Copyright Licensing
Copyright Licensing
Copyright Licensing
“FIRST
ANDSCREEN”
THE
Ronald A. Cass*
Introduction
Background
It is common today (and correct) to speak of “intellectual property” (and,
concomitantly, of intellectual property rights) as important components of
our national endowment. But, despite the long history of such rights,
widespread recognition of their importance is a fairly recent development.
In the eighteenth century, copyright and patent were established rights
in England and in the American colonies, but many leading authorities
placed the labors of literary and inventive creation on a lower rung than
other economic activities. Thus, when Adam Smith published The Wealth
of Nations, just as American revolutionaries were taking up arms to gain
independence from England, he saw the fruits of mental labor as distinctly
different from labor in the fields or the foundry. Smith classed the effort
that produces intellectual property as “unproductive labour” along with
other work that today would be classified as “services,” a class that, in
Smith’s words, includes the work of “churchmen, lawyers, physicians, men
of letters of all kinds; players, buffoons, musicians, opera-singers, opera-
dancers, &c.”10 For Smith, productive labor belonged to the violinist who
manufactured the instrument, not to a Mozart or Beethoven whose genius
shaped the music or to a Heifetz or Stern whose gifts brought that music to
life.
Appreciation of the importance of the labor that produces (and per-
forms) creative works grew slowly, alongside the changing focus of work
more generally. A snapshot of the United States’ economy in 1800, 1900,
and today illustrates the broader change. In 1800 two-thirds of the
workforce was engaged in agriculture. In 1900, that had declined to one-
third, while more than half the workforce was engaged in manufacturing.
As we approach 2000, a tiny fraction of the workforce is engaged in agri-
culture, and less than one-third in manufacturing, while more than two-
thirds provide services.11
The shift from agriculture to manufacturing to services was paralleled
by an increase in investment in learning (both formal and on-the-job), in
research, and in development of new ideas and means of expression. These
in turn have provided returns to investors and supported economic growth.
Recently, the trend to greater returns to investment in human capital
(whether protected by specific legal entitlements or not) has accelerated, as
The biggest change during the time that the 1909 Act was in force was
not in the nature of works that were presented for copyright protection but
in the nature of the protection sought by rights holders. The reason is that
the primary alterations of the technological landscape over that period, as
relevant to copyright, created new means of reproducing, of disseminating,
and of exploiting creative works. Radio, television, photocopying, audio
recording, video recording, and other technologies were invented or dra-
matically improved in this era. Efforts to rewrite the copyright law to
account for such changes began while some of the technologies that posed
the greatest problems for the 1909 regime were in their infancy and finally
reached fruition in the new copyright law of 1976. 18 As Professor Ed
Kitch and Dean Harvey Perlman explained soon after the law’s enactment,
the new law shifts the emphasis for copyright analysis:
Under the old law the starting principle was: the owner
shall have the exclusive right to copy his copies. Under
the new the principle is: the owner shall have the exclu-
sive right to exploit his work.19
The limits of that right are what is in issue in the litigation against
Microsoft.
Of course, the 1976 law did not end the legal story. Statutory amend-
ments in 1980, 1988, 1990, 1992, and 1994 have addressed issues raised by
particular technologies, including computer software (though software was
already covered by the protections of the 1976 statute),20 and have altered
the law to conform to international treaty obligations. The 1980 amend-
ment clarified the application of copyright to computer software programs
and the need for permission prior to inclusion of a program in a computer
(with narrowly tailored exceptions).21 Despite the amendments, copyright
law still follows the basic orientation of the 1976 Act.
sion, not the idea expressed.22 Ideas are in the public domain, but each
original expression is protected against knowing, unconsented replication. 23
Protection of the form but not the content assumes that there is an impor-
tant (if at time modest) creative aspect to the expression itself—that “to be
or not to be” is not the same as “should I kill myself?” even if the
phrases’ meanings are equivalent.
Patent law, in contrast, gives broader protection but for a more limited
time. Patent law, like copyright, does not formally protect ideas, but its
protection goes well beyond mere intentional use of a prior expression.
Patent protection against unconsented use of an idea expressed in certain
tangible forms includes protection against using forms (machines, process-
es, and so on) closely related to but different from the patented form.24
The broader protection demands a higher threshold before protection is
obtained. Unlike copyright, which is available without prior screening for
any expression, patents are issued only after certain requirements are met,
including the requirement that the invention be novel and not be obvious to
sophisticated observers familiar with the prior learning on the subject (prior
“art”).
Because patent requires a greater degree of novelty 25 than copyright,
fewer patents are issued and it is less costly to determine what is patented
than what is copyrighted. Professor Landes and Judge Posner conclude
that the lower cost of identifying patented innovations implies that inven-
tors will be more likely to know about patented innovations relevant to their
work than about copyrighted innovations and less likely accidentally to
infringe; that, in turn, suggests a greater reason to grant stronger protection
to patents than to copyrights. 26 That, indeed, is the way the law has devel-
oped. Crudely put, the difference between the two intellectual property
rights schemes is this: copyright allows the creator of a new expression of
an idea the right to decide how and when that expression is used but no
right against innocent or accidental or certain incidental use; patent pro-
vides the creator of a new idea, embodied in useful form, the right to pre-
vent all manner of activity that uses that idea without consent.27
Despite this distinction, the intellectual property rights regimes are
closely related. Both forms of intellectual property protection rest on three
assumptions about creative works. First, intellectual property law assumes
that the grant of an economically valuable right will increase the rate at
which new creative works are produced (and increase the value of those
creative works).28 Second, the law assumes that creative works have “pub-
lic goods” aspects—that they are costly to protect and can be used by
many people at once without affecting the quality of the use (unlike many
people trying to share a single automobile). 29 The second assumption
suggests that intellectual property produces value substantially greater than
its creators could capture without special protections. That indicates, in line
with the first assumption, that, without such protections, too little creative
work will be produced. Finally, the law assumes that the costs of restricting
use of new expressions and inventions are less than the benefits of new
creativity.30
There is a lively academic debate about these assumptions. 31 Fortunate-
ly (for the continuing liveliness of that debate) there is no likelihood of
proving or disproving the assumptions. They will continue to shape the law
while academicians continue to argue their merits.
27 See, e.g., Stanley M. Besen & Leo Raskind, An Introduction to the Law
and Economics of Intellectual Property, 5 J. ECON. PERSPECTIVES 3 (1991).
28 See, e.g., Mazer v. Stein, 347 U.S. 201, 219 (1954); Sony Corp. of
America v. Universal City Studios, 464 U.S. 417, 429 (1984). See also Hirshleifer,
supra note 25; Kitch, supra note 25; Stan J. Liebowitz, Copyright and Indirect
Appropriability: Photocopying of Journals, 93 J. POL . ECON . 945 (1985).
29 See Besen & Raskind, supra note 28; Wendy J. Gordon, Fair Use as
Market Failure: A Structural and Economic Analysis of the Betamax Case and Its
Predecessors, 82 C OLUM. L. REV.1600 (1982) [hereinafter Betamax]; Hirshleifer, supra
note 25; Landes & Posner, supra note 27.
30 E.g., Twentieth Century Music Corp. v. Aiken, 422 U.S. 151 (1975).
31 E.g., Stephen J. Breyer, The Uneasy Case for Copyright: A Study of
Copyright in Books, Photocopies, and Computer Programs, 84 HA R V . L. RE V . 281
(1970); Grady & Alexander, supra note 25; Wendy J. Gordon, An Inquiry into the Merits
of Copyright: The Challenges of Consistency, Consent, and “Encouragement” Theory, 41
S TAN . L. REV . 1343 (1989) [hereinafter Challenges]; Landes & Posner, supra note 27;
Robert P. Merges & Richard Nelson, Market Structure and Technical Advance: The Role of
Patent Scope Decisions, in ANTITRUST, INNOVATION, AND C OMPETITIVENESS (Thomas M.
Jorde & David J. Teece eds., Oxford Univ. Press 1992); Tom Palmer, Intellectual
Property: A Non-Posnerian Law and Economics Approach, 12 HAMLINE L. REV . 262
(1989).
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 9
32 See, e.g., Landes & Posner, supra note 27; Pamela Samuelson, et al., A
Manifesto Concerning the Legal Protection of Computer Programs, 94 COLUM. L. R EV .
2308 (1994) [hereinafter Manifesto] and authorities cited id. at 2310 n.1; John T. Soma,
et al., Minimizing Reverse Engineering: Sample Language for Dual United States and
European Union Software Licenses, 24 DENV. J. INT’L L. & POL’Y 145, 147-51 (1995).
33 Source code can be translated into object code through a compiler
(which generally is a device located outside the computer on which the program will run).
The compilation process produces a translation of the source code that can be configured
to execute instructions at optimum speed. An alternative to compilation is to use an
interpreter (which generally is located inside the computer that is running a program) to
translate source code into object code on a line-by-line or instruction-by-instruction
basis. The interpreter does not retain memory of prior instructions, so that, unlike with a
compiled program, repeated functions must be explained to the computer in full detail
each time.
34 See discussion and citations in U.S. CONGRESS, OFFICE OF T ECHNOLOGY
A SSESSMENT, FINDING A BALANCE : C OMPUTER SOFTWARE , INTELLECTUAL P ROPERTY ,
AND THE CHALLENGE OF T ECHNOLOGICAL CHANGE (Gov’t Printing Office 1992) [ OTA
R EPT.]; Arthur R. Miller, Copyright Protection for Computer Programs, Databases, and
Computer-Generated Works: Is Anything New Since CONTU?, 106 HARV . L. REV . 978
(1993); Maureen O’Rourke, Drawing the Boundary Between Copyright and Contract:
Copyright Preemption of Software License Terms, 45 DU K E L.J. 479, 484-85 n. 20
(1995); Samuelson, et al., Manifesto, supra note 33. See also Apple Computer, Inc. v.
Franklin Computer Corp., 545 F. Supp. 812 (E.D. Pa. 1982), rev’d 714 F.2d 1240 (3d
Cir. 1983), cert. dismissed, 464 U.S. 1033 (1984).
10 COPYRIGHT, LICENSING,
The choice between these regimes was central to the work of the Nation-
al Commission on New Technological Uses of Copyrighted Works
(CONTU). The CONTU report in 1978 resolved the matter in favor of
copyright protection, concluding that innovation in software worthy of
protection tended to occur too rapidly and along too many margins to be
suitable to a patent regime. Both source and object code fit better with the
copyright model, even though the expressive element of object code is not
directly evident to a human audience. 35 Congress, which had included
software already as a “literary work” eligible for copyright protection,
adopted the CONTU approach two years later, making copyright coverage
clearly applicable to software.36
2. Copyright Licensing
What is Licensed?
In keeping with the basic approach of the copyright law, copyright owners
are given great freedom in deciding the terms on which to license their
products. After all, the value of the copyright is the ability of the right
owner to set terms expected to maximize the return from licensing.37
Licensing agreements cover all manner of terms. Among the subjects to
be found in license agreements are: the period of time during which the
licensed material can be used, the use allowed of the material (including
elaborate restrictions on various aspects of licensed performances), alloca-
tion of rights to derivative works, constraints on disclosure of information
contained the material or obtained from the material, assignment of liabili-
ties (including some tax liabilities), specifications for (or constraints on)
sublicensing, provision for changed circumstances (including changes in
corporate identity or ownership), price and payment terms, provisions
respecting bankruptcy during the contract period, and survival of obliga-
tions (such as nondisclosure) following license term.38
Agreements range from the very simple to the incredibly complex,
from the painstakingly negotiated to the standard-form contract. As a rule,
the market for the particular work or type of work will determine the form
in which a licensing contract is crafted. At one end, works that will be used
infrequently, in ventures that are idiosyncratic (rather than fitting off-the-
shelf patterns), and that could prove highly lucrative are strong candidates
for individually negotiated agreements. At the other end, copyrighted
35 Apple Computer, Inc. v. Franklin Computer Corp., 714 F.2d 1240 (3d
Cir. 1983), cert. dismissed, 464 U.S. 1033 (1984); CONTU REPT., supra note 22.
36 Pub. L. 96-517, 17 U.S.C. § 101.
37 Besen & Raskind, supra note 28; Gordon, Betamax note 30; O’Rourke,
supra note 35. See also Gordon, Challenges, supra note 32, at 1356-58, 1368-70 (broad
privilege consistent with common law property rights doctrine).
38 See, e.g., MARK L. GORDON , COMPUTER SOFTWARE : CONTRACTING FOR
DISTRIBUTION AND D EVELOPMENT 243-375 (John Wiley & Sons 1985); H. Ward Classen,
Fundamentals of Software Licensing, 37 IDEA 1 (1996).
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 11
works that are likely to have numerous uses by widely scattered entities
whose demand for the works is sufficiently elastic that separate negotia-
tions, even fitting well-defined patterns, are inconceivable—most uses of
recorded music fit this example—may be handled under a group or blan-
ket license arrangement. 39
What Interests Does Licensing Serve?
Although practicing lawyers who write about copyright licensing common-
ly explain the importance to all contracting parties of careful license nego-
tiation (a subtle reminder of the value of the lawyers’ services), 40 other
commentators sometimes assume that copyright license terms are selected
solely by the licensor (right owner).41 At times that assumption is paired
with the conclusion that license terms solely benefit the licensor, with the
licensee being disadvantaged by them.42
The image of an all-controlling licensor is at once a natural outgrowth
of the copyright regime and a gross distortion of reality. It is natural in the
sense that the copyright regime is a property rights regime: the owner of a
copyright has the exclusive right to determine how the right will be exer-
cised, how the copyrighted work will be used, and thus will agree only to
license terms that are to the licensor’s benefit. Saying that, however, does
not mean that license terms are unilaterally dictated by licensors indepen-
dent of the interests and wishes of licensees.43
The notion of the licensor acting independent of the preferences of
putative licensees is the same as the notion of a grocery store acting solely
in its own interest, without regard to the tastes of its potential customers. It
is true that the grocery store sets prices for its products without engaging in
separate negotiation with each customer. (That generally is not the case for
copyright licensing, although it is the case with so-called “shrink-wrap”
licenses.)44 But the licensor, like the grocery store,45 is limited in what it
can charge by what customers are willing to pay, which is dictated by the
particular preferences of each customer and the alternatives available to
them. The grocery store may set a price for beef or strawberries or milk
without negotiation, but setting the right price—the one most advantageous
to the store—requires that the price also be one that is attractive enough to
enough customers that the store could not do better by lowering its price.
To do that in a competitive market, the store must set prices that balance the
store’s interests with the customers’ interests in the same way it would if the
parties engaged in face-to-face negotiation over prices—regardless of the
store owner’s wishes, those are the only prices that maximize the owner’s
profit.46
What is true for the store owner is true for other sellers and licensors:
even where a seller (or licensor) seems unilaterally to be setting the price to
be paid by a buyer (licensee), sensible price-setting must reflect the inter-
ests and preferences of the other party (the buyer or the licensee). And in
ordinary circumstances, the price should be the best price that other party
could hope to obtain through hard bargaining under the circumstances.
The statement holds for the terms of a deal (a sale or a licensing agreement)
as well as for the price. You cannot separate price from what is being
bought; the same considerations hold for both. 47 So, even if there were no
explicit negotiation, licensing should be seen as a cooperative venture:
getting it right requires integration of the parties’ interests.48
The first caveat is that, despite the incentive of sellers and licensors to set
prices and terms that harmonize the interests of the parties, actual prices
and terms may not accomplish that end. The most common reason for the
variance is the difficulty of securing the information necessary to get prices
and terms that best fit the parties’ interests. The obvious point here is that
it is difficult to gain information about other people’s preferences, which
are apt to vary widely. The less evident, but more fundamental point is that
we seldom know our own preferences with any specificity. 49 I may be
willing to respond if asked how much I would pay to obtain particular
goods or how much I value specific features—such as the proximity of a
grocery store to my house or the layout of the store or its decor or its
policy with respect to charge accounts—but there is little basis for crediting
my statements. As with merchants who find it necessary to adjust prices
over time as they observe customers’ behavior, I am likely to learn what
value I place on particular goods only from experience. With most matters,
trial-and-error is a necessary heuristic.50
The second caveat concerns an aspect of reality that exacerbates the
general information problems encountered in most markets: although in
textbooks, goods are individual, free-standing commodities, in reality we
are offered choices that bundle many features together rather than discrete-
ly priced, independent goods. Thus, I do not experience separately the
proximity, layout, decor, and so on, of a grocery store. I do not experience
an infinite number of grocery stores with all possible combinations of these
features, as well as of each good offered for sale. Instead, I learn that I
generally prefer the store that is more brightly lit and has a better selection,
especially of fresh meat, fish and vegetables, even though it has somewhat
higher prices on many items and is a block or two further from my home.
The same is true for virtually every consumer good and the vast majority of
intermediate goods as well.51
The information problems that comprise these first two caveats—which
apply to market transactions generally, not only to software licensing—do
not mean that market prices and terms depart radically from efficient prices
and terms. These two caveats merely indicate that real prices (and other
terms for market transactions) often diverge somewhat from what might be
seen as the theoretical ideal.52 Prices change over time not only because
consumer preferences change and production costs change but also be-
cause markets respond to built-in feedback mechanisms—such as the
experience of shortages of some goods at prevailing prices and gluts of
other goods—that constantly provide information to help buyers and
sellers better identify the right prices and terms. 53 The basic market story,
hence, is not the Panglossian “best of all possible worlds” story but a story
of incremental movement in that direction in a world where the information
needed to reach our goal is too costly, too widely dispersed, and too incon-
stant for any centralized process to do better.54
53 ALCHIAN & ALLEN , supra note 47; S TIGLER , PRICE , supra note 47, at
xx.
54 FREIDRICH A. H AYEK, THE R OAD TO S ERFDOM (Univ. of Chicago Press
1944); JOSEPH A. S CHUMPETER , CAPITALISM , S OCIALISM, AND DEMOCRACY (Harper &
Row 1975; orig. pub. 1942).
5 5 This definition looks only to allocative efficiency, not to other
possible social goals.
5 6 See John S. McGee, I N DE F E N S E OF INDUSTRIAL C ONCENTRATION
(Praeger 1971); Eugene F. Fama & Arthur B. Laffer, The Number of Firms and
Competition, in THE COMPETITIVE ECONOMY : SELECTED READINGS 43 (Yale Brozen ed.,
General Learning Press 1975).
57 See W ILLIAM J. BAUMOL , J O H N C. PA N Z A R & ROBERT D. W ILLIG,
C ONTESTABLE MARKETS AND THE THEORY OF INDUSTRY S TRUCTURE (Harcourt, Brace,
Jovanovich, rev. ed. 1988).
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 15
facilitate collusion, 58 and most likely where a single producer occupies the
field.59 (Put aside, for now, the question of what this means from either a
legal or policy vantage.)
Is this the sort of market in which owners of intellectual property rights
compete? Commentary often assumes that the answer is yes. 60 After all,
intellectual property rights—like the general run of property rights—are
designed to give the rights owner a monopoly over a particular good. The
law ascribes to the holders of property rights certain powers that can be
(and at times are) described as those accorded a legally sanctioned monop-
olist. A homeowner, for example, is legally entitled to control access to his
property (with few exceptions) even if the terms of this “monopoly”
control—the prices for and conditions under which access is granted—do
not appear to replicate the operation of a perfectly competitive market. 61
So, too, a patent or copyright owner is legally entitled to control the exploi-
tation of that property, even if this exercise of “monopoly power” results
in different prices and terms than those that (observers predict) would
obtain in a fully competitive market.62
That “monopoly,” however, does not suggest any particular change in
the marketplace from the competitive paradigm described above. Of
course, the right holder is the sole supplier who can serve the artificially
delimited “market” for the patented or copyrighted work—or at least the
market for new access to that work (as old copies of the work may be in
existence providing competition, perhaps very substantial competition, to
sales or licenses of new copies). But that market is not usefully described.
Consider, for example, that roughly 500,000 books, plays, articles, and
stories are registered for copyright in America each year and about 70,000
new book titles are published annually.63 Each of the authors enjoys a
nominal monopoly with respect to his work. If someone wants to repro-
duce a book or use passages from a book or turn the book into a stage or
screen play, the person must strike a deal with the “monopolist” who holds
the copyright on that work. Yet the book market is intensely competitive,
and many, many people are competing to produce books and to turn ideas
into stage productions and movies.
The nature of this market (and of markets more generally) often is
misconstrued. Casual observers frequently have an unrealistically narrow
view of the sources of competitive constraint and an unrealistically expan-
sive expectation of profitability. The most obvious substitute produc
ts—the ones apt to be visible to casual observers—will be those that most
influence the short-run value of a good but rarely are the only important
sources of competition. Indeed, over the longer term, they frequently are
not the most important sources of competition. Atari’s video game system,
for instance, had few immediate substitutes, but it was rapidly supplanted by
a better technology.
In the same vein, successful ventures generally are visible to casual
observers but are not representative of overall profitability for a given class
of goods. That is true for copyrighted goods as well as for others. The
most publicized aspect of the book market may be the fact that especially
successful authors can reap huge rewards.64 Once the authors have created
a work that is unusually popular—and at times in anticipation of it—the
authors are thought of as controlling particularly valuable resources. But
the market in which the authors in fact compete is the intensely competitive
market to create such specially valuable goods. Thinking only of the
returns to those who do best in this market dramatically distorts the sense of
this market, much as focusing only on Tiger Woods distorts a sense of the
market for golf professionals or focusing on Michael Jordan distorts one’s
sense of the market for professional ball players—or, so far as these two
athletes are seen in their role as product pitchmen, focusing on them dis-
torts a sense of the market for American sports figures or more generally
for public figures. Whatever the returns to the top players, the creative
markets remain intensely competitive.65
63 Gary Ink, Book Title Output and Average Prices: 1996 Final and 1997
Preliminary Figures, in THE B OWKER A NNUAL: L IBRARY AND T RADE B OOK A LMANAC
521-22 (43d ed., Dave Bogart ed., R.R. Bowker 1998).
64 See Mark Feeney, High-Stakes Bookmaking; Huge Advances, Readership
Slump Make ’90s Publishing a Gamble , BOS. G LOBE , Dec. 10, 1997, at C1; Bob Hoover,
Best Seller; Michael Chrichton Strikes It Rich Before His Latest Book Hits the Stores,
PITTSBURGH P OST -G AZETTE , Dec. 7, 1996, at D-12; Doyle McManus, Gingrich Inks a
Book Deal for $4 Million, L.A. TIMES , Dec. 23, 1994, at A1; Jeff Zaleski, The Grisham
Business; Novelist John Grisham, PUB. WKLY., Jan. 19, 1998, at 248; Clancy Deal Worth
$100 Million, CHI. SUN -TIMES, Sep. 8, 1997, at 32.
65 Even in intensely competitive markets, those who control particularly
valuable inputs—for example, especially fertile land—may earn returns above the norm.
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 17
Even though they set terms for access to “monopoly” rights, copyright
licensing agreements resemble the typical setting in which the terms and
price of the agreement harmonizes the interests of the parties (the licensor
and licensee) in the same way that a grocery store’s prices reflect the
interests of the store owner and potential customers. As noted earlier, the
prices and terms may not be ideal, but as a rule there should be no greater
divergence from the ideal than in the grocery store example. The monopo-
ly in the copyright owner’s case is analogous to the grocery store’s mo-
nopoly over its specific location. Information problems may distort par-
ties’ perceptions of what agreement is best—and may account for differ-
ences between parties to an agreement during negotiation—but the copy-
right itself typically is not the cause of any distortion.66
The prospect of arrangements between parties accounting optimally for
both sets of interests does not, of course, suggest that the interests of the
parties are identical, either before or after agreement. The extensive litera-
ture on “agency costs”—which encompasses writing about production by
teams, supervision of employees by managers and investors, and other
activities that take place in principal-agent settings—takes as a given the
continued separation of interests even among closely cooperating parties
operating in a single, commercial enterprise.67
Nonetheless, this literature explains that, despite the divergence of
parties’ interests, each party in such settings has reason to account for the
interests of other parties. Consequently, an extensive variety of agreements
and non-negotiated (but mutually accepted) arrangements are used to align
parties’ incentives more closely.68 There appears to be every reason to
presume that software licensing contracts, like other contracts generally,
represent as good an accommodation of the interests of the contracting
78 See Kaplow, supra note 72 (arguing that the scope for antitrust
concerns depends on the gap between intellectual property laws’ ambit and socially
optimal protection for inventive activity).
79 See, e.g., THE C AUSES AND CONSEQUENCES OF ANTITRUST: THE P UBLIC
CHOICE PERSPECTIVE (Fred S. McChesney & William F. Shugart II eds., Univ. of Chicago
Press 1995).
80 See, e.g., Paul H. Rubin, What Do Economists Think About Antitrust? A
Random Walk Down Pennsylvania Avenue, in McChesney & Shugart eds., supra note 80,
at 33, 36-61.
8 1 See, e.g., RI C H A R D A. P OSNER , A NTITRUST L A W : A N E CONOMIC
P ERSPECTIVE (Univ. of Chicago Press 1976). See also ROBERT H. B ORK, THE A NTITRUST
PARADOX: A POLICY AT WAR WITH ITSELF (Basic Books 1978) (often supporting, but also
often condemning, antitrust doctrine).
82 See, e.g., McChesney & Shugart eds., supra note 80.
83 See, e.g., BO R K , supra note 82, at 245, 288-98, 379-81; Donald J.
Boudreaux & Robert B. Ekelund, Jr., Inframarginal Consumers and the Per Se Legality of
Vertical Restraints, 17 H OFSTRA L. REV. 137 (1988); Benjamin Klein & Kevin Murphy,
Vertical Restraints as Contract Enforcement Mechanisms, 28 J.L. & ECON. 265 (1988).
84 See, e.g.., Baxter & Kessler, supra note 49 (arguing that confusion on
this point traces to courts sometimes mistaking vertical relationships—those involving
parties engaged in production of complements not substitutes—for horizontal
relationships and vice versa); Boudreaux & Ekelund, supra note 84; Klein & Murphy,
supra note 84.
85 See WILLIAMSON , supra note 44, at 85-130; Baxter & Kessler, supra
note 49.
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 21
assess the plausible efficiencies from the contested provisions. In the usual
case, the contracts can be expected to reflect efforts to achieve efficiencies,
to exploit the benefits of copyrighted work, and to distribute responsibili-
ties between licensor and licensee in a cost-effective manner.91
The Problem of Contract Deconstruction
Unfortunately, the complexity of the considerations of contracting parties
and the number of terms that tend to comprise the bundle of rights subject
to contract make it difficult for non-parties (and perhaps for parties as well)
readily to explain what work one term taken alone performs or how elimi-
nating that term would affect price.92 That should not be a surprise—after
all, those were exactly the problems identified as the ubiquitous reasons for
the real world being so troublesome and messy a place. That is why the
game of picking apart complex contracts ex post invariably resembles
efforts to articulate the distinctive contribution each particular ingredient in
a cake mix (eggs, flour, etc.) makes to the cake. How much of the cake’s
success can we say is attributable to the eggs? Of course, we can’t say.93
But there is considerable temptation to try anyway. The same is true of
efforts to deconstruct licensing agreements, identifying the role played by
specific license provisions. That effort will be a standard part of antitrust
challenges to copyright agreements.
One licensing term that has been challenged as specially troublesome is the
provision in contracts between Microsoft and OEMs that is known as the
first screen provision. Plaintiffs assert that Microsoft alone benefits from
this term and that OEMs, consumers, and other software producers are
harmed. Before discussing the provision, it is helpful to spell out its dos
and don’ts.
provision has three components: two components that address the style of
the screen and a mandatory content component. For ease of discussion, the
scope of the provision (what it applies to) will be treated as a fourth element
of the first screen provision.
Style—Desktop: The first, and most basic, style component is
that the first screen must contain the familiar Windows “desktop.” The
desktop is a layout for the screen. It consists of a background (which can
be configured in a variety of designs, sometimes called “wallpaper”) on
“top” of which are visual cues (icons). Each icon can be activated by
moving a pointer to it and clicking on it (one click or two, depending on
the version of Windows and the system’s configuration). The Windows
system then inaugurates operation of the relevant program. This point-
and-click procedure replaces the earlier DOS operating system commands,
which required users to memorize the particular word-commands for
specific functions (in application programs, the older system required users
to know particular keys and combinations of keys). In addition to the
icons, a bar runs across the bottom of the screen that allows users (with the
same point-and-click system) to find and inaugurate the full panoply of
programs contained in the computer. Features such as an “active channel
bar” can be added to the desktop without violating the style constraint.
Content—Icons: The second component of the first screen
provision is a requirement that the desktop for that screen include particu-
lar icons that serve as entry points for certain functions. The desktop must
display icons for eliminating files or programs (the “Recycle Bin”), for
transferring files or programs (“My Briefcase”), for access to the different
files and programs on the hard drive and in other locations (“My Comput-
er”), for access to local networks (“Network Neighborhood”), and for file
management as well as access to the Internet (“Internet Explorer”). This
component is a mandatory one, not a prohibitory one. The provision does
not preclude the addition of other icons to the screen, including icons for
technologies that duplicate functions represented by the mandated icons
and icons that permit users to change the configuration of the desktop.
The contract language respecting icons on the first screen only lays out the
minimum requirements for the first screen desktop.
Style—Icons: The third component of the provision also relates
to the icons but, like the first component, is a matter of style. It specifies
that any icons added to the desktop on the first screen must conform to the
size and general style of the mandated icons. It does not modify the con-
tent component by prohibiting any icons, programs, or functions.
Scope: The first screen provision has a very limited scope. It
applies to the first screen that appears when a consumer first boots up a
computer that has been set up with the Windows operating system. It does
not regulate what consumers can do in subsequent uses of the computer
(though it would proscribe an automatic change programmed by the OEM
to occur on subsequent uses). The screen can be reconfigured by any user
in the “master boot record” of the disk drive being used to boot the system, and that
program will load the operating system. Control then passes to the operating system,
which goes through another sequence of locating and/or activating various hardware and
software. The entire process commonly is referred to as the “boot-up” sequence.
24 COPYRIGHT, LICENSING,
so that, after the very first use, the nature and arrangement of the items on
the desktop changes, the features and programs that are enabled by the
simplest (one step) point-and-click process changes, the background of the
desktop changes, and so on, from merely aesthetic alterations to complete
substitution of the entire user interface structure represented on the screen.
The provision does not require that consumers be left wholly on their own
in conceiving and making such changes. OEMs can facilitate change
s—large or small—by placing an icon on the first screen that can change
the default first screen with a single click, substituting another first screen,
or OEMs could put an icon on the first screen that reveals a menu of possi-
bilities for changing the first screen. The consumer not only is in control
of what appears on subsequent boot-ups of the computer; the consumer is
in charge and not restricted to any preset list of options. The provision, in
other words, is a first-screen/first-time term of the license agreement so far
as consumers are concerned.
that we will not have to learn what is to our liking there or risk disappoint-
ment at discovering that the new experience is not what we hoped?
More generally, familiarity reduces the need for an investment in
training before a product or service can be used effectively. While the
advantage is especially important with products that have large training
costs, even a small savings in cost can be important in many settings.
Everyday products as well as technologically advanced products provide
evidence that we resist investing in training where that is efficiently avoid-
able, a point that holds in all settings, including where the training is easy
and the cost seemingly trivial.
Market responses to this lesson also are ubiquitous. Reduced training
costs, for example, explain similarities across numerous products that are
provided in highly competitive markets. Consider examples involving two
sorts of buttons: conventions that avoid the need to learn and adjust to
differences explains why men’s shirts all button in the same direction and
why telephones tend to have buttons arrayed in the same layout regardless
of the phone’s size or shape or manufacturer.
In the case of Microsoft’s licensing agreements, the first screen provi-
sion serves the same purpose as other devices that reduce training costs. It
assures that the first screen a user of any Windows-based computer sees
provides the accustomed look of a desktop—familiar to anyone who uses
any computer with the Windows system—with extremely low-cost methods
of gaining access to popular features and programs.
Two primary routes are provided on the first screen for access to pro-
grams. The lower-cost access is for programs that have an icon on the
desktop already—simply point and click on the icon—and a desktop that
has certain icons on it already (the standard, minimum set) nearly elimi-
nates any training time or cost for those programs. Further, making all
programs accessible through the “Start” button (the icon at the bottom left
of the first screen)—again using point-and-click technology—makes the
entire array of programs loaded into the computer accessible at very low
cost.
The consequence of this organization of the first screen is that com-
puter users can turn on any computer with Windows and immediately get
into the programs they want without learning new or complex commands.
In this respect, Windows combines standardization of computers using that
operating system with simplification of the interface between user and
computer. As has generally been the trend for all advanced technologies,
this environment moves complexity into the software program so that the
requirements placed on consumers—the training costs, primarily—can be
reduced.95
Moreover, Microsoft’s organization of Windows as a “belt-and-sus-
penders” approach, providing multiple routes into some key functions,
further reduces training costs by allowing unsophisticated users to continue
to go through the most familiar route. This approach provides a basis for
requiring that an Internet Explorer icon appear on the first screen. Internet
Explorer technologies not only provide access to the Internet, but also
provides options for file management, transfer, and access. The increasing
integration of the Internet into everyday computer use—reflected in Micro-
soft’s decision that technologies associated with Internet access and use
should be integrated with other technologies governing computer opera-
tion—changes the consumer demand for an operating system. The re-
quired inclusion of the Internet Explorer icon, as with the other content-
based icon requirements, seems quite clearly driven by a desire to provide a
product with features consumers find useful in a sufficiently standardized
package to facilitate operation.
Quality Control: A second reason for the first screen provision
is that it facilitates quality control. If certain features are always present on
the first screen and those features are not modified by OEMs, the responsi-
bility for assuring that the features work as intended will lie squarely with
Microsoft. Insofar as Microsoft expects to receive the blame for any
quality problems and anticipates that OEM modification of the features
associated with the first screen could generate problems, it is rational to
insist that those features be presented “as is.” This is especially true if the
features are important to unsophisticated consumers. Those are the con-
sumers least likely to be able to navigate around problems and least likely
to be able to assess responsibility for problems.
In many settings, the division of responsibility between one company
and another or between a company and its customers is predicated on the
expectation that one is better positioned to assure the desired outcome.
Professor George Priest’s study of consumer product warranties is one
example of the business decisions that turn on such considerations.96 The
same principle applies to the relationship among consumers, software
companies, and hardware manufacturers.
In principle, quality control can be maintained in other ways. Microsoft
could agree with OEMs that, if OEM modification of the operating system
software impaired the operation of specified programs or features, the
OEM would cover the costs associated with that problem. These costs
could include costs of fixing the problem, direct costs associated with loss
of consumer confidence in the operating system (costs incurred to boost
consumer confidence to prior levels), and indirect costs such as lost sales.
Modest reflection, however, suggests that this alternative, litigation-
oriented solution is apt to be less efficient than a precaution-oriented
solution. The causation inquiry necessary to a litigation-oriented solution
will be difficult as will the calculation of costs. Contracts are written to
impose liquidated damages penalties or other litigation-oriented solutions
to quality control problems in some circumstances. But circumstances
where that is the efficient solution typically involve clear responsibility on
one contracting party for performing a task (for which the other party is
But the brand also has value to consumers. It conveys information that
is important about what consumers will get when they purchase products
grouped under a given brand label.100 The McDonald’s restaurant that
you have never been to in a city you have never visited has an expected
menu, quality, and cost derived from prior experience with that brand. The
value that consumers place on that information has earned trillions of
dollars for those who have created brand identities over the past few de-
cades in hotels and restaurants and retail stores, among other goods and
services. The corollary of the franchise brand value to consumers is that
the franchise brand serves interests of the franchisor and franchisee as
well—or, moving from McDonald’s to Microsoft, the interests of Microsoft
and the OEMs.
Although the first screen provision should aid brand identity, it is so
modest a requirement that its utility at branding is limited. The OEMs have
sufficient flexibility to add to the desktop, to customize the desktop with
different backgrounds, logos, and added functionality, to reduce the Win-
dows brand identity and to increase the OEM brand identity. The provision,
thus, looks to be a compromise between the interests of Microsoft and the
OEMs—which, given the nature of copyright licensing, is no surprise.
100 See, e.g., Ronald H. Coase, Advertising and Free Speech, 6 J. L EGAL
STUD. 1 (1977); Aaron Director, The Parity of the Economic Market Place , 7 J.L. & E CON .
1 (1964); Richard Schmalensee, Advertising, in THE NEW PALGRAVE DICTIONARY O F
E CONOMICS, vol. I, 34 (John Eatwell, Murray Milgate & Peter Newman eds., MacMillan
1987).
101 See DOJ Complaint, supra note 1; AGs Complaint, supra note 1;
Fisher Declaration, supra note 5; Sibley Declaration, supra note 5.
102 See Sibley Declaration, supra note 5. The license agreements between
Microsoft and OEMs prohibit OEMs from altering the boot-up sequence for Windows.
This has the effect of proscribing OEM use of the screen for other purposes (including
advertising purposes) during the Windows boot-up, an effect that is allegedly
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 29
anticompetitive. See DOJ Complaint, supra note 1; AGs Complaint, supra note 1;
Fisher Declaration, supra note 5; Sibley Declaration, supra note 5. The license
agreement does not, however, prohibit licensee-OEMs from using a different operating
system prior to the inauguration of Windows operation; the Windows license agreement
does not regulate what occurs during boot-up if an OEM chooses to use another system in
addition to Windows to perform functions prior to starting or switching to Windows.
103 For discussion of the peculiar realm of such concerns, see William H.
Page, Antitrust Damages and Economic Efficiency: An Approach to Antitrust Injury, 47 U.
C HI. L. REV . 467 (1980).
104 DOJ Complaint, supra note 1; AGs Complaint, supra note 1; affidavit
of David S. Sibley.
30 COPYRIGHT, LICENSING,
to add some icons that otherwise would not be on the first screen. For
example, if Microsoft wants to have access to Internet Explorer technolo-
gies available through an icon on the first screen and the OEM believes that
its customers will prefer different browsing software, the OEM may choose
to highlight the availability of an alternative browser by placing that icon
alongside the Internet Explorer icon. Under the license agreements, OEMs
can place additional icons on the first screen.
The argument that icons required by the first screen provision have
preclusive effect turns on two claims. First, the desktop is seen as a scarce
resource that does not have space enough for all programs. Hence, any
icon placed on the desktop must preclude some other icon.105 That argu-
ment is specious. Of course, desktop space is scarce in the same sense in
which every resource is scarce. But the space used by icons required by the
first screen provision is only about fifteen percent of the desktop. The
remaining 85 percent is left to the OEMs. It is possible that even that much
space is not enough. But look at the desktop screens of different comput-
ers as the OEMs have configured them. The OEMs have left a great deal of
room on every desktop. That strongly suggests that they believe that
customers do not need many icons on the desktop—which, in turn, suggests
that the icons Microsoft wants placed on the initial desktop screen do not
displace other icons.
Maybe, however, the reason OEMs leave desktop space empty is that
consumers prefer to add their own icons and dislike a desktop with limited
open space. If that is so, the Microsoft icons would be competing both with
other program icons and with open space. That might mean that Microsoft
icons increase the value of remaining icon spaces on the desktop and could
preclude the addition of icons that otherwise would be there. Again, this
armchair theorizing is not rooted in actual effects. For one thing, if the
scarcity problem exists because consumers prefer to have space to add
icons, that implies that those consumers are in fact capable of moving icons
on and off the screen (a task the competent computer user can perform
given the way the Microsoft first screen is set up). But if that is so, then,
again, the presence of the Microsoft icons on the screen is not terribly
significant.
Moreover, the program that so much public and legal attention has
focused on as one that is precluded by the requirement of an Internet
Explorer icon—Netscape’s competing browser—is in fact included on a
very large number of first screens.106 Not only is it included in the first
screens seen by many consumers who purchase Windows-based personal
computers for their own use; it also is loaded onto many such computers at
work where a great many computer users do the majority of their computer
work and where they also frequently acquire computers for work off-site.
Whatever OEMs place on the first screen, for those users the first screen
Perhaps the extended hypothetical would be that the OEMs put the
second icon on the screen and consumers who could have been directed
toward one program (of the OEM’s choosing) instead pick another pro-
gram, even though the icons are similar in size and placement and both
appear on the first screen. The assumption, then, would be that Microsoft
gains an illegal advantage over software competitors when both companies’
programs are included in computers, are accessible to consumers on the
same terms, and are represented on the first screen by the same size icons.
That assumption is hard to support.
The difficulty with all of the hypothetical examples is that they begin
with a licensing provision that does not lend itself to easy characterization
as anticompetitive. It is a far cry from a provision insisting that one firm’s
programs only must be featured first, that no program that duplicates its
programs can be included in the computer, that its programs’ icons must
be twice as big or twice as bright or the only icons to appear in color—in
other words, the hypothetical must go very far in order to transmute the
actual first screen provision into anything that looks even remotely within
the ambit of antitrust.
Provision’s Provenance: Finally, the first screen provision is
questioned on the basis of Microsoft’s advocacy of it. The argument goes
like this: if Microsoft has to urge OEMs to accept this provision, and per-
haps as a result must charge less for licensing the Windows operating
system or grant other concessions to OEMs, it must be inimical to Micro-
soft’s competitors—after all, wouldn’t the OEMs favor the provision if it
served a purpose other than handicapping Microsoft’s competition?
Again, the question starts with a plausible predicate and jumps to an
illogical—or at least unnecessary—conclusion. Doubtless, the impetus for
much of the first screen provision comes from Microsoft. Apart from
evidence that some OEMs objected to versions of this provision, it is obvi-
ously in Microsoft’s interest to have its brand identity strongly established,
its key technologies prominently displayed, and its programs’ operations
free from quality problems. It obviously is in Microsoft’s interest, too, to
devise an integrated set of technologies that will appeal to consumers and to
insist that OEMs present that as Microsoft’s creation, rather than repackag-
ing it as a set of programs or similar offerings from the OEM.
Just as obvious, however, should be the fact that the provision is not
simply a presentation of Microsoft’s desires: OEM interests and consumer
interests also play a hand in shaping the contours of the first screen provi-
sion. The provision is tailored to allow variation among OEMs, to allow
addition of programs of the OEMs’ choosing, to allow more non-Microsoft
programs than Microsoft programs to be featured on the first screen, to
allow competitors’ programs to be featured on an equal basis, to allow
substantial opportunity for OEMs to establish brand identity as well as to
guide consumers’ choices among technologies, and to allow users full
flexibility to rearrange the way the screen is configured and the technolo-
gies accessed following the initial boot-up.
The essential function of the first screen provision is one that benefits
both Microsoft and consumers but that has less importance to others,
including OEMs and makers of software that is built on the Windows
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 33
Conclusion
109 See William Baumol & Janusz Ordover, Antitrust: Source of Dynamic
and Static Inefficiencies?, in Jorde & Teece eds., supra at 82, 86-95; Frank H.
Easterbrook, Ignorance and Antitrust, in Jorde & Teece eds., supra at 119, 123-32;
Frank H. Easterbrook, The Limits of Antitrust, 63 TEX . L. REV . 1 (1984); Robert B.
Ekelund, Jr., Michael J. McDonald & Robert D. Tollison, Business Restraints and the
Clayton Act of 1914: Public- or Private-Interest Legislation?, in McChesney & Shugart
34 COPYRIGHT, LICENSING,
The ex post analysis, of course, can be done. And when that task is
performed, the first screen provision passes antitrust muster. In fact, none
of the criticisms of the first screen provision holds up under scrutiny. The
provision serves quite legitimate ends and supports values that are broadly
shared among consumers even though those values are not a particular
concern for businesses other than Microsoft. In fact, Microsoft’s efforts to
define its product and to guard against degradation or free riding reflect
the difference between interests that a licensor internalizes and those that
motivate licensees. The key consumer advantage to which the provision
responds is a reduction in training costs. But that same interest, along with
complementary interests in providing a valuable product to the consumer
and in providing a product that is not merely appropriated by OEMs
substituting their individual interests for Microsoft’s interests and broader
consumer interests, runs through a number of contract provisions.
The important point is not simply that Microsoft’s first screen provision
is supported by more than plausible efficiencies. Rather, it is the danger of
a legal requirement that each contract provision be subject to analysis to
identify its singular contribution to the contract. We can be quite sanguine
that principal-agent accords will systematically tend to achieve efficien-
cies,110 and the terms chosen by the parties will be those best designed to
harmonize the parties interests given the state of knowledge at that time. It
is another matter altogether, however, to ask parties to provide explanations
that will convince non-parties that specific efficiencies are associated with
any given term. It is worse yet for parties to be put to the task of proving
the magnitude of such efficiencies. A good part of the difficulty of assess-
ing the magnitude of contract-driven efficiencies is a problem common to
efficiencies afforded by many conventions. Those efficiencies, including
the training cost efficiencies associated with the first screen provision,
routinely appear to convey trivial savings in individual cases, even though
in the aggregate these efficiencies generate enormous consumer value.
If every copyright licensing provision that confers a benefit on the
copyright owner is suspect, the first screen provision certainly can be
questioned. If suspicion attaches to every copyright licensing provision
that confers a benefit on a copyright owner with a large product market
share (in a market drawn around that copyrighted work), the first screen
provision can be listed among the suspects. But licensing should confer
benefit on copyright owners: that is part of the design of copyright law and
of contracts. And success in the marketplace does not dispossess a firm of
the benefits that copyright law and contract generally convey. Though
Microsoft should be able to establish the efficiency-enhancing properties
eds., supra note 80, at 271-86; Fred S. McChesney, Be True to Your School: Chicago’s
Contradictory Views of Antitrust and Regulation, in McChesney & Shugart eds., supra
note 80, at 323-40; Fred S. McChesney & William F. Shugart, The Unjoined Debate, in
McChesney & Shugart eds., supra note 80, at 341-44; Oliver Williamson, Antitrust
Lenses and the Uses of Transaction Cost Economics Reasoning, in Jorde & Teece eds.,
supra at 137-58; Ramsey Hanna, Note, Misusing Antitrust: The Search for Functional
Copyright Misuse Standards, 46 STAN . L. REV . 401 (1994).
110 See, e.g., BORK, supra note 82, at 387-91.
AND THE FIRST SCREEN 35
of the first screen provision, litigation over that provision takes the law
down a road only America’s lawyers should want to travel.