “manufactured” beings could pose to humans.

Isaac Asimov’s extraordinarily successful “Robot” series of short stories and books had a similar premise –  that intelligent robots would pose a threat to humans. In “Androids” the way that the replicants were regulated was that they were shipped off-world and if they returned to Earth they were hunted down and “retired”. Asimov’s regulatory solution was a little more nuanced. Robots, upon the creation of their positronic brains, were programmed with the Three Laws of Robotics. These were as follows:

  1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
  2. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
  3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

These three laws were the foundation of all the tensions that arose in Asimov’s stories. How were the Three Laws to be applied? What happens when there is a conflict? Which rule prevails?

The stories are classified as science fiction. I prefer to treat them as examples of statutory interpretation. But underpinning the Three Laws and the reason for them was what Asimov called “The Frankenstein Complex” – a term he coined for fear of mechanical men or created beings that resemble human beings. And his answer to that fear and how it could be mitigated was the Three Laws.

A similar call recently went out about how we should deal with Artificial Intelligence. A report entitled “Determining Our Future: Artificial Intelligence”  written collaboratively by people from the Institute of Directors and the law firm Chapman Tripp, whilst pointing out the not insubstantial benefits that artificial intelligence or “smart systems” may provide, has a significant undertone of concern.

The report calls for the Government to establish a high-level working group on AI which should consider

“the potential impacts of AI on New Zealand, identifying major areas of opportunity and concern, and making recommendations about how New Zealand should prepare for AI-driven change.”

The writers consider AI is an extraordinary challenge for our future and the establishment of a high level working group is a critical first step to help New Zealand rise to that challenge. It seems to be the New Zealand way to look to the Government to solve everything, problematical or otherwise which says interesting things about self-reliance.

The report is an interesting one. It acknowledges the first real problem which is how do we define AI. What exactly does it encompass? Is it the mimicking of human cognitive functions like learning or problem solving. Or is it making machines intelligent – intelligence being the quality that enables an entity to function appropriately and with foresight in its environment.

Even although there seems to be an inability to settle upon a definition a more fruitful part of the examination is in the way in which “smart” computing systems are used in a range of industries and there is the observation that there has been a significant increase in investment in such “smart” systems by a number of players.

The disruptive impact of AI is then considered. This is not new. One of the realities of the Digital Paradigm is continuing disruptive change. There is little time to catch breath between getting used to one new thing and having to confront and deal with a new new thing. Disruption has been taking place from before the Digital Paradigm and indeed back to the First Industrial Revolution.

There is a recognition that we need to prepare for the disruptive effects of any new technology, but what the report fails to consider is the way in which disruptive technologies may ultimately be transformative. There is some speculation that after an initial period of disruption to established skills and industries, AI may lead to greater employment as new work becomes available in areas that have not been automated.

The sense of gloom begins to increase as the report moves to consider legal and policy issues. Although the use of AI in the legal or court process – I prefer to use the term expert legal systems – is not discussed, issues such as whether AI systems should be recognised as persons are mentioned. In this time of Assisted Birth Technologies and other than purely natural creation of life, it is not an easy question to answer. “Created by a human” doesn’t cut it because that is the way that the race has propagated itself for millennia. “Artificially created by a human” may encompass artificial insemination and confine people who are otherwise humans to some limbo status as a result.  But really what are we talking about. We are talking about MACHINE intelligence that is driven by algorithms. I don’t think we are talking about organic systems – at least not yet.

But it is the last question in that section that gives me cause for pause. Are New Zealand’s regulatory and legislative processes adaptive enough to respond to and encourage innovations in AI? What exactly is meant by that? Should we have regulatory systems in place to control AI or to develop it further? That has to be read within the context of the introductory paragraph

“AI presents substantial legal and regulatory challenges. These challenges include problems with controlling and foreseeing the actions of autonomous systems.”

Then the report raises the “Frankenstein Complex.” The introductory paragraph reads as follows:

“Leaders in many fields have voiced concerns over safety and the risk of losing control of AI systems. Initially the subject of science fiction (think Skynet in the Terminator movies), these concerns are now tangible in certain types of safety-critical AI applications – such as vehicles and weapons platforms – where it may be necessary to retain some form of human control.”

The report goes on to state:

Similar concerns exist in relation to potential threats posed by self-improving AI systems. Elon Musk, in a 2014 interview at MIT, famously called AI “our greatest existential threat”.
Professor Stephen Hawking, in a 2014 interview with BBC said that “humans, limited by slow biological evolution, couldn’t compete and would be superseded by AI”.

Stanford’s One-Hundred Year Study of AI notes that

“we could one day lose control of AI systems via the rise of superintelligences that do not act in accordance with human wishes – and that such powerful systems would threaten humanity”.

Google’s DeepMind lab has developed an AI ‘off-switch’, while others are developing a principles-based framework to address security.

Then the question is asked

“What controls and limitations should be placed on AI technology.”

I think the answer would have to be as few as possible consistent with human safety that allow for innovation and continued development of AI. It must be disturbing to see such eminent persons such as Hawking and Musk expressing concerns about the future of AI. The answer to the machine lies in the machine as Google has demonstrated – turn it off if need be.

The report closes with the following observation.

The potential economic and social opportunities from AI technologies are immense. The public and private sectors must move promptly and together to ensure we are prepared to reap the benefits, and address the risks of AI.

And regulation is the answer? I think not.

Artificial Intelligence as a Tool for Lawyers

My particular interest in AI has been in its application to the law so let’s have a brief look at that issue. Viewed dispassionately the proposals are not “Orwellian” nor do they suggest the elevation of “Terminator J” to the Bench. It may also serve to put a different perspective on AI and the future.

In a recent article, Lex Machina’s Chief Data Scientist observed that data analytics refined information to match specific situations.

“Picture this: You’re building an antitrust case in Central California and want to get an idea of potential outcomes based on everything from judges, to districts, to decisions and length of litigation. In days of law past, coming up with an answer might involve walking down the hall and asking a partner or two about their experiences in such matters, then begin writing a budget around a presumed time frame. “

Howard says that analytics change the stakes. “Not only are you getting a more precise answer,” he attests, “but you’re getting an answer that is based on more relevant data.”

Putting the matter very simplistically legal information either in the form of statutes or case law is data which has meaning when properly analysed or interpreted. Apart from the difficulties in location of such data, the analytical process is done by lawyers or other trained professionals.

The “Law as Data” approach uses data analysis and analytics which match fact situations with existing legal rules.

Already a form of data analysis or AI variant is available in the form of databases such as LexisNexis, Westlaw, NZLii, Austlii or Bailii. Lexis and Westlaw have applied natural language processing (NLP) techniques to legal research for 10-plus years. The core NLP algorithms were all published in academic journals long ago and are readily available. The hard (very hard) work is practical implementation. Legal research innovators like Fastcase and RavelLaw have done that hard work, and added visualizations to improve the utility of results.

Using LexisNexis or Westlaw, the usual process involves the construction of a search which, depending upon the parameters used will return a limited or extensive dataset. It is at that point that human analysis takes over.

What if the entire corpus of legal information is reduced to a machine readable dataset. This would be a form of Big Data with a vengeance, but it is a necessary starting point. The issue then is to:

  1. Reduce the dataset to information that is relevant and manageable
  2. Deploy tools that would measure the returned results against the facts or a particular case to predict a likely outcome.

Part (a) is relatively straight forward. There are a number of methodologies and software tools that are deployed in the e-Discovery space that perform this function. Technology-assisted review (TAR, or predictive coding) uses natural language and machine learning techniques against the gigantic data sets of e-discovery. TAR has been proven to be faster, better, cheaper and much more consistent than human-powered review (HPR). It is assisted review, in two senses. First, the technology needs to be assisted; it needs to be trained by senior lawyers very knowledgeable about the case. Second, the lawyers are assisted by the technology, and the careful statistical thinking that must be done to use it wisely. Thus, lawyers are not replaced, though they will be fewer in number. TAR is the success story of machine learning in the law. It would be even bigger but for the slow pace of adoption by both lawyers and their clients.

Part (b) would require the development of the necessary algorithms that could undertake the comparative and predictive analysis, together with a form of probability analysis to generate an outcome that would be useful and informative. There are already variants at work now in the field of what is known as Outcome Prediction utilising cognitive technologies.

There are a number of examples of legal analytics tools. Lex Machina, having developed a set of intellectual property (IP) case data, uses data mining and predictive analytics techniques to forecast outcomes of IP litigation. Recently, it has extended the range of data it is mining to include court dockets, enabling new forms of insight and prediction. Now they have moved into multi-District anti-trust litigation.

LexPredict developed systems to predict the outcome of Supreme Court cases, at accuracy levels which challenge experienced Supreme Court practitioners.

Premonition uses data mining, analytics and other AI techniques “to expose, for the first time ever, which lawyers win the most before which Judge.”

These proposals, of course, immediately raises issues of whether or not we are approaching the situation where we have decision by machine.

As I envisage the deployment of AI systems, the analytical process would be seen as a part of the triaging or Early Case Assessment process in the Online Court Model, rather than as part of the decision making process. The advantages of the process are in the manner in which the information is reduced to a relevant dataset performed automatically and faster than could be achieved by human means. Within the context of the Online Court process it could be seen as facilitative rather than determinative. If the case reached the decision making process it would, of course, be open to a Judge to consider utilising the “Law as Data” approach with, of course, the ultimate sign-off. The Judge would find the relevant facts. The machine would process the facts against the existing database that is the law and present the Judge with a number of possible options with supporting material. In that way the decision would still be a human one, albeit machine assisted.

Conclusion

As we embark down this road let us ensure that we do not over-regulate out of fear. Let us ensure that innovation in this exciting field is not stifled and that it continues to develop. The self-aware, self-correcting, self-protecting Skynet scenario is not a realistic one and, in my view, needs to be put to one side as an obstruction and recognised for what it is – a manifestation of the Frankenstein complex. And perhaps, before we consider whether or not we travel the path suggested in the report we should make sure that the Frankenstein complex is put well behind us.

 

Technological Competence for Lawyers

The rise of technology and its pervasive effect on all our lives – whether we like it or not – has implications for everyone involved in the practice of law. Conveyancing transactions are done on-line. Some company documents can only be filed on line. The use of computer systems, on-line legal research, networked communications and the Internet all feature to some extent in legal offices.

Yet, how technologically aware are lawyers.

This is a matter that has been addressed as a matter of competence to practice in the United States. In 2012 the American Bar Association made several changes to its Model Rules and commentary.

The starting point is basic competence. Rule 1.1 states:

“A lawyer shall provide competent representation to a client. Competent representation requires the legal knowledge, skill, thoroughness and preparation reasonably necessary for the representation.”

Comment 8 to the Rule states what is required to achieve that level of competence.

“To maintain the requisite knowledge and skill, a lawyer should keep abreast of changes in the law and its practice, including the benefits and risks associated with relevant technology, engage in continuing study and education and comply with all continuing legal education requirements to which the lawyer is subject.”

On this basis, lawyers cannot plead ignorance or inability regarding the use of technology and its associated risks.

So what is the technology that needs to be understood? First is the equipment that forms part of day-to-day legal practice such as computers, tablets, smart phones, scanners, printers or copiers. This category also includes the use of email, and the electronic storage of documents and other information.

Then there is an understanding of the software and programs that are used that may streamline or simplify legal practice. This may include programs for storing, managing and reviewing electronically stored information as well as law practice and management software including matters such as client information, contacts, time entry, billing, document management, docketing and calendaring.

Lawyers also need to be aware of the technology used by their clients and how that has an impact upon business as well as technology that may  impose liability on clients, such as, for example, GPS technology, electronic logging, or automated driving technology.

For litigators there has to be knowledge of and familiarity with  courtroom technology.

All of this may seem pretty intimidating but in today’s technological age, beset as we are with continuing disruptive change, it is necessary.

If practitioners are concerned at the ABA proposals the Florida Bar has gone one step further. Application was made to the Supreme Court of Florida in September 2016 to amend the Bar Rules to require all lawyers to maintain technological competence by undertaking 3 CLE hours of approved technological education courses. Florida lawyers have to complete 33 hours every 3 years. The standard comes into effect on 1 January 2017

Interestingly enough there was been little resistance from Florida practitioners. The benefits seem to have made themselves clear.

The question that comes to mind is whether or not there should be a technological competence requirement along the lines proposed by the ABA for New Zealand law practitioners or whether the New Zealand Law Society should adopt some form of advisory about technological competence and upskilling for practitioners.