My college friend Eric and I just completed a mutual project: we mixed CDs for each other consisting of some of the songs we have enjoyed over the nearly four decades since we last got together. It was a fun way to catch up and relive a few memories at the same time.
Many songs I selected for my mix came from CDs I already owned. In several cases I had only scratchy vinyl copies and for some I had no copy at all — for those songs I bought and downloaded MP3s from Amazon.
I could have avoided buying any music at all for this project by using my PC to record the audio track of YouTube videos — for example, this version of the Beatles’ “Hey Bulldog” posted on YouTube sounds as good as the original to me. I don’t know how this situation escapes the attention of music publishers — I for one think that artists and musicians should get paid for their efforts, as I am fond of reminding people.
The point is, I was feeling all moral and smug about having paid for all the music I used in my mix, when my wife said to me, “How is copying a CD for your friend any different than my copying a Taylor Swift CD for my friend? You always tell me that other people should buy their own copy.”
Hmm. I do indeed say this. My immediate response was that the CD I burned for Eric was a “creative effort” of mine (in its song choices, sound mix, track order and transitions) and so should not be treated the same as copying a CD in its entirety and handing it to a friend. But after a moment, I realized this was beside the point. In both instances, musicians are not being paid for their work — it doesn’t matter whether I am depriving one artist of $2.00 in royalties or twenty artists $0.10 each in royalties. In the end, I am making copies of recordings I own and giving them to someone else who hasn’t paid for them.
My purchase of the MP3 tunes that I didn’t already own merely put those songs on the same ownership basis as the ones I already had on CD. Owning a copy of the recordings, whether on CD or MP3, does not give me the right to redistribute them.
If I really want to follow the principle I set forth — that musicians should not be deprived of the royalties for their music — there is a solution. I could buy a second copy of the MP3 songs I downloaded, and I could buy MP3 copies of the songs I had on CD, to account for the ones I sent to Eric. But I can’t help it: something about that seems silly. Perhaps it is the ease with which we can make copies (and the lack of visible consequences for doing so) that makes it seem silly. Ethical rules that appear to be silly are apt to be demoted to unimportance and eventually ignored.
Somewhere along the line I got the idea it was OK to make copies of recordings I owned, for my own use in my own household. But where did this “within my own household” rule come from? I probably made it up. Let’s say that I own the Beatles Box Set (which I do) and that I let each of my eleven (!) children download the 16 discs to their iPods. Would this comprise a multi-thousand-dollar abuse of “household use?” What if it were for three children instead of eleven? What if I simply copied the 16 discs for my wife to play in her car? Or only for me to play in my own car? Where is the dividing line?
The point is, there is no well-defined line — CDs and MP3s do not come with a statement that it is acceptable to make one or two or some limited number of copies for the personal enjoyment of you or your friends. If any such line were drawn, it would soon be stretched. Ethics are impossibly soft. Sharp lines are destined to be blurred. One’s own sense of practicality inevitably gets in the way of and modifies one’s principles — for serious examples, ask President Obama about chemical weapon usage in Syria or detainees in Guantanamo.
I used to think of myself as an ethical person, but I now understand that I invent the ethics that make sense to me and twist my principles to suit. (This may also be true of others but you can decide for yourself.) In the end, I cannot outline clear and consistent principles to back up my actions. I’m not sure it is possible. I will continue to decry copying CDs but yet I do not feel compelled to buy $30 or so worth of music to “replace” copies that I sent to my friend, even though $30 would not pinch my wallet. Yes, my stance is inconsistent but it somehow makes sense to me. These are not situational but personal ethics. When ethics are personal, are they ethics at all?
We make up the rules as we go along, and we probably make rules that are relatively easy for us to follow. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your perspective.
My college friend Eric and I just completed a mutual project: we mixed CDs for each other consisting of some of the songs we have enjoyed over the nearly four decades since we last got together. It was a fun way to catch up and relive a few memories at the same time.
Many songs I selected for my mix came from CDs I already owned. In several cases I had only scratchy vinyl copies and for some I had no copy at all — for those songs I bought and downloaded MP3s from Amazon.
I could have avoided buying any music at all for this project by using my PC to record the audio track of YouTube videos — for example, this version of the Beatles’ “Hey Bulldog” posted on YouTube sounds as good as the original to me. I don’t know how this situation escapes the attention of music publishers — I for one think that artists and musicians should get paid for their efforts, as I am fond of reminding people.
The point is, I was feeling all moral and smug about having paid for all the music I used in my mix, when my wife said to me, “How is copying a CD for your friend any different than my copying a Taylor Swift CD for my friend? You always tell me that other people should buy their own copy.”
Hmm. I do indeed say this. My immediate response was that the CD I burned for Eric was a “creative effort” of mine (in its song choices, sound mix, track order and transitions) and so should not be treated the same as copying a CD in its entirety and handing it to a friend. But after a moment, I realized this was beside the point. In both instances, musicians are not being paid for their work — it doesn’t matter whether I am depriving one artist of $2.00 in royalties or twenty artists $0.10 each in royalties. In the end, I am making copies of recordings I own and giving them to someone else who hasn’t paid for them.
My purchase of the MP3 tunes that I didn’t already own merely put those songs on the same ownership basis as the ones I already had on CD. Owning a copy of the recordings, whether on CD or MP3, does not give me the right to redistribute them.
If I really want to follow the principle I set forth — that musicians should not be deprived of the royalties for their music — there is a solution. I could buy a second copy of the MP3 songs I downloaded, and I could buy MP3 copies of the songs I had on CD, to account for the ones I sent to Eric. But I can’t help it: something about that seems silly. Perhaps it is the ease with which we can make copies (and the lack of visible consequences for doing so) that makes it seem silly. Ethical rules that appear to be silly are apt to be demoted to unimportance and eventually ignored.
Somewhere along the line I got the idea it was OK to make copies of recordings I owned, for my own use in my own household. But where did this “within my own household” rule come from? I probably made it up. Let’s say that I own the Beatles Box Set (which I do) and that I let each of my eleven (!) children download the 16 discs to their iPods. Would this comprise a multi-thousand-dollar abuse of “household use?” What if it were for three children instead of eleven? What if I simply copied the 16 discs for my wife to play in her car? Or only for me to play in my own car? Where is the dividing line?
The point is, there is no well-defined line — CDs and MP3s do not come with a statement that it is acceptable to make one or two or some limited number of copies for the personal enjoyment of you or your friends. If any such line were drawn, it would soon be stretched. Ethics are impossibly soft. Sharp lines are destined to be blurred. One’s own sense of practicality inevitably gets in the way of and modifies one’s principles — for serious examples, ask President Obama about chemical weapon usage in Syria or detainees in Guantanamo.
I used to think of myself as an ethical person, but I now understand that I invent the ethics that make sense to me and twist my principles to suit. (This may also be true of others but you can decide for yourself.) In the end, I cannot outline clear and consistent principles to back up my actions. I’m not sure it is possible. I will continue to decry copying CDs but yet I do not feel compelled to buy $30 or so worth of music to “replace” copies that I sent to my friend, even though $30 would not pinch my wallet. Yes, my stance is inconsistent but it somehow makes sense to me. These are not situational but personal ethics. When ethics are personal, are they ethics at all?
We make up the rules as we go along, and we probably make rules that are relatively easy for us to follow. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your perspective.