A Thousand Cuts: AI and Self-Destruction

David Newhoff comments on generative AI (artificial intelligence) and public policy.

A guest post written by David Newhoff. AI, of course, stands for “artificial intelligence.” David is the author of Who Invented Oscar Wilde? The Photograph at the Center of Modern American Copyright (Potomac Books 2020) and a copyright advocate/writer at The Illusion of More.


I woke up the other day thinking about artificial intelligence (AI) in context to the Cold War and the nuclear arms race, and curiously enough, the next two articles I read about AI made arms race references. Where my pre-caffeinated mind had gone was back to the early 1980s when, as teenagers, we often asked that futile question as to why any nation needed to stockpile nuclear weapons in quantities that could destroy the world many times over.

Every generation of adolescents believes—and at times confirms—that the adults have no idea what the hell they’re doing; and watching the MADness of what often seemed like a rapturous embrace of nuclear annihilation was, perhaps, the unifying existential threat which shaped our generation’s world view. Since then, reasonable arguments have been made that nuclear stalemate has yielded an unprecedented period of relative global peace, but the underlying question remains:  Are we powerless to stop the development of new modes of self-destruction?

Of course, push-button extinction is easy to imagine and, in a way, easy to ignore. If something were to go terribly wrong, and the missiles fly, it’s game over in a matter of minutes with no timeouts left. So, it is possible to “stop worrying” if not quite “love the bomb” (h/t Strangelove); but today’s technological threats preface outcomes that are less merciful than swift obliteration. Instead, they offer a slow and seemingly inexorable decline toward the dystopias of science fiction—a future in which we are not wiped out in a flash but instead “amused to death” (h/t Postman) as we relinquish humanity itself to the exigencies of technologies that serve little or no purpose.

The first essay I read about AI, written by Anja Kaspersen and Wendell Wallach for the Carnegie Council, advocates a “reset” in ethical thinking about AI, arguing that giant technology investments are once again building systems with little consideration for their potential effect on people. “In the current AI discourse we perceive a widespread failure to appreciate why it is so important to champion human dignity. There is risk of creating a world in which meaning and value are stripped from human life,” the authors write. Later, they quote Robert Oppenheimer …

It is not possible to be a scientist unless you believe that the knowledge of the world, and the power which this gives, is a thing which is of intrinsic value to humanity, and that you are using it to help in the spread of knowledge, and are willing to take the consequences.

I have argued repeatedly that generative AI “art” is devoid of meaning and value and that the question posed by these technologies is not merely how they might influence copyright law, but whether they should exist at all. It may seem farfetched to contemplate banning or regulating the development of AI tech, but it should not be viewed as an outlandish proposal. If certain AI developments have the capacity to dramatically alter human existence—perhaps even erode what it means to be human—why is this any less a subject of public policy than regulating a nuclear power plant or food safety?

Of course, public policy means legislators, and it is quixotic to believe that any Congress, let alone the current one, could sensibly address AI before the industry causes havoc. At best, the tech would flood the market long before the most sincere, bipartisan efforts of lawmakers could grasp the issues; and at worst, far too many politicians have shown that they would sooner exploit these technologies for their own gain than they would seek to regulate it in the public interest. “AI applications are increasingly being developed to track and manipulate humans, whether for commercial, political, or military purposes, by all means available—including deception,” write Kaspersen and Wallach. I think it’s fair to read that as Cambridge Analytica 2.0 and to recognize that the parties who used the Beta version are still around—and many have offices on Capitol Hill.

Kaspersen and Wallach predict that we may soon discover that generative AI will have the same effect on education that “social media has had on truth.” In response, I would ask the following: In the seven years since the destructive power of social media became headline news, have those revelations significantly changed the conversation, let alone muted the cyber-libertarian dogma of the platform owners? I suspect that AI in the classroom threatens to exacerbate rather than parallel the damage done by social media to truth (i.e., reason). If social media has dulled Socratic skills with the flavors of narcissism, ChatGPT promises a future that does not remember what Socratic skills used to mean.

And that brings me to the next article I read in which Chris Gillard and Pete Rorabaugh, writing for Slate, use “arms race” as a metaphor to criticize technological responses to the prospect of students cheating with AI systems like ChatGPT. Their article begins:

In the classroom of the future—if there still are any—it’s easy to imagine the endpoint of an arms race: an artificial intelligence that generates the day’s lessons and prompts, a student-deployed A.I. that will surreptitiously do the assignment, and finally, a third-party A.I. that will determine if any of the pupils actually did the work with their own fingers and brain. Loop complete; no humans needed. If you were to take all the hype about ChatGPT at face value, this might feel inevitable. It’s not.

In what I feared might be another tech-apologist piece labeling concern about AI a “moral panic,” Gillard and Rorabaugh make the opposite point. Their criticism of software solutions to mitigate student cheating is that it is small thinking which erroneously accepts as a fait accompli that these AI systems are here to stay whether we like it or not. “Telling us that resistance to a particular technology is futile is a favorite talking point for technologists who release systems with few if any guardrails out into the world and then put the onus on society to address most of the problems that arise,” they write.

In other words, here we go again. The ethical, and perhaps legal, challenges posed by AI are an extension of the same conversation we generally failed to have about social media and its cheery promises to be an engine of democracy. “It’s a failure of imagination to think that we must learn to live with an A.I. writing tool just because it was built,” Gillard and Rorabaugh argue. I would like to agree but am skeptical that the imagination required to reject certain technologies exists outside the rooms where ethicists gather. And this is why I wake up thinking about AI in context to the Cold War, except of course that the doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction was rational by contrast.


Photo by the author.

View the original article on The Illusion of More.

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AI Can Create, But Is It Art?

Are AI-generated works protected by copyright? If so, who owns the copyright?

by Tom James, Minnesota attorney

 

Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

HAL: I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.

What’s the problem?

HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.

Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

The anthropomorphic machine Arthur C. Clarke envisioned in his 1968 sci-fi classic, 2001: A Space Odyssey, is coming closer to fruition. If you hop online, you can find AI-generated music in the style of Frank Sinatra (“It’s Christmas time and you know what that means: Oh, it’s hot tub time”); artwork; and even poetry:

People picking up electric chronic,

The balance like a giant tidal wave,

Never ever feeling supersonic,

Or reaching any very shallow grave.

Hafez, a computer program created by Marjan Ghazvininejad

Pop rock lyricists should be afraid. Very afraid.

Or should they? Could they incorporate cool lyrics like these into their songs without having to worry about being sued for copyright infringement?

A Recent Entrance to Paradise

Stephen Thaler's AI-generated artwork, "A Recent Entrance to Paradise"

The question whether copyright protects AI-generated material is one of the top three generative-ai copyright issues and it could be making its way to the courts soon. This year, the U.S. Copyright Office reaffirmed its refusal to register “A Recent Entrance to Paradise,” an image made by a computer program. Steven Thaler had filed an application to register a copyright in it. He listed himself as the owner on the basis that the computer program created the artwork as a work made for hire for him. The Copyright Office denied registration on the grounds that the work lacked human authorship.

The decision seems to be consistent with their Compendium of U.S. Copyright Office Practices, which states that the Office will not register works “produced by a machine or mere mechanical process” that operates “without any creative input or intervention from a human….” U.S. COPYRIGHT OFFICE, COMPENDIUM OF U.S. COPYRIGHT OFFICE PRACTICES § 602.4(C) (3d ed. 2021). Whether the Copyright Office is right, however, remains to be seen.

Spirit-generated works

Ghost image created by double-exposure photogarphy

The Ninth Circuit has held that stories allegedly written by “non-human spiritual beings” are not protected by copyright. Urantia Found v. Kristen Maaherra, 114 F.3d 955, 957-59 (9th Cir. 1997). “[S]ome element of human creativity must have occurred in order for the book to be copyrightable,” the Court held, because “it is not creations of divine beings that the copyright laws were intended to protect.” Id.

Of course, if a human selects and arranges the works of supernatural spirit beings into a compilation, then the human may claim copyright in the selection and arrangement. Copyright could not be claimed in the content of the individual stories, however.

Monkey selfies

In Naruto v. Slater, 888 F.3d 418, 426 (9th Cir. 2018), the Ninth Circuit denied copyright protection for a photograph snapped by a monkey. That humans manufactured the camera and a human set it up did not matter. In the case of a photograph, pushing the button to take the picture is the “creative act” that copyright protects. According to the Ninth Circuit, that act must be performed by a human in order to receive copyright protection.

Natural forces

Nature - lots of greenery but no copyright in things created by natural forces

Copyright also cannot be claimed in configurations created by natural forces, such as a piece of driftwood or a particular scene in nature. Satava v. Lowry, 323 F.3d 805, 813 (9th Cir. 2003); Kelley v. Chicago Park Dist., 635 F.3d 290, 304 (7th Cit. 2011).

CONTU

CONTU - 13 members of CONTU commission studying copyrights in computer progarms

Half a century ago, when computer programs were a relatively new thing, Congress created the National Commission on New Technological Uses of Copyrighted Works (“CONTU“). Their charge was to study “the creation of new works by the application or intervention of [] automatic systems of machine reproduction.” Pub. L. 93-573, § 201(b)(2), 88 Stat. 1873 (1974).

CONTU determined that copyright protection could exist for works created by humans with the use of computers. “[T]he eligibility of any work for protection by copyright depends not upon the device or devices used in its creation, but rather upon the presence of at least minimal human creative effort at the time the work is produced.” CONTU, FINAL REPORT 45-46 (1978).

In its decision on Thaler’s second request for reconsideration, the Office viewed this finding as consistent with the Copyright Office’s view at the time:

The crucial question appears to be whether the “work” is basically one of human authorship, with the computer merely being an assisting instrument, or whether the traditional element of authorship in the work (literary, artistic, or musical expression or elements of selection, arrangement, etc.) were actually conceived and executed not by man but by a machine.

U.S. COPYRIGHT OFFICE, SIXTY-EIGHTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE REGISTER OF COPYRIGHTS FOR THE FISCAL YEAR ENDING JUNE 30, 1965, at 5 (1966).

In the Copyright Office’s view, a manuscript typed into a file using word processing software would be a work of human authorship, but a story created by a program that selects words on its own would not be.

Work made for hire

Thaler made a novel argument that the computer program made the work for him as a “work made for hire.” The Copyright Office rejected this claim, as well.

A work made for hire is one that is created in one of two ways: (1) by an employee within the scope and course of the employment; or (2) pursuant to an independent contract in which the parties explicitly agree that the work to be created is a “work made for hire.”

The problem here is that in both cases, a contract is required. Computers and computer software cannot enter into contracts. There are programs that can facilitate the process of contract formation between humans, but the programs themselves cannot enter into contracts. Computer programs, even autonomous ones, are not legal persons. Nadi Banteka, Artificially Intelligent Persons, 58 Hous. L. Rev. 537, 593 (2021) (noting that a legal person must be either an individual human or an aggregation of humans.)

Database protection

AI systems for generating works typically operate by means of an algorithm that analyzes data and synthesizes output according to an algorithm. The creator of the system typically inputs a large volume of works of the kind sought to be generated as output. The program may then analyze the works as data, searching for identifying patterns. An algorithm to generate a song that sounds like a Frank Sinatra song, for example, might rely on an inputted database consisting of numerous Frank Sinatra songs. The algorithm might then instruct the computer to search for patterns like tempo, melodic phrasing, voice pitch and tone, instrument tones, commonly used words and phrases, rhyme patterns, and so on.

Copyright does not protect facts and information. Hence, databases do not receive copyright protection. Algorithms also do not receive copyright protection. They are ideas, not expressions. The source code used to communicate them may be protected, but the algorithms themselves are not.

Computer programs and screen displays

The Copyright Office generally deems the screen displays generated by a computer program to be expression capable of receiving copyright protection as such. In the United States, copyright in a screen display can be claimed in connection with the registration of a copyright claim in the software program.

The question, really, is: As between the programmer and the user, how do we determine which one “creates” a screen display? When do we say neither of them does? For example, a poetry-generating software programmer might direct the program to display words a user types in the form of a four-line verse in iambic pentameter that follows an A-B-A-B rhyme scheme and relies on other programmer-defined parameters to construct sentences around them. At what point along the continuum of specificity in the programming do we say that the output is or is not a product of the programmer’s creative mind? By the same token, how much input does the user need to provide in order to be considered an author of computer-generated work? Are there times when the programmer and user should be regarded as co-authors?

Alternatively, should we say, with the U.S. Copyright Office, that output generated by AI machines is not protected by copyright at all, that it is in the public domain? That would certainly seem to disincentivize innovation and creativity, contrary to the intent and purpose of the Copyright Clause in Article I of the U.S. Constitution.

Stay tuned….

 

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